Against the Stoics
Stoic and Pyrrhonian Ataraxia — Zeno of Citium, is that soup on your chiton? — Chrysippus, vomiter of words — Self-help for sensitive young boys — Something nice to say?
You may know the classical Stoics from the famous Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, the Letters of Seneca or Epictetus’ Enchiridion. These works contain an excellent collected wisdom of Stoic practice from the period of the Roman Empire. These works are predominantly about how to live well, through virtue, how to avoid being idle and opinionated and, at the heart of Stoicism, how to maintain Ataraxia, the same term for tranquillity or peace of mind that I have been trying to offer support for since the start of these letters.
This sounds like a natural ally of Pyrrhonian sceptical thought, perhaps? Take this quote from Marcus Aurelius:
“You always own the option of having no opinion. There is never any need to get worked up or to trouble your soul about things you can't control. These things are not asking to be judged by you. Leave them alone.”
This sounds remarkably close to the suspension of judgment I have also been advising for throughout my letters.
There is a case to be made against Stoicism, however. The latter Roman Stoics are little alike to the earlier Greek Stoics to the extent I am not sure they would have all that much in common with one another. It is interesting to look at the men of the early Stoa who, as claimed by the early Pyrrhonian sceptic Timon of Phlius, were dullards and dogmatists worthy of the most scathing of satire. The philosophy of these early Stoics is prone to talk and impractical matters and is continually picked on for dogmatic thinking by Sextus Empiricus. Lets consider two early stoics- the founder, Zeno of Citium, and one of his students and later leader of the Stoa, Chrysippus.
Zeno of Citium1, the founder of the Stoic School started life as a follower of the Cynic Crates, although Zeno never quite seemed to reach the ‘zero-f***s-given’ attitude of the Cynics. Take this account of Crates testing Zeno’s Cynic scruples:
“…[Zeno proved] well suited for philosophy, although he was bashful about adopting Cynic shamelessness. Hence Crates, who wanted to cure him of this, gave him a pot of lentil soup to carry through the potter’s district of Athens. And when he saw that Zeno was ashamed and tried to keep it hidden, he struck the pot with his cane and broke it. As Zeno was running away, the soup streaming down his legs, Crates said: ‘Why run away, little Phoenician? Nothing terrible has happened to you’.”
Cynical teaching runs through early Stoic philosophy, especially in some of those things they consider morally indifferent or even encouraged. Part of this early philosophising was to critique things they were simply social conventions and to be treated morally indifferently. This differed these social mores from the core of Stoic moral philosophy of the virtues and vices, which were their focus. However, social norms to be treated indifferently include things considered repugnant by the normal, non-philosophising Greeks, and include incest with all and any family members, children and adult alike, cannibalism, and a lack of reverence for the dead.
Sextus Empiricus summarises his problems with this, recognising no contemporary people in their right mind would find any of these things acceptable, rather2:
“…of such a kind are most of the [Stoic] philosophers’ theories; but they would not dare put them into practice unless they lived under the laws of the [man-eating monsters] Cyclopes or Laestrygones.”
Sextus rightly points out that the Stoic founder is guilty of idle theorising of the worst order. Is there any way Zeno, who was ashamed of spilling a little soup on himself acted on his suggestion there is nothing immoral with the carnal knowledge of ones family? Sextus also says that if they are not capable of carrying out the doctrines they teach, they are no different from the normal people who would be disgusted by such things, therefore have no claim to possess a special way of living. A difference between Stoic theorising and sceptical practice is also clear- the Pyrrhonian practical criteria make it so one may feel no need to question societal repugnance over incest.
The third leader of the Stoa, Chrysippus, held the same views and embraced such grandiose sociological theorising3, alongside greatly expanded theories of physics, logic and the nature of the cosmos. To put it briefly: under Zeno, then Chrysippus, the Stoic school was preoccupied with explaining the universe from the comfort of a frescoed archway in sunny central Athens. This is exemplified for his love of words: “…people thought that if the gods had a dialectic, it would be none other than that of Chrysippus.”4 He also wrote enormous amounts (705 works by the count of Diogenes Laertius) but his lack of Real World experience left him with an over-reliance on works of previous authors to make his arguments: “If one were to remove all the extraneous citations from Chrysippus’ books, there would be nothing left but blank pages”5. Michel de Montaigne criticises this kind of verbatim regurgitation better than I can6: “Spewing up food exactly as you have swallowed it is evidence of a failure to digest and assimilate it.”
So what to make of these earliest Stoics? Far distant from the practical wisdom of the Roman Stoics, these men seemed to be highly preoccupied with the philosophising and word-smithing that run counter to practical living. That being said, we must remember the survival bias of the works that remain to us two thousand years later. There could have been Romans dreaming up all sorts of Stoic metaphysical nonsense about the nature of the universe but whose works were so unworthy of copying they were never saved. That which we do have comes from people far more involved in living life. Marcus Aurelius was a Roman emperor, one of the ‘four good emperors’ of the 2nd Century AD, who spent much of his life on campaign against the invading Germanic tribes. Seneca was a politician deeply involved in the workings of the Roman Empire until he committed suicide at the command of the emperor Nero. These were men who lead a full and lively existence and were also Stoics. We are fortunate to have their teachings come to us.
This brings me round to the state of Stoicism in the 21st Century. Even here, with our sanitised version of practical insights, there is still plenty lacking. Even on the virtue ethics they hold so highly, could you not find more nuanced discussion in Aristotle, or discover a more evolved moral philosophy in the medieval Scholastics? Once their virtue is put into the shade, what is left of this vaunted philosophy? The hyper-modernistic statue-headed profiles on Twitter regurgitating snippets of Meditations makes Stoicism little more than a self-help guide for sensitive young men who have difficulty getting out of bed in the morning. A handful of aphorisms for maintaining tranquillity does not make for a life lived well.
I am harsh in my judgments, of this I am aware. Let me finish with some good things to say of Stoicism. The fact is I would have never started reading the likes of Sextus Empiricus or Timon had it not been for an earlier interest in Ataraxia I read about in Marcus Aurelius or Seneca. I would always recommend this high water mark in Stoic philosophy to anyone- they have plenty of wisdom for leading a better life. But study the works properly, not through lazy, second-hand tweets, and always, as ever, put what you learn into practise. Stoicism should be for people who do, not those who talk, otherwise it does not differ from any other theoretician trying to sell you a life they would, or could, not live.
This brief account of Zeno of Citium is from Diogenes Laurtius’ Lives, as are the other accounts given here, unless specified.
Sextus Empiricus, Outlines of Pyrrhonism III, 245-249.
We will skip Cleanthes, the second leader who, although considered by Timon of Phlius a dullard, tried to steer the stoa away from such theorising towards more practical teaching.
Diogenes Laetius, Lives, Book 7, 180
Diogenes Laetius, Lives, Book 7, 181
Michel de Montaigne, On Educating Children
You know "indifferent" is a term of art not a description. In this praxis being tortured to death would be a dis-preferred indifferent, only meaning that it does not involve any of the cardinal virtues, except perhaps courage, but that doesn't mean they are indifferent in the colloquial sense that you seem to be indicating. One might die fighting to stop incest or rape and again it would fit the stoic definition of dis-preferred indifferent, but only as a matter of analysis. Imagine being hit by a sniper from 1000 meters for no reason. Does that involve a virtue. Nope. Just dumb luck. Should you obsess about it? Nope. Now what about that temping $100 dollars on the table? Should you obsess about it? Yes, if you are tempted. Gravity is a secondary issue for analysis' sake.
"...things you can't control" - aka the fly in the soup. Whose definition is one to use for that? Personally, I use the Tao - the way of things - reality - all that is as it is and can't be "wrong" - regardless of my opinion of it. Everything in the reality column - as opposed to the "my puny, human opinion of reality" column. Guess who wins. Here's a hint - not me. ROFL! Perhaps you do win. How would I know? All I know is, I don't. Nor do I want to.