Joseph Hall, a very English Neo-Stoic by Max Longley

A line drawing of Hall with a hood and long beard

Stoics have been known to connect inner tranquility with peace and tranquility in relations with others. This may be why many Stoics have sought peace in the external world as well as the internal. From Seneca vainly pleading with Nero to practice clemency and moderation, to Musonius Rufus vainly stepping into mutually-hostile groups of Roman soldiers and attempting to talk them out of fighting, Stoics have a history of trying to preach peace – and of being disregarded.

Into this tradition of preaching both internal and external peace falls Joseph Hall (1574-1656), an Anglican clergyman who tried to stand between hostile English religious forces whose antagonisms, despite Hall’s pleas, ultimately contributed to the English Civil War. Though his peaceful counsels were disregarded on the national level, his bestselling work Heaven Upon Earth appealed to readers who at least sought inner tranquility.

Hall was part of a Renaissance/Early Modern movement known as Neo-Stoicism. While the Christian world had never fully forgotten or ignored the Stoics, the appearance of new printed editions of many Stoic classics during the Renaissance – and the discrediting of spurious Stoic works – as well as commentaries such as those of Justus Lipsius, prompted a renewed interest in applying at least some Stoic insights to Christian living, especially as an era of religio-political uncertainty, strife and outright war.

Joseph Hall, a very English Stoic, was born near a town with the very English name of Ashby-de-la Zouch. As he grew up, inspired by a pious mother, he took an interest in religion. He wanted to be a Church of England priest, which generally required a course of instruction in one of the great English universities. Hall’s father – Hall had many siblings – wasn’t sure he could afford university for him, and was originally going to indenture him to receive private, non-university tutoring. At the last minute, Hall’s father changed his mind, and soon afterward a relative agreed to pay much of Hall’s expenses at Cambridge’s Emmanuel College.

Hall later described his many years at Emanuel as the best years of his life. Emmanuel was known as a center of Calvinism whose graduates went on to become influential Calvinist ministers and bishops in the government-established Church of England. Trained in good Calvinist doctrine while studying classic works like those of Seneca, Hall developed into a learned young man.

Hall also showed a literary bent, becoming known for his poetry. He may have helped write a play performed by students at another Cambridge college (Emmanuel would presumably have frowned on theatrical productions). The last of a trilogy, the play was a comedy with a serious undertone – following Cambridge graduates as they went about the country in a frantic search for decent-paying jobs.

Hall also published satirical verses taking caustic aim at social abuses, such as greedy doctors and lawyers, and hitting the government even closer to home by denouncing the enclosure of agricultural land by rich farmers at the expense of poor agriculturalists. High-up Church officials put a collection of Hall’s satires on a list of books to be burned, but somehow the ecclesiastics promptly changed their minds and gave the work a reprieve.

As Hall moved into a clerical career, he continued writing, but his focus turned from direct social satire to preaching godliness. Clerical appointments were in control of influential laymen, and one of these, Sir Robert Drury, arranged to make Hall the parish priest at Hawstead, where his position turned out to be ill-paid. As Hall later noted, in order to earn enough money to buy books, he had to write books of his own. He was also harassed by one of Drury’s friends, a “bold and witty atheist” named Lilly. As Hall recalls it, in his daily prayers he asked God to “remove” Lilly “by some means or other,” and indeed Lilly later died of a “pestilence” – supposedly while on the way to London to lobby against Hall.

Another consolation was that Hall got married (as Anglican priests are allowed to do). The couple had many children, and later, by Hall’s account, a “great man” observed his numerous offspring and said that children made a rich man poor. “Nay, my Lord,” Hall claims to have replied, “these are they, that make a poor man rich; for there is not one of these, whom we would part with for all your wealth.”

In 1606, while at Hawstead, Hall published Heaven Upon Earth, a Neo-Stoic work which would prove very popular, going through eight editions (four stand-alone editions, and four more editions in which Heaven Upon Earth was combined with some of Hall’s other works). Hall’s goal, he told the reader, was “to teach men how to be happy in this life.” Here, Hall declared, he had “followed Seneca; and gone beyond him: followed him, as a philosopher; gone beyond him, as a Christian, as a divine.”

Hall wrote that be both envied the Stoics – envied, because they had come up with “such plausible refuges for doubting and troubled minds;” pitied, because without the benefit of the Christian revelation, Stoic methods would only lead to “unquietness.” No “heathen” ever “wrote more divinely” than Seneca, and “never any philosopher (wrote) more probably.” Hall would be a Stoic if “I needed no better mistress than nature” – i. e., philosophy without Christianity. But to obtain true tranquility in this life required Christianity, not just philosophy: “Not Athens must teach this lesson, but Jerusalem.” Key Stoic ideas, however, could help guide the Christian.

Heaven Upon Earth proceeded to list the reasons men lacked spiritual peace, and proposed remedies taken from both Calvinist Christianity and Stoicism.

(T)ranquility of mind…is such an even disposition of the heart, wherein the scales of the mind neither rise up towards the beam, through their own lightness, or the overweening opinion of prosperity, nor are too much depressed with any load of sorrow; but hanging equal and unmoved betwixt both, give a man liberty in all occurrences to enjoy himself.

Hall listed the various threats to mental tranquility. He began with sin. A person guilty of sin could not attain tranquility in this life, or the next, unless he repented and turned to Christ, whose sacrifice on the cross repaid the infinite debt which sinful humans owed to God.

In addition to sin, men had their tranquility threatened by “crosses,” or “sense or fear of evil suffered.” Millions of people lived in “perpetual discontentment” due to crosses such as severe illness or excessive grief. For these and other crosses, Hall’s advice was: “make thyself none; escape some; bear the rest; sweeten all.”

Heaven Upon Earth proposed a distinctly Stoic remedy for fears of future misfortune such as sickness, poverty, and imprisonment: “present to ourselves imaginary crosses, and manage them in our mind before God sends them in event.” In this way, “while the mind pleaseth itself in thinking, ‘Yet I am not thus,’ it prepareth itself against (the possibility that) it may be so.”

Like Stoics, Calvinists believed in a strict divine necessity, such that whatever happened, had to happen. Calvin himself had frequently been obliged to fend off accusations of Stoicism, arguing that his ideas were not Stoic. Calvin’s ideas of predestination were based on a sovereign God outside the universe making decrees for the universe, while the Stoics put God in the universe. Still, the similarities were there, and Hall reflected these ideas of metaphysical necessity with the comforting advice that crosses are part of the divine plan.

“Crosses, unjustly termed evils, as they are sent of him that is all goodness, so they are sent for good, and his end cannot be frustrate(d).” Like a doctor prescribing cures for physical ailments, God prescribed certain crosses as cures for spiritual ailments: pride, laziness, anger and other sins. “The loss of wealth, friends, health, is sometimes gain to us. Thy body, thy estate is worse: thy soul is better; why complainest thou?” God knows the best mix of good and bad fortune to suit any particular person’s condition.

The fear of death was another cross. To Hall, such fear could involve shrinking from the painful process of dying, or fear of what happens after death. The true Christian, having laid his sins at the foot of the cross, need not fear – “the resolved Christian dares, and would die, because he knows he shall be happy” in Heaven.

Like Marcus Aurelius, Hall dismissed the spurious immortality of fame – “the fame that survives the soul is bootless,” i. e. useless. Letting one’s tranquility be disturbed by the bad opinions of enemies is also useless and harmful. Denouncing the desire for popularity, Hall apostrophized: “O fickle good, that is ever in the keeping of others!  especially of the unstable vulgar, that beast of many heads; whose divided tongues, as they never agree with each other, so seldom…agree long with themselves,” if they agree at all.

In reality, earthly pleasures were insecure and fleeting, giving in any case no contentment because they were insatiable and had no logical stopping point. Prosperous people were more “exposed to evil” than the poor, who having little to lose could more easily rebuilt after a disaster. The enjoyment of “pleasure” or “sensuality” could turn men into animals (invoking the myth of Circe). And pleasure could depart rapidly, without notice.

Anyone undergoing crosses could turn to divine contemplation: “He that will have and hold right tranquillity, must find in himself a sweet fruition of God, and feeling apprehension of his presence.” As long as Hall knows “that God favours me; then I have liberty in prison, home in banishment, honour in contempt, in losses wealth, health in infirmity, life in death, and in all these, happiness.” Daily communion with God, giving Him thanksgiving and prayers, would keep the reader in touch with the source of all tranquility.

Hall also advised the reader not to take action before satisfying all conscientious doubts as to the action’s rightness. Hall gave the example of lending at interest (“usury”). Hall thought he would not be secure in his conscience unless he refrained from offering such loans, despite the plausible-seeming arguments in favor of moderate interest. It’s hard “to determine, whether it be worse to do a lawful act with doubting, or an evil with resolution.” Acting in doubtful cases would unsettle the conscience, threatening tranquility. Hall would come to observe too many situations where – at least to his way of thinking – people rushed into conflict without first fully weighing the issues at hand in the tribunal of conscience to decide if action was warranted.

In addition to Heaven Upon Earth, Hall wrote many other devotional books, including meditations upon God’s work in nature – even watching a spider could be a prompt for deep spiritual reflections. Gathering fame as an author, Hall began improving his earthly fortunes, switching patrons from Robert Drury to Edward Denny (a future Earl of Norwich). Through Denny’s influence, Hall obtained a new parish in Waltham, Denny’s home base on the east coast of England. The pay was better than at Hawstead, but Hall denied to his old patron Drury that his switch was purely mercenary in motive. True, Hall’s discontent with his position at Hawstead had started with the financial situation, yet his ultimate decision for Waltham was based on the greater spiritual harvest to be gathered there.

Hall was also invited to London to preach to Prince Henry, elder son of King James I, and was invited to become one of Henry’s twenty-four chaplains, visiting Prince Henry one month per year to share his duties with a co-chaplain. This brought Hall into the lively mini-court of the heir to the throne. Like Hall, Prince Henry was a pious Calvinist. The Prince surrounded himself with ambitious literary and practical men. Henry had a particular desire to lead the Protestant forces of Europe in what we now know as the lead-up to the Thirty Years’ War.

Professor Geoffrey Aggeler suggests that the English Neo-Stoics tended to be Calvinists. Certainly, the circle around Prince Henry included such Calvinist Neo-Stoics. King James noticed this, and warned his son against “Stoicke insensible stupidity.” To Prince Henry and many of his associates, Neo-Stoicism was a fighter’s faith by which one prepared for life as a self-disciplined Protestant soldier or statesman. The Prince never had the chance to be the chevalier of Protestantism, dying of an unexpected illness in 1612 at the age of 18. Many of the Neo-Stoic Calvinists in Prince Henry’s circle would drift away from the monarchy, and toward Parliament, as their preferred instrument for making England more Godly.

But not Hall. King James selected the now prominent and respected cleric for important religious negotiations. In 1617, when James went to Scotland (where he ruled as James VI), he wanted the famously-Calvinistic Scottish church leaders to adopt certain practices, such as kneeling at Communion, which Scottish Calvinists considered “papist.” On James’ instructions, Hall, who was in the king’s entourage, tried to persuade the suspicious Scottish churchmen that these matters of ritual could be accepted because they were adiaphora – matters of indifference (the same term the old Stoics had used for indifferent matters like health and reputation, though in this context Hall meant indifferent from the standpoint of salvation). Hall had more credibility with Calvinists than many other Church of England figures – which is why James used him as an emissary – but Scotland was not religiously pacified.

James also sent Hall as one of the English delegates to the Dutch city of Dordrecht (Dort) to address a dispute roiling the Protestant world. A minister named Arminius defended the doctrine of free will in a challenge to Calvinist doctrines of predestination and election. The 1618-19 Synod of Dort upheld the Calvinist position, which Hall supported. However, Hall perceived a tendency on the part of the disputing parties to fight with stubbornness and acrimony on debatable points, which he warned against in a speech to the Synod. He called for (Protestant) unity amidst the various factions of the time: “We are brothers, Christians, not Remonstrants, Contra-Remonstrants, Calvinists, or Arminians.” Hall was soon obliged to return to England for reasons of health. He expressed his frustration at existing religious animosities in an unpublished writing called Via Media (the middle way): “I see every man ready to rank himself unto a side. I see no man thrusting himself between them, and either holding or joining their hands for peace. This good, however thankless, office, I have here boldly undertaken.” Hall was quite willing to sacrifice religious freedom for the sake of religious peace, supporting government censorship of fruitless religious debate.

In 1625, King James died. So long as the church had bishops and a sufficiently-formal liturgy, James had been quite willing to allow Calvinism among the clergy. Had Prince Henry survived, this situation might have persisted – if Hall were non-Stoic enough to feel regret for the past, he might have wished Henry had lived to inherit the crown and keep unity among English Protestants. Instead, the crown was inherited by Henry’s younger brother Charles, whom Henry has joked would make a better Archbishop of Canterbury than a king. Sadly, even this snide put-down had been too optimistic.

One of Charles I’s early actions was to make Joseph Hall the Bishop of Exeter, in England’s southwest. But this appointment was made in 1627, during an early, moderate phase of Charles’ reign. It was not long before Charles decided upon a church policy different from Hall’s – a policy advocated by men like William Laud, soon to be Archbishop of Canterbury. Laud and his faction rejected Calvinism completely, embracing the “Arminian” doctrines the Calvinists detested. The English Church was to be forced to accept free will whether it wanted to or not. Anglican clergy were also pressured to emphasize high-church ritual rather than preaching – unless the preaching was to Laud’s liking.

As bishop of Exeter, Hall strove to improve the number and quality of preachers of the Gospel in his diocese. He did not monitor his Calvinist clergy for strict liturgical compliance – many of these clergy followed a slimmed-down liturgy focusing on Bible-reading and preaching. Given that the Laudian faction was taking over the Church, Bishop Hall soon faced rumors that he was a Puritan sympathizer. In a memorandum, probably written for circulation among influential persons, Hall defended himself.

He defined Puritanism narrowly as meaning disturbers of the Church’s peace, and denied that Puritans in that sense were in his diocese. He had expelled such disturbers from, or kept them from entering, the diocese. Enforcing the Anglican Church’s legal monopoly on religious worship, Bishop Hall denied the right of anyone – Catholic or Protestant – to worship in a church separate from the Anglican Church. Within the Anglican Church, however, Hall was willing to be tolerant of most people who behaved themselves and maintained religious peace. Going on the offensive in his memorandum, Hall suggested that “Puritan” was a slur which lazy or corrupt clergy and laity employed to denounce people more Godly than themselves. The bishop said he would spend more effort on getting rid of drunken and profane clerics than on monitoring pious ministers for Laudian high-church conformity.

Hall wasn’t simply facing pressure from Laudians who thought he was too Puritan, he also had to deal with fellow-Calvinists who thought he wasn’t Puritan enough. For example, the militant element of the English Puritan faction rejected the office of bishop as an unscriptural relic of papism, advocating instead that the English Church be governed by bodies of elders – “presbyters.” Liturgical formality above the minimum should also be abolished, and special feasts (like Christmas) should also be cast away, according to the militants. To answer such claims, Hall wrote in defense of episcopal government against the advocates of presbyterianism, prompting angry responses from various Puritan pamphleteers, including the poet John Milton.

In 1639, Bishop Hall published a booklet entitled Christian Moderation. Showing the Neo-Stoic connection between personal moderation and moderation in matters affecting the body politic, the bishop started out with a discussion about abating one’s individual passions. From there, without going into specific doctrinal topics, Hall gave recommendations for the proper spirit in which religious discussion ought to be conducted. Bishop Hall rejected certain debating tactics which improperly inflamed the passions but which had become all too common in religious disputation. These included what we would today call straw-manning and guilt by association. Ad hominem attacks, and exaggeration of the differences among the contending parties, also met with Hall’s displeasure. Even if Englishmen couldn’t reach theological agreement, “we should compose our affections to all peace…What if our brains be diverse! yet let our hearts be one.”

When Parliament convened around this time, Bishop Hall attended the House of Lords, of which, like all bishops, he was ex offico a member. The presence of bishops in Parliament was one of the complaints of the radical Puritans in the House of Commons, and as the conflict between King and Parliament grew hotter, the Commons passed bills to kick the bishops out of the Lords. Hall and other bishops eloquently defended their right to be involved in Parliamentary affairs, and the Lords blocked the Commons’ bills. Attempting a new tactic, the Commons impeached Hall and other bishops for governing the Church without Parliamentary consent.

Then as 1641 drew into December, angry London mobs threatened the bishops when they tried to attend Parliament. Hall and several other bishops signed a protest, declaring that until they could take part in Parliamentary deliberations, free from mob intimidation, Parliament’s acts would not be valid. Now the Commons impeached Hall and the other signatories for high treason, and the House of Lords committed them to the Tower of London. Meanwhile, King Charles had appointed Hall as the new bishop of Norwich, near the east coast and about a hundred miles southeast of Hall’s old parish of Waltham. But for now Hall was in a cell and could not visit Norwich. He did have the chance to preach from the Tower to interested London citizens, and he wrote to express relief that the Tower’s walls at least protected him from the mob.

In Heaven Upon Earth, Hall’s words of comfort had included solace for prisoners, and Hall may have had occasion to turn to his own words: “Am I in prison, or in the hell of prisons, in some dark, low, and desolate dungeon?…What walls can keep out that Infinite Spirit that fills all things? What darkness can be, where the God of this sun dwelleth? What sorrow, where he comforteth?”

In mid-1642, after some wrangling between the Houses, Parliament decided to release Hall and the other bishops without resolving the treason charges. Hall had to pay five thousand pounds in bail – an enormous sum for that time. Then, out of the frying pan and into the fire – Joseph Hall went to Norwich to take up his new bishopric. Norwich was loyal to Parliament and would raise troops for Cromwell in the soon-to-commence civil war. And Parliament had just voted to deprive Hall and his episcopal colleagues of their property and income, except for a shaky promise of annuities for their support.

Unsurprisingly, Bishop Hall was not allowed to remain unmolested in the Norwich cathedral. Parliamentary supporters came to seize his property, and to deface the “idolatrous” stained-glass windows and other papist-looking church fixings. Hall and his family were evicted from the episcopal residence, and ended up renting a house in nearby Heigham.

In Heaven Upon Earth, Hall had given this meditation to think on in times of prosperity: “what if poverty should rush upon me, as an armed man; spoiling me of all my little that I had, and send me to the fountain for my best cellar” – i. e., drink water from a fountain rather than getting a drink from his wine cellar – “to the ground, for my bed—for my bread, to another’s cupboard—for my clothes, to the broker’s shop, or my friend’s ward robe? How could I brook this want?” Hall didn’t have to sleep on the ground, but he had been obliged to rely on friends and supporters for his support as he once again took up his pen.

While Hall lived in retirement, the English Civil War raged and was followed by the kingless and bishop-less Commonwealth where “prelacy” (government of the church by bishops) was specifically denied the protection of religious freedom. Hall busied himself in writing religious works, of which he published several. In effect he was acting as a private person, though some dissidents from the new regime may have quietly recognized him as still the bishop of Norwich.

The dispossessed bishop made one final effort in healing the country’s religious divisions in a work entitled The Peacemaker. In this book, Hall distinguished between essential Christian doctrines and inessential doctrines about which quarrels were dangerous: “It is possible I may meet with some private opinion which I may strongly conceive more probable than the common, and perhaps I may think myself able to prove it so; shall I presently, out of an ostentation of my own parts (abilities), vent this to the world, and strain my wit to make it good by a peremptory defence, to the disturbance of the Church, and not rather smother it in my own bosom, as thinking the loss much easier of a conceit than of peace?” The government should not tolerate authors or preachers who disturb the religious peace – “how worthy are they to smart, that mar the harmony of our peace by the discordous jars of their new and paradoxal conceits!” Hall believed he had witnessed the link between verbal religious warfare and actual warfare, and he wanted to nip the evil in the bud.

Hall was eighty-two – quite an advanced age for that time – when he passed away in 1656. He had given Stoic advice for the alleviation of private and public disturbances of tranquility, and had met such disturbances in his own life.

Works Consulted

Geoffrey Aggeler, “‘Sparkes of Holy Things: Neostoicism and the English Protestant Conscience,” Renaissance and Reformation / Renaissance et Réforme New Series / Nouvelle Série, Vol. 14, No. 3 (Summer / été 1990), pp. 223-240.

Kenneth Fincham and Peter Lake, “Popularity, Prelacy and Puritanism in the 1630s: Joseph Hall Explains Himself,” The English Historical Review, Vol. 111, No. 443 (Sep., 1996), pp. 856-881.

Sarah Fraser, The Prince Who Would Be King: The Life and Death of Henry Stuart (London: William Collins, 2017).

Joseph Hall (R. Cattermole, ed.), Treatises, Devotional and Practical (London: John Hatchard and Son, 1834).

Joseph Hall and John Jones, Bishop Hall: His Life and Times (London: L. B. Seeley, 1826).

Frank Livingston Huntley, Bishop Joseph Hall 1574-1656: A Biographical and Critical Study (Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 1979).

Dan Steere, “‘For the Peace of Both, for the Humour of Neither’: Bishop Joseph Hall Defends the Via Media in an Age of Extremes, 1601-1656,” The Sixteenth Century Journal, Vol. 27, No. 3 (Autumn, 1996), pp. 749-765.

Max Longley is the author of Quaker Carpetbagger: J. Williams Thorne, Underground Railroad Host Turned North Carolina Politician (McFarland, forthcoming), For the Union and the Catholic Church: Four Converts in the Civil War (McFarland, 2015), and numerous articles in print and online.

Women And Stoicism (part 3)

Earlier this year, we published two posts containing excellent invited entries in an online symposium, focused specifically on the issue of “women and Stoicism”. The next three contributions by Liz Gloyn, Debbie Joffe Ellis, and Andi Sciacca bring that online symposium to a close, but leave some important issues still open for discussion. (Comments are welcome, and a great way of adding to the conversation, but do make sure to give the Comments Policy a read).

The general question to which all of the forum contributors responded to was: “Is Stoicism something equally useful for men and women?” In my call for contributions, I suggested a set of more specific questions that the authors might consider addressing, which included:

  • Does Stoicism seem to appeal to men more than to women in the present?  If so, why?
  • Are there challenges women face that Stoicism would be particularly apt or helpful with?
  • Does modern Stoicism have a “women problem”, in any sense one would like to give that term?
  • What should we make of the emphasis upon traditional gender roles of some of the Stoic authors (e.g. Epictetus or Seneca)?
  • Can one be equally a feminist and a Stoic?  Are there important tensions that have to be addressed?
  • what should we make of the use of Stoic authors and texts to promote misogynist “red-pill” movements and attitudes (sometimes called “broicism”)?

Here are the final three entries!

Liz Gloyn

One frequent challenge to the applicability of Stoicism in the modern world is that Stoicism is inherently misogynistic. Seneca, for instances, talks disparagingly about “womanly” grief and other “womanly” behaviour (e.g. Consolation to Helvia 3.2, Consolation to Polybius 6, On Constancy 19.2); this is taken as evidence that he devalues women and that we should be deeply sceptical of the philosophy he espouses. Yet we must remember that he belongs to a culture which uses certain gendered words in a derogatory way. His adherence to social convention doesn’t mean he consciously agrees with this linguistically embedded sexism.

Compare the modern insult “you throw like a girl”. While Anglo-American society is becoming aware of the sexist implications of this statement, someone who uses this idiom is not irredeemably sexist. However, conscious-raising conversations around the use of language were not happening in first century AD Rome. Modern Stoics thus need to balance historical awareness of sexism embedded in the Latin language with the potential of the ideas Seneca uses it to explore.

This is especially clear in his Consolation to Helvia. This fascinating piece of writing has received little attention; I can’t help wondering if its marginalisation is related to its addressee – Seneca is not only writing to a woman, but to his own mother. He writes between 41 and 49 A.D. from his exile on Corsica, and seeks to comfort Helvia for his own absence – an undertaking he admits is probably unique in the genre of consolations, usually written to console someone on the death of a close relative (1.2). This text not only shows us that Stoicism is just as useful for women as it is for men; it makes it clear that this idea originates from the ancient Stoics themselves, even if they did not follow through its implications to their logical conclusions.

The most striking thing about the Consolation is how that Seneca presents Helvia as an intellectual equal. As he imagines what she misses in his absence, he focuses on their shared intellectual life (15.1):

So now I lack the embrace of my dearest son; I cannot enjoy his presence or his conversation. Where is he? The sight of him cheered up my sad face, I entrusted all my worries to him. Where are the conversations, of which I could never get enough? Where are the studies, which I entered into more gladly than a woman, on more intimate terms than a mother? Where is he, coming to meet me? Where is that always boyish joy at seeing his mother?

Helvia refers to a joint pursuit of philosophical study which is intertwined with her maternal affection for her missing son; her longing for her intellectual peer and her son are almost inseparable. That said, the comment that she enters into her studies “more gladly than a woman” is precisely the kind of thing taken to prove Stoicism’s inherent misogyny. Yet within the Consolation, he critiques women who do not put philosophy at the centre of their lives, and thus fall into moral traps which Helvia avoids (16.1-5); this mirrors the scathing disapproval he offers of men who do not prioritise philosophical living and thus waste their time with things which won’t bring them happiness elsewhere in his writing. We must thus read this particular comment as part of Seneca’s broader didactic programme rather than as a specific indictment of women.

The supposed disjointedness of the text has often struck readers – after beginning with an address to Helvia outlining his reasons for writing, Seneca undertakes what appears to be a long digression on Stoic ideas about exile before devoting the last third of the consolation to practical advice on how Helvia might comfort herself. A common reaction is that the more theoretical section on exile has been designed for the wider readership of the consolation, not Helvia herself – but this reading rests on the assumption that Helvia would not have been interested in philosophical texts! As Seneca makes clear, Helvia has been his companion in his studies, and he urges her to go back to them (17.4-5):

The foundations of all disciplines are in place – now return to them: they will keep you safe. They will console you, they will please you; if they come into your mind in good faith, grief will never enter there again, and nor will anxiety or the unnecessary bother of pointless suffering.

Seneca sees no conflict in advising Helvia to seek respite in the presence of her children and grandchildren at the same time as continuing her philosophical education. The only tension between family life and Stoicism is Seneca’s father’s reluctance to allow his wife to pursue her studies in any depth (17.4), which Seneca now rejects. Philosophy has the potential to serve a meaningful role in Helvia’s life, and Seneca thinks she is fully capable of taking advantage of all that it has to offer.

Despite his use of language which reflects the embedded sexism of his time, Seneca sees Stoicism as having real value for Helvia. Yes, she is framed as an outstanding woman – but Seneca frames his male addressees who pursue philosophy in a similar way, for instance calling his father-in-law Paulinus a racehorse in comparison to pack-donkeys (On The Shortness of Life 18.4). What makes Helvia exceptional is not that she has overcome her gender, but that she has understood the importance of pursuing her Stoic studies, a challenge which requires people of any gender to discard socially inculcated values concerning what truly matters in life. 

Debbie Joffe Ellis

Many people may consider Rational Emotive Behavior Therapy (REBT) to be a form of Neo-Stoicism combined with therapeutic techniques, with a manner of vigorous encouragement that is imbued with humanistic elements and saturated with acceptance and compassion for individuals, others, and life itself.

Its creator, my late husband, Albert Ellis PhD created REBT in the 1950s, and changed the world of psychotherapy. In his writings, and in the lectures and workshops he and we presented, we regularly credited Stoicism and the writings of the Stoic Philosophers as having inspired certain elements of his approach. This brief piece will speak of REBT’s views about issues pertaining to women. The other contributors to this forum on Women and Stoicism have written specifically on Stoic views, and I will be focusing here simply on the REBT views.

REBT’s assertions and recommendations about dealing with disturbed emotions, and its ‘how-to’s’ of experiencing more joy than misery in life, appears to appeal to both men and women equally. Gender doesn’t have a monopoly on the human tendency to think in both rational and irrational ways, and to make choices about which we will adopt. REBT reminds us that each person is responsible for creating his or her emotional destiny. REBT incorporates the Stoic stance that it is not an event or the behavior of other people that creates our emotional response, but our attitude or ‘perception-of’ the event or the words/actions of others, that creates the consequential emotions.

One of the profound gifts of REBT is that it clearly and precisely distinguishes between the healthy and unhealthy negative emotions (negative here implying unpleasant but NOT bad) and the techniques and tools for creating the healthy ones. It asserts that we create the unhealthy negative emotions when we think in irrational ways which include harboring demands, blowing things out of perspective, having low frustration tolerance and damning ourselves, others and life itself when things don’t go the way we think they should. The unhealthy negative emotions include anxiety, panic, depression, rage, shame and guilt.

Conversely REBT reminds us that when we think in rational ways when an adverse or unwanted event happens, we create the healthy negative emotions, which include concern, sadness, grief, disappointment, healthy anger, and regret. The elements of rational thinking include having preferences, refraining from stereotyping and overgeneralizing and thinking in absolutistic ways, having a sense of humor and keeping things in healthy perspective, having high frustration tolerance, and very importantly – adopting attitudes of unconditional self-acceptance, unconditional other acceptance and unconditional life acceptance.

Both women and men have equal capacity to harness their awareness, to think about their thinking, and to choose to think in healthy and life-enhancing ways in order to enjoy life more and suffer less.

In terms of issues that women face and that men do not – inequality would be high on the list when it comes to work role opportunities and pay. Though some improvements have been seen in recent decades in some countries, they are hardly sufficient.

In the case of a woman facing inequality in the work place, or in any other place for that matter, REBT certainly would encourage her to seek out and take any actions that she could take in order to receive equal conditions and payments. However REBT would encourage her to do so from a place of healthy emotion. If she comes from an unhealthy and self-defeating place of rage for example – she may make the situation worse for herself.

To prevent this, telling herself rational wisdom such as:

  • I can stand what I don’t like, I just don’t like it.
  • Life is often unfair and is often unjust, however I can make effort to create change while focusing on what still is good in my life.
  • No one can make me miserable without my consent, and I choose to do what I can about this situation, while accepting the reality that it is as it is at present – without liking it, and to empower myself by creating steady emotions through clear thinking.
  • Much civil change for the better has taken a long while to establish, and with persistence, and by refusing to catastrophize, I can continue to do my best to create healthy changes in my life, my society, my world.

REBT can be considered feminist in nature. From its get-go in the late 1940’s, Albert Ellis fought strongly for equal rights for women, and also for gay people, for people of every gender choice, for civil liberties, for an end to censorship, for the legality of inter-racial relationships – and more. Interested readers can learn more about his activities through reading All Out! – An Autobiography and/or some or many of his many other published books and articles.

Albert Ellis was vigorous and persistent in writing about and talking about the need for equality in ALL ways for women, including in the bedroom. He was part of the Sexual Revolution of the 1960’s and beyond, and educated women and men about the ways to pleasure a woman, about female orgasm, about relationship health and well-being, and about related topics that were not widely talked about at that time.

If he were around now, as he did all of his working life, he would loudly and passionately oppose the right of anyone other than a woman herself to make a decision about abortion.

Many women in this day and age who are part of religions or cultures, in which they are treated in second class ways, may choose to rebel and leave them, but many do not want to leave for a variety of reasons – despite any misery, anxiety or depression they may be experiencing. REBT would educate them that if they choose to remain in the relationships or family situations in which they are not treated as equal citizens – that they could nonetheless choose to empower themselves internally by mindfully accepting their situations, without liking them, and to find and focus-on elements of their lives for which they can be grateful – despite and including the injustices they may face. It would not be appropriate for an REBT therapist to instruct them to leave a situation, unless their lives were in danger, but the therapist can help them to feel like survivors and victors and NOT victims – despite their circumstances.

In this strange and unique day and age, when it seems like many things old are new again – not only for women, but also for men (and I am not referring to the good things!), it is vital that people who want to experience greater joy in life and less misery, make the effort to think in rational ways, thereby experiencing healthy emotions – despite and including any rotten circumstances. Then the actions we take may have a better chance of creating greater harmony locally and globally. In the profound words of Albert Ellis – let’s ‘push our arses’ to achieve more of that!

Andi Sciacca

When I was first asked the question “Does Stoicism hold value for women?” my reply was immediate–and then I realized that my response could make me appear to be a bit tone deaf, out of touch, or even disloyal to my sex. In the context of recent indictments of Stoicism as an oppressively anti-woman philosophy, I do believe that yes, even in this age of #metoo #timesup #thefutureisfemale #believewomen #keepyourlawsoffmybody politics, the answer to whether or not Stoicism (especially Modern Stoicism) holds value for women is simply, “Of course it does. Modern Stoicism holds value for people–and women are people–so, yes–Modern Stoicism holds value for women. Obviously.”  

But that got me thinking–is it so obvious? Is the value of Modern Stoicism actually as accessible to others as it seems to me? And, perhaps the better question might be this: Does it serve us in any way to try to identify whether or not ways of thinking / being in the world are best viewed through a lens that is, itself, far too complicated to be distilled into a simple category? Meaning this: Isn’t the only question I can really answer–honestly, effectively, with any kind of integrity or authority–whether or not Modern Stoicism has any value for *this* woman / person / me?

With that in mind, I do want to say, unequivocally, a few things.  

First, that I am not reducing this important conversation to a relativist position–nor am I falling back on the highly restrictive (and not particularly useful) framework of identity politics.

Second, while I am not sure that a truly useful, definitive answer exists, I do think there is great merit in asking the question.

And third, I am not automatically taking a contrary response to (nor dismissing) anyone who thinks or feels differently than I do. There are numerous excellent posts and articles on this issue–some occurring in this very post and in the post that preceded it earlier this year. However, there are other people writing with a self-proclaimed authority on the issue that are really, really getting it wrong.

That said, you might be wondering what I might know about or have to say about this issue–or why I am making these claims. For starters, I am confident that Modern Stoicism has value for women because it is an opinion born from my experience. In my conversations with my philosopher-husband, in my work with our local chapter of The Stoic Fellowship, in my participation in ongoing discussions with other members of the Modern Stoic community, and, in my own personal course of study, at no point have I ever felt that there was a disconnect between my ability to access the value of the community as a biological woman and the ability of any other person to access that same value.

However, when I review the regularly occurring commentary on the Facebook groups–or get sent copies of the (seemingly endless) Petersonesque blogs about #broculture obsessions with Modern Stoicism and red pill / blue pill arguments that seems to consistently posit Modern Stoicism as just one more weapon in an arsenal of alt-right hyper-masculinity, I am definitely in the minority (at least among those taking the time to post / argue / respond). It would seem that my experiences with Modern Stoicism and the Modern Stoic community are very different than those of at least some of my contemporaries, colleagues, and peers.

Are there people are using the Modern Stoic ideas and ideals to secure their own positions in a Masters of the Universe sort of way? Of course. That exists (unfortunately) within any intellectual or theoretical arena. But is Stoicism inherently anti-woman or anti-person? No. Absolutely not.

And taking that first question further, are there some ideas and ideals that lend themselves more toward (or are even based upon) the oppression, subjugation, or devaluing of an entire group of people? Of course. Again, is Stoicism one of those? No.

Perhaps it’s easiest to attempt to agree on this: Until things change dramatically in our pursuit of a more just world, there will always be those who attempt to use ways of thinking to negatively impact the ways of being for both individuals and large groups of people. That is wrong. But that is not uniquely connected to Modern Stoicism.

And so, with the scene set, for this woman / person / thinker, I would suggest that it might be most useful to ask not whether or not Stoicism has value for women, but instead to consider the following three, more important / relevant questions below, only one of which I’ll address in this post (saving the other two for a future read). These questions are:

  • First, where are we at risk of misunderstanding Stoic writings in ways that serve only to polarize through misguided interpretations regarding the treatment of women?
  • Second, are there any specific lessons that might help us best understand how to apply the principles of Modern Stoicism in ways that encourage a better treatment of persons in our desire to understand one another with respect to our differences?
  • And third (and lastly, for now), what value does Modern Stoicism bring us as we attempt to navigate toward fairness in an unfair world?

If you’re in the blogosphere on a regular basis, the answer to the first question might seem to be, well, everywhere. But that is truly an unfair representation. There are many good (if not great) writings that are treating this issue in both intelligent and sensitive ways.

One example would be Massimo Pigliucci’s review (from roughly a year ago) of a text focused on Stoicism and Feminism, which points out the limits of culture and time, as offering opportunity for improvement within the Stoic community as we continue to view the teachings in partnership with other theoretical frameworks. Other examples of this kind of work can be found in texts by Larry Becker, Margaret Graver, Donald Robertson, as well as in posts from authors in Stoicism Today. Again, these are but a few, of many, that once can easily find if one simply looks for them.

So it is not that I am against those authors who would choose to take a position opposite my own. In fact I encourage critical debate, when it is done well. What is most concerning to me are those writers, bloggers, and pontificators who tend to bluster, assume, and–most troubling to thinking people–insert anachronistic interpretations and meanings where they simply do not belong.

As an example, when you do a simple search of the keywords stoicism and feminism, you will see that one of the recent posts that claims a good deal of web traffic was penned by Medium contributor “Hey Francesca” (AKA F.C. Archer) on the P.S. I LoveYou blog. The title is catchy, bold, and wholly inflammatory: Be wary of men who love Stoic philosophy. The example she uses to explain why this is so critical is taken from Epictetus:

But tell me this: did you never love any person, a young girl, or slave, or free? What then is this with respect to being a slave or free? Were you never commanded by the person beloved to do something which you did not wish to do? Have you never flattered your little slave? Have you never kissed her feet? And yet if any man compelled you to kiss Caesar’s feet, you would think it an insult and excessive tyranny. What else, then, is slavery? Did you never go out by night to some place whither you did not wish to go, did you not expend what you did not wish to expend, did you not utter words with sighs and groans, did you not submit to abuse and to be excluded?

Our blogger’s take on this passage is that it makes Epictetus “fucking creepy”(as she writes). Then she goes on to make the claim that this passage is also a clear indiction that he was blaming this unnamed female subject for entrapping him and causing him to fall for her. She even connects this to the idea that Epictetus is responsible for perpetuating the same kind of justification that blames rape upon the woman.

But from a purely text-based analytical perspective, what this author does, when making this claim, is to miss the point of the passage entirely. Simply put, the sex / gender of the slave is inconsequential to the point Epictetus is making. His query is not about the role of sex or gender in commanding acts that are of a subservient nature to the one whom is beloved (and possessed). Rather, it’s about the exchange of power and the decision to expend what [one] did not wish to expend by kissing feet or flattering those who are to be in / of service.

This position is highly problematic by itself, but continues on to indictments painting all men who read the Stoics (or engage in the study of classical philosophy, quite frankly) as misogynists. Yes, read that again. That is her claim, but as absurd as this may be, she goes still further. In fact, what concerns me more is the fact that this is an author (with over three thousand followers on Medium) who not only makes these absurd claims, but also admonishes any woman among her readers and followers who might question a man about their interest in Stoicism to remember that–unless these men fess up to their bullshit–they are either a closeted woman-hater, or a liar, or someone in denial. She writes, “It is not their conscious intention that you must fear. It is the subconscious at work that you must be aware of.”


So let’s question, push, and encourage healthy conversations about the spaces that greater inclusion should occupy within Stoicism. Let’s do what we need to do in order to insure that others who have occupied (and even continue to occupy) positions of subordination and marginalization have a space (or better space) at the table. Let’s use the writings of Stoics like Epictetus to help us solve problems in communication, in relationships, in social causes. And let’s not use cheap shots to discount an entire (and rich, engaging, and thoughtful) framework like the Modern Stoicism movement as an out-of-control kegger, ruled by fratty Chads, trying to make people (women) like me into slaves or missing persons.

Let’s, instead, take the good counsel offered in Epictetus’ Enchiridion and remember what he wrote in chapter 38, particularly as we make every reasonable effort to protect the ruling faculty of our minds…

When walking, you are careful not to step on a nail or turn your foot; so likewise be careful not to hurt the ruling faculty of your mind. And, if we were to guard against this in every action, we should undertake the action with the greater safety.

Liz Gloyn is a Senior Lecturer in Classics at Royal Holloway, University of London; she is author of The Ethics of the Family in Seneca . Follow her on Twitter at Dr. Liz Gloyn.

Dr. Debbie Joffe Ellis is a licensed Australian psychologist, licensed New York MHC, and adjunct professor at Columbia University TC. She presents and teaches in her home city of New York, throughout the USA and across the globe.

Andi Sciacca is the director of curriculum and program design for The Food Business School and the founding director of The Culinary Institute of America’s Center for Excellence in Teaching and Learning.  She owns an educational consulting company in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and is a doctoral candidate in Philosophy, Art, and Critical Thought at European Graduate School.

A Stoic for All Seasons Series: A Day at the Beach with Musonius Rufus by Kevin Vost

It is not good to be entirely without experience of cold and heat, but one ought in some degree to feel the cold in winter and likewise the heat in summer and to seek shade as little as possible. –Musonius Rufus, Lecture 19.

[I]ndeed, philosophy is nothing but the practice of noble behavior. –Musonius Rufus, Lecture 4

One nice advantage of religious holy days and secular holidays is that they gives us the opportunity, year after to year, to think, honor, and feel gratitude, again and again, to men and women who have contributed in special ways across time to the common good of humanity.  I know of no official Stoic holidays, though I recall that Epictetus sometimes mentions the Roman feast of the Saturnalia in December that celebrated an ancient golden age under the rule of the god Saturn. I know too that Marcus Aurelius happened to die on St. Patrick’s Day (two centuries before Patrick was born).  In any event, I don’t see why we could not periodically celebrate some great Stoics at particular times of the year.

Now, we don’t know the exact dates of birth or of death for many of them, but since there are four great Roman Stoics from the period of the late Stoa (Musonius Rufus, Epictetus, Seneca, and Marcus Aurelius), and these four are highly influential to modern Stoicism, I suggest that we could at least start our celebrations with a Stoic for all four seasons.  If it remains within my control, I hope to write a series of four brief articles for each of the four seasons, and I’m starting right now with Musonius Rufus (c. 25 – 100 AD). So, if you have an ear for classical music, get Vivaldi’s Summer going gently in the background and prepare to start the summer with me and the man who taught and inspired Epictetus, a man called by some, “the Roman Socrates.”

I chose the summer theme for Rufus, not because he wrote extensively about summer, though you can see from the opening quotation that I was able to track down one little nugget, (that I, a great fan of not only shade, but of icy air conditioning, will try to put into practice this summer). The main reason I settled on summer for Rufus is that I have often read about, and have sometimes been asked to compose “summer reading” lists.  I discovered Epictetus, Seneca, and Aurelius in my early 20’s and have enjoyed them for more than 30 years, but it was not until my mid-50s that I first read Rufus’s lecture fragments and sayings. I suspect he is still the least read and least known of the Roman Stoics (and would be intrigued by readers’ comments that might confirm or refute my suspicions), and though we do not have more than some dozens of pages of his philosophy, I have found them well worth the read, and re-read, and re-read, and I hope that you will too, if you have not already formed such a virtuous reading habit.

Rufus is one of the Stoic champions of the classic cardinal moral virtues. His teaching is rich in common sense and in focus on the practical application of philosophy for living a good and virtuous life.  In The Porch and the Cross, my book on the four great Stoics and how they have influenced Christianity, cognitive psychotherapy, and modernity in general, I concluded by choosing among many possibilities one word to capture the essence of each of the four great Stoics. For Rufus I chose the word “sanity.”  Rufus wrote that “thoughtlessness is very close to insanity” (Lecture 21) and I find him among the most thoughtful and sane persons I have ever read.

I must cut this praise short though and cut to the chase, for as Epictetus told us, “Rufus used to say, ‘If you have time enough to praise me, then I know what I am saying is worthless,” (Epictetus’ Discourses, 3. 23).  Rufus’s lessons are eminently worthwhile and he would clearly rather have us far too busy studying and living Stoic philosophy to waste our time even in well-deserved praise.  

Next, I’m going to provide just a few samples of Rufus’s wisdom about a couple of the topics he’s rightly most famous for: the intellectual and moral equality of women with men and the need for us students of philosophy to live out and practice every day of our lives the truths that we acquire. I start with my own paraphrased abridgements from a few of Rufus’s extant lectures and then the briefest of commentary, excerpted with slight adaptations from my The Porch and the Cross. Hoping these snippets will have whetted or re-whetted appetites for Rufus’s Stoic wisdom, I’ll conclude with a list of recommended summer reading.   

Lecture 3: Should Women Study Philosophy?

Absolutely!” declares Musonius. Women have received the same gift of reason from the gods that men have, the same senses, most of the same body parts, the same capacity to know right from wrong, and the same inclination to virtue. Women no less than men are pleased by good and just deeds and decry what is base and shameful. Why would it not be appropriate for women to seek to live honorably and learn how to do so? That is what philosophy is all about. Should not a woman be good like a man?  

A woman should have the practical prudence to manage a household or a state.  She must be self-controlled to remain free from sexual improprieties, to avoid being a slave to her desires, argumentative, extravagant, or vain, so that she can control anger, preserve over grief, and become stronger than any emotion that seizes her. Any person, man or woman, who has studied and practiced philosophy, will display such a beautiful character. A woman who studies philosophy will become just as well. A female philosopher would be a just and blameless spouse, co-worker, and mother, thinking it worse to commit a wrong than to suffer one, who would rather suffer with less than be greedy for more, who would love her children more than life itself.  It is appropriate as well for a woman to obtain the courage that training in philosophy brings. She will not bow down to the powerful and mighty, but will nurse and protect the children she brings forth, stand firm by her husband, and will not, due to haughtiness, shrink from work others might say is befit for only slaves.

Some said the study of philosophy might lead women to become haughty, quarrelsome, and frivolous, abandoning their proper duties, seeking out arguments or dissecting syllogisms in the marketplace, when they should be sitting at home spinning wool. Musonius said such actions are unworthy in men as well. True philosophical discussion is conducted for the sake of practical application. Women should do this just as men should and neither should abandon their duties to do it.  

Here Musonius comes to the quotation we used to start this very chapter: “Just as there is no use in medical study unless it leads to the health of the human body, so there is no use to philosophical doctrine unless it leads to the virtue of the human soul.” Philosophy is powerful medicine for the soul, good for what ails both men and women. So, Yes! Women should study philosophy. Musonius concludes: “The doctrine of the philosophers encourages a woman to be happy and to rely on herself.”

Lecture 4: Should Daughters Be Educated Like Sons?

Perhaps you have guessed from the lecture above where Musonius is going with this.  Contrary to the common Greco-Roman wisdom of his day, Musonius answers with another yes.

Trainers of dogs and horses don’t make distinctions in their training of males and females for the tasks they are to do, and neither should educators make distinctions in training human boys and girls in their main task of life, the acquisition of virtues. There is no one set of virtues for men and a different set for women. Both must be sensible and just. Lack of self-control from eating or drinking too much will be as shameful in a woman as it is in a man. Women need to be brave as well, and would not want to be inferior even to hens and other female birds that fearlessly do battle with any larger animal that threatens their chicks. Remember also the armed Amazon warriors. If some women lack courage, it’s not from their lack of natural endowment, but from their lack of practice.  

Philosophy provides such practice for courage and for all the virtues, so as far as the virtues are concerned, sons and daughters should have the same education. Some will then ask if men should spin wool with the women and women should pursue the same gymnastics as men. Musonius does not advise it. He notes that some tasks, because of innate differences in the builds and the bodily strength of men and women, tend to be better-suited to each sex, which is why people have traditionally spoken of “men’s work” and “women’s work,” but even here there may be exceptions. He is talking about equal education for both sexes in the things that matter the most – like learning what is helpful and what is harmful, what should be done, and what should not, how to endure hardships, to overcome fear of death, to discern what is honorable and what is base and shameful. No man is properly educated without philosophy — and no woman is either. Women, like men, should develop good character and practice noble behavior, “since indeed philosophy is nothing but the practice of noble behavior.”

Lecture 5: Is Practice More Important Than Theory in The Pursuit of the Good Life?

We come to a point of the greatest importance to all four of our Greco-Roman Stoic moralists. To put it in a nutshell (well, three actually), Musonius poses three questions:

  • If you were ill, who would you choose between a doctor who can speak brilliantly about the art of medicine, but who has not treated sick people, or a doctor who cannot speak very well about medicine, but who is experienced in healing according to proper medical theory?
  • Who would you hire as your captain, a man who has never piloted a boat, but can speak authoritatively on naval theory, or a man who can hardly put two words together, but who has successfully sailed many ships?
  • Who would you hire to perform, a musician learned in musical theory who cannot play an instrument, or one who knows no theory, but plays a mean cithara or lyre?

Musonius assumes your answer in each case would be the person who has actual experience, the one who can clearly effectively practice, regardless of his capacity to preach. He applies this as well to philosophy, asking if it clearly isn’t better to be self-controlled and prudent than to be able to discourse about theories of temperance and prudence. Practice wins out over theory in philosophy because while understanding the theory behind virtuous actions enables one to speak about them, it is the practice of virtue that enables one to act virtuously. Theory is not without value, however, when it teaches one how to act and logically informs and comes before practice. Practical application should be in harmony with theory, but practice is more effective in leading people to action.

Lecture 6: How Does One Practice Philosophy?

It is one thing to know what the virtues of self-control, justice, courage, and wisdom are, and quite another thing live them. Anyone who claims to seek wisdom through philosophy must practice more fervently than one pursuing the art of medicine or any other specialized skill, because philosophy is of greater importance and difficulty than any other pursuit. Philosophy is the very art of living. How then does one practice and train?  

We must train according to the nature of what we are. Humans are a composite of body and soul, and both of them must be trained. Most attention should be directed to the higher part of the soul, but some care should also be given to the body, lest one will be lacking in his full humanity.  The philosopher must train his body in the capacity for virtuous work. The body is virtue’s instrument or tool. We train both body and soul when we discipline ourselves to withstand cold, heat, thirst, hunger, small portions of food, hard beds, to avoid pleasure and endure pain with patience.

The first step in training the soul is to make sure that the proofs of what things are truly good and evil are always ready at hand, and to accustom oneself to always distinguish truly good things from things that may appear good, but are not. The next step is to walk one’s thought, so to speak, never to run from what appears evil, but is truly good, nor to seek out what only appears to be good, while avoiding true evils and seeking true goods. All in all, a person practicing philosophy will seek to master himself, to overcome both pleasure and pain, to avoid clinging to life at all costs from a fear of death, and, in the case of goods or money, will not value receiving over giving.

A Bit of Commentary on Lectures 3 – 6

In his lectures endorsing female students of philosophy and the same fundamental moral training for males and females, we see Musonius’s clear declaration that men and women are endowed by the gods with the same gifts of reason and moral judgment.  Note as well, that Musonius’s lecture 4 espousing equal moral training of children of both sexes does not speak of the education of “girls,” and “boys,” but rather of “daughters” and “sons.” Recall the Stoics’ goal of living in accordance with nature, which requires the understanding of the nature of things, including human beings. Musonius does not speak of merely “girls” and “boys”, but of “daughters” and “sons,” because even here, in this lecture on education, he remembers human nature. He does not speak of abstract groupings of “gender,” nor of young male and female citizens, as if owned by some state, but first and foremost of the fact that every girl and every boy is someone’s “daughter” or “son.”

In this regard, Rufus echoes Aristotle, who called humans both “rational animals” and “political animals,” but wrote that “man is naturally inclined to form couples – even more than to form cities, inasmuch as the household is earlier and more necessary than the city…” Who more than a parent should care that their children are raised up in a way that will cultivate the seeds of virtue within them, and who is more ultimately responsible? Time and again Rufus’s “family values” ring loud and clear through his lectures, and the way to best protect and promote family life per Musonius is through the pursuit of the cardinal virtues and the wisdom that embodied Stoic philosophy.  

Lectures 5 and 6 make clear the value Musonius made of the practice of philosophy, valuing it so much higher than merely knowledge of it. The proof of a philosophy is in the pudding of actual virtuous lives lived out in accordance with reason and nature, bringing peace to the soul of the student of philosophy and benevolent deeds enhancing the lives of all of those around him or her. Still, Musonius does not by any means totally discount the role of knowledge and theory in living a life of virtue. We will better know what is truly good by a thoughtful search for the truth. But once a moral truth is found, it is far more important that is lived and not just learned.

I invite readers to ponder Musonius’ lectures as summarized above, or ideally as they are presented in full, to see what stands out as important to you, and I wonder what kinds of comments might you make and how Musonius’ wisdom might impact you this summer?

Recommend Reading for Your Stoic Summer

My own book that treats of Musonius Rufus in three chapters on his life, lectures, and his  philosophical legacy across time is The Porch and the Cross: Ancient Stoic Wisdom for Modern Christian Living (Angelico Press, 2016).  I must note as well that Rufus is of enduring value and well worth the reading for Christians and non-Christians alike. My own resources on Rufus at the time of writing were the excellent Cora Lutz and Cynthia King translations of Rufus’s extant works cited in the footnotes of this article. The Lutz translation was originally published in 1947, and the edition I cited has the benefit of the original Greek and English translations on facing pages. The more recent King book provides a more modern preface and introduction, and also includes other sayings attributed to Rufus from additional secondary sources (including, foremost, Epictetus).  I also found J. T. Dillon’s Musonius Rufus and Education in the Good Life: A Model of Teaching and Living Virtue (University Press of America, 2004) a valuable resource on Rufus’s life and lessons.  Just this year, I have discovered and enjoyed Chuck Chakrapani’s Stoic Lessons: Musonius Rufus Complete Works (The Stoic Gym Publications, 2018).   

To conclude, I highly recommended that the next time you head for a chair on a hot sunny beach (or even for a recliner in an air-conditioned study), whether you are a woman or a man, young or old, religious or secularist, consider inviting Musonius Rufus to join you for a couple of well-spent hours heeding a voice of unusual clarity and sanity in a world that could certainly use some.  You can be sure he will not hog the beach umbrella or ask you to turn up the air.

Kevin Vost is the author of twenty books on psychology, philosophy, theology, and physical fitness, has taught psychology and gerontology at Aquinas College in Nashville, Tennessee and the University of Illinois at Springfield.

The Locus of Meaning by Dan Hayes

In the search for Human flourishing (eudaimonia), meaning or significance is a necessary component. Meaning is what makes you who you are, what story you tell yourself about yourself. People find meaning in many forms: people, philosophy, religion, work, money, experiences, among others. The problem is that many people find their meaning in things they have no control over. They define themselves by their wealth, their jobs, their possessions or relationships.

If a person defines their meaning based upon things they have no control over then when they lose that thing that defines their meaning, they themselves become undefined. They lose the motivating factor in their story of self. Meaning, therefore needs to emerge from the self, and not from an external. One should then define their meaning in the context of one’s thoughts and actions, your knowledge, desire, aversion and motivation. In short the seat of meaning should reside within the realm of control.

Our Meaning should propel us through life and comfort us when the eventual setback hits us. Our meaning should never be able to be taken from us. Our meaning informs our agency in the world. Our meaning needs to be broad in order to fit into the many roles we must take during our life.

We all will fill the role of learners, doers, and teachers in our lives. All these roles equal and necessary in life and our meaning should be able to feed into each one of these roles. Our meaning must not be static or brittle. We may have it shift over time, to fit the dynamic of our lives. One may find their meaning shifting from a builder to a nurturer over time and this is fine as long as you can shift the material manifestation of your meaning from one subject to another.

If one understands levels of abstraction, one can find the proper level where to place one’s meaning. Abstraction is used in science where the primitives of one discipline are explained by another. For example Atomic Theory describes the atoms and all their primitive parts, electron, proton, neutron, orbitals etc. Chemistry is one abstraction level up. Its primitives are the atoms themselves. It uses those atoms to build chemicals. Going up a level of abstraction again Biology uses chemicals as building blocks for living organisms. Cell walls are made up of lipids, chemicals lined up in sheets, and our DNA just very long sequences of nucleotides, just more chemicals.

There are three major places that one can place their meaning in the levels of inner and outer life. At the most base level we have that of the inner self, defined by one’s reason and faculty of choice. A level of inner thought and contemplation before any action with the outside world.

Abstracting up to the middle level and we have our roles and duties within the community of rational beings. Here in the middle we have general duty based categories such as caregiver, builder, protector, organizer.

Going up once more and we have the manifestation of those roles. This manifestation are one’s job, one’s wealth, ones relationships, whatever is the physical output of that role. One can work toward improving their faculty of choice, but in order to live in accordance with nature we must interact with our fellow human beings. We fulfill that interaction with our duties, roles and their manifestations. If we keep our meaning in the middle level it matters not which form its physical manifests takes. The base and middle levels are within the realm of control. The highest level of abstraction is not.

If one is a builder then if matters not if any and all of your creations are destroyed or go to ruin. It is not in your power to preserve earthly things, but it is in your power to do the action of building. Your purpose is to build and create, be you a workman or engineer, tinkerer or architect, designer or craftsman. Nothing should stop you from being your meaning. You should be able to transfer the subject of your meaning, to a multitude of things and never lament when those things cease to be.

Your next project is little more than a hovel – then build it the best you can. Take as much care for this hovel as you would the project of a lavash house. If it is your meaning and duty to be a builder than build everything you can with excellence (arete). This building is done – good, move on to the next one. Do not boast of the building as if it is your own. It is an indifferent. One need to look no farther than the ruins of once great civilizations and remember the words of Percy Shelley’s “Ozymandias” to see how fleeting that is. Instead, if you are to say anything at all, say that “I have done the best work I could.” and leave it as that.

This city has been razed to the ground. Do not lament for that which is lost. There are people here now that need you. Do your duty and build for your fellow man, they need shelter from the elements now more than ever. Infuse your meaning into that which is your duty. You are not the building, nor the employee, nor the proprietor. The building can fall, you can lose your job, your company can fold. None of these events can take your meaning from you as long as you don’t put your meaning in these things. Fortify yourself by placing your meaning firmly within the realm of that which you control.

One day a builder will find that through circumstances outside his control he can no longer directly build. This is no problem, for as long as the mind is sound the builder can move to becoming a teacher or mentor who builds the builder. His meaning is retained even though his duty has changed. He should feel no resentment, but instead embrace the change with equanimity. The meaning  flows like water into the vessel of the situation at hand.

On the other hand if his duty is to shift his meaning from one calling to another then the new meaning should also be self-defined within the world of the realm of control. Say now you have become an artist. Go forth and be the best artist that you can and fulfill your duty. If you become famous for your sculpture or paintings, or just have a regular job working to make art for marketing that matters not. Both can be good provided you act with excellence in your new meaning as an artist. You are not your art, you are your action. Pour your meaning into the action of work.

The existentialist philosophers sparred with this issue and came to varied conclusions. Albert Camus asserted that there is no meaning and that any attempt to assert meaning would only result in disaster. Here I disagree and am closer to Sartre’s position of “existence precedes essence,” i.e. that we create our own meaning and that there is no external meaning. That the meaning one has must be self defined. I assert that in order to maintain that meaning, the meaning has to be within one’s control. That in refinement to Sartre’s position, not only do we create our meaning but that a eudaimonic meaning must reside in the subset all possible locuses of meaning that are fully within one’s own control.

Of the things that are most correlated with a satisfying and meaningful life, one is contributing to something greater than yourself.  These projects are personal, where you can see them having an effect on society, that provide peak challenging experiences, and will matter to more than just you.2 These projects could be a job or charity work or some sort of political organization, and they all lie outside the sphere of choice.

In order to gain the benefits of these projects without the potential of distress from their external nature we should abstract the location of the meaning we gain from them. If one places their meaning in the project itself, then it can be taking away from you, or the project can fail. Instead abstract up a layer and instead place your meaning in the work of moving a project forward. If your charity organization folds, then you can look at it as meaningful work that was done and that you can do more meaningful work with another charity.  If your preferred political candidate fails, then work to promote another one for the next election. The outcome of the project does not matter, derive your meaning form your actions to promote a project.

When one looks at the research by Dr John T. Cacioppo and others, it indicates loneliness in older adults results in nearly doubling their mortality risk. They better define Loneliness as “perceived isolation and . . . more accurately defined as the distressing feeling that accompanies discrepancies between one’s desired and actual social relationships.” 1 If one moves their location of their desired social relationship away from an individual and towards a category, then one can change the location of the meaning one derives from specific relationships.

To be defined as the wife or husband of another results in an existence reliant on their spouse for meaning.  Here one has placed their meaning in an external. One’s meaning is dependent on the health and opinions of someone else, not on anything one controls. A Stoic can still love their spouse, but would be wise to define their meaning in this regard as not so specific. Rather make your meaning to be a dutiful and loving spouse, or go up a level of abstraction to define your meaning as love and care for others. This change in relationship desire removes the discrepancy of loneliness. Then when one passes on, as we all will eventually, we don’t lose our meaning as well. Keep your meaning to the level of abstraction that remains within your realm of control and reap the health benefits.

Finally those who place their meaning in money are truly lost. Not only is money an external but an external which has no objective value. It only has value due to our inter-subjective reality, i.e. it only has value due to our collective agreement that it has value. It is a second order external, it is outside our control and it is dependent on others collective subjective agreement about it.  At least first order externals like our bodies are only dependent on the physical world. A second order external is furthest from our control.

Those without meaning are like a ship out of harbor, beset by a storm. They are lost and in danger -in danger of being defined by others’ desires for them. In the storm they are at the mercy of the gust and waves, throwing them to and fro without direction of their own. The storms are jobs, money, relationships and any other other definition of meaning that on may take that can be taken away from them. If one has meaning that is dependent upon the self alone then they create a harbor against the worst storms and a harness for the storms that are advantageous and in harmony with your meaning.

Dan Hayes  is a Stoic Prokoptôn, a VR Software Developer, and a Landlord, seeking calm within the storm of life through wisdom.

1. Luo, Y.,  Hawkley, L. C., Waite, L. J., Cacioppo, J. T. (2012). Loneliness, health, and mortality in old age: A national longitudinal study. Social Science & Medicine, 74, 907-914.

2. Martos T et al., “Life Goals and Well-Being: Does Financial Status Matter? Evidence from a Representative Hungarian Sample.” Soc. Indic. Res. 105, 561–8 (2012)

A Stoic Approach to Divorce and Child Separation by Stewart Slater

Nowadays, around half of all marriages end in divorce. The exact number varies from country to country and time to time, but having risen over the post-war era, it has broadly plateaued at a permanently high level.

Like many things, divorce exists on a spectrum. For every couple who adopt the Gwyneth Paltrow / Chris Martin model of “conscious uncoupling” and stay involved in each others’ lives, there is another which re-enacts the Michael Douglas / Kathleen Turner film The War of the Roses.

Things are more complex when children are involved and for every couple who manage to “co-parent” successfully, there is another where one parent is cut out of the children’s lives.

My divorce was the latter and I was that parent.

The settlement allowed me to send cards and presents to my children 4 times a year but there was no corresponding obligation on them. The situation continued for a couple of years until I learned that my children had moved school. Then I learned they had moved house.

I re-engaged my divorce lawyer, who in turn hired a detective. He found no trace of them but some hearsay evidence they had moved abroad to one of two countries.

The matter was turned over to the government, who, using the well established protocols for these situations, got in contact with the government of one of the other states. Finally, they were able to confirm that my children did actually live there.

Unfortunately, these things take time and my children were located just after my daughter’s 16th birthday and 16 is the age when child abduction law ceases to apply. So, while I have gained an idea of where my children are, I have also lost my ability to do anything to get them back. I may be able to establish some contact with my son, who is younger, but I have, probably, lost my daughter.

I developed an interest in Stoicism before my divorce and I’ve found it an enormous help during it. While I sincerely hope that no-one has to go through a similar experience, below are the 4 Stoic approaches that I’ve found the most useful.

1. The Dichotomy of Control

We are responsible for some things, while there are others for which we cannot be held responsible.

Epictetus, Enchiridion, 1.1.

An obvious place to start. One of the core doctrines of Stoicism is to focus on what you control, and not to worry about what you do not. Epictetus in the passage following the above talks about judgement, impulse, desire, aversion and our mental faculties being in the former camp, while the latter consists of our bodies, material possessions, reputation and status.

A good example of his approach comes in book 4, chapter 1 of The Discourses where he writes in section 73:

Whoever told you ‘Walking is your irrevocable privilege’? I only said the will to walk could not be obstructed. Where the use of the body and its cooperation are concerned, you’ve long been told that that isn’t your responsibility.

If we do not control our own bodies and actions, then, a fortiori, we do not control those of others. Unfortunately, a divorce case, particularly involving children, involves a lot of other people. There’s one’s soon-to-be-ex spouse, one’s children, lawyers, a judge and any experts the court may choose to consult. One of them at least, will not have your best interests at heart. All of them have other things going on in their lives which may be more important to them than your case. They may well reach conclusions which strike you as illogical and ill-founded. And there is nothing you can do about it. The decision in the case will not be yours.

All you can do is choose the best lawyer you can, tell your side of the story to the best of your ability, try to rebut the other side’s arguments where possible and to cooperate with the process as far as you are able. After that, the matter is out of your hands. Accepting this is a key part of process. Ultimately, you do not control the outcome. In coaching parlance, all you can do is focus on the process and make sure you do your best.

As Epictetus says in The Discourses II.5.28ff:

Your job then is to appear before the court, say what you have to say and then make the best of the situation. Then the judge declares you guilty. ‘I wish you well, judge. I did my part, you can decide if you did yours.’ Because the judge runs a risk too, don’t forget.

2. “The Olympics have started”

There’s a Buddhist proverb which states that the 3 best teachers are failure, heartbreak and empty pockets. And divorce certainly offers all three. However, one of the tropes of Stoicism is that crises offer the chance to test oneself and improve one’s character. As we know, the philosophy has an intensely practical nature prizing action in the real world over “book-learning”.

‘Take the treatise On Impulse and see how well I’ve read it’ Idiot. It’s not that I’m after, I want to know how you put impulse and repulsion into practice, and desire and avoidance as well.

Epictetus, Discourses, I.4.14

Unfortunately, many of the virtues are only really called into action in unpleasant circumstances. We cannot show courage unless there is something to fear. Accepting a pleasant circumstance is much easier than accepting an unpleasant one. It is at difficult times that we have the most opportunity to learn and improve ourselves.

…Faced with pain, you will discover the power of endurance. If you are insulted, you will discover patience. In time, you will grow to be confident that there is not a single impression that you will not have the moral means to tolerate.

Epictetus, Enchiridion, 10

Divorce throws up many unpleasant circumstances, but that offers many opportunities to improve one’s character. Different parts of the process might call on different virtues and it helps to see each new event as a chance to work on a particular area. As Marcus Aurelius asks:

What is this which is now making its impression on me?…What virtue is needed to meet it- gentleness, for example or courage, truthfulness, loyalty, simplicity, self-sufficiency and so on?

Meditations III.11.2

Seeing divorce in that light serves to lighten the pain, and one can think that while one will come out of the experience poorer in many (indifferent) ways, one can also leave it a better person than one started. By seeing it as a training course in life’s gym, one can imbue the experience with positive meaning as it offers gains as well as the obvious losses.

3. The Role of Father

It is well established in behavioral economics that humans have an asymmetric approach to gains and losses. Countless experiments have shown that we would far rather give up an opportunity for gain to avoid a loss rather accept a potential loss as the price for an almost certain profit. Unfortunately, divorce involves a lot of losses

As well as the material factors, one also loses a role. One is no longer a spouse and the role (if it be such) of “ex-spouse” depends almost exclusively on the circumstances regarding the split. In my own case, not seeing my children also seemed to remove my role as a father. But is this really true?

At one level, certainly not. Whatever the current situation, nothing changes my genetic link to my children. But looking at it in that, purely biological light, seems unsatisfactory as it effectively equates fatherhood with sperm donation, and I think we would see the two in slightly different lights. But a more expansive definition such as “a male who brings up a child” seems flawed as well. A prisoner of war, for example, is not involved in raising their child, but we wouldn’t say that they stop being a parent during their incarceration.

Epictetus deals with parenthood in chapter 11 of Book 1 of The Discourses. There, he talks to a man who felt unable to stay with his sick daughter and describes his behavior as not a rational act” (Discourses, I.11.20)

Now, any definition of a role in terms of the actions it involves will fall foul of the Dichotomy of Control. As noted above, there are circumstances in which one will not be able to fulfill them. So, the role of fatherhood must be couched in terms of intentions and desires. A father is someone who, for example, wants the best for his children and endeavours to bring it about. It is in this second part that the father whom Epictetus meets fails because, by giving in to his worry, he acts in such a way as to reduce his ability to help and support his child.

This might seem a de minimis version of fatherhood and one might wonder if Hierocles’ Circle does not lay a similar burden on us towards everyone, not just our offspring. However, I think 2 points can be made in reply. Firstly, the Stoics obviously placed family relationships in a special position. The chapter referred to above is entitled Concerning Family Affection where he states:

Whatever is rational will not be in conflict with family affection Epictetus,

Discourses, I.11.18

In this, he seems to be following Musonius Rufus who writes in his lecture “What is the chief end of marriage?” :

He said that the chief end of marriage is uniting to live together and have children [i.e. form a family unit]

Musonius Rufus, Lectures XIII.A.1

Further, while we may, as human beings have an obligation to all other people, it is not clear that it is the same as that owed to our families. If I fail to buy my children a birthday present, I am probably a bad father. If I don’t buy a birthday present for every child in my town, it is not clear that I am, therefore, a bad person.

So, if fatherhood consists of trying to do one’s best for one’s genetic offspring, the change divorce has brought me is not a loss of my role, it is rather a change in the way I can fulfil it. Our performance of a role must be considered along with the realistic options we have at any point in time. It must take cognizance of our practical situation. For example, consider a father whose child is studying the Greeks. If he is well-off, he might take her to Athens on holiday, and spend a week seeing the Acropolis, the Agora and the museums to make sure she learns all she can about them. The next year, she studies the Romans, but in the intervening period, through no fault of his own, her father has lost his job, and his resources are more straitened. Instead of a holiday to Rome, maybe all he can do is take her to the local museum to see some relics. In the second year, he is doing less for his daughter, but he has not thereby become a worse father. He is still doing all he can, given the circumstances of his life.

My own situation means that I cannot do many of the things we traditionally associate with fatherhood. However, it does not stop me acting as a father. I can still endeavour to keep in touch with my children’s education, for example. I can still intervene with those in authority when I think it is to their advantage to do so. I can bear their interests at the forefront of my mind, even in matters of which they will be unaware and may never learn about. To misquote Dean Acheson, I may have lost my children, but I have not yet lost my role.

4. Praemeditatio Malorum

The previous sections have dealt with approaches to the problem, ways of thinking about it which have helped me accept the situation. In this last part, I will deal with a practice to help reduce distress.

Praemeditatio malorum or “the visualisation of evils” is a standard part of the Stoic therapeutic arsenal, consisting of intentionally imagining a situation which one fears or wishes to avoid. The idea is that by repeated consideration of an event, one habituates oneself to it, thereby reducing the distress it causes. If the event never materialises, then one has at least reduced one’s fear of it while if it does, not only should it cause one less distress, but by having rehearsed it beforehand, one should also be able to react better, if for no other reason than that it will not be a shock.

Not seeing my children is obviously a continual situation, rather than a single event, so is hard to visualise. I decided, therefore, to visualise dying on my own, having never seen them since we parted. As I was lying there, not feeling too good about things, I realised that, even in that extreme circumstance, I still had the opportunity to be virtuous. I could die well, with courage.

And if I could be virtuous then, then I could be virtuous at any time, no matter what was happening which I find a very comforting thought. As Stoics, we’re supposed to aim for virtue and no external circumstance whether it be divorce, loss or hardship can stop us unless we allow it. As Marcus asks:

Can there be anything then, in this happening which prevents you from being just, high-minded, self-controlled, intelligent, judicious, truthful, honourable and free – or any other of those attributes who combination is the fulfilment of man’s proper nature?

Meditations, IV.49.2

And the answer is always, “No”.

Stewart Slater lives in the UK. He has a degree in Classics and has been a practising Stoic for several years