Stoic Salve-ation

Dear Fellow Proficientes,

I have to confess something: I’ve been lying to folks at NYC Stoics. Well… maybe not so much lying. More intentionally exaggerating a Stoic notion for rhetorical effect: that Stoicism isn’t about feeling better.

Of course, feeling better emotionally can be a consequence of Stoic practice since it can reduce the frequency of passions with a negative valence, like anxiety. Some ancient texts also hint at feeling better as a result of progress. However, I think these texts’ relative silence on this issue speaks quite loudly: negative valence is rarely—if ever—listed among the primary motivating factors for eliminating the passions. And many texts which seem like they’re clearly talking about feeling better seem a bit weaker than they at first appear.

One small example is Epictetus’ famous reference to having a troubled mind if one desires something that’s not up to us in Enchiridion 1.3. On the surface, this seems like a plausible passage to support feeling better as a goal of Stoicism. However, as Tony pointed out in a previous letter, a better translation of the Greek used here (tarachthesei) would be “shattered.” This connotation seems more in line with a disorganized, temporarily irrational mind out of tune with the logos than an indication that we should rid ourselves of passions because they feel bad.

Earlier in the same passage, Epictetus also cites lamentation as another negative result of desiring what’s not up to us. Lamentation carries a negative valence, and it’s possible (but far from certain) that Epictetus emphasizes this to encourage his students to practice the first discipline. Hence, what I tell attendees at NYC Stoics is a quasi-lie. But, emphatically not a full one: as Arius Didymus says plainly, the Stoics hold that joy is not necessary for eudaimonia (Stob. 2.6d). That’s quite clear evidence that feeling good is not the goal of Stoicism!

Arius Didymus, and all of our other ancient sources, also clearly tell us what is necessary for eudaimonia: virtue, and virtue alone. The problem I’ve seen after 12 years of running NYC Stoics is that virtue as the ultimate goal gets lost in the shuffle. And I suspect this may be the fault of how Stoicism is presented to the public.

One of the first books I read on Stoicism was William Irvine’s A Guide to the Good Life. As its subtitle (The Ancient Art of Stoic Joy) demonstrates, the book focuses on Stoicism as a way to feel good, and less as a way to be good. I got a lot out of Irvine’s book, as it helped get me on the path to Stoic practice. At the same time, it took quite a bit of work to figure out that the picture of Stoicism presented there was incomplete.

Nowadays, a lot of modern material on Stoicism focuses on Stoicism not as a full philosophy meant to change your values, but more as a tool to infuse happiness and effectiveness into your life. I call these Stoicism-as-salve interpretations, or “Stoicism for X,” where “X” can range from mental states with negative valence (like anxiety) to life domains (like productivity). Want less stress? Want to be more productive? Try Stoicism!

This approach may not only be a disservice to Stoicism, but to the people who are looking to solve their problems. The former, because it dilutes a life philosophy into a small set of life hacks. The latter, because there are sometimes more empirically well-founded approaches that would have a higher chance of helping these people. Stoicism’s efficacy is backed by much anecdotal experience, but it is not currently well-backed by careful, empirical study.

The “Stoicism-as-salve” approach has another possible downside: the potential to create what I call “resilient assholes.” A lot of public discourse around Stoicism seems centered around a moderately perverted interpretation of Epictetus’ first discipline, whose purpose is to reduce the passions. While Epictetus calls this the most urgent of the three disciplines, (Dis. 3.2.3) it is not necessarily the most important. That qualification applies better to the second discipline, in which one practices becoming a more reasonable and caring human being. The main goal of the first discipline, in my view, is to clear the way for the second discipline (see En. 2.1.2). Resilience paves the way for appropriate action. Resilience is not an end in itself. Yet it is often treated that way. If people stop at the first discipline without progressing to the second, we risk helping assholes become more resilient versions of themselves (which are… even bigger assholes!).

At the same time, perhaps the “Stoicism-as-a-salve-for-X” approach isn’t as problematic as I laid out above.

While the empirical backing for Stoicism’s efficacy (qua life philosophy) is currently weak, the support for aspects of Stoicism (in the form of CBT) is not. And people’s personal and anecdotal experiences of Stoicism’s helpfulness should not count for nothing. Furthermore, a lot of people first get into Stoicism by looking for a salve for what ails them. Some, myself included, stick around long enough to learn that Stoicism is more a life’s practice to be better, and less a life hack to feel better. So perhaps “Stoicism for X” approaches are an effective on-ramp to Stoicism, full stop. Finally, while some less scrupulous people may use a perverted form of the first discipline to become resilient assholes, they may well be in the minority. Those that aren’t in that unfortunate minority could potentially reduce mental distress by practicing the first discipline, even if they never move on to the second. And a world with less unwarranted distress is a preferable world.

So maybe marketing Stoicism as a salve for X is actually a net positive? Honestly, I really don’t know if the Stoicism-as-salve approach is a net benefit or harm. I’m hoping you do.

Vale,
Greg L.