Stoicism: not a salve but a liberating, character-building framework

Dear Greg L. and Stoic friends,

I wanted to respond to your letter, Greg L., about Stoicism as a salve, and to share my thoughts as a practitioner of Stoicism who has adopted this way of thinking as a framework in raising my kids and building my own character along the way.

When you’re raising children, you worry about a lot. You worry about your kids’ physical health and safety; you worry about their mental and emotional health; you worry about their social well-being and relationships; and you worry about their ability to become independent and live a good life, both in their younger years and when they grow up. 

And on top of that you worry that you, as a mom, dad, or caregiver, will somehow mess your kids up: that your actions will cause your child to be traumatized or hurt irreparably or even make the kid into a bad person.  

It’s a difficult terrain that I’ve been living in for many years as a mom. In raising my daughters, the pressure and guilt often seemed overwhelming, especially when they started preschool and school. Why? Everything you do with and for your child has an effect on the worries listed above. Every choice seems to be laden with the risk of not just a random mistake but of undermining the life of another human being. The stakes are high. And as a mother, if your child does something that harms herself or others, not only will you feel terrible about what’s happened, but you will also be blamed by society. Parents are prosecuted by others’ judgments and even by the law for the actions of their children. 

All this is the background to my thinking on your letter, Greg L. I do believe that Stoicism can help people, though not in the ways that religious convictions might—it does not provide spiritual certainty. And Stoicism doesn’t exactly treat our pain, either. It does not make me “feel better” like a dose of Tylenol would. It doesn’t offer me the soothing feeling of a pleasant massage. Instead it has helped me grow strength from within. Ultimately, Stoic thinking gave me a framework to liberate myself from many of my expectations and worries about the world—especially in the context of raising children—and, by helping me avoid anxiety and wasted energy, it has enabled me to take on more meaningful roles in contributing to it. 

The concepts that have allowed me to gain perspective and critical thinking around my parenting have, in turn, helped me emotionally. I have felt more free knowing that I’m trying to do the next right thing—that it may or may not work out, but that I simply cannot control the outcome. And it made me value and seek to develop my children’s critical thinking skills. 

In my children’s younger years, the idea that some things are up to me and some are not came at a crucial time. With raising kids, there is only so much we can do; even illustrious philosopher-parents from our pantheon of ancient thinkers have struggled. We know that Marcus Aurelius had a son, Commodus, who did not bring glory to his father when he was elevated to the role of Emperor. And Marcus Tullius Cicero’s son, Cicero Minor, turned away from his father’s wish for him to study philosophy and went into the military. Later, Seneca the Elder chided the elder Cicero for raising a son who was “sober neither night or day,” and who had “none of his father’s ability except his wit.” These are just a couple of examples.

Stoic thinking enables us to focus our energy and effort on what we can do—on what’s up to us—and, in the process, how we can improve ourselves as humans striving towards the virtues. This permits us to adjust our thinking and to tune into a healthier perspective and what our job really is as caregivers. Rather than believing that my actions will somehow turn my children into people that they are not, for good or ill, and that I’m failing if I don’t raise kids who “succeed” in a worldly sense, I can question the impression that tells me a child is a creation I shape and design into some sort of artistic product. I can align my actions to the virtues of wisdom, justice, courage, and moderation instead, both for me and my kids.

This is the opposite of “tiger parenting,” also sometimes called intensive or even intrusive parenting, which has taken root in many high-performing educational environments over the past few decades. Tiger parents take full control of their kids’ lives and invest their own egos in their children’s achievements. The goal of this parenting approach is to shape your kid into an outward success by strictly guiding their every move from a young age towards academic and extracurricular recognition and other externals. 

This clearly goes against the Stoic way of thinking. We should indeed guide our kids in our role as parents, but we do well to focus on guiding them towards good character/the virtues, critical thinking, and independent, autonomous decision making.

Understanding that is just one thing that Stoic thinking has given my parenting. It has also allowed me to lean into the virtues myself, to work to improve my own character, and to ask important questions about why and how I choose to do things across the board. Learning how to pursue the good life in the Stoic sense has made me stronger, braver, as well as less uncertain about my place in the world and what I have to offer my fellow humans. 

So while not a balm to heal us, or a medicine to stop our pain, Stoicism offers a constructive, character-building, and life-affirming approach to living a good life that has helped me, and I believe can help many others. And if people choose to use it to strengthen their courage when facing tough personal challenges, that is a remarkable benefit. 

I do agree with you, Greg L., when it comes to many folks who are interested in Stoicism but can get lost when it comes to approaching the virtues. I would like to see more emphasis on exploring the virtues and how to practice them in everyday life in writings and discussions about modern Stoicism. Because we have lost many of the original Greek sources of Stoicism, it can be difficult to get a clear understanding of what Stoic virtues meant and how they were defined in ancient times. One interesting example of exploration of these topics can be found in the recent book by Christopher Gill and Brittany Polat, Stoic Ethics: The Basics. I’m not a scholar or academic, but I found this book enlightening. And perhaps we could take this opportunity to remind ourselves to find new and engaging ways to share about virtue-oriented living. I’d welcome learning more. 

Vale,
Meredith