Tuesday 10 January 2012

Practical Stoicism

This will be the first post in a series on stoic philosophy.  The vast majority of Stoic discussion on the internet and in philosophy textbooks has been focused on the religious aspects of Stoicism: man's relationship to the universe, the wishes of the gods, the relationship between public and private duties, and so on.  It's certainly rewarding to study these things, but to me the biggest advantage of Stoicism is its incredible practicality: putting aside the metaphysical framework, Stoic philosophy gives useful advice for the real world.

Prisoners of war - I'm too lazy to look them up, so trust me on this - have turned to Stoic precepts to help them get through the horrors of internment.  In fact, Stoicism is designed to answer a very common question: how ought we to react to misfortune? 

So far I haven't actually said anything about what Stoicism is - bear with me a little further.  The Stoicism I'm interested in is drawn from people like Marcus Aurelius and Epictetus, and heavily grounded in certain maxims of Socrates.  Every Greek philosopher tried to enlist Socrates in their cause, propping up his venerable corpse at the forefront of each new idea, and Epictetus was no exception.  He argued that Socrates was an ideal Stoic.  In this series I'll lay out a kind of non-supernatural Stoicism, centred on ideas like these:

Socrates' paradoxical claim that, a priori, no harm can come to a good man.

Epictetus' argument that the defining human trait is the use of impressions.

Marcus Aurelius' argument that we ought only to concern ourselves with what is in our power.

And finally, here's a skeleton definition of Stoicism: the philosophy that counsels us to receive life's troubles with total equanimity; for example, to react to the death of a loved one and the birth of one's child in the same way.  I'll flesh this out in posts to come.

10 comments:

  1. Hurray! I've been wanting to read some of the Stoics. So I look forward to receiving a bit of a primer here!

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  2. I prefer the Cynics, but will be glad to read what you've got on Greece's taoist analogs...

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  3. Jack, the Stoics borrowed heavily from Cynicism. The Cynics were more outwardly extreme though, I'll give you that.

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  4. If I couldn't be Alexander, I would totally be Diogenes.

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  5. Why on earth would you want to "react to the death of a loved one and the birth of one's child in the same way?"

    I'd prefer to feel sad indeed for the former and overjoyed for the latter. I'll have plenty of time to react to such occurrences in the same way when I'm dead. Until then, I'm happy to have whatever emotions that come my way.

    As an aside, rather than from the Stoics or Cynics, I get my philosophical guidance from the Onanists. This way I can find comfort in taking important matters into my own hand.

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  6. Great question, Pied Cow. There's an answer coming soon (but nothing on Onan, unfortunately).

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  7. I think the best example of biblical stoicism might be Job saying to his wife, "Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?"

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  8. That's just it, Phil. The Stoics repress and internalize. Our Cynic forebears did not self-divide, or at least that's the impression I get.

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  9. That's pretty Freudian of you, Jack. I can get on board with splitting and projection, but when people start talking about repression and so forth my eyes develop this uncontrollable rolling motion.

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  10. I'll be stoic enough when I'm dead. And it's not pragmatic, but it is cowardly. For arguments supporting my statement, see "Passions Within Reason," by Robert H. Frank.

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