Collective Entities do not really exist.

  The point in my book for which I have received the most criticism to date was my assertion that collective entities—groups-- have no real existence.   That is, they have no ontological status other than as descriptions, classifications, comparisons, outside of the realm of conversation.

  When I say this, people are quite surprised, since they assume that they do really exist.  Am I really saying that this particular group of people does not exist?  In the true sense yes, I am saying precisely that.  The individuals who make up the group exist, but not the group itself.  It is nothing more than a mathematical set, with the individuals being the members of that set. 

   Suppose you walk into this room and see a pile 10 pennies here on the desk in front of me.  Does that group exist?  No; it only exists as the individuals pennies.  Can you show me the group apart from showing me the individual pennies that comprise the group?  No, you cannot.  In fact, I may not even have intended to create a pile of 10 pennies: it might simply be a pile of 10 pennies that were left over when I was trying to retrieve the dimes and nickels in my pocket!  The point I make here is that it is the observers, through our perception and our intent, who create the groups most of the time.

  Furthermore, groups are artificial, in that they do not exist in nature; our perception alone creates them.  We create them by making distinctions among larger possible collections, and different observers may make different distinctions.  To take an example from ancient history, most Romans made few distinctions among the Gauls.  Gauls were the enemy of Rome, and all Gauls were, ultimately, enemies.  Julius Caesar, on the other hand—perhaps because he spoke some of their languages—knew that they were not a united people, and that he could use their rivalries to cement Roman power over them.  In fact, even the Gauls themselves did not think of themselves as one people, and argued over who was, in fact, a Gaul.  Did the term include the Belgae, for example, a half-Celtic, half German, collection of people?

We do this all the time; look at the tendency to assume monolithic blocs of voters that prove to be illusive come election day.  What is a “Hispanic?” Is it someone who has a Spanish sounding name, or whose speaks Spanish,  or whose parents spoke Spanish, or whose ancestors once came from Spain/Portugal, or what?  I have a relative in Guatemala by marriage who carries a Chinese surname, looks completely Asian, but who clearly thought of himself as Guatemalan; is he also Hispanic, or not?  Who decides?

This may all sound academic, but it has a social and legal relevance.  If the group does not really exist, but is just a subjective definition on the part of some people in a given society, that “entity” can have no rights, no responsibilities, since it no more exists than the invisible Pink Unicorn.  All social philosophy must begin and end with discrete individuals, except when we are using a verbal shortcut in casual conversation.  Pick any social group you choose, say, in this case, African-American Women.  Does this include women whose descendents left Africa at any time, or only as a result of the slave trade?  Does it include women who may appear dark skinned but have one parent who is Caucasian?    Can you show me the group without showing me the individuals?  The answer is no, you cannot.  We may speak of a mob rioting and destroying property, but that is not correct.  Only individuals think, only individuals act.  The members of a “group” might, and sometimes do, act together, but it is still a collection of individual actions.  The responsibility for an action still resides with the individual, not the “group.”    

Is the Stoic Life a Passive One?

   I have had people criticize the Stoic way of life by saying that it seems that is that it is essentially passive.  Many critics have thought that if we are taught not to desire any external objects that life will lose its challenge.  I must admit that there would seem to be an element of truth to this observation.  Without the desire for fame and glory, would Alexander the Great have conquered his empire?  Would any of the great explorers have accomplished anything had it not been for the desire for fame and wealth?  The great captains of industry, the most successful military commanders, and probably many of our best scientists are often motivated by goals that Stoics would dismiss as improper.  If the majority, or even the “best and brightest,” adopted the Stoic way of life, isn’t it likely that society would stagnate?  The Stoic life may be one of peace and tranquility, but is it the peace of inactivity and withdrawal?

   This is, of course, a totally inaccurate picture of the Stoic life.  Some of the misunderstanding comes from its similarities to early Buddhism.  Buddhism, however, teaches its followers to renounce all desire.  This is the only way to end the cycle of death and rebirth.  In its earliest forms, only those who became monks or nuns could expect to achieve enlightenment, because only they could renounce all forms of desire.  A family life is not compatible with the goal to completely eliminate all desire.  While there are religious rules for the layman in society, the best that most men or women can hope for is to be reborn as a monk or nun in the next life.

   Stoic teaching is quite different in several important ways.  There is nothing otherworldly about the Stoic ideal.  Stoic teachers paid little attention to the afterlife, focusing instead on happiness and duty in this life.  For us, happiness is to be found in the knowledge that we can always achieve our goals, because we have chosen goals that are within our control.  No one can prevent me from affirming a true statement, from denying a false one, or from following my moral purpose.  Results might be outside of my control, but efforts are not.   I do admit that, sometimes, Epictetus does come off as a little fatalistic; he advises people to avoid public office, saying it is not worth the trouble.  Of course, he lived in a time when the Empire was ruled by a despot.  Sure, sometimes a beneficent one, sometimes an evil one.  Every Emperor, though, was a tyrant, and the only way to get ahead in public life was to curry favor with the tyrant or with his toadies.

   We get a completely different picture when we read the works of men who lived in a free republic, however.  Cicero extolled the public servant who lived his principles.  In the world of Cicero or Cato, political life was still free, and the individual could make a difference, or, at least, could attempt to make a difference.

   How can this work in day to day life?  Well, I cannot guarantee that my family will be wealthy; that is beyond my control.  I can work hard and invest properly, but things can go wrong.  I can do my best be a responsible husband and father, to carry out those duties that come with those roles.  I am morally responsible for my actions, but not for the final results, because those are outside my control.  I am responsible for doing my best for my family, but not for how those efforts turn out.  I am wrong only if I fail to attempt to do what I should. 

   Look back at the story Epictetus relates of the woman who sent packages to her exiled friend.  Her friend never received them because the Emperor’s soldiers took them, but was the effort really wasted?  What did this woman really accomplish?  The most important thing is that she did the right thing in trying to help her friend.  Too many of us would take the easy way out and decide that we should not waste the money and effort.  However, we know that we would be simply rationalizing a moral failure.  If this woman ever had the opportunity to meet her friend later, she could state truthfully that she had done the right thing.  What could she say if she had decided that the effort was wasted?  “Oh, sorry, but I gave up on you?”  Even if they never met again, the woman could look herself in the mirror without any self-reproach.  In this case it is certainly true that concern about results would more likely lead to inaction than concern over actions.

   There is another way in which the Stoic emphasis on efforts helps us live an active rather than passive life.   Since it is actions, not results that matter, I have NO excuse for not acting, ever.  Not every decision we will make is a moral one, of course.  Do I want baked potatoes or mashed potatoes with dinner?  Do I want maple syrup or strawberry syrup with my pancakes?  Who cares?  So what? 

BUT…many decisions we make do have moral consequences, and these impel us to act.  It is not enough to say that I am but one person, what can I do?  You can do whatever is at hand at the time, can’t you?