Wednesday, July 4, 2012

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?  

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