Donald J. Robertson's Blog, page 77
June 3, 2013
Wanted Dead or Alive: Socrates
May 29, 2013
Stoics are not unemotional!
Copyright © Donald Robertson, 2012. All rights reserved.
The misconception that Stoics are unemotional like robots, or like the Vulcan “Mister Spock” in Star Trek, is so widespread that I’ve decided to put together some brief notes to summarise the opposing view, taken with modifications from my book Teach yourself Stoicism and the Art of Happiness (2013).
The founder of Greek Skepticism, Pyrrho of Elis, was jokingly said to be so apathetic, or indifferent to the world, that his followers had to chase around after him to prevent him walking off cliffs or into the path of speeding horse-drawn wagons. That joke was never made about the Stoics because, by contrast, they were well-known for their active engagement in family life and politics. Likewise, the Epicureans made the attainment of tranquillity, or the avoidance of pain, the goal of life, and saw no intrinsic value in fellowship with other human beings. This often led them to withdraw from politics or family life, and even to live in relative seclusion. By contrast, the Stoics, for whom tranquillity is only good when it accompanies the virtues of wisdom and justice, believed that fellowship with the rest of mankind is natural and fundamental to the goal of life, which entails “living in agreement” with reason, the Nature of the universe, and the rest of mankind. In fact, the founding text of Stoicism, Zeno’s Republic, centred on his “dream” of an ideal Stoic society, consisting of enlightened and benevolent friends, living in harmony together, under the patronage of Eros, the god of love.
Epictetus therefore said that it’s the Stoic concept of “appropriate action”, in our family and civil relationships, and of the “discipline of action” through which Stoics train themselves to act justly and philanthropically, which lay to rest the misconception that they are aloof and unemotional like certain other ancient philosophers (Discourses, 3.2). The Stoics believed that we are essentially rational and social animals who experience a feeling of “natural affection” for those closest to us, which it is natural and rational to extend to the rest of mankind, forming the basis of an attitude sometimes called Stoic “philanthropy”. However, arguably, by placing value on others, even in a somewhat detached manner, Stoics also open themselves up to a variety of naturally-occurring emotional reactions, including distress when valued things appear to be threatened. According to the ancient Stoics, even the perfect Sage feels natural affection, or love for other human beings, and is not completely insensitive to other feelings that naturally follow from maintaining these affectionate social relationships. For example, Marcus Aurelius surely loved his notoriously wayward son Commodus (shown above dressed as Hercules), while accepting that it was ultimately beyond his control completely to remedy his heir’s folly and vicious character. Indeed, Marcus described the ideal Stoic character, as exemplified by his own teacher, Sextus of Chaerona, as being “full of love and yet free from passion”. The Greek word for love that he uses can also be translated as “natural affection” or “family affection” – it’s the kind of love parents have for their children, but Stoics sought to emulate Zeus, the father of mankind, by extending their natural affection to the whole of mankind. This dilutes the emotion and prevents it from becoming an infatuation with any individual, or an irrational “passion” of the kind they sought to free themselves from. Hence the word he joins this expression with, apatheia, means absence of irrational, unhealthy, or excessive “passions”. As we’ll see, the Stoics repeatedly emphasised that by this they did not mean “apathy” or complete lack of feeling for other people.
As this is a common misconception about ancient Stoicism, it’s worth briefly reviewing some of their own comments. For example, after describing the Stoic theory of irrational passions, Diogenes Laertius wrote of the founders of Stoicism, probably meaning either Zeno or Chrysippus:
They say the wise man is also without passions [apathê, whence our word “apathy”], because he is not vulnerable to them. But the bad man is called “without passions” in a different sense, which means the same as “hard-hearted” and “insensitive”. (Lives, 7.117)
Epictetus says something quite similar, that Stoics ought not to be free from passions (apathê) in the sense of being unfeeling “like a statue”, and that this has to do with “appropriate action” and maintaining one’s natural and acquired relationships, as a family member and a citizen (Discourses, 3.2).
Cicero portrays the Stoic Laelius as saying that it would be the greatest possible mistake to try to eliminate feelings of friendship, because even animals experience natural affection for their offspring, which Stoics viewed as the foundation of human love and friendship (Laelius, 13). We would not only be dehumanising ourselves by eliminating natural affection between friends, he says, but reducing ourselves below animal nature to something more like a mere tree-trunk or a stone and we should turn a deaf ear to anyone who foolishly suggests that the good life entails having “the hardness of iron” in terms of our emotions. Seneca, likewise, says:
There are misfortunes which strike the sage – without incapacitating him, of course – such as physical pain, infirmity, the loss of friends or children, or the catastrophes of his country when it is devastated by war. I grant that he is sensitive to these things, for we do not impute to him the hardness of a rock or of iron. There is no virtue in putting up with that which one does not feel. (On the Constancy of the Sage, 10.4)
There’s a problem, as Seneca points out, with the notion that the Stoic Sage is completely devoid of emotion. It recalls a story about Diogenes the Cynic, who was asked by a Spartan if he was feeling cold, when training himself by stripping naked and embracing a bronze statue in winter. Diogenes said he was not, and the Spartan replied: “What’s so impressive about what you’re doing then?” (Plutarch, Spartan Sayings, 233a).
As Seneca implies, the virtues of courage and self-discipline appear to require that the Stoic Sage must actually experience something akin to fear and desire – otherwise he has no feelings to overcome. A brave man isn’t someone who doesn’t experience any trace of fear whatsoever but someone who acts courageously despite feeling anxiety. A man who has great self-discipline or restraint isn’t someone who feels no inkling of desire but someone who overcomes his cravings, by abstaining from acting upon them. The Sage conquers his passions by becoming stronger than them not by eliminating all emotion from his life. The Stoic ideal is therefore not to be “passionless” (apathê) in the sense of being “apathetic”, “hard-hearted”, “insensitive” or “like a statue” of stone or iron. Rather, it is to experience natural affection for ourselves, our loved-ones, and other human beings, and to value our lives in accord with nature, which arguably opens us up to experiencing emotional reactions to loss or frustration. Seneca elsewhere explains that whereas the Epicureans mean “a mind immune to feeling” when they speak of apatheia, this “unfeelingness” is actually the opposite of what the Stoics mean (Letters, 9). “This is the difference between us Stoics and the Epicureans; our wise man overcomes every discomfort but feels it, theirs does not even feel it.” The virtue of the Sage consists in his ability to endure painful feelings and rise above them, with magnanimity, while continuing to maintain his relationships and interaction with the world.
Filed under: Excerpts, Stoicism Tagged: emotion, Stoic philosophy, stoicism
May 26, 2013
How to Deal with Overwhelming Feelings: Postponement in Stoic Practice
The Postponement Strategy in Ancient Stoic Practice
Copyright © Donald Robertson, 2010. All rights reserved. This is a brief excerpt (modified) from my book, The Philosophy of Cognitive-Behavioural Therapy: Stoic Philosophy as Rational and Cognitive Psychotherapy (2010).
Summary
Learn to spot the early-warning signs of unhealthy desires or irrational emotions before they spiral out of control
Don’t allow yourself to be “carried away” by your feelings but take them as a signal you should pause for thought
Gain “cognitive distance” from your feelings by reminding yourself that the underlying impression (value-judgement) is not the thing itself but just the internal representation of it, and that you are upset not by things themselves but you your value-judgements about them
If the feelings is overwhelming, postpone responding to it, or even thinking about it, until things have calmed down and you’re able to rationally evaluate it
First apply the general precept of Stoic practice by asking yourself whether the underlying value-judgement is about something “up to you” (directly under your control) or not. If it is not, then remind yourself of the reasons why Stoics judge external or bodily things (not “up to us”) to be ultimately “indifferent” with regard to the goal of life
Consider what the hypothetical ideal Sage, someone perfectly wise and good, would do in response to the same situation, and try to emulate their example. Alternatively, ask yourself what faculties or virtues nature has given you that correspond with the demands of the situation, such as the capacity for courage or self-control, etc.
The emphasis upon self-awareness or mindfulness in ancient philosophical therapeutics was associated with the recommendation that extreme desires and emotions (the irrational, unhealthy, and excessive “passions”) should be handled with care. This often consisted in the incredibly sound and commonsense advice that no important decision should be taken when in the grip of rage, depression, or other irrational emotions, but time taken to calm down and recover one’s composure before acting. Iamblichus attributed the origin of this practice to the ancient Pythagorean sect,
If however at any time any one of them fell into a rage, or into despondency, he would withdraw from his associates’ company, and seeking solitude, endeavour to digest and heal the passion.
Of the Pythagoreans it is also reported that none of them punished a servant or admonished a free man during anger, but waited until he had recovered his wonted serenity. They use a special word, paidartan, to signify such [self-controlled] rebukes, effecting this calming by silence and quiet. (Iamblichus, 1988, p. 105)
The strategy of postponement was also frequently referred to as an important Stoic practice by Epictetus. He discusses the example of a man temporarily assailed by impressions of irrational avarice or inappropriate sexual impulses and emphasises that although these initial impressions may occur to almost anyone we are immediately presented with a choice as to whether we indulge them or challenge them in ourselves. He makes it clear that his students must remind themselves that to give in once to an unhealthy impulse is to weaken ourselves so that we become more vulnerable to it again in the future, whereas to question it forcefully is to strengthen ourselves by forming a stronger habit of resistance to it in the future. This strategy of focusing upon the longer-term consequences of an action is often found in cognitive-behavioural therapy (CBT).
Epictetus gives various specific examples of how such an impulse might be counter-acted and controlled, including praising oneself for seeing that it is merely an impression of desirability and not a thing good in itself, and reminding oneself of the example of Socrates’ behaviour, as a role model in respect of similar situations.
If you set these thoughts against your impression, you will overpower it, and not be swept away by it. But, in the first place, do not allow yourself to be carried away by its intensity: but say, ‘Impression, wait for me a little. Let me see what you are, and what you represent. Let me test you.’ Then, afterwards, do not allow it to draw you on by picturing what may come next, for if you do, it will lead you wherever it pleases. But rather, you should introduce some fair and noble impression to replace it, and banish this base and sordid one. If you become habituated to this kind of exercise, you will see what shoulders, what sinews and what vigour you will come to have. But now you have mere trifling talk, and nothing more. (Discourses, 2.18.22-6)
First, though, the Stoic must learn to pause for thought and observe his situation, an aspect of mindfulness that is essential to most remedial action. The Stoics believed that although irrational ideas could always impose themselves upon the mind, especially in adversity, nevertheless, by maintaining emotional calm and self-awareness, the Sage could choose to either grant or withhold his assent to his initial impressions. A similar notion is found in Dubois’ rational psychotherapy,
We should react briskly, act enthusiastically for good, obey the impulse of our better feelings. But however spontaneous this reaction may be, we must nevertheless leave time for calm reason to exercise a rapid control. Our reason is that which as an arbiter judges finally the value of the emotions of sensibility which make us act. It is a sentiment of goodness, of pity, which carries us away, reason very quickly gives its approval. But when we are about to give way to a feeling of anger, envy, vexation, reason should intervene to correct the first impression and modify the final decision. (Dubois & Gallatin, 1908, p. 56)
Similar “stop and think” techniques are employed in modern CBT to control impulses by “nipping them in the bud” before they have a chance to grow out of control. There’s good evidence to support their efficacy, particularly in the treatment of worry in Generalised Anxiety Disorder (GAD). However, they seem to be effective for a range of different emotional problems, such as anger, addictions, and sometimes even depressed mood.
Filed under: Excerpts, Philosophy of CBT, Stoicism Tagged: Stoic philosophy, stoicism
May 24, 2013
May 21, 2013
Stoicism and Rational Psychotherapy
Copyright © Donald Robertson, 2012. All rights reserved.
The French academic, Charles Baudouin was actually one of the first modern authors to integrate Stoic philosophy with psychotherapy, several decades before CBT or even its precursor REBT. Baudouin explored the relationship between psychotherapy and various religions and philosophies, including Christianity, Buddhism, and Stoicism in his book entitled The Inner Discipline (Baudouin & Lestchinsky, 1924).
Baudouin was a follower of the father of modern self-help Émile Coué, who developed hypnotism into his immensely popular “conscious autosuggestion” method. He was also influenced by the Swiss psychiatrist, Paul Dubois, who had earlier drawn on elements of Stoicism, particularly Seneca, in expounding his “rational persuasion” psychotherapy, an early precursor of CBT. However, Baudouin dedicated a whole chapter of The Inner Discipline to Stoicism and its use in modern therapy and self-help. He wrote that “one of the most original characteristics of Stoicism was the stress it laid upon a vigorous discipline, upon the education of the character”, and for this reason he considered it the branch of classical philosophy most relevant to modern therapy. Baudouin stressed the need for regular daily practice in therapy and self-help, which he found also emphasised in Stoicism. He provides a particularly good account of the morning and evening meditation practices, which he recommends to his readers and patients.
Baudouin says that self-mastery, of the kind espoused by the Stoics, can only be acquired by daily training. He agreed that one of the first philosophical precepts we must master is the distinction between things that are in our power and those that are not. In particular, the first hour of every day demands our attention as a time for mental preparation and rehearsal of philosophical precepts “for the attitude we adopt at this time sets our course for the day”. Baudouin cites the fact that the Pythagoreans “recommended silence and meditation during the first hour after waking”, quoting Marcus Aurelius’ remark about them having us lift our eyes to the heavens at dawn (Meditations, 11.27). Baudouin suggests we follow Marcus’ advice that good resolutions can be made with the best effect at the start of the day, and that we should take this opportunity to counter slothful tendencies: “This initial victory will pave the way for the victories of subsequent hours.” Baudouin advises us that we can acquire good habits of living through daily practice in this way, becoming watchful of our thoughts and actions, and continually exercising our minds in a healthy direction: “Thanks to the suppleness acquired by this course of moral gymnastics, the mind will be enabled to overcome all obstacles.”
Like Dubois before him, Baudouin agreed with the Stoic view that a “scientific” belief in universal determinism is of profound psychotherapeutic importance. He found that contemplating this helped to remind him how many things are beyond our direct control, and of the ultimate worthlessness of the countless things our passions crave. With regard to things not within our power, he employed Epictetus’ maxim, “endure and renounce”, which he calls the principle of “economy of effort”. We must do nothing without a purpose and must not waste our energies by running our heads against a brick wall: “We must not wish for the impossible, or try to do what is impossible.” He quotes Phocylides, a poet from the 6th century BC, who wrote “Do not let past evils disturb you, for what is done cannot be undone.” Baudouin compares this Stoic attitude to a modern adage: “If we can’t get what we like, we must like what we have”, adding, “instead of lamenting because we cannot change our lot, let us learn to love it.”
Filed under: Excerpts, Stoicism Tagged: psychotherapy, Stoic philosophy, stoicism
May 20, 2013
Stoic Infographic by Michel Daw
Source: Uploaded by user via Michel on Pinterest
See www.livingthestoiclife.org
Filed under: Stoicism Tagged: stoic, Stoic philosophy, stoicism
May 17, 2013
Review of Irvine’s A Guide to the Good Life: The Ancient Art of Stoic Joy (2009)
A response to James Warren’s review in Polis, 26, 1, 2009
William Irvine’s A Guide to the Good Life: the Ancient Art of Stoic Joy (2009) is probably the best-selling popular introduction to Stoic philosophy. It’s a book I frequently recommend to people who are new to the subject and interested in learning about Stoicism, but who lack a background in academic philosophy. It’s written in a very readable and accessible style and has many good ideas and personal observations. However, since I first read the book, I’ve had some reservations about the way it portrays Stoicism. Recently, I was sent a copy of James Warren’s review of A Guide to the Good Life, which expresses many similar concerns, and also a few points that I’m probably well-positioned to comment on as a psychotherapist. (Thanks to John Sellars for pointing me in the direction of the article.) While I basically agree with Warren’s review, I feel that there is scope for a more philosophically-consistent and yet “popular” account of modern Stoicism, one which addresses most of these concerns.
Irvine explicitly acknowledges that his version of “Stoicism” departs significantly from ancient Stoicism, which is to say from Stoicism per se. In particular, he substitutes the Stoic goal of “living in accord with virtue” (aka “living in agreement with nature”) with the goal of attaining “tranquillity” or freedom from emotional suffering. It’s Stoicism as a therapy of the passions, but denuded of much of its philosophical framework – which might, not unreasonably, be called Stoicism-lite. However, this is arguably not a trivial aspect of Stoicism but its core doctrine, which distinguished Stoics from philosophers of opposing schools. As Warren concludes, what Irvine’s left with is “something which an Epicurean, for example, no less than a Stoic, might endorse without much concern.” I’d go further and say that ancient Stoics would have found acceptance of this definition of their philosophy deeply problematic, and that, paradoxically, Irvine’s version of “Stoicism” may be more like Epicureanism in some respects.
For my own part, I’ve written or edited five books, three of which touch on Stoicism to some degree: The Philosophy of Cognitive-Behavioural Therapy (2010), Build your Resilience (2012) and my forthcoming Teach yourself Stoicism (2013). Like Irvine, I’m interested in modern approaches to Stoicism, for the purposes of self-help and personal improvement, but I’m a registered psychotherapist by profession whereas he is a professor of philosophy, at Wright State University in the USA, so we’re approaching the subject from slightly different perspectives. Nevertheless, most of the doubts I have about Irvine’s book relate to its philosophical basis, its fundamental interpretation of Stoicism, which is also the focus of the criticisms in Warren’s review.
The Goal of Stoicism
Irvine clearly states that his book replaces the traditional goal of life in Stoicism, “living in accord with virtue”, with the goal of attaining emotional tranquillity. He claims that this is the central focus of the Roman Imperial Stoics. I would dispute this interpretation of the late Roman Stoics and I see it as a fundamental departure from Stoic philosophy in general. As Warren writes: “this interest in tranquillity rather than virtue is the first sign of what I take to be the major fault of the book.” As Warren notes, at times Irvine’s account of Stoicism is so far removed from what’s traditionally understood by that term that it bears more resemblance to those opposing schools of ancient philosophy such as Epicureanism (or possibly Skepticism) which did define the highest good as tranquillity (ataraxia), or freedom from pain and suffering.
The supreme virtue in Stoic Ethics is wisdom and traditional Stoic “philosophy” is literally the love of wisdom, not the love of tranquillity. All Stoicism is unquestionably concerned with tranquillity but I don’t think any orthodox Stoics made this the supreme goal of their philosophy. Practical wisdom is the highest virtue, according to the Stoics, and indeed the basis of all other virtues, which are all one, being special forms of (moral) knowledge about what is good, bad or indifferent, across various aspects of life, e.g., wisdom takes the form of justice in the social sphere, and the form of courage and self-discipline when one’s irrational “passions” arise as an obstacle to appropriate action. The Stoics are clear that feelings of tranquillity are necessarily attributes of the ideal Sage, because otherwise he would struggle to maintain a life in accord with reason and wisdom. However, these feelings are the consequence of virtue in the form of self-mastery, or courage and self-discipline. Virtue leads to tranquillity, but tranquillity alone does not necessarily lead to virtue.
The Stoics clearly considered tranquillity to be important but, for several reasons, it is not as important as virtue. For example, the highest good is synonymous with what is praiseworthy according to the Stoics but we do not normally praise people merely for being tranquil unless they are also virtuous – a serial killer may experience tranquillity while chopping his victims’ bodies up. The Stoics argue that the highest good must be both “instrumentally” good and good-in-itself and that only virtue meets these criteria. Tranquillity may be good-in-itself but it is not (inherently) instrumentally good, it’s something of a dead end as the chief goal in life, compared to practical wisdom and virtuous action. Its precise status in Stoic philosophy isn’t entirely clear, and Stoics may have disagreed over it. However, it seems to me that the early Stoics typically believed that feelings of tranquillity (and joy) naturally supervene upon perfect virtue and are only “good” insofar as they are the product of wisdom and honour. One problem with making tranquillity the supreme goal of life is that it potentially justifies actions that are unwise and unhealthy. For example, if we could achieve lasting tranquillity by having a lobotomy and taking tranquillisers every day would someone not be justified in doing so if their supreme goal is tranquillity at all costs? However, if tranquillity is only valued insofar as it is consistent with our long-term mental health or ability to act wisely and honourably, that implies that virtue is after all being regarded as the chief good in life.
Stoic Determinism
Warren notes that Irvine rejects Stoic determinism and remarks that although this is probably not palatable to many modern readers, it is nevertheless an important Stoic commitment. He writes: “In its absence, it is unclear to me in what sense it is right to call what is left Stoicism at all.” That perhaps overstates the objection. Determinism is an important part of Stoic philosophy but it’s not clear that it’s completely indispensible. It seems to me that ancient authors, such as Cicero, regard the ethical theory that virtue is the only true good as the core of Stoic philosophy, and the feature which distinguished it from rival schools of thought. Someone who completely adheres to the Stoic ethical theory might reasonably be called a Stoic, even if they struggle to accept their determinism, or other aspects of Stoic “physics” such as their pagan theology. Neither can I see any reason to argue that belief in determinism is a necessary presupposition if one is to justify belief in the Stoic ethics of virtue.
However, from my perspective as a psychotherapist, I would also respond to Warren’s review by saying that belief in determinism is probably not as objectionable to ordinary people in the modern world as he assumes. In The Philosophy of CBT (2010), I wrote at length about an early 20th century psychotherapist called Paul Dubois. Dubois is largely forgotten now but he was an important precursor of modern cognitive-behavioural therapy (CBT). He was also heavily-influenced by the Stoics, not only referring to them frequently in his own writings but also assigning reading Seneca’s letters, for example, to his patients as therapeutic homework assignments. In particular, though, Dubois was thoroughly committed to Stoic determinism and felt it was important to educate patients in this view of life because of its potential therapeutic value. Subsequently, some of the founders of behaviour therapy in the 1950s, Wolpe and Lazarus, also taught their patients a deterministic outlook on life for its therapeutic value. I would agree with this. I’ve found that my own clients are able to benefit from a deterministic perspective, in a similar manner. For example, it helps to moderate feelings of guilt or anger if we can view our own actions and those of other people as the inevitable consequence of our hereditary characteristics and learning experiences during life.
Stoic Theology
For modern readers of Stoicism, who wish to become followers of the philosophy, Stoic theology is probably the most problematic aspect of their philosophical system. The Stoics were pantheists who believed that the cosmos is a single living organism, an immortal animal called Zeus, who possesses perfect reason and wisdom. Zeus is the father of mankind and creator of the physical universe. He is provident, having created the universe according to a prudent divine plan; he cares for the wellbeing of his creation and children. It’s true that the ancient Stoics seem very committed to this view, particularly Epictetus.
However, although it is a controversial area, there are some indications that the ancient Stoics considered their ethics, the core of their philosophy, to stand independently of their theological beliefs. Marcus Aurelius expresses this many times to himself by referring to the dichotomous slogan: “God or atoms”. Whether the universe is created by a provident God or by the random collision of atoms, either way virtue is still the only true good and Stoicism as a way of life still remains viable. There are several other indications in the ancient literature that suggest the Stoics may have been able to entertain a more agnostic or even atheistic worldview as consistent with the core of their philosophy, which I’ve surveyed in my article on God or Atoms. Their predecessors, the Cynics, were considered examplars of virtue by the Stoics, although they did not share their theological beliefs or interest in philosophical “physics”. It’s true that belief in a provident God makes it easier for Stoics to judge the universe as whole as good, and to accept their fate with equanimity and even joy or affection. However, even agnostic or atheistic Stoics can view individual external events with the detachment (“indifference”) required by Stoic Ethics. It also seems plausible to me that a modern atheist might judge the universe conceived in its totality as good, with an attitude of gratitude or even “piety” toward life as a whole, without having to adopt any theological assumptions at all – certainly without becoming a worshipper of Zeus!
“Negative Visualisation” & Hedonic Adaptation
The Stoics recommend an important psychological technique that involves repeatedly imagining future catastrophes as if they are happening now and viewing them with detached indifference. Seneca, who refers to this particularly often, calls is praemeditatio malorum, or the premeditation of adversity. Warren says he has “no sense of the potential efficacy of this manoeuvre.” That’s something I’m in a position to comment upon. The most robustly-established technique in the whole field of research on modern psychotherapy is “exposure” to feared event, a behaviour therapy technique for anxiety developed in the 1950s. This is ideally done in vivo, in the real world. However, it is also done in imagination, called “imaginal exposure”. There are many variations of the technique and it activates several different mechanisms of change. It is also employed differently for different forms of anxiety. However, in essence, when someone visualises an event that provokes anxiety in a controlled manner and for a prolonged amount of time, usually 15-30 minutes, their anxiety will naturally tend to decline (“habituate”), and when this is repeated every day for several weeks, the reduction tends to become lasting and to spread (“generalise”) to related situations.
The ancient references to this technique can be read as recognising the phenomenon of habituation, e.g., when they refer to anticipation of feared events as a way to blunt their terrors. The Stoics also make it requirement of irrational passions, such as anxiety, that the impression evoking them is “fresh”. It’s unclear what they meant by this except that they clearly imply that when impressions (including mental images of feared events) cease to be “fresh” they should no longer evoke the same level of anxious “passion” – that can perhaps be seen as a reference to the process psychologists now call anxiety “habituation”. However, this natural reduction in anxiety, although seemingly acknowledged by the Stoics, is clearly secondary to the emphasis they place on rehearsing Stoic principles in the face of anticipated adversity, such as the dogma that the good must be under our control and external events cannot be judged “bad”, either in the sense of being “evil” or “harmful”. Irvine departs from traditional Stoicism, though, in portraying Stoic premeditation of adversity, which he calls “negative visualisation”, as a means of reversing “hedonic adaptation”. To cut a long story short, this is clearly a means of enhancing sensory pleasure in the present by mentally rehearsing the privation of pleasurable experiences. As such, it’s not the main rationale for the traditional Stoic technique and would fit much more naturally with the goals of Epicurean philosophy.
Warren objects that “negative visualisation” or rehearsing indifference to anticipated misfortunes might preserve the “status quo” in a way that conflicts with widespread ethical assumptions. He’s concerned that Irvine’s account of accepting insults, when applied to things like sexist or racist abuse, might be the wrong course of action. “This is surely wrong, or at best, tells only half the story”, he says. “I can see why tranquillity might be won by caring less if one is insulted; but why not set out also to prevent or discourage insults?” I think Warren recognises, though, that this is only a problem for Irvine and not for Stoicism proper. Traditional Stoics are able to judge insults as fundamentally harmless while, nevertheless, preferring to have the offending person as a friend rather than enemy. This requires a delicate balance between emotional detachment and commitment to acting appropriately to resolve interpersonal conflict, as Stoics seek to live in harmony with other people and spread friendship and virtue as widely as possible.
The “Trichotomy” of Control
Irvine seeks to replace the Stoic dichotomy between things under our control (or “up to us”) and things not, with a “trichotomy” that classifies most events in a third category, consisting of things “partially” under our control. Again, this is not a trivial aspect of Stoicism. It’s an integral element of the whole philosophical system. Attempting to replace it with a threefold classification introduces many problems. Are we not thereby committed to the view that things “partially under our control” are “partially good”? However, this would seem to wreck the conceptual framework of Stoic Ethics. For example, it would mean that some aspects of Happiness and fulfilment (eudaimonia) are partially in the hands of fate, which would fundamentally doom the Stoic Sage to the experience of frustrated desire and emotional suffering. In any case, it seems to me that the Stoic dichotomy is more accurate. To say that something is “partially” under our control is surely just to say that some parts of it are under our control and some are not. It would be better to spell out which parts or aspects of a situation are within our control and which are not, and that inevitably brings us back to the traditional Stoic dichotomy.
Filed under: Reviews, Stoicism Tagged: Stoic philosophy, stoicism
May 12, 2013
New Stoicism Group on Facebook
New Stoicism Group on Facebook
The Stoicism (Stoic Philosophy) group on Facebook already has nearly 200 members and is quite active with lots of articles, discussion, images, and even the occasional video clip. Everyone is welcome to join!
Filed under: Stoicism Tagged: Facebook, Stoic philosophy, stoicism
Teach Yourself Stoicism and the Art of Happiness
Teach Yourself Stoicism and the Art of Happiness
New book due out Autumn 2013, by Donald Robertson, published by Hodder as part of the popular Teach Yourself series. A practical introduction to Stoic philosophy as an ancient art of living, applied to the modern world.
Filed under: Stoicism Tagged: book, books, Stoic philosophy, stoicism
