Read the following article:
‘Stoicism’
was a philosophy that flourished for some 400 years in Ancient Greece and Rome,
gaining widespread support among all classes of society. It had one
overwhelming and highly practical ambition: to teach people how to be calm and
brave in the face of overwhelming anxiety and pain.
We still
honor this school whenever we call someone ‘stoic’ or plain ‘philosophical’
when fate turns against them: when they lose their keys, are humiliated at
work, rejected in love or disgraced in society. Of all philosophies, Stoicism
remains perhaps the most immediately relevant and useful for our uncertain and
panicky times.
Many
hundreds of philosophers practiced Stoicism but two figures stand out as our
best guides to it: the Roman politician, writer and tutor to Nero, Seneca [AD
4-65]; and the kind and magnanimous Roman Emperor (who philosophized in his
spare time while fighting the Germanic hordes on the edges of the Empire),
Marcus Aurelius [AD 121 to 180]. Their works remain highly readable and deeply
consoling, ideal for sleepless nights, those breeding grounds for runaway
terrors and paranoia.
Stoicism
can help us with four problems in particular:
1. Anxiety
At all
times, so many terrible things might happen. The standard way for people to
cheer us up when we’re mired in anxiety is to tell us that we will, after all,
be OK: the embarrassing email might not be discovered, sales could yet take
off, there might be no scandal…
But the
Stoics bitterly opposed such a strategy, because they believed that anxiety
flourishes in the gap between what we fear might, and what we hope could,
happen. The larger the gap, the greater will be the oscillations and
disturbances of mood.
To regain
calm, what we need to do is systematically and intelligently crush every last
vestige of hope. Rather than appease ourselves with sunny tales, it is far
better – the Stoics proposed – to courageously come to terms with the very
worst possibilities – and then make ourselves entirely at home with them. When
we look our fears in the face and imagine what life might be like if they came
true, we stand to come to a crucial realization: we will cope. We will cope
even if we had to go to prison, even if we lost all our money, even if we were
publicly shamed, even if our loved ones left us, and even if the growth turned
out to be malignant (the Stoics were firm believers in suicide).
We
generally don’t dare do more than glimpse the horrible eventualities through
clenched eyelids, and therefore they maintain a constant sadistic grip on us.
Instead, as Seneca put it: ‘To reduce your worry, you must assume that what you
fear may happen is certainly going to happen.’ To a friend wracked with terror
he might be sent to prison, Seneca replied bluntly: ‘Prison can always be
endured by someone who has correctly understood existence.’
The
Stoics suggested we take time off to practice worst-case scenarios. We should,
for example, mark out a week a year where we eat only stale bread and sleep on
the kitchen floor with only one blanket, so we stop being so squeamish about
being sacked or imprisoned.
We will
then realize, as Marcus Aurelius says, ‘that very little is needed to make a
happy life.’
Each
morning, a good Stoic will undertake a praemeditatio, a
premeditation on all the appalling things that might occur in the hours ahead.
In Marcus Aurelius’s stiffening words: ‘Mortal have you been born, to mortals
have you given birth. So you must reckon on everything, expect everything.’
Stoicism
is nothing less than an elegant, intelligent dress rehearsal for catastrophe.
2. Fury
We get
angry – especially with our partners, our children, and politicians. We smash
things up and hurt others. The Stoics thought anger a dangerous indulgence, but
most of all, a piece of stupidity, for in their analysis, angry outbursts are only
ever caused by one thing: an incorrect picture of existence. They are the
bitter fruits of naivety.
Anger is,
in the Stoic analysis, caused by the violent collision of hope and reality. We
don’t shout every time something sad happens to us, only when it is sad and
unexpected. To be calmer, we must, therefore, learn to expect far less from
life. Of course our loved ones will disappoint us, naturally our colleagues
will fail us, invariably our friends will lie to us… None of this should be a
surprise. It may make us sad. It must never – if we are Stoics – make us angry.
The wise
person should aim to reach a state where simply nothing could suddenly disturb
their peace of mind. Every tragedy should already be priced in. ‘What need is
there to weep over parts of life?’ asked Seneca, ‘The whole of it calls for
tears.’
3. Paranoia
It is
easy to think we’ve been singled out for terrible things. We wonder why it has
happened to us. We tear ourselves apart with blame or direct bitter venom at
the world.
The Stoics
want us to do neither: it may neither be our, nor anyone else’s, fault. Though
not religious, the Stoics were fascinated by the Roman Goddess of fortune,
known as Fortuna, whom they took to be the perfect metaphor for destiny.
Fortuna, who had shrines to her all over the Empire, was popularly held to
control the fate of humans, and was judged to be a terrifying mixture of the
generous and the randomly willful and spiteful. She was no meritocrat. She was
represented holding a cornucopia filled with goodies (money, love etc.) in one
hand, and a tiller, for changing the course of life in the other. Depending on
her mood, she might throw you down a perfect job or a beautiful relationship,
and then the next minute, simply because she felt like it, watch you choke to
death on a fishbone.
It is an
urgent priority for a Stoic to respect just how much of life will always be in
the hands of this demented character. ‘There is nothing which Fortuna does not
dare,’ warned Seneca.
Understanding
this ahead of time should make us both suspicious of success and gentle on
ourselves around failure. In every sense, much of what we get, we don’t
deserve.
The task
of the wise person is therefore never to believe in the gifts of Fortune: fame,
money, power, love, health – these are never our own. Our grip on them must at
all times be light and deeply wary.
4. Loss of Perspective
We
naturally exaggerate our own importance. The incidents of our own lives loom
very large in our view of the world. And so we get stressed and panicked, we
curse and throw things across the room.
To regain
composure, we must regularly be reduced in our own eyes. We must give up on the
very normal but very disturbing illusion that it really matters what we do and
who we are.
The
Stoics were keen astronomers and recommended the contemplation of the heavens
to all students of philosophy. On an evening walk, look up and see the planets:
you’ll see Venus and Jupiter shining in the darkening sky. If the dusk deepens,
you might see some other stars – Aldebaran, Andromeda and Aries, along with
many more. It’s a hint of the unimaginable extensions of space across the solar
system, the galaxy and the cosmos. The sight has a calming effect which the
Stoics revered, for against such a backdrop, we realize that none of our
troubles, disappointments or hopes have any relevance.
Nothing
that happens to us, or that we do, is – blessedly – of any consequence
whatsoever from the cosmic perspective.
Conclusion:
We need
the Stoics more than ever. Every day confronts us with situations that they
understood and wanted to prepare us for.
Their
teachings are dark and sobering yet at the same time, profoundly consoling and
at points even rather funny.
They
invite us to feel heroic and defiant in the face of our many troubles.
As Seneca
reminded us, ‘Look at your wrists. There – at any time – lies freedom.’
To
counterbalance the engagingly cheerful and naive optimism of our times, there
is nothing better than the bitter-sweet calming wisdom of these ancient sages.
Posted by
The Philosophers' Mail on 9 July 2014
Explain, using an example of your OWN creation, how stoicsism helps with each of the four problems we encounter in life.
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