Epictetus

These times in which we now live demand normal daily functioning, combined with active resistance to viciously regressive political forces, in a chaotic atmosphere of propaganda and violence. For some this state of being is nothing new, but for white left-wingers in the UK and US, I suspect it’s largely novel and shocking. Personally, I find the current state of things (which I dread to think of as a new normal) horrifying and depressing, as I discussed in rel="nofollow" target="_top">this review. Amongst other coping mechanisms, I’m finding thoughtful non-fiction helpful. Stoic philosophy seemed appropriate in part because it is one of the roots of cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT). This ancestry was often evident while I read; Epictetus demonstrates a sophisticated understanding of psychology many centuries before such a discipline existed.

It was interesting to read Epictetus as an atheist. Central to his Stoic teaching is the need to resign yourself, ideally in a joyful spirit, to all that outside your control. Epictetus assigns this realm to God/the gods/Zeus, effectively interchangeable terms. When applying this to myself, I experimented with reading God as fate, destiny, chaos, and simply the universe. Since I don’t specifically believe in a preordained fate or destiny, I was most comfortable interpreting what’s outside my control broadly as ‘shit that happens’. I don’t think that anyone or anything is in control, but things happen nonetheless. If anything, I think this atheist reading strengthens Epictetus’ arguments. If there is no God deciding your way in life, all the more reason to carefully contemplate your impressions and actions. Railing against the chaos of the universe is no more helpful than condemning the capriciousness of God or gods.

I went through Epictetus at approximately half my usual reading speed, as I am unaccustomed to philosophy and wanted to understand it as best I could. The experience was rewarding. Epictetus has much to say about freedom and a good life that resonates today. It’s tempting to see Stoicism as passive and fatalistic, but I came to consider that a function of modern individualism and impatience. Epictetus makes it clear that Stoic philosophy is not something you read in a book, or a fashion choice (he specifically complains about hipsters dressing ‘philosophically’!), but an integral part of daily life. To simplify, he seems to say that you should live a good life insofar as you can: consider all your behaviour carefully, be content with what you have, accept that all things are fleeting, and quietly set a good example rather than evangelising. This, it seems, will bring you true freedom and happiness. The term Stoic has become synonymous with uncomplaining suffering, which isn’t really what Epictetus advocates. He suggests that you aim not to suffer at all, to accept what is outside your control and be happy about the little that is within it. He does accept this is very difficult, perhaps impossible for many, and he struggles himself. Which doesn’t mean, he argues, that everyone shouldn’t aspire to it:

”And you, are you free?” the man asks.
By the gods, I want to be and pray to be, but I’m not yet able to look my masters in the face, I still attach value to my poor body, and take care to keep it whole and sound, despite the fact that it isn’t so. But I can show you a free man, to save from having to search any longer for an example. Diogenes was free.

Diogenes the Cynic and Socrates are the two most often cited by Epictetus as good examples to follow, both men he describes as humble, ascetic, and unafraid to speak unwanted truths to power. I found this comment arresting:

Only, consider at what price you’re willing to sell your power of choice. If nothing else, make sure, man, that you don’t sell it cheap. But what is great and exceptional is perhaps the province of others, of Socrates and people of that kind.

In addition to personal ethical endeavour, Epictetus talks of humans (just men, inevitably) as citizens, going to so far as to lecture on how antisocial it is not to keep yourself clean. I liked this part:

...If you consider yourself as a human being and as a part of some whole, it may be in the interest of the whole that you should now fall ill, now embark on a voyage and be exposed to danger, now suffer poverty, and perhaps even die before your time. Why do you resent this, then? Don’t you know that in isolation a foot is no longer a foot, and that you likewise will no longer be a human being? What, then, is a human being? A part of a city, first of all that which is made up of gods and human beings, then that which is closest to us and which we call a city, which is a microcosm of the universal city.

Stoicism thus refutes passivity, as it makes clear that the good citizen should be prepared to stand up for what is good and right, if necessary dying for it. Discourse 2.10 asks you to ‘consider who you are’ and then lists the three most important answers: a human being, a citizen of the world, a son, and a brother. Each of these roles requires certain standards of behaviour; Epictetus is arguing for civic virtue as well as personal disregard of material possessions and other worldly benefits.

The elements of CBT can be found most specifically in two dialogues: 3.8 on training yourself to deal with impressions (the cognitive) and 2.18 on the cultivation of habits (the behavioural). Both of these approaches are very helpful in dealing with distress: the first involves stepping back from your feelings to analyse and try to alter them, the second cultivating behaviours that calm your mind. Epictetus is aspiring beyond the alleviation of distress, of course, towards true freedom and happiness. He describes the former vividly:

So accordingly, that person who doesn’t allow himself to be overpowered by pleasure, or by suffering, or by glory, or by wealth, and who is capable, whenever he thinks fit, of spitting his entire miserable body into some tyrant’s face and taking his leave - to what can such a man still be a slave, to whom can he still be subject?

That certainly seems like something worth aspiring to. Perhaps more immediately applicable was the commentary on reading in discourse 4.4, in which Epictetus points out that reading should be for a purpose: to help you live better. Thus time spent outside books is an opportunity to put into practise all that you’ve read. I think he has a good point there, although I greatly enjoy a bit of escapist reading. I also sympathise with his dislike of having a body, which is after all a real drag:

At any rate, we love our body and take care of it, the most unpleasant and foulest of all things. [...] In truth, it is amazing that we should love something for which we have to perform so many services day after day. I stuff this sack here, and then I empty it; what could be more tedious? But I have to serve God; and for that reason, I stay here and put up with having to wash this poor wretched body of mine, and feed it, and shelter it.

Interjections like this prevent the reader becoming tired of Epictetus’ lecturing style, which often sounds a lot like browbeating to the unaccustomed ear. I found the whole book both thought-provoking and accessible, undoubtedly aided by the relative informality of the translation style. (The notes at the end were terribly stolid, however.) There is definitely something to be said for Stoicism, for focusing on what you can do rather than what you can’t, for cultivating a healthy mind (and leaving the body to itself), for disregarding material things and accepting that nothing lasts. I was reminded of the recently-read novel [b:Stoner|166997|Stoner|John Williams|http://images.gr-assets.com/books/1320600716s/166997.jpg|1559207], which concerns a man with definite Stoic tendencies but much more concern for his family roles than any wider civic responsibility.

I will end this rambling review with my two favourite quotes from the book, the first found in the Handbook:

Never say about anything, ‘I’ve lost it,’ but rather, ‘I’ve given it back’. Your child has died? It has been given back. Your wife has died? She has been given back. ‘My farm has been taken from me’. Well, that too has been given back. ‘Yes, but the man who took it is a rogue’. What does it matter to you through what person the one who gave it to you demanded it back? So long as he entrusts it to you, take care of it as something that isn’t your own, as travellers treat an inn.

The second, a delightfully gothic epigram, I found amongst the Fragments:

You’re a little soul carrying a corpse around.

Am I alone in finding that curiously comforting? I recommend Epictetus as a boost to mental fortitude when the daily news seems determined crush your peace of mind.… (more)