Stoicism in The Classics
Of the many contributions the classical eras of ancient Greece and Rome have made to the development of the Western world, the philosophy of Stoicism is perhaps one of the most culturally pertinent. With stoic revivals taking place in the fourteenth century Renaissance, as well as our own contemporary era, Stoicism has evidently stood the test of time as at least, if not the complete “original” philosophy, a resonant general outlook on the hardships of life. But why? What is it about the stoic philosophy that draws people of all ages to it like moths to a flame? And what can this ancient philosophy tell us about our relationship to antiquity? To understand Stoicism’s enduring popularity and pervasive cultural impact, exploring its history and leading philosophers is a necessary prerequisite.
Stoicism, although many associate it with ancient Rome, actually sprung from the rich, philosophical milieu of post-Socrates Athens in ancient Greece. Its nominal founder, Zeno of Citum, drew inspiration from the Cynics, such as Antisthenes, to construct his fledgling philosophical system. Stoicism in its nascency entailed an entire explanation of the universe taking inspiration from Aristotle’s categories as well as the then-current scientific beliefs of ancient Athens. While the Stoics did gloss on physics, logic, and ancient science, the main thrust and attraction of the Stoic system was (and is still) its perspective on dealing with emotional turmoil while maintaining composure. For this reason, Stoicism’s popularity grew far and wide, among emperors, who had the entirety of the known world at their grasp such as Marcus Aurelius, and slaves, such as the disabled Epictetus; one of history’s favorite Stoic examples. That Stoicism had utility within the minds and courts of emperors as well as the houses of slaves speaks, to many modern minds, the language of universal applicability. The leadership of the ancient world thought as much, as Bertrand Russell quotes Gilbert Murray saying “nearly all the successors of Alexander…professed themselves Stoics.” There is of course much more intricacy in the development of the Stoic system and its spread than I present here, but the real key to understanding Stoicism’s popularity lies not in its technical details, but in the broader, emotional strokes that color it.
As mentioned previously, the main draw of Stoicism lies mainly in its approach to dealing with emotional turmoil. The Stoic salve, in the words of Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius, runs a little like this: “You have power over your own mind -- not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.” or even, in a manner dialing up the perspectivism “Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact. Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth.” The key to the Stoic’s outlook is the idea that events themselves, whether it be the death of a friend, the rescinding of a business contract, or something else entirely, do not innately harm the witnessing individual, but that it is the individual’s perception of the events being “bad” that plant the seeds of turmoil. Marcus Aurelius in his private journals (which he asked to be burned after his death, but were instead published and became the Meditations, perhaps the leading Stoic text) frequently reminds himself of his own mortality. That although in his current existence, he may be the richest, most powerful man on the known Earth as Roman Emperor, and although that may bring an insurmountable deal of pressure, soon enough he will be but dust, living only in the pages of history. Taking the wide view and understanding that maybe day-to-day stresses are not so important since we all turn to dust equally, helped Aurelius, and evidently many others throughout history, soothe his anxious mind into a state of cool, collected, peace.
Even so, there is a misconception floating around that haunts Stoicism, railing against it accusations of emotional repression and toxicity. Perhaps it is the pop-culture effect, where certain emotionally damaged and unhealthily repressed characters like Batman or Don Draper, having been sloppily lathered with the label of Stoic due to their reserved outward expressions, drag Stoicism into the realm of toxic masculinity by association; Or maybe it is the coopting of classical aesthetics by controversial internet personalities such as Andrew Tate that get detractors to wave away any type of classical philosophy off the bat. Either way, the vague impression many garner towards Stoicism as a philosophy of emotional asceticism could not be further from the truth. It can be an easy mistake to make, given how loosely the term is used these days, but Stoicism isn’t really about glorifying the type of “sigma-male” emotional repression you get in characters like Tony Soprano or Walter White. It is not about denying the existence of one’s emotions or trying to bury them, it is about understanding that while feelings may feel all-encompassing, they still are just feelings at the end of the day, and the negative ones don’t have to dominate your life. It is a perspective that offers a temporary step back from the emotional throes of a difficult situation to offer a wider view of life as a whole and to reach some semblance of mental balance before reengaging. Even the poster child of Stoicism, Marcus Aurelius, cried often after betrayals, the deaths of friends, and the deaths of eight of his children.
I personally have always thought Stoicism reminded me of a sort of Buddhism-lite. The focus on the mind, the acknowledgment that it isn’t necessarily events themselves, but our attachment and response to them that causes us suffering, the wide view of human existence, and many more similarities have always echoed Buddhism to me. I think a comparison to Buddhism offers a more engaging and truthful analysis of Stoicism, rather than the dismissive growls of those wishing to diminish it into some simple “men don’t cry” philosophy.
I think understanding the discordance between what Stoicism truly is, and how so much of our culture wishes to view it, offers us an interesting microcosm of the wider misconceptions our contemporary culture has about the classical world as a whole. Dismissing Stoicism as a philosophy that champions a brutish repression of emotions seems to me to reflect, in some sense, the wider arrogance of our culture towards the ancient world. Yes, we are more technologically advanced than ancient people. Yes, we have more rights, freedom, and longer lives than many ancient people, but that doesn’t necessarily mean the ancient people were stupid, or less than us. They were the same species we are and had the same capacity for emotional intelligence that we do. The Stoics were keenly aware that burying emotions and trying to become a steely, soulless person would not lead to a fulfilling life. In fact, one of the main undercurrents of the Stoic philosophy is living “according to nature”, (i.e. according to the way things change, grow, and transform like in nature) much more reminiscent of a flow state rather than a stolid denial of emotional currents.
When people think of the Roman Empire, they likely think of the Colosseum, the gladiator fights, and maybe the dictator Julius Caesar. Naturally, this paints Rome as a state of simplistically simple brutish violence. Obviously, ancient Rome had no shortage of violence, but it brought us so much more than that in the way of Roman law, engineering, logistics, and much much more. The point here is that it can be easy to dismiss ancient societies with a veneer of modern superiority, but doing so does not accurately reflect just how intelligent and advanced these ancient peoples were. Stoicism and the misconceptions that color it offer no better example of how modern attitudes so often pollute the richness and beauty of classical Greek & Roman teachings.
Works Cited
Aurelius, Marcus. Meditations.
Gilbert Murray, The Stoic Philosophy (1915), p. 25. In Bertrand Russell, A History of Western Philosophy (1946).
Robertson, Donald (2018). Stoicism and the Art of Happiness. Great Britain: John Murray.
