"Living in Harmony with the Universe" (Chapter 6 of "Everything Has Two Handles")

"Living in Harmony with the Universe" (from chapter 6 of Everything Has Two Handles)

     "Nothing will happen to me which is not conformable to the nature of the universe."
~ Marcus Aurelius (Long p.89)

     "Resent a thing by all means if it represents an injustice decreed against yourself personally; but if this same constraint is binding on the lowest and highest alike, then make your peace again with destiny."
~ Seneca, Letter XCI (Campbell, 182)

     Pies cites the book Infinite Life by Robert Thurman about Buddhism, and notes that although "the Buddhist tradition is quite distinct from Greco-Roman stoicism, the two systems have many elements in common. One error is to suppose that either tradition encourages us to be 'doormats' - to accept passively whatever evil befalls us. On the contrary, Thurman tells us, 'Don't think that the spiritual thing to do is to swallow your feelings and be a victim. Not at all. The point is not to allow injustice . . . to flourish. Doing nothing could not be more wrong. When something unjust happens, step in at once. Develop the ability to act forcefully without getting angry . . . Get help. Be assertive. Cheerful aggressiveness is the ticket here." (Thurman 167-70).

     "The Stoics distinguish time and again between those things that are within our power or control and those that are not. Epictetus tells us, 'Within our power are the Will, and all voluntary actions; out of our power are the body and its parts, property, relatives, country, and in short, all our fellow beings' (Bonforte, 22). Later, he reminds us, 'If you fulfill your duties, you have what belongs to you. For it is not the business of a philosopher to take care of mere externals - his wine, his oil, his body - but of his Reason' (73)."

"Adversity and Self-Possession" (from "Everything Has Two Handles")

"Adversity and Self-Possession" (from Chapter 4 of Everything Has Two Handles by Ronald Pies)

"'A wise man ought not to regret his struggles with fortune any more than a brave soldier should be intimidated by the noise of battle.'
~ Boethius, Consolation of Philosophy (Trans. Richard Green 1962, 99)

As Boethius also noted, 'The only true joy is self-possession in the face of adversity' (27) . . .

'The art of living resembles wrestling more than dancing . . .'
~ Marcus Aurelius (Farquharson, 50)

Why wrestling? Marcus explains that in life, as in wrestling, we must stand 'prepared and unshaken' to meet whatever comes our way."

     The idea is common across many, if not most, cultures that life consists of struggle and adversity (for whom is this not our experience?), although the Stoics would say that this is not an evil or bad thing. The Stoic expects this adversity, anticipates it, even welcomes it as something of a whetstone upon which to hone skills and philosophy.

"Be Prepared

There is a reason for ensuring that nothing ever takes us by surprise. We should project our thoughts ahead of us at every turn and have in mind every possible eventuality instead of only the usual course of events . . . we should be anticipating not merely all that commonly happens but all that is conceivably capable of happening, if we do not want to be overwhelmed and struck numb by rare events . . .
~ Seneca, Letter XCI (Campbell, 178-9)"

     Life is not fair, and rarely is it kind. Those expecting it to be either are frequently to be disappointed. The Stoic expects and prepares for both, and accepts graciously when life does offer some gentle kindness.

"Good fortune deceives, adverse fortune teaches.
~ Boethius, The Consolation of Philosophy

Reckon on everything, expect everything.
~ Seneca"

"Mortality and Meaning" (from "Everything Has Two Handles")

I apologize for the long delay in my posts . . . life has a way of intervening even when you set yourself a blogging schedule . . .

From Pies' Everything Has Two Handles:

"Chapter Two: Mortality and Meaning

'Since it is possible that you may depart from this life this very moment, regulate every act and thought accordingly'
~ Marcus Aurelius (Long, 25)

'[T}he one who lives longest and the one who will die soonest lose just the same.'
~ Marcus Aurelius (Long, 29)"

     The chapter begins with the observation that "[o]ur American culture does not deal very well with the issue of death" - the fact that our culture is permeated with the "denial of death" (even to the point of euphemisms like "passed on" or "passed away" to avoid saying that someone has died. The ancient Stoics, on the other hand, "recognized that a keen awareness of death gives us the opportunity to create meaning in our lives."

     The need to "create" meaning in life has only grown as Western society has grown more secular, leaving behind medieval Judaeo-Christian thought in order to return to more a more classical understanding of our place in the cosmos, which does not reassure that there is a meaning to life, and that meaning is the service of the Judaeo-Christian god. Some see this as a negative thing, while others see it as a return to a better understanding of the true nature of the universe. Either way, it has left a bit of a void in Western thought, even among those who remain devout Judaeo-Christians. Stoicism offers a system of thought upon what to create to fill that void. Anyway . . .

     Pies observes that "although it often strikes us as 'cruel' when a young and promising life is cut short, the Stoics remind us that - in the larger scheme of eternity - there is little difference between 'the one who lives longest' and 'the one who will die the soonest.' This is a hard concept for many of us to accept, since we are conditioned to think in terms of longevity rather than depth and quality of life. But a hundred or thousand years from now, it will make little difference whether you or I lived to an age of 35 or 95. On the other hand, it might make a considerable difference if, in our lives, we performed many acts of kindness, or left behind a cure for cancer, or a book of poems that comforts generations to follow." I have heard people object to this line of thought that "in a thousand years, it won't matter whether I was a good or bad person any more than it will matter whether I lived to be 35 or 95". But that is manifestly untrue - the repercussions of good and evil deeds live on infinitely after in linear time, and besides, think of how the achievements of great people live on, regardless of the length of their life. One of my favorite poets, Gaius Valerius Catullus, only lived to be about 30, yet his collection of poems can still be found in bookstores more than 2000 years later . . .

"'A life is never incomplete if it is an honorable one. At whatever point you leave life, if you leave it in the right way, it is a whole.
~ Seneca (Letter LXXVII; Campbell, 125)"

     There is a lot of good analysis in this chapter on the roots of human suffering in attachment and demanding that the nature of things be other than what it is, noting this idea is not unique to Stoicism, but is also found in Buddhist, Hindu, and Judaic traditions, as well as in modern psychology.

Involuntary Emotions? (from Stoicism and Emotion)

     We find in Seneca the notion that there might be involuntary pre-emotional reactions that are somewhat extended in time, yet still not considered true emotions or passions by Seneca. How does this square with the teachings of Stoicism as a whole? Is Seneca on his own here? I find it somewhat difficult to reconcile. This is the description from Margaret Graver's Stoicism and Emotion:

"Pursuing this theme, Seneca gives considerable scope and elaboration to `natural' affect. In the Consolation to Marcia, for instance, he admits that missing a family member is natural not only in bereavement but even in separation and says that it is "necessary" that there be "a biting and a contraction of even the firmest minds." Animals utter loud cries for a day or two over their missing young and search about, but only human beings grieve consciously, willfully, and at length. This suggests that in humans, too, noisy weeping and other such reactions might continue for a period of days and still be excused as mere preliminaries to emotion. Even more remarkable is a discussion of the wise person's tears in Moral Epistle 99. The wise person weeps both involuntarily, as at a funeral with sobs shaking his whole body, and voluntarily, when remembering the loved one's kind deeds and cheerful companionship. The involuntary tears are forced out by a certain `requirement of nature' (naturalis necessitas) and are an indication of `humanness' (humanitas). The other, voluntary tears can only be eupathic; they have some admixture of joy and are not uncontrollable. This is the only text known to me in which a eupathic response gives rise to weeping."

Margaret R. Graver. Stoicism and Emotion (p. 101). Kindle Edition.

Defiant Gratefulness

Defiant Gratefulness

     This morning, I received in my e-mail inbox this link from The Art of Manliness to an article entitled "Every Man's Call to Defiant Gratefulness" - http://www.artofmanliness.com/2013/04/08/every-mans-call-to-defiant-gratefulness-book-giveaway/

     I was struck by the fact that this coincides almost exactly with how I have always attempted to integrate painful experiences into my long-term consciousness and personality - with an attitude of gratitude for the opportunities granted me by adversity. I shan't claim that I am always successful in doing so, and certainly it is hard to do so in the immediate aftermath of disaster  - one almost always needs time to process truly traumatic events - but certainly, what has not killed me has only made me stronger (to paraphrase Nietzsche). 

     I cannot help but reflect that this is just the way I was raised - my parents encouraged this attitude in me, in different ways - so I've had it all my life. But as I have grown older and my education and reading have advanced, it also reminds me of the teachings of the Stoics. One can easily imagine Marcus Aurelius counseling a radical gratitude for adversity in life. I know of several letters to Lucilius in which Seneca counsels exactly that. So for me, this is an aspect of life in which the philosophies I have adopted coincide with and grow from beliefs with which I was raised - it is nice not to have to unlearn something I have learned, in order to be true to myself. 

Stoics Not Overly Fatalistic (from "The Philosophy of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy")

     Donald Robertson on the dangers of assuming that the Stoics were simply fatalists who awaited whatever might happen to them in a passive manner:

"[W]e should wonder whether the Emperor Marcus Aurelius, for example, was being over-fatalistic in this sense when he personally led the Roman legions, greatly depleted by a recent plague, into the heart of Germania to fight back the invading barbarian hordes of the Marcomanni tribes. Was Seneca being too passive when he, reputely, conspired to overthrow the corrupt and tyrranical Emperor Nero and lost his life in the process? Was Cato of Utica, the man who defied Julius Caesar, a doormat? In fact, many Stoics were famous political and military leaders, notorious for their onstinacy and courage rather than for their passivity. The archetypal hero of the Stoic school, Socrates, was himself a decorated military hero, and they also revered the legendary Hercules, who accomplished the twelve labours, and defied the very gods. In short, the Stoics undoubtedly admired action and assertiveness."

De Amore Fati (On the "Amor Fati" - the "Love of Fate") - from "The Philosophy of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy"

     In The Philosophy of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy," Donald Robertson discusses the seeming Stoic paradox of being strict mechanical determinists (who believe that all events are caused by preceding events, therefore even decisions we make are predetermined, in a sense) as well as firm believers in free will. The apparent paradox is caused mostly by misunderstanding of the terms involved and their application to the philosophy. But regardless, Robertson shows that the "sage desires only that he should do what he can to the best of his ability, no more and no less, and he accepts success or failure with equal serenity because he concerns himself only with the quality of his actions, and not their results." He quotes Seneca:

"It is in no man's power to have whatever he wants; but he has got it in his power not to wish for what he hasn't got, and cheerfully make the most of the things that do come his way."

Or, as Robertson quotes Epictetus,

"Don't ask things to happen as you wish, but wish them to happen as they do happen, and your life will go smoothly."

     This is the idea that Nietzche (a professor of classical languages) labeled "amor fati" - "love of one's fate." This is the idea that kept Stockdale going as a P.O.W. in Viet Nam:

"Was I a victim?Not when I became fully engaged, got into the life of unity with comrades, helping others and being encouraged by them. So many times, I would find myself whispering to myself after an exhilirating wall tap message exchange: 'I am right where I belong; I am right where I was meant to be'."

Seneca on the fear of death (part III)

     In his 4th letter to Lucilius, Seneca discusses the fact that the Stoic sage would suffer from no fer of death. The sage has perfect happiness and enjoyment of his life, and as Seneca says, "Nullum bonum adiuvat habentem, nisi ad cuius amissionem praeparatus est animus" (No good thing makes happy its posessor, unless his mind/soul are prepared for its loss). He suggests meditating on the mishaps that have befallen even the mighty - no one is exempt from the fickleness of fate, save perhaps the gods, but the sage is indifferent to fate's fickleness. His examples are drawn from the famous Romans from the end of the Republic (e.g., think how Pompey's fate was decided by a boy (Ptolemy XIV of Egypt) and a eunuch, Crassus' fate by a "cruel and insolent Parthian." For some reason, he leaves out that the third member of that triumvirate, Julius Caesar, was struck down by trusted friends, at the pinnacle of his power. And the bringers of your death may wear any face - as many have been struck down by slaves as ordered dead by kings. And, Seneca says, we are all dying anyway - a fact of life is that no one gets out of it alive - so what does it matter when? As he writes, you might protest that if you fell into the hands of the enemy, the conqueror will command that you be taken to your death, to which he would reply, "which is where you were already going!"

     Remember where you are already going, Seneca seems to say, and you cannot be upset at the prospect of arriving at your destination.

On the "Stoic Reserve Clause" (from "The Philosophy of Cognitive-Behavioural Therapy")

     In The Philosophy of Cognitive-Behavioural Therapy, Donald Robertson discusses what he calls the "reserve clause" (exceptio) that constitutes "one of the most basic underlying concepts of Stoicism." Robertson sees it as a formulation from a different perspective of what he calls the "Stoic fork" - the approach to all things with the realization that there are some things that are under our control (anything having to do with moral choice) and some things that are not under our control (all external things). The "reserve clause" is "a verbal clause added to the end of each sentence concerning one's own actions or intentions. Or rather, it is the concept which would be implied by adding such a clause, the idea that it expresses. because . . . the Stoic went from learning to merely say the reserve clause to actually experiencing it. The clause itself can take several forms, for example, 'God willing', 'fate willing', 'nature permitting', 'if nothing prevents me', etc. In each case, however, the underlying idea is essentially the same. A common proverb expresses it thus: 'Do what you must; let happen what may'." Robertson goes on to point out that Seneca says that "the Stoic sage undertakes every action with the reserve clause: 'If nothing shall occur to the contrary' (Seneca, 2009, p. 116)."

     Robertson concludes that "the Stoic, therefore, makes a point of qualifying the expression of every intention by introducing a distinction between his will and external factors beyond his control. The sage, thereby, holds two complementary propositions in mind simultaneously, viz.,
1. I will do my very best to succeed . . .
2. while simultaneously accepting that the ultimate outcome is beyond my direct control."

Seneca on the fear of death - Part II

     In his 4th letter to Lucilius, Seneca deals with the objection that non-Stoics tend to raise when told that Stoics believe that one should have no fear of death, that one must be ready to embrace death when it comes, and hold life in sufficient contempt that one does not attempt to "cling" to it - the common objection is "But it is difficult to bring the mind to the point of the contempt of life!" ("Difficile est . . . animum perducere ad contemptionem animae!").

     Seneca's response is to point out that is, in fact, easy to hold life in contempt, for so many people do so for bad reasons (or did so in Seneca's time) - they kill themselves over girlfriends who reject them, they kill themselves because they have been bullied by people with the power to get away with it, they kill themselves to avoid arrest . . . "Don't you think that virtue will have an effect, when fear has had too much success?" ("Non putas virtutem hoc effecturam, quod efficit nimia formido?") . . . Seneca says that no one can have a truly peaceful life who is excessively obsessed with having a long life - "Rehearse this thought every day, that you may be able to depart from life contentedly ("Hoc cotidie meditare, ut possis aequo animo vitam relinquere"); for many men clutch and cling to life, even as those who are carried down a rushing stream clutch and cling to briars and sharp rocks."

Seneca on the fear of death

     In his third letter to Lucilius, Seneca discusses how silly it is to be afraid of death of all things! Death - the end of all misfortunes - cannot be a misfortune in itself, surely?

"Nullum malum est magnum, quod extremum est. Mors ad te venit; timenda erat, si tecum esse posset, sed necesse est aut non perveniat aut transeat."

"No evil is great which is the last one. Death comes to you - it would be a thing to be feared, if it could somehow stay with you, but it is necessary that either death not come to you, or that it both come and depart."

     Strictly speaking, to the sage, death is not an evil at all. Dying does not involve a moral choice in and of itself (although some choices leading to it might, like choosing to die before your time in some way). But even assuming that it is in some way an evil - e.g., because it can cause physical pain in the process - it must of necessity be a final one. You cannot undergo it again (normally). And if it is final, it brings an end to all other evils, too. Now if death were painful, and you were to continually suffer the pains of death for eternity, that might be considered a bad thing. But when death comes, it comes and leaves. The moment of death - a fraction of an eyeblink - is very short indeed. And if, once it comes, it may never come again . . . well, what then? Is it not silly to fear this one moment in time, that will liberate you from all evils, and which can never come again?

Seneca on Stoic fearlessness

     In his third letter to Lucilius, Seneca urges his friend to consider that the Stoic sage would be fearless, for the only thing that could truly harm him would be to choose to act contrary to Virtue (which the sage, of course, would not do). A man of perfect reason would not fear anything . . . But of course, few to none of us are sages, few to none of us have the perfect reason of a sage, and so therefore . . . we fear . . .

"Adhuc enim non pueritia sed, quod est gravius, puerilitas remanet. Et hoc quidem peior est, quod auctoritatem habemus senum, vitia puerorum, nec puerorum tanatum sed infantum. Illi levia, hi falsa formidant, nos utraque."

"It is not childhood [lit. "boyhood"] that still stays with us, but what is more serious, childishness [lit. "boyishness"]. And this is indeed worse, because we have the authority of adults [lit. "of old men"], the failings of children [lit. "boys"], nay, not even children, but of infants. Children [lit. "boys"] fear trifles, infants fear shadows [lit. "false things"], we [adults] fear both."

     Seneca's point seems to be that we are born without much power of reason, and so as infants we fear everything, and many of the things we fear do not even exist (falsa). As we grow, we develop our power of reason, but as children, we still have much to learn about how to apply our faculties, so we continue to fear trifles. But as adults, with fully developed powers of reason, and having had plenty of opportunities to learn to apply our faculties, we ought to be fearless . . . in a perfect world. However, since few to none of us is endowed with perfect reason (as the mythic Stoic sage), even as adults, most of us continue to fear trifles and shadows we should have long since outgrown. For what is there to fear, as long as the choice of good and evil is ours to make? Choose Virtue, shun Vice, and there is literally nothing to fear.

Seneca on reading many books . . .

     A passage found in Seneca's 2nd letter to Lucilius:

     "Aliquid cotidie adversus paupertatem, aliquid adversus mortem auxilii compara, nec minus adversus ceteras pestes; et cum multa percurreris, unum excerpe, quod illo die concoquas. Hoc ipse quoque facio; ex pluribus, quae legi, aliquid adprehendo."

     "Each day acquire something of help against poverty, something of help against death, no less against other plagues; and when you will have run through many such things, choose one that on that day you will thoroughly digest. This I myself do as well; out of very many things which I read, I claim something for myself."

Sage advice!

Seneca on labels

     One of the oft-repeated maxims of Stoicism is to "remember that you are an actor in a play." In other words, very little of the script of your life is up to you; much of it has been written by a great Playwright (Providence, the Stoics would say, atheists might prefer "fate" or "luck," pagans might say "the gods" or monotheists might say "God," but the facts are the same - most things are not in your control, and never will be). The play is written, the part is assigned, and all that is in your power is to play your part as well as you can. Of course, your understanding of your part is important to this - do not become obsessed with labels. The part you play is being you - it is, in part, up to you to determine exactly what that means.

     On a Stoicism discussion list I follow, someone recently brought up this idea of not over-identifying with labels, but to "remember that you are an actor in a play." You play your part, but should not assume that you are the role that fate assigns - you merely play the part. You have no innate right or tie to a role assigned by Providence, as Providence may take it away from you, just as it was assigned. The person who raised this issue gave many examples of the idea that "I am not the role I play," citing examples of roles and redefining them as acts in which one participates. For my own life, I could give examples like, "I am not a teacher. I am a person who teaches. I am not poor. I am a person who has little money. I am not a Stoic. I am a person who happens to practice Stoicism." And so on . . .

     In my reading of Seneca's letters to Lucilius, I find the statement "Non puto pauperem, cui quantulumcumque superest, sat est." - "I do not regard a man as poor, if the little which remains is enough for him." Now, in this quote, Seneca isn't specifically addressing the issue of identifying with labels . . . and yet, it is an integral part of the thinking behind this quote. Because the Stoic does not consider someone to be the apparent role they play - like "poor" - although the person may not have money or possessions, they are not poor if they are content with what they have . . .

Seneca on Saving Time, continued

     Continuing with Seneca's first letter to Lucilius, we read:

     "Fac ergo, mi Lucili, quod facere te scribis, omnes horas complectere. Sic fiet, ut minus ex crasino pendeas, si hodierno manum inieceris. Dum differtur, vita transcurrit. Omnia, Lucili, aliena sunt, tempus tantum notrum est. In huius rei unius fugacis ac lubricae possessionem natura nos misit, ex qua expellit quicumque vult. Et tanta stultitia mortalium est, ut quae minima et vilissima sunt, certe reparabilia, imputari sibi, cum impetravere, patiantur; nemo se iudicet quicquam debere, qui tempus accepit, cum interim hoc unum est, quod ne gratus quidem potest reddere."

     "Therefore, Lucilius, do as you write to me that you are already doing: hold every hour in your grasp. Lay hold of today's task, and you will not need to depend so much on tomorrow's. While we delay, life passes us by. All things are on loan to us, Lucilius, time alone is ours. Nature entrusted us with the possession of this one thing, so fleeting and slippery that anyone who wishes can take ownership from us. And such is the foolishness of mortals, that they allow to be counted as theirs the smallest and cheapest things, easily replaced, once they have them, but no one judges himself to be in debt when he has received some time, which meanwhile is the one thing that even a grateful recipient cannot repay."

      Time is the one thing that we have - that, and the moral choices we make within time. Our bodies, our possessions, our loved ones - these are all "on loan" from fortune, and must be repaid whenever fortune calls for them. But we cannot be called upon to relinquish our time - we give it up one second at a time, and cannot be made to live life any faster or slower - so we must make the most of every moment. Our choices from moment to moment are the only thing we truly possess.  

Seneca on Saving Time

     I recently began to re-read Seneca's Ad Lucilium Epistulae and have been composing new notes on my reading. Here are some words from Seneca:

     "Quaedam tempora eripiuntur nobis, quaedam subducuntur, quaedam effluunt. Turpissima tamen est iactura, quae per neglegentiam fit . . . Maxima pars vitae elabitur male agentibus, magna nihil agentibus, tota vita aliud agentibus. Quem mihi dabis, qui aliquod pretium tempori ponat, qui diem aesitmet, qui intellegat se cotidie mori? In hoc enim fallimur, quod motem prospicimus; magna pars eius iam praeterit. Quicquid aetatis retro est, mors tenet."

     "Some moments are torn away from us, some are gently removed, others simply flow away. The most disgraceful loss of time is that which happens through carelessness . . . The greatest portion of our life passes while we are doing ill, a great part while we are doing nothing, our whole life while we are doing something else [other than what we ought]. What person will you present to me, who places any value upon his time, who reckons the value of each day, who understands that we are daily dying? For we are mistaken, when we look forward to death' the major part of death has already passed. Whatever time lies behind us, it is in death's hands."

     The Stoics taught serenity, but also responsibility. One cannot simply resign oneself to doing nothing - that would not be virtuous use of our time, and thus it would not be virtuous, nor good, and thus we would not be able to enjoy serenity. Make the best possible use of time. That is the way of Virtue.

Third post from Seneca's "De Constantia"

Today's Stoic meditation from Seneca's De Constantia expands upon the theme that the sage (sapiens) cannot be injured or receive harm As I wrote previously, this is probably the hardest part of Stoic doctrine to "swallow," and indeed the insistence on this point has driven more people away from Stoicism than anything else, I think. No one likes to hear that if they are suffering, it is because they choose to accept something other than Virtue as a good.

Once, as I was explaining to students that the Stoics believed that no one could harm a sage, a student said, "How silly! Anyone could walk up and stab a Stoic with a knife, and he would be injured." I replied, "Only if he held his physical body to be more important than Virtue, but the sage regards his body as unimportant - did he ever say his body was indestructible?" "But he would die!" exclaimed the student. "Yes, and did he ever claim that dying was bad, or that he was immortal? Only if one regards death as an evil is it harm - the sage knows it is not," I answered. The majority of the students then declared that the Stoics were insane. But the Stoic would say it is simply because they have been trained all their lives to accept indifferent things, and even bad things, as if they were good. They do not choose to see that their material comforts are temporary, their youth and bodies are temporary, even life is temporary, but the soul is immortal and divine and the Virtue that can be its only permanent possession is the only real, lasting good. So Seneca writes:

“Moreover, justice can suffer no injustice, because opposites do not meet. But no injury can be done without injustice; therefore no injury can be done to the wise man. And you need not be surprised; if no one can do him an injury, no one can do him a service either. The wise man, on the one hand, lacks nothing that he can receive as a gift; the evil man, on the other, can bestow nothing good enough for the wise man to have. For a man must have before he can give; the evil man, however, has nothing that the wise man would be glad to have transferred to himself. It is impossible, therefore, for any one either to injure or to benefit the wise man, since that which is divine does not need to be helped, and cannot be hurt; and the wise man is next-door neighbor to the gods and like a god in all save his mortality.”- Seneca, De Constantia, VIII.1-2

“Praeterea iustitia nihil iniustum pati potest, quia non coeunt contraria. Iniuria autem non potest fieri nisi iniuste; ergo sapienti iniuria non potest fieri. Nec est quod mireris; si nemo illi potest iniuriam facere, ne prodesse quidem quisquam potest. Et sapienti nihil deest quod accipere posit loco muneris, et malus nihil potest dignum tribuere sapiente; habere enim prius debet quam dare, nihil autem habet quod ad se transferri sapiens gavisurus sit. Non potest ergo quisquam aut nocere sapienti aut prodesse, quoniam divina nec iuvari desiderant nec laedi possunt, sapiens autem vicinus proximusque dis consistit, excepta mortalitate similis deo.”

Second post from Seneca's "De Constantia"

     Today's Stoic meditation from Seneca's De Constantia reminds us of the sometimes difficult-to-grasp principle that to the sage (sapiens), no harm may ever truly be done, even if the wicked try to harm the good (and the good must, of necessity, be sapientes). This is the part of Stoic ethics that is the hardest for the outside observer or novice to "buy into" - can it really be that I have never suffered harm in my life? But it is so - get rid of the judgement and you get rid of the harm. As long as I do not count as injury what has happened to me, I have suffered no injury. As long as I consider what is taken from me no loss, I have lost nothing. And so no wicked person can ever harm me - for if a person tries to harm me, that person is wicked. The wicked do not have Virtue, and so are less than the good. That which is lesser cannot harm that which is greater. Besides, what injury could be done to me? The wicked cannot harm my Virtue, which is the only true harm. So Seneca writes:

“Again, that which injures must be more powerful than that which is injured; but wickedness is not stronger than righteousness; therefore it is impossible for the wise man to be injured. Only the bad attempt to injure the good; the good are at peace with each other, the bad are no less harmful to the good than to each other. But if only the weaker man can be injured, and if the bad man is weaker than the good man, and the good have to fear no injury except from one who is no match for them, then injury cannot befall the wise man. For by this time you do not need to be reminded that there is no good man except the wise man.” – Seneca, De Constantia, VII.2

“Denique validius debet esse quod laedit eo quod laeditur; non est autem fortiori nequitia virtute; non potest ergo laedi sapiens. Iniuria in bonos nisi a malis non temptatur; bonis inter se pax est, mali tam bonis perniciosi quam inter se. Quodsi laedi nisi infirmmior non potest, malus autem bono infirmior est, nec iniuria bonis nisi a dispari verenda est; iniuria in sapientem virum non cadit. Illud enim iam non es admonendus neminem bonum esse nisi sapientem.” 

On Pity for Those Who Do Wrong

     In Pierre Hadot's "The Inner Citadel: The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, he observes that many Stoics followed the logic which Plato attributes to Socrates, in which it is reasoned that all wrongdoing is really through error - that one who does wrong, even intentionally, can be said to be in error, because they have made incorrect value-judgments (which, from a Stoic perspective, means valuing anything - anything at all - as good which is not The Good, i.e. Virtue. Epictetus quotes (really, paraphrases) Plato as saying, "Every soul is deprived of the truth against its will." Marcus Aurelius quotes the same version of this in his Meditations, showing that he is following Epictetus.
     Therefore, whenever anyone does any wrong, it is because they are submerged in ignorance - as everyone but the sage is, for our entire lives. "'This ignorance of genuine values in which people are submerged,' says Marcus, is, 'in a sense, worthy of pity.' (II.13, 3) . . . 'In a sense, worthy of pity': this qualification is an allusion to the traditional Stoic critique of pity, which the Stoics considered a passion. 'Pity,' said Seneca, 'is an illness of the soul produced by the sight of the suffering of others, or a state of sadness caused by the misfortunes of others. But no illness affects the mind of the sage, who always remains serene.'
      Marcus Aurelius and Epictetus remain faithful to Stoic doctrine, insofar as what they call 'pity' is not a passion or an illness of the soul, but is instead defined negatively as the lack of anger and hatred toward those who are ignorant of genuine values. It is not enough, moreover, to have pity on people or to be indulgent to them. We must above all try to help them, by informing them about their error, and teaching them genuine letters (IX, 42, 6):

     'In general, it is within your power to instruct the mistaken person so as to make him change his mind, for whoever commits a misdeed is a person who misses what he was aiming at, and goes astray.'

     We must, then, try to reason with the mistaken person (V, 28, 3; VI, 27, 3; VI, 50, 1; IX, 11). If we fail in our efforts, then it will be time to practice patience, forgiveness, and benevolence."

From "The Inner Citadel" by Pierre Hadot

     "Stoicism is often regarded as a philosophy of certainty and intellectual self-confidence. In fact, however, it was only to the sage - that is, to an extremely rare being who represented more an inaccessible ideal than a concrete reality - that Stoics attributed infallibility and perfect soundness of judgment. Most people, including philosophers - who, in their own view, are precisely not sages - must painfully orient themselves within the uncertainty of everyday life, making choices which seem to be justified reasonably - in other words, probabilistically."

     "Action thus risks introducing worry and care into the Stoic's life, to the same extent to which he does good, and where he intends to do good. By means of a remarkable reversal, however, it is precisely by becoming aware of the transcendent value of doing good that the Stoic can regain peace of mind and serenity, which will enable him to act effectively. There is nothing surprising about this, for it is precisely within the moral good - that is to say, the intention of doing good - that the good is situated for the Stoics.
     For the Stoics, intentions bear within themselves a value which infinitely transcends all the objects and 'matters' to which they are applied, for these objects and matters are in themselves indifferent, and only assume a value to the extent that they provide an opportunity for intentions to be applied and become concrete."

     "In Marcus Aurelius, but also in Epictetus and in Seneca, the vocabulary of the discipline of action includes a technical term meaning 'to act 'with a reserve clause' ' (Greek hypexairesis; Latin exceptio), which implies a transcendence of intention with regard to its objects. The idea of a 'reserve clause' reminds us that, for the Stoics, act and intention are fused into an inner discourse which enunciates, as it were, the plans of the agent. According to Seneca, the sage undertakes everything 'with a reserve clause,' insofar as he says to himself"
'I want to do thus and so, as long as nothing happens which may present an obstacle to my action.'
'I will sail across the ocean, if nothing prevents me.'
     Putting matters this way may seem banal and useless; from the Stoic point of view, however, it is full of meaning. In the first place, it reveals to us the seriousness of Stoic 'intention.' To be sure, Seneca's formula could be reduced to the following: 'I want to do x, if I can'; and it would be easy to joke about such a 'good intention' which quickly gives up its goal at the first difficulty that arises. In fact, however, the contrary is true. Stoic intentions are not 'good intentions' but 'intentions that are good' - in other words, firm, determined, and resolved to overcome all obstacles. It is precisely because the Stoic refuses to give up easily on his decision that he formulates a reserve clause, in quasi-judiciary terms."

      "The 'reserve clause' means that this firm decision and intention always remain integral, even if an obstacle should arise which prevents their realization. Such an obstacle is part of what the sage has foreseen, and it does not prevent him from willing what he wants to do. In the words of Seneca:
'Everything succeeds for him, and nothing unexpected happens to him, for he foresees that something may intervene which prevents him from that which he had planned to carry out.'"