Retreating Into the Inner Citadel: The Stoic Way of Life

Our modern world is bursting with angst. News of an impending environmental crisis, worldwide political turmoil, gratuitous violence, wars, and human suffering are delivered instantaneously, twenty-four hours a day, to the smart devices in the palms of our hands. It seems there is no escape from the incessant stream of allegedly newsworthy catastrophes short of ignoring the news, abandoning all forms of social media, and sequestering ourselves in some form of safe space, far away from the mayhem of human society. That was the solution offered by the ancient Epicureans. They retreated from social and political life to their garden where they tried to live tranquil lives among like-minded friends. There were exceptions; some Epicureans engaged in society when they thought the benefit of doing so was significant enough to risk their tranquility. However, the primary Epicurean strategy was to retreat from society and thereby avoid the people and events that can cause psychological distress. The Stoics provided an alternative solution. It appears the Epicurean garden did provide a place to develop tranquility for some ancients, and it seems reasonable to assume a similar approach to life can do the same for moderns. However, the Epicurean garden is no place for Stoics. To become a Stoic, one must avoid the alluring walls of the Epicurean garden that separate us from society. The Stoic path does not lead to any peaceful, secluded garden. Instead, it leads us out of the garden and into the clamor of society, where we can fulfill our roles and duties as rational, social creatures. Fortunately, Stoicism provides us with the psychological tools and training methods that will enable us to thrive and experience tranquility, even amid this seemingly hostile environment. Stoics are a different breed; they can flourish in whatever sociopolitical circumstance they find themselves while they simultaneously work to create a society and world that exemplifies courage, justice, wisdom, and moderation. The Stoic prepares to handle the best and worst of human nature within their homes, marketplaces, cities, boardrooms, political forums, and battlefields, while the Epicurean prefers to remain in their garden to escape those potentially disturbing environments. While both pursue virtue, the Epicurean seeks inner tranquility (ataraxia), in part at least, by controlling their external environment; the Stoic, on the other hand, creates inner resilience that allows for psychological well-being (eudaimonia) regardless of external circumstances. Stoics realize how easy it is for the hordes of externals to trample and burn the walls of the Epicurean garden. In contrast, the formidable walls of the Stoic’s inner citadel can withstand the siege of Fortuna and the crashing waves of inexorable fate. Therefore, it is not surprising that many ancient Romans from the political class adopted Stoicism as a way of life. In fact, two of our surviving textual sources come from a Roman emperor (Marcus Aurelius) and a Roman senator (Seneca), and a third comes from the lectures of a freed slave turned philosopher (Epictetus). These writings resonated with people throughout history because these three Stoics lived their philosophy in the real world. They were not academic philosophers expounding on hypothetical scenarios. Instead, each of these ancient Stoics lived and thrived in the tumultuous, chaotic, sweaty, and occasionally bloody world of humanity because they relied on their inner resilience, cultivated by Stoic practice, to live virtuously. The Stoic builds his retreat inside his psyche, not in a garden retreat. The Stoic inner citadel provides an ever-present fortress and retreat, where the Stoic’s soul remains untouchable amidst the vicissitudes of life. As a result, the ancient Stoics possessed the inner strength to engage in social and political life. As C. Kavin Rowe points out, In contrast to the Epicureans, for example, the Stoic tradition emphasized the compatibility of philosophy with civic life; indeed, many went a good deal farther than this and stressed the necessity of civic engagement as part and parcel of what it meant to be a Stoic.[1] Epictetus even mocked the Epicureans on this point and argued their philosophy is not conducive to human society: In God’s name, I ask you, can you imagine a city of Epicureans? ‘I shan’t marry.’ ‘Nor I, for one shouldn’t marry.’ ‘Nor should one have children; nor should one perform any civic duties.’ So what will happen, then? Where are the citizens to come from? Who’ll educate them? Who’ll be superintendent of the cadets? Who’ll be director of the gymnasium? And then, what will the young men be taught? (Discourses 3.7.19) Stoicism does not lead us to a place of tranquility and pleasure in the garden. Instead, the Stoic path trains us to be a helmsman who is capable of piloting our psyche through the tempestuous winds and turbulent waters that leave many others drowning or dashed on Fortuna’s rocks. Therefore, while the inner practices of meditation, mindfulness training, and the development of inner tranquility are helpful in the practice of Stoicism, we must be careful not to allow these means to become ends. Ancient Stoics were not reclusive contemplatives; they engaged in society. As Pierre Hadot notes: The Stoic always acts "under reserve"—but he does act, taking part in social and political life. This is another important point which separates him from the Epicureans, who in principle retire from everything that may cause worry. The Stoic does not act in his material or even spiritual interest,but acts in a way which is always disinterested and in the service of the human community.[2] The Stoics thought the cosmos and the humans with it form a unified Whole, guided by universal Reason, which they called Logos. As Richard Tarnas highlights in his acclaimed book The Passion of the Western Mind, The existence of the world-governing reason had another important consequence for the Stoic. Because all human beings shared in the divine Logos, all were members of a universal human community, a brotherhood of mankind that constituted the World City, or Cosmopolis, and each individual was called upon to participate actively in the affairs of the world.[3] Throughout his Meditations, Marcus Aurelius reminds himself of the connectedness of humanity as he contemplates how to deal with the frequently antisocial behavior of people (see Meditations 2.1). As Emperor of Rome, Marcus dealt with the best and worst of human nature. I suspect this is one reason his Meditations, written as a personal diary, continues to resonate with so many people. Within its pages,we see our current struggles against the vicissitudes of life and the seeming wickedness of humanity. We see Marcus facing challenges that would psychologically cripple some people; nevertheless, he remained strong even while surrounded by chaos. Marcus' equanimity is inspiring and provides us with a wonderful picture of a life well-lived under trying circumstances. In Meditations 4.3, Marcus provides an outline of the Stoic practice that empowered him to live as he did. When the ruling power within us is in harmony with nature, it confronts events in such a way that it always adapts itself readily to what is feasible and is granted to it. For it attaches its preference to no specific material; rather, it sets out to attain its primary objects, but not without reservation, and if it comes up against something else instead, it converts it into material for itself, much like a fire when it masters the things that fall into it. These would have extinguished a little lamp, but a blazing fire appropriates in an instant all that is heaped on to it,and devours it, making use of that very material to leap ever higher. Never embark on an action at random, or otherwise than according to one of the principles that perfect the art of living. (Meditations 4.1-2) That is a powerful passage. According to Marcus, when our rational faculty(our fragment of the logos) is in coherence with universal Reason (Logos), external events serve as fuel for the fire which drives us forward and guides our actions. In that state of coherence with Nature, we will wish for events to happen as they do, rather than as we may desire them to happen (Discourses 1.12.15). Then, as events happen, we stick close to them and follow them (Discourses3.1.18; Enchiridion 53).[4] When we combine these ideas from Marcus and Epictetus with the concept of the reserve clause, we begin to understand what it means to live according to Nature as the Stoics conceived it. We begin to see why the concept of a providential cosmos played such an important role in the Stoic ethical practice. If we outline the process step-by-step, it becomes clearer. First, the Stoic intends an appropriate action to bring about a virtuous end. Then, with the reserve clause in mind, the Stoic tries to achieve the intended goal. If external events prevent the action or produce an outcome other than intended, the Stoic accepts and even loves the outcome as an event of Nature beyond their control (amor fati). Next, the Stoic quickly adapts to the new situation and follows fate closely. In Marcus’ words, the fateful event then becomes fuel for the fire that drives the Stoic forward. If Nature gives the Stoic lemons; she makes lemonade rather than fretting and whining because she wanted grape juice. When the Stoic follows the cart of fate closely and willingly, she discovers the freedom available to her to act virtuously and experience the well-being that results from aligning her will with the will of a providential cosmos. This practice does not lead to a fatalistic mindset; instead, it creates the attitude of gratitude I wrote about in Epictetus’ Prescription for Psychological Resilience.