Stoicism is a philosophy of life that has been around for 23 centuries, and in the past several years has seen a resurgence of interest throughout the world.[1] Like any philosophy of life (or, for that matter, religion), it has two fundamental components: a metaphysics (i.e., an account of how the world works); and an ethics (i.e., an account of how we should behave in the world).[2]
There is very little disagreement among modern Stoics concerning the ethics, which is the crucial, most practical part of the philosophy.[3] The fundamental aspects of it can be summarized rather succinctly:
* We should live according to human nature (i.e., by applying reason to improve society, because we are social animals capable of reason).
* The only true good is virtue, defined as correct judgment, and the only true evil is vice, defined as bad judgment. Other things (health, education, wealth, etc.) may have value, but do not define who we are as human beings.
* Some things are up to us and some things are not up to us, and a good life consists in focusing on the first category and taking the second in stride. Things up to us include our deliberate judgments, endorsed values, and conscious decisions to act. Things not up to us comprise everything else.
* As a general way to orient ourselves morally through life we can use an ideal “compass” consisting in the constant practice of four cardinal virtues: practical wisdom (the knowledge of what is and is not good for us), courage (in the moral sense), justice (treating others with fairness and as ends in themselves), and temperance (doing things in right measure).
There is, of course, a lot more that goes into the study and practice of Stoicism, just like there is for any complex philosophical or religious system (Buddhism, Christianity, etc.), but the above list is good enough for my purposes here.
When it comes to Stoic metaphysics, however, there is a lot more active discussion and divergence of opinion, as instantiated for instance in a recent exchange in The Side View between Brittany Polat and Kai Whiting, to which I will return below. This shouldn’t really be surprising, as the same thing (more agreement on the ethics than the metaphysics) happens in other philosophies or religions, including Buddhism and Christianity.
The ancient Stoics were pantheists,[4] believing that the cosmos itself is god, and moreover that it is a living organism capable of reason (the Logos). It followed that they could articulate a concept of providence, though very different from its Christian counterpart. The living cosmos does what it does for the best of the full organism. Since we are bits and pieces of that organism, whatever happens to us is for the good of the whole, and we (unlike other animals) are capable of understanding this since we are also endowed with Logos. Epictetus explicitly explains the concept:
“If I in fact knew that illness had been decreed for me at this moment by destiny, I would welcome even that; for the foot, too, if it had understanding, would be eager to get spattered with mud.” (Discourses II.6.9-10)
To use a modern analogy from biology: imagine that the cosmos is a living organism like you, capable of making decisions about what course of action is best for itself. In the analogy, we individual human beings would be like single cells embedded in the cosmic organism, each with our little contribution to make for the welfare of the whole. If these cells were self-aware, they would understand their place in the greater scheme of things, and would not complain—indeed, would happily accept—when they have to die in order to be replaced by other, fresher, cells, as it happens for instance with the constant runner of the human epidermis.
Here is the problem: the notion of the cosmos as a living organism, which held pretty well until roughly the 17th century, is not tenable in the face of everything that modern science—both physics and biology—has discovered so far. While one doesn’t want to be dogmatic about this (that would be a rather un-Stoic attitude), we need to go with our best understanding of things (as the Stoics themselves would certainly do), not cling to the past for the sake of tradition or cultural continuity.
Galileo and Newton triggered the Scientific Revolution of the 17th and 18th centuries,[5] which culminated with what is called a “mechanistic” understanding of the world. In that conception, the cosmos is no longer seen as a living organism, let alone one capable of reason, but rather as analogous to a mechanical device, following universal and unchanging laws of nature. The mechanistic approach has been far more fertile, scientifically speaking, than the organismal paradigm, and as modern thinkers we should recognize that fact and its implications.
Contemporary science has moved away from even the mechanistic model, but has not zeroed in yet on a fully fledged alternative framework. Quantum mechanics, general relativity, and the Darwinian theory of natural selection are all here to stay, and they greatly inform how we see the world. But physicists have not arrived at an ultimate fundamental theory of nature,[6] and biologists are currently debating just how much the scope of the concept of natural selection can reasonably be expanded. One thing, though, is most likely: whatever late 21st century science will propose, it’s not going to be a return to the cosmos-as-living-organism paradigm. Which is why modern Stoics would be better served by rejecting it.
It is true that some contemporary philosophers are attempting to revive the notion of panpsychism, which is somewhat (though not completely) in line with ancient Stoic metaphysics. Panpsychism comes in a variety of ways, but it is essentially the idea that consciousness is an elemental property of the world, rather than one that evolved by natural selection in a specific group of organisms known as “Animalia” (which, of course, includes us). But panpsychism has been blasted on both philosophical and scientific grounds, so I don’t think it is a tenable view.
It is instructive, in this context, to see why, exactly, the Stoics endorsed the view that the cosmos is a living organism endowed with Logos. It boils down to a good old fashioned argument from design, which we can find in Seneca, Marcus Aurelius, and Epictetus, but is perhaps most extensively summarized in Cicero’s On the Nature of the Gods. In book II, the Stoic character of Balbus elaborates at length, for instance:
“[Cleanthes] fourth cause [for the existence of the Stoic god], and that the strongest, is drawn from the regularity of the motion and revolution of the heavens, the distinctness, variety, beauty, and order of the sun, moon, and all the stars, the appearance only of which is sufficient to convince us they are not the effects of chance.” (II.5)
“Nothing, says [Zeno], that is destitute itself of life and reason can generate a being possessed of life and reason; but the world does generate beings possessed of life and reason; the world, therefore, is not itself destitute of life and reason.” (II.8)
“For Chrysippus says, very acutely, that as the case is made for the buckler, and the scabbard for the sword, so all things, except the universe, were made for the sake of something else.” (II.14)
So there we have it: all three of the first heads of the Stoa used variations on the argument from design to support their inference that not only there is a god, but it is endowed with the highest degree of reason. But that argument—while most certainly tenable in antiquity and throughout the Middle Ages—was dealt a fatal double blow by David Hume and Charles Darwin. Nowadays, only the cultural rearguard known as “scientific” creationism holds that notion,[7] and I wouldn’t want to associate Stoicism with that group of folks.
It is also important to recall that the Stoics themselves were open to the possibility that their metaphysics was incorrect, and that their rivals, the Epicureans, were closer to the target. Marcus tackles this issue several times in the Meditations, for instance:
“You have embarked, made the voyage, and come to shore; get out. If indeed to another life, there is no want of gods, not even there. But if to a state without sensation, you will cease to be held by pains and pleasures.” (III.3)
“Recall the alternative; either there is providence or a fortuitous concurrence of atoms.” (IV.3)
“Either it is a well-arranged universe or a chaos huddled together, but still a universe.” (IV.27)
“About death: Whether it is a dispersion, or a resolution into atoms, or annihilation, it is either extinction or change.” (VII.32)
“If a thing is in your own power, why do you do it? But if it is in the power of another, whom do you blame? The atoms (chance) or the gods? Both are foolish. You must blame nobody.” (VIII.17)
“In a word, if there is a god, all is well; and if chance rules, do not also be governed by it.” (IX.28)
“Either all things proceed from one intelligent source and come together as in one body, and the part ought not to find fault with what is done for the benefit of the whole; or there are only atoms, and nothing else than mixture and dispersion. Why, then, are you disturbed?” (IX.39)
“Whether the universe is a concourse of atoms, or nature is a system, let this first be established: that I am a part of the whole that is governed by nature; next, that I stand in some intimate connection with other kindred parts.” (X.6)
“Either there is a fatal necessity and invincible order, or a kind Providence, or a confusion without a purpose and without a director. If then there is an invincible necessity, why do you resist? But if there is a Providence that allows itself to be propitiated, make yourself worthy of the help of the divinity. But if there is a confusion without a governor, be content that in such a tempest you have yourself a certain ruling intelligence.” (XII.14)
“With respect to what may happen to you from without, consider that it happens either by chance or according to Providence, and you must neither blame chance nor accuse Providence.” (XII.24)
These quotes most certainly do not establish that Marcus was agnostic. We can tell that he wasn’t from other bits of the Meditations (e.g., I.17 and II.11). But they do establish beyond reasonable doubt that the ancient Stoics themselves were fine with the possibility that they got their metaphysics wrong, and still saw no reason to reject their ethics.[8]
Why, then, do modern Stoics have animated discussions about ancient Stoic metaphysics, such as the one in which Brittany Polat and Kai Whiting engaged? Because of what secular humanist philosopher Paul Kurtz called “the transcendental temptation.”[9]
Polat, on her part, begins her essay with: “Few practicing Stoics think of Stoicism as a transcendent way of life. Most of us focus on striving for virtue, using our rationality, and trying to find contentment and meaning in our lives.” But then goes on to state that “this ‘cosmic consciousness’ (Pierre Hadot’s term) or ‘cosmic connectedness’ (A. A. Long’s term) is essential to the everyday ethical practice of Stoicism. I prefer to call this transcendence because it’s essentially about rising above your own small self to understand the big picture of the world around you.”
I almost completely agree with Polat. Except for the “transcendence” bit. It is unnecessary to use that word (why not “cosmic connection”?), which—because of its heavy cultural baggage—immediately invites thoughts of mysticism that don’t really mesh well with a thoroughly materialistic and deterministic philosophy like Stoicism.
For his part, Whiting writes: “Rather than get caught up in knots over the exact characteristics of the Stoic god . . . it is worth emphasizing that both scientists and those Stoics who acknowledge the Stoic god would agree that Nature, as the basis for everyone’s (and everything’s) being and reality, is the cause of knowledge and truth.” But then why use the culturally loaded word “god” at all, and not just refer to Nature (capitalized, if one wishes)? Also, it’s a bit too convenient to brush aside the need to get “caught up in knots” over defining exactly what the Stoic god is alleged to be.
Returning to Polat, she “want[s] to emphasize that this is not about transcending to some spiritual realm, but about metaphorically getting outside of yourself.” Great! Why not just say that, then? She redefines transcendence as “the psychological effort to see things from the perspective of Universal Reason rather than from the perspective of our own narrow interests. It is this psychological effort—and your resulting psychological condition—that makes you morally beautiful and wise.” Again, I agree with the conclusion, but I’d like to remind my fellow modern Stoics that there is no such thing as Universal Reason. So far as we know, we are the only creatures capable of reason in the universe. Should there be others, on Mars or in the Andromeda galaxy, their reason too would be local and limited, not Universal. That’s why it takes an effort to consider things from a broader perspective. And I’m sorry, but my dictionary defines “transcendence” in the following way: “existence or experience beyond the normal or physical level.” Which is not what either Polat or Whiting are talking about.
Whiting writes: “I do not defend the inclusion of the Stoic god because of tradition or nostalgia but rather because the Stoic god provides the rationale behind Stoic ethics.” No, it does not, and the ancient Stoics themselves contemplated just such a possibility, as amply demonstrated by the quotes from Marcus given above. Interestingly, Whiting makes his wide ranging statement and yet provides us with no particular reason to accept it. So let me conclude with my take on why that statement is false.
Stoic ethics tells us that a life worth living is one in which we apply reason to improve social living. Why? Because what distinguishes the human species from any other species on earth is the unique combination of being social and being capable of reason. We are naturally, instinctively pro-social (i.e., “virtuous”), and since we are capable of thinking generally and abstractly we realize that there is no difference between ourselves, our closest family and friends, and human beings who happen to live on the other side of the planet. We therefore “appropriate” (oikeiosis) the concerns of others, in what the 2nd century Stoic Hierocles described as “contracting” circles of ethical concern:
Each of us is, as it were, circumscribed by many circles . . . The first, indeed, and most proximate circle is that which everyone describes about his own mind as a centre . . . The second from this, and which is at a greater distance from the centre, but comprehends the first circle, is that in which parents, brothers, wife, and children are arranged . . . Next to this is that which contains the common people, then that which comprehends those of the same tribe, afterwards that which contains the citizens . . . But the outermost and greatest circle, and which comprehends all the other circles, is that of the whole human race . . . It is the province of him who strives to conduct himself properly in each of these connections to collect, in a certain respect, the circles, as it were, to one centre, and always to endeavor earnestly to transfer himself from the comprehending circles to the several particulars which they comprehend. (Fragments, How We Ought to Conduct Ourselves Towards Our Kindred)
Moreover, because of the way the cosmic web of cause-effect is structured, what is up to us only includes our deliberate judgments, endorsed values, and decisions to act, and we will live a fulfilling and serene life only if we manage to internalize this fact about the world.
Did you notice that I managed to explain the above without any reference whatsoever to the Stoic god? That’s because that god doesn’t do any actual work in Stoic ethics, or at least no work that cannot be replaced by analogous concepts compatible with modern science and metaphysics. So let us have the moral courage to bite the bullet and finally do away with talk of gods and transcendence. They aren’t needed in order to be good human beings, by Stoics or by anyone else.
[1] See, among others, William Irvine, A Guide to the Good Life: The Ancient Art of Stoic Joy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), Massimo Pigliucci, How to Be a Stoic: Using Ancient Philosophy to Live a Modern Life (New York: Basic Books, 2017), John Sellars, The Art of Living: The Stoics on the Nature and Function of Philosophy (London: Routledge, 2017), Donald Robertson, How to Think Like a Roman Emperor: The Stoic Philosophy of Marcus Aurelius (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2019).
[2] Famously, Stoicism comes with a third component: logic broadly construed, meaning the study of everything that may improve our abilities to reason. The notion is that in order to understand the world (metaphysics) and act well in the world (ethics) one needs to think well. See chapters 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 and 10 of The Cambridge Companion to the Stoics, ed. by Brad Inwood (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003).
[3] Massimo Pigliucci and Gregory Lopez, A Handbook for New Stoics: How to Thrive in a World Out of Your Control—52 Week-by-Week Lessons (New York: The Experiment, 2019).
[4] Keimpe Algra, “Stoic Theology,” in The Cambridge Companion to the Stoics, ed. by Brad Inwood (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), chapter 6.
[5] Lawrence M. Principe, Scientific Revolution: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011).
[6] See also Sabine Hossenfelder, Lost in Math: How Beauty Leads Physics Astray (New York: Basic Books, 2018); and Jim Baggott, Quantum Space: Loop Quantum Gravity and the Search for the Structure of Space, Time, and the Universe (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019).
[7] Massimo Pigliucci, Denying Evolution: Creationism, Scientism, and the Nature of Science (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002).
[8] This does open up a different kind of criticism of Stoic philosophy, which I cannot fully address here: if their specific pantheist metaphysics can be replaced by an atomistic one and still the ethics remains intact, in what sense is Stoic metaphysics connected to Stoic ethics? The brief answer is that the Stoics still got quite a bit right in metaphysics, particularly the notions of universal cause-effect and the resulting corollary of determinism, from which they derived their idea of compatibilism about free will. See: Massimo Pigliucci, “The Philosophy and Science of (Stoic) Free Will,” in How to Be a Stoic, 6 December 2017, available online here.
[9] Paul Kurtz, The Transcendental Temptation: A Critique of Religion and the Paranormal (New York: Prometheus, 2013).