A Guide to the Good Life : The Ancient Art of Stoic Joy: The Ancient Art of Stoic Joy (27 page)

In response to this suggestion, let me point out that even though it is true that taking Xanax can alleviate our anxieties, there are nevertheless reasons to reject Xanax in favor of Stoicism. To better understand this point, let us turn our attention to a related debate. Given the state of modern medicine, an obese person has two alternatives available to him. He can change his lifestyle: In particular, he can eat less and differently and exercise more. Or he can resort to science to deal with his obesity: He can take a weight-loss drug or undergo, say, gastric bypass surgery.

Almost all doctors would recommend the first alternative, an old-fashioned change of lifestyle, even though modern, high-tech alternatives exist. Only if a lifestyle change fails to
reduce the obese person’s weight would these doctors recommend medication or surgery. In defense of this recommendation, doctors would point out that surgery is dangerous and that weight-loss medications can have serious side effects. Exercise, done properly, not only isn’t dangerous but promotes our health. Furthermore, the benefits of exercise will probably spill over into other areas of our life. We are likely, for example, to find that we have more energy than we used to. Our self-esteem is also likely to rise.

Much the same can be said of resorting to Stoicism to prevent and deal with feelings of anxiety. It is safer than the medical alternatives, as any number of Xanax addicts will attest. Furthermore, Stoicism has benefits that spill over into other areas of our life. Practicing Stoicism might not cause us to gain energy, the way exercising will, but practicing it will cause us to gain self-confidence; we will become confident, in particular, of our ability to handle whatever life throws our way. The person who takes Xanax, in contrast, will gain no such confidence; indeed, he knows full well what a mess he would be if his supply of Xanax was cut off. Another benefit of practicing Stoicism is that it will help us appreciate our life and circumstances and may, as a consequence, enable us to experience joy. This is a benefit, one supposes, that taking Xanax is unlikely to deliver.

N
OT EVERYONE
, I
REALIZE
, will be happy with my “modernization” of Stoicism. My fellow philosophers, for example, might complain that in moving from a philosophical justification of Stoicism to a scientific justification, I have, in essence, ripped
the head (advice and psychological techniques) off Stoicism and grafted it onto the body (justification) of an entirely different animal. They might add that the resulting doctrine is not an elegant chimera but a ghastly and unnatural monster—indeed, a Frankenstein.

My fellow philosophers might go on to complain that my scientific justification of Stoicism is distinctly anti-Stoical. The Stoics, as we have seen, advise us to live in accordance with nature. I am suggesting, though, that we use our reasoning ability to override our evolutionary programming—and therefore live, in a sense, in discordance with nature!

Stoic purists might also complain that in my treatment of Stoicism I have ignored differences in opinion among the Stoics I quote. Marcus, for example, seems to have been more duty-bound than the other Stoics. And Musonius and Seneca, while agreeing that Stoics needn’t be ascetics—that their philosophy should not prevent them from enjoying life—disagreed on just how heartily Stoics should enjoy it. Some will complain about the way I have swept these and other disagreements under the rug.

In response to such criticisms, let me say this. What I have done in the preceding pages is play the role of philosophical detective: I have tried to determine what modern individuals must do if they wish to adopt the philosophy of life advocated by the Roman Stoics. What I discovered is that these Stoics did not provide us with a handbook on how to become a Stoic; indeed, not even Epictetus’s
Handbook
is such a handbook. (Or if they did write treatises on how to practice Stoicism, these treatises have subsequently been lost.)
³
And it is understandable that they wouldn’t provide a handbook: In their time,
those wishing to learn how to practice Stoicism didn’t need to learn it from a book; they could instead attend a Stoic school.

As a result, I had to cobble together a brand of Stoicism from clues scattered throughout the writings of the Roman Stoics. The resulting version of Stoicism, although derived from the ancient Stoics, is therefore unlike the Stoicism advocated by any particular Stoic. It is also likely that the version of Stoicism I have developed is in various respects unlike the Stoicism one would have been taught to practice in an ancient Stoic school.

What I have attempted to do is develop a brand of Stoicism that is useful to myself and, possibly, to those around me, and to accomplish this goal I have tailored the philosophy to our circumstances. If someone told me that she sought tranquility, I would advise her to try the Stoic psychological techniques described in this book. I would also encourage her to explore the writings of the ancient Stoics. I would warn her, though, that on doing this, she would discover differences between my version of Stoicism and the version favored by, say, Epictetus. I would add that if she found Epictetus’s version more suited to her needs than my version is, she should by all means choose his version.

I am not, to be sure, the first Stoic to tamper with Stoicism. The Romans, as we have seen, adapted Greek Stoicism to suit their needs. Furthermore, individual Stoics were unafraid to “customize” Stoicism; as Seneca put it, “I do not bind myself to some particular one of the Stoic masters; I, too, have the right to form an opinion.”
⁴
The Stoics regarded the principles of Stoicism not as being chiseled into stone but as being molded into clay that could, within limits, be remolded into a form of Stoicism that people would find useful.

I have presented Stoicism as I think the Stoics intended it to be used. They did not invent Stoicism for the amusement of future philosophers. To the contrary, they can best be understood as toolmakers, and Stoicism is the tool they invented. It is a tool that, if used properly, they thought would enable a person to live a good life. I came across this tool, dusty and disused, lying on a library shelf. I have taken it up, dusted it off, replaced a few parts, and put it to work to see if it can still do the job the Stoics designed it to do. I have discovered, to my surprise and delight, that it can. In fact, I have discovered that despite all the similar tools that have been invented since this one fell into disuse, it does the job better than they do.

N
ONPHILOSOPHERS
—the people, as I have explained, who are the primary audience for this book—won’t be concerned with preserving the purity of Stoicism. For them the question is, Does it work? And even if Stoicism can in some sense be said to work, they will go on to ask whether there is an alternative philosophy of life that works better still—whether, that is, there is an alternative philosophy that delivers the same (or greater) benefits at a lower cost. If Stoicism doesn’t work better than the alternatives, a thoughtful individual will refuse to adopt it as his philosophy of life and will instead favor, say, Epicureanism or Zen Buddhism.

Even though I have adopted Stoicism as my philosophy of life, I do not claim that it is the only philosophy that “works” or even that, for every person, in all circumstances, it works better than alternative philosophies of life. All I am claiming is that for some people in some circumstances—I seem to be
one of those people—Stoicism is a wonderfully effective way to gain tranquility.

Who, then, should give Stoicism a try? Someone who, to begin with, seeks tranquility; it is, after all, the thing Stoicism promises to deliver. Someone who thinks something is more valuable than tranquility would therefore be foolish to practice Stoicism.

Having the attainment of tranquility as a goal in living will eliminate some potential philosophies of life. It will, for example, eliminate hedonism, which has as its goal not tranquility but maximization of pleasure. But even after we settle on tranquility as a primary goal of our philosophy of life, we will have to choose among the philosophies of life that share this goal; we will have to choose, for starters, among Stoicism, Epicureanism, Skepticism, and Zen Buddhism. Which of these philosophies of life is best for us? Which will best enable us to gain the tranquility we seek? It depends, I think, on our personality and circumstances: What works for one person might not work for another whose personality and circumstances are different. When it comes to philosophies of life, in other words, there is no one size that fits all.

There are people, I think, whose personality is uniquely well-suited to Stoicism. Even if no one formally introduces these individuals to Stoicism, they will figure it out on their own. These “congenital Stoics” are perpetually optimistic, and they are appreciative of the world they find themselves in. If they were to pick up Seneca and start reading, they would instantly recognize him as a kindred spirit.

There are other people who, because of their personality, would find it psychologically challenging to practice Stoicism.
These individuals simply refuse to consider the possibility that they are the source of their own discontent. They spend their days waiting, often impatiently, for the one thing to happen that will make them feel good about themselves and their lives. The missing ingredient, they are convinced, is something external to them: It is something that someone must hand to them or do for them. The thing in question might be a certain job, a certain sum of money, or a certain form of cosmetic surgery. They are also convinced that when this missing ingredient is provided, their dissatisfaction with life will be remedied and they will live happily ever after. If you suggest to one of these chronic malcontents that she try Stoicism, she will likely dig in her heels and refuse the suggestion: “It can’t work!” Such cases are tragic; the innate pessimism of these individuals prevents them from taking steps to overcome their pessimism and thereby dramatically reduces their chances of experiencing joy.

Most people have personalities that fall somewhere between these two extremes. They are not congenital Stoics, nor are they chronic malcontents. But although they might benefit from the practice of Stoicism, many of the individuals in this group see no need to give it—or, for that matter, any other philosophy of life—a try. They instead spend their days on evolutionary autopilot: They go around seeking the rewards their evolutionary programming has to offer, such as the pleasure to be derived from having sex or consuming a big meal, and avoiding the punishments their programming can inflict, such as the pain of being publicly insulted.

The day might come, though, when something happens to take them off autopilot. It might be a personal tragedy or
maybe a flash of insight. At first, they will be rather disoriented. They might then set out in search of a philosophy of life. The first step in such a search, I would maintain, is to assess their personality and circumstances. Thereafter, their goal should not be to find the one, true philosophy of life but to find the philosophy that best suits them.

As I explained in the introduction to this book, there was a time when I was attracted to Zen Buddhism as a philosophy of life, but the more I learned about Zen, the less attractive it became. In particular, I came to realize that Zen is incompatible with my personality. I am a relentlessly analytical person. For Zen to work for me, I would have to abandon my analytical nature. Stoicism, though, expects me to put my analytical nature to work. As a result, for me the cost of practicing Stoicism is considerably less than the cost of practicing Zen. I would probably be miserable trying to solve
koans
or trying to sit for hours with an empty mind, but for other people, this won’t be the case.

T
HE PREVIOUS COMMENTS
make it sound as if I am a relativist with respect to philosophies of life, as if I take them all to be equally valid. Rest assured that this is not the case. Although I will not try to talk anyone into thinking that tranquility is the thing to be most valued in life, I will try to talk people out of certain other life goals. If, for example, you tell me that in your philosophy of life your primary goal is to experience pain, I will not take your philosophy to be as valid as Zen Buddhism or Stoicism; I will instead take you to be quite misguided. Why, I will ask, do you seek pain?

Suppose, on the other hand, that you tell me your goal in living is the same as that of the Zen Buddhists and Stoics—namely, the attainment of tranquility—but that you have a different strategy for attaining this goal than they do: You are convinced that the best way to attain it is to get your name mentioned in
People
magazine. In this case, I will praise the insight you have demonstrated in your choice of a goal, but I will express serious reservations about your strategy for attaining this goal. Do you honestly think that getting mentioned in
People
will induce a state of tranquility? And if so, how long will it last?

In summary, my advice to those seeking a philosophy of life parallels my advice to those seeking a mate. They should realize that which mate is best for them depends on their personality and circumstances. This means that no one is the ideal mate for everyone and that some people are a suitable mate for no one at all. Furthermore, they should realize that for the vast majority of people, life with a less than perfect mate is better than life with no mate at all.

In much the same way, there is no one philosophy of life that is ideal for everyone, and there are some philosophies of life that no one should adopt. Furthermore, in almost all cases, a person is better off to adopt a less than ideal philosophy of life than to try to live with no philosophy at all. Indeed, if this book converts not a single soul to Stoicism but encourages people to think actively about their philosophy of life, I will feel that I have, in accordance with Stoic principles, done a service for my fellow humans.