Epictetus [Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy]
Epictetus (c.55 - c.135 C.E.)
Epictetus (pronounced Epic-TEE-tus) was an exponent of Stoicism who
flourished in the early second century C.E. about four hundred years after the
Stoic school of Zeno of Citium was established in Athens. He lived and worked,
first as a student in Rome, and then as a teacher with his own school in
Nicopolis in Greece. Our knowledge of his philosophy and his method as a teacher
comes to us via two works composed by his student Arrian, the Discourses
and the Handbook.
Although Epictetus based his teaching on the works of the early Stoics (none of
which survives) which dealt with the three branches of Stoic thought, logic,
physics and ethics, the Discourses
and the Handbook
concentrate almost exclusively on ethics. The role of the Stoic teacher was to
encourage his students to live the philosophic life, whose end was
eudaimonia ('happiness' or 'flourishing'), to be secured by living the
life of reason, which – for Stoics – meant living virtuously and living
'according to nature'. The eudaimonia ('happiness') of those who attain
this ideal consists of ataraxia (imperturbability), apatheia
(freedom from passion), eupatheiai ('good feelings'), and an awareness
of, and capacity to attain, what counts as living as a rational being should.
The key to transforming oneself into the Stoic sophos (wise person) is to
learn what is 'in one's power', and this is 'the correct use of impressions'
(phantasiai), which in outline involves not judging as good or bad
anything that appears to one. For the only thing that is good is acting
virtuously (that is, motivated by virtue), and the only thing that is bad is the
opposite, acting viciously (that is, motivated by vice). Someone who seeks to
make progress as a Stoic (a prokoptôn) understands that their power of
rationality is a fragment of God whose material body – a sort of rarefied fiery
air – blends with the whole of creation, intelligently forming and directing
undifferentiated matter to make the world as we experience it. The task of the
prokoptôn, therefore, is to 'live according to nature', which means (a)
pursuing a course through life intelligently responding to one's own needs and
duties as a sociable human being, but also (b) wholly accepting one's fate and
the fate of the world as coming directly from the divine intelligence which
makes the world the best that is possible.
Table of Contents (Clicking on the links below will take you to those parts of this article)
1. Life
2. Writings
a. The Discourses
b. The Handbook
3. Epictetus' Stoicism
4. Key Concepts
a. The promise of philosophy
b. What is really good
c. What is in our power
d. Making proper use of impressions
e. The three topoi
i. The Discipline of Desire
ii. The Discipline of Action
iii. The Discipline of Assent
f. God
g. On living in accord with nature
h. Metaphors for life
i. Making progress
5. Glossary of Terms
6. Sources and Suggestions for Further Reading
a. Translations of Epictetus
b. Translations of Hellenistic Philosophers, including the Stoics
c. Items that address Epictetus specifically
d. Items addressing Stoic philosophy and/or Hellenistic ethics generally
e. Other items on Hellenistic philosophy generally
1. Life
It is possible to draw only a basic sketch of Epictetus' life. Resources at
our disposal include just a handful of references in the ancient texts, to which
we can add the few allusions that Epictetus makes to his own life in the Discourses.
Epictetus was born in about 55 C.E. in Hierapolis in Phrygia (modern-day Pamukkale, in south-western
Turkey). As a boy he somehow came to Rome as a slave of Epaphroditus who was a
rich and powerful freedman, having himself been a slave of the Emperor Nero (he
had been an administrative secretary). Whilst still a slave, Epictetus studied
with the Stoic teacher Musonius Rufus.
There is a story told by the author Celsus (probably a younger contemporary
of Epictetus) – quoted by the early Christian Origen (c.185–254) at
Contra Celsum 7.53 – that when still a slave, Epictetus was tortured by
his master who twisted his leg. Enduring the pain with complete composure,
Epictetus warned Epaphroditus that his leg would break, and when it did break,
he said, 'There, did I not tell you that it would break?' And from that time
Epictetus was lame. The Suda (tenth century), however, although
confirming that Epictetus was lame, attributes his affliction to rheumatism.
At some point Epictetus was manumitted, and in about 89, along with other
philosophers then in Rome, was banished by the Emperor Domitian. He went to
Nicopolis in Epirus (in north-western Greece) where he opened his own school
which acquired a good reputation, attracting many upper-class Romans. One such
student was Flavius Arrian (c.86–160) who would compose the Discourses
and the Handbook,
and who later served in public office under the Emperor Hadrian and made his
mark as a respected historian (much of his writings survive). Origen (Contra
Celsum 6.2) reports that Epictetus had been more popular in his day than had
Plato in his. Aulus Gellius (c.125–c.165) reports that one of
Marcus Aurelius' teachers, Herodes Atticus (c.101–177), considered
Epictetus to be 'the greatest of Stoics' (Attic Nights 1.2.6).
Our sources report that Epictetus did not marry, had no children, and lived
to an old age. With respect to marriage and children we may note the story from
Lucian (Demonax 55) about the Cynic philosopher Demonax who had been a
pupil of Epictetus. On hearing Epictetus exhort his students to marry and have
children (for it was a philosopher's duty to provide a substitute ready for the
time when they would die), he sarcastically asked Epictetus whether he could
marry one of his daughters.
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2. Writings
It appears that Epictetus wrote nothing himself. The works we have that
present his philosophy were written by his student, Flavius Arrian. We may
conjecture that the Discourses
and the Handbook
were written some time around the years 104–107, at the time when Arrian (born
c.86) was most likely to have been a student.
Dobbin (1998), though, holds the view that the Discourses
and the Handbook
were actually written by Epictetus himself; the Suda does say, after all,
that Epictetus 'wrote a great deal'. Dobbin is not entirely convinced by
Arrian's claim in his dedicatory preface that he wrote down Epictetus' words
verbatim; firstly, stenographic techniques at this time were primitive,
and anyway were the preserve of civil servants; secondly, most of the discourses
are too polished, and look too much like carefully crafted prose to be the
product of impromptu discussions; and thirdly, some of the discourses (notably
1.29, 3.22 and 4.1) are too long for extempore conversations.
There is no way to resolve this question with certainty. Whether the texts we
have do indeed represent a serious attempt to record Epictetus at work
verbatim, whether draft texts were later edited and rewritten (as seems
wholly likely), possibly by Epictetus, or whether Epictetus did in fact write
the texts himself, drawing on his recollections as a lecturer with only
occasional attempts at strictly verbatim accuracy, we shall never know.
But what we can be certain of, regardless of who actually wrote the words onto
the papyrus to make the first draft of the text as we have it today, is that
those words were intended to present Stoic moral philosophy in the terms and the
style that Epictetus employed as a teacher intent on bringing his students to
philosophic enlightenment as the Stoics had understood this enterprise.
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a. Discourses
Written in Koine Greek, the everyday contemporary form of the language,
Epictetus' Discourses appear to record the exchanges between Epictetus
and his students after formal teaching had concluded for the day. Internal
textual evidence confirms that the works of the early Stoic philosophers (Zeno,
Cleanthes and Chrysippus) were read and discussed in Epictetus' classes, but
this aspect of Epictetus' teaching is not recorded by Arrian. What we have,
then, are intimate, though earnest, discussions in which Epictetus aims to make
his students consider carefully what the philosophic life – for a Stoic –
consists in, and how to live it oneself. He discusses a wide range of topics,
from friendship to illness, from fear to poverty, on how to acquire and maintain
tranquillity, and why we should not be angry with other people.
Not all of the Discourses appear to have survived, as the ancient
Byzantine scholar Photius (c.810–c.893) reports that the complete
text originally comprised eight books, whereas all we have today are four
books. Because the text, chapter by chapter, jumps to different topics and shows
no orderly development, it is not readily apparent that anything is missing, and
indeed, the reference to eight books may be mistaken (though another author,
Aulus Gellius, at Attic Nights 19.1.14, refers to the fifth book
of the Discourses). The range of topics is sufficiently broad for us to
be reasonably confident that, even if some of the text has been lost, what we
lack by and large repeats and revisits the material that we have in the book as
it has come down to us. (To find translations of the Discourses on-line, please visit my 'Translations of Epictetus on the
Internet' page at my BT site or my Geocities site.)
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b. The Handbook
This little book appears to be an abstract of the Discourses, focusing
on key themes in Epictetus' teaching of Stoic ethics. Some of the text is taken
from the Discourses, and the fact that not all of it can be correlated
with passages in the larger work supports the view that some of the
Discourses has indeed been lost. (To find translations of the Handbook on-line, please visit my 'Translations of
Epictetus on the Internet' page at my BT site or my Geocities site.)
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3. Epictetus' Stoicism
The writings of the early Stoics, of Zeno (335–263 B.C.E.) the founder of the
school, of Chrysippus (c.290–207 B.C.E.) the extremely influential third
head of the Stoa, and of others, survive only as quoted fragments found in later
works. The question arises as to what extent Epictetus preserved the original
doctrines of the Stoic school, and to what extent, if any, he branched out with
new emphases and innovations of his own. The nineteenth-century Epictetan
scholar Adolf Bonhöffer (1998, 3) remarks: '[Epictetus] is completely free of
the eclecticism of Seneca and Marcus Aurelius; and, compared with his teacher
Musonius Rufus … his work reveals a considerably closer connection to Stoic
doctrine and terminology as developed mainly by Chrysippus.' Evidence internal
to the Discourses indicates that Epictetus was indeed faithful to the
early Stoics. At 1.4.28–31, Epictetus praises Chrysippus in the highest terms,
saying of him, 'How great the benefactor who shows the way! … who has
discovered, and brought to light, and communicated, the truth to all, not merely
of living, but of living well' (trans. Hard). It would be inconsistent, if not
wholly ridiculous, to laud Chrysippus in such terms and then proceed to depart
oneself from the great man's teaching. At 1.20.15, Epictetus quotes Zeno, and at
2.6.9–10 he quotes Chrysippus, to support his arguments. Aulus Gellius (Attic
Nights 19.1.14) says that Epictetus' Discourses 'undoubtedly agree
with the writings of Zeno and Chrysippus'.
Scholars are agreed that the 'doctrine of the three topics (topoi)'
(fields of study) which we find in the Discourses originates with
Epictetus (see Bonhöffer 1996, 32; Dobbin 1998, xvii; Hadot 1998, 83; More 1923,
107). Oldfather (1925, xxi, n. 1), in the introduction to his translation of the
Discourses, remarks that 'this triple division … is the only notable
original element … found in Epictetus, and it is rather a pedagogical device for
lucid presentation than an innovation in thought'. Our enthusiasm for this
division being wholly original to Epictetus should be tempered with a reading of
extracts from Seneca's Moral Letters (75.8–18 and 89.14–15) where we also
find a threefold division of ethics which, although not exactly similar to
Epictetus' scheme, suggests the possibility that both Seneca and Epictetus drew
on work by their predecessors that, alas, has not survived. Suffice it so say,
what Epictetus teaches by means of his threefold division is wholly in
accord with the principles of the early Stoics, but how he does this is
uniquely his own method. The programme of study and exercises that Epictetus'
students adhered to was in consequence different from the programme that was
taught by his predecessors, but the end result, consisting in the special Stoic
outlook on oneself and the world at large and the ability to 'live the
philosophic life', was the same.
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4. Key Concepts
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a. The promise of philosophy
Epictetus, along with all other philosophers of the Hellenistic period, saw
moral philosophy as having the practical purpose of guiding people towards
leading better lives. The aim was to live well, to secure for oneself
eudaimonia ('happiness' or 'a flourishing life'), and the different
schools and philosophers of the period offered differing solutions as to how the
eudaimôn life was to be won.
No less true of us today than it was for the ancients, few people are content
with life (let alone wholly content), and what contributes to any contentment
that may be enjoyed is almost certainly short-lived and transient.
The task for the Stoic teacher commences with the understanding that
(probably) everyone is not eudaimôn for much, or even all, of the time;
that there is a reason for this being the case and, most importantly, that there
are solutions that can remedy this sorry state of affairs.
Indeed, Epictetus metaphorically speaks of his school as being a hospital to
which students would come seeking treatments for their ills (Discourses
3.23.30). Each of us, in consequence merely of being human and living in
society, is well aware of what comprise these ills. In the course of daily life
we are beset by frustrations and setbacks of every conceivable type. Our
cherished enterprises are hindered and thwarted, we have to deal with hostile
and offensive people, and we have to cope with the difficulties and anxieties
occasioned by the setbacks and illnesses visited upon our friends and relations.
Sometimes we are ill ourselves, and even those who have the good fortune to
enjoy sound health have to face the fact of their own mortality. In the midst of
all this, only the rare few are blessed with lasting and rewarding
relationships, and even these relationships, along with everything that
constitutes a human life, are wholly transient.
But what is philosophy? Does it not mean making preparation to meet the
things that come upon us? (Discourses 3.10.6, trans.
Oldfather)
The ills we suffer, says Epictetus, result from mistaken beliefs about what
is truly good. We have invested our hope in the wrong things, or at least
invested it in the wrong way. Our capacity to flourish and be happy (to attain
eudaimonia) is entirely dependent upon our own characters, how we dispose
ourselves to ourselves, to others, and to events generally. What qualities our
characters come to have is completely up to us. Therefore, how well we flourish
is also entirely up to us.
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b. What is really good
The central claim of Stoic ethics is that only the virtues and virtuous
activities are good, and that the only evil is vice and actions motivated by
vice (see Discourses 2.9.15 and 2.19.13). When someone pursues pleasure
or wealth, say, believing these things to be good, the Stoics hold that this
person has made a mistake with respect to the nature of the things pursued and
the nature of their own being, for the Stoics deny that advantages such as
pleasure and health (wealth and status, and so forth) are good, because
they do not benefit those who possess them in all circumstances. Virtue, on the
other hand, conceived as the capacity to use such advantages wisely, being the
only candidate for that which is always beneficial, is held to be the only good
thing (see Plato, Euthydemus 278e–281e and Meno 87c–89a).
Thus, the Stoics identify the eudaimôn ('happy') life as one that is
motivated by virtue. The term we translate as 'virtue' (from the Latin
virtus) is aretê, and means 'excellence'. To progress towards
excellence as a human being, for Epictetus, means understanding the true nature
of one's being and keeping one's prohairesis (moral character) in the
right condition. Epictetus uses the term aretê only occasionally, and
whereas the early Stoics spoke of striving for excellence as what was proper for
a rational creature and required for eudaimonia ('happiness' or
well-being), Epictetus speaks of striving to maintain one's prohairesis
in proper order (see Discourses 1.4.18 and 1.29.1).
Although things such as material comfort, for instance, will be pursued by
the Stoic student who seeks eudaimonia, they will do this in a different
way from those not living the 'philosophic life' – for Stoics claim that
everything apart from virtue (what is good) and vice (what is bad) is
indifferent, that is, 'indifferent' with regard to being good or bad. It
is how one makes use of indifferent things that establishes how well one
is making progress towards aretê (moral excellence) and a eudaimôn
('happy') life.
Indifferent things are either 'preferred' or 'dispreferred'. Preferred are
health and wealth, friends and family, and pretty much all those things that
most people pursue as desirable for leading a flourishing life. Dispreferred are
their opposites: sickness and poverty, social exclusion, and pretty much all
those things that people seek to avoid as being detrimental for a flourishing
life. Thus, the preferred indifferents have value for a Stoic, but not in terms
of their being good: they have an instrumental value with respect to
their capacities to contribute to a flourishing life as the objects upon which
our virtuous actions are directed (see Discourses 1.29.2). The Stoic does
not lament their absence, for their presence is not constitutive of
eudaimonia. What is good is the virtuous use one makes of such preferred
things should they be to hand, but no less good are one's virtuous dispositions
in living as well as one may, even when they are lacking.
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c. What is in our power
To maintain our prohairesis (moral character) in the proper condition
– the successful accomplishment of this being necessary and sufficient for
eudaimonia ('happiness') – we must understand what is eph' hêmin
('in our power' or 'up to us'; see Discourses 1.22.9–16). If we do
not do this, our prohairesis will remain in a faulty condition,
for we will remain convinced that things such as wealth and status are good when
they are really indifferent, troubled by frustrations and anxieties, subject to
disturbing emotions we do not want and cannot control, all of which make life
unpleasant and unrewarding, sometimes overwhelmingly so. This is why Epictetus
remarks: 'This is the proper goal, to practise how to remove from one's life
sorrows and laments, and cries of "Alas" and "Poor me", and misfortune and
disappointment' (Discourses 1.4.23, trans. Dobbin).
No one is master of another's prohairesis [moral character], and in
this alone lies good and evil. No one, therefore, can secure the good for me, or
involve me in evil, but I alone have authority over myself in these matters.
(Discourses 4.12.7–8, trans. Dobbin)
What is in our power, then, is the 'authority over ourselves' that we have
regarding our capacity to judge what is good and what is evil. Outside our power
are 'external things', which are 'indifferent' with respect to being good or
evil. These indifferents, as we saw in the previous section, number those things
that are conventionally deemed to be good and those that are conventionally
deemed to be bad. Roughly, they are things that 'just happen', and they are not
in our power in the sense that we do not have absolute control to make them
occur just as we wish, or to make them have exactly the outcomes that we desire.
Thus, for example, sickness is not in our power because it is not wholly up to
us whether we get sick, and how often, nor whether we will recover quickly or
indeed at all. Now, it makes sense to visit a doctor when we feel ill, but the
competence of the doctor is not in our power, and neither is the effectiveness
of any treatment that we might be offered. So generally, it makes sense to
manage our affairs carefully and responsibly, but the ultimate outcome of any
affair is, actually, not in our power.
What is in our power is the capacity to adapt ourselves to all that
comes about, to judge anything that is 'dispreferred' not as bad, but as
indifferent and not strong enough to overwhelm our strength of character.
The Handbook of Epictetus begins with these words:
Some things are up to us [eph' hêmin] and some things are not up to
us. Our opinions are up to us, and our impulses, desires, aversions–in short,
whatever is our own doing. Our bodies are not up to us, nor are our possessions,
our reputations, or our public offices, or, that is, whatever is not our own
doing. (Handbook 1.1, trans. White)
That is, we have power over our own minds. The opinions we hold of things,
the intentions we form, what we value and what we are averse to are all wholly
up to us. Although we may take precautions, whether our possessions are carried
off by a thief is not up us (but the intention to steal, that of course
is in the power of the thief), and our reputations, in whatever quarter, must be
decided by what other people think of us, and what they do think is up to
them. Remaining calm in the face of adversity and controlling our emotions
no matter what the provocation (qualities of character that to this day are
referred to as 'being stoical'), are accomplished in the full Stoic sense, for
Epictetus, by making proper use of impressions.
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d. Making proper use of impressions
To have an impression is to be aware of something in the world. For example,
I may look out of my window and have the impression of an airship floating over
the houses in the distance. Whether there is really an airship there, half a
mile off, or whether there is just a little helium-filled model tied to my
garden gate by a bit of string, is a separate question. 'Making proper use of
impressions' concerns how we move from the first thing, being aware of something
or other, to the second thing, making a judgement that something or other is the
case. The Stoic stands in sharp contrast to the non-Stoic, for when the latter
faces some disaster, say (let us imagine that their briefcase has burst open and
their papers are scattered by the wind all along the station platform and onto
the track), they will judge this a terrible misfortune and have the appropriate
emotional response to match. Epictetus would declare that this person has made
the wrong use of their impression.
In the first place, do not allow yourself to be carried away by [the]
intensity [of your impression]: but say, 'Impression, wait for me a little.
Let me see what you are, and what you represent. Let me test you.' Then,
afterwards, do not allow it to draw you on by picturing what may come next,
for if you do, it will lead you wherever it pleases. But rather, you should
introduce some fair and noble impression to replace it, and banish this base
and sordid one. (Discourses 2.18.24–5, trans. Hard)
Few non-Stoics, ignorant of Epictetus' teaching, would do other than rush
around after their papers, descending deeper and deeper into a panic, imagining
their boss at work giving them a dressing down for losing the papers, making
them work extra hours to make good the loss, and perhaps even dismissing them
from their job. The Stoic, by contrast, tests their impression to see what the
best interpretation should be: losing the papers is a dispreferred indifferent,
to be sure, but having an accident of this sort is bound to happen once in a
while, and is nothing to be troubled about. They will quietly gather up the
papers they can, and instead of panicking with respect to facing their boss,
they will rehearse a little speech about having had an accident and what it
means to have lost the papers. If their boss erupts in a temper, well, that is a
concern for the boss.
Our attaining the eudaimôn ('happy') life requires that we judge
things in the right way, for 'what disturbs men's minds is not events but their
judgements on events' (Handbook 5, trans. Matheson).
Remember that foul words or blows in themselves are no outrage, but your
judgement that they are so. So when any one makes you angry, know that it is
your own thought that has angered you. Wherefore make it your endeavour not
to let your impressions carry you away. For if once you gain time and delay,
you will find it easier to control yourself. (Handbook 20, trans.
Matheson)
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e. The three topoi
The three topoi (fields of study) establish activities in which the
prokoptôn (Stoic student) applies their Stoic principles; they are
practical exercises or disciplines that when successfully followed are
constitutive of the eudaimôn ('happy') life which all rational beings are
capable of attaining.
There are three areas of study, in which a person who is going to be good
and noble must be trained. That concerning desires and aversions, so that he
may never fail to get what he desires nor fall into what he would avoid.
That concerning the impulse to act and not to act, and, in general,
appropriate behaviour; so that he may act in an orderly manner and after due
consideration, and not carelessly. The third is concerned with freedom from
deception and hasty judgement, and, in general, whatever is connected with
assent. (Discourses 3.2.1–2, trans. Hard)
Our capacity to employ these disciplines in the course of daily life is
eph' hêmin ('in our power' or 'up to us') because they depend on our
opinions, judgements, intentions and desires which concern the way we regard
things over which our prohairesis (moral character) has complete
control.
i. The Discipline of Desire
The first discipline concerns what someone striving for excellence as a
rational being should truly believe is worthy of desire, which for the Stoics is
that which is truly good, virtue and action motivated by virtue.
Of these [three areas of study], the principle, and most urgent, is that
which has to do with the passions; for these are produced in no other way
than by the disappointment of our desires, and the incurring of our
aversions. It is this that introduces disturbances, tumults, misfortunes,
and calamities; and causes sorrow, lamentation and envy; and renders us
envious and jealous, and thus incapable of listening to reason.
(Discourses 3.2.3, trans. Hard)
Epictetus remarks: 'When I see a man anxious, I say, What does this man want?
If he did not want some thing which is not in his power, how could he be
anxious?' (Discourses 2.13.1, trans. Long). Those things that most of us,
most of the time, seek after as being desirable, what we consider will make our
lives go well, are things that are not in our power, and thus the hope we have
for securing these things is placed in the hands of others or in the hands of
fate. And when we are thwarted in our efforts to gain what we desire we become
frustrated (or depressed or envious or angry, or all of these things). To be
afflicted with such 'passions', says Epictetus, is the only real source of
misery for human beings. Instead of trying to relieve ourselves of these
unpleasant emotions by pressing all the harder to secure what we desire, we
should rather place our hope not in 'external' things that are not in our power,
but in our own dispositions and moral character. In short, we should limit our
desire to virtue and to becoming (to the best of our capacities) examples of
'excellence'. If we do not do this, the inevitable result is that we will
continue to desire what we may fail to obtain or lose once we have it, and in
consequence suffer the unhappiness of emotional disquiet (or worse). And as is
the common experience of all people at some time or other, when we are in the
grip of such emotions we run the risk of becoming blind to the best course of
action, even when construed in terms of pursuing 'external' things.
The Stoic prokoptôn, in contrast, sets their hopes on excellence,
recognising that this is where their power over things lies. They will still
pursue those 'preferred indifferent external' things that are needed for
fulfilling those functions and projects that they deem appropriate for them as
individuals, and those they have obligations to meet. But they will not be
distressed at setbacks or failure, nor at obstructive people, nor at other
difficulties (illness, for instance), for none of these things is entirely up to
them, and they engage in their affairs in full consciousness of this fact. It is
in maintaining this consciousness of what is truly good (virtue), and awareness
that the indifferent things are beyond their power, that makes this a
discipline for the Stoic prokoptôn.
ii. The Discipline of Action
The second discipline concerns our 'impulses to act and not to act', that is,
our motivations, and answers the question as to what we each should do as an
individual in our own unique set of circumstances to successfully fulfil the
role of a rational, sociable being who is striving for excellence.
The outcome of our actions is not wholly in our power, but our inclination to
act one way rather than another, to pursue one set of objectives rather than
others, this is in our power. The Stoics use the analogy of the archer
shooting at a target to explain this notion. The ideal, of course, is to hit the
centre of the target, though accomplishing this is not entirely in the archer's
power, for she cannot be certain how the wind will deflect the arrow from its
path, nor whether her fingers will slip, nor whether (for it is within the
bounds of possibility) the bow will break. The excellent archer does all within
her power to shoot well, and she recognises that doing her best is the best she
can do. The Stoic archer strives to shoot excellently, and will not be
disappointed if she shoots well but fails to hit the centre of the target. And
so it is in life generally. The non-Stoic views their success in terms of
hitting the target, whereas the Stoic views their success in terms of having
shot well (see Cicero, On Ends 3.22).
The [second area of study] has to do with appropriate action. For I
should not be unfeeling like a statue, but should preserve my natural and
acquired relations as a man who honours the gods, as a son, as a brother, as
a father, as a citizen. (Discourses 3.2.4, trans. Hard)
Appropriate acts are in general measured by the relations they are
concerned with. 'He is your father.' This means that you are called upon to
take care of him, give way to him in all things, bear with him if he reviles
or strikes you.
'But he is a bad father.'
Well, have you any natural claim to a good father? No, only to a
father.
'My brother wrongs me.'
Be careful then to maintain the relation you hold to him, and do not
consider what he does, but what you must do if your purpose is to keep in
accord with nature. (Handbook 30, trans.
Matheson)
The actions we undertake, Epictetus says, should be motivated by the specific
obligations that we have in virtue of who we are, our natural relations to
others, and what roles we have adopted in our dealings with the wider community
(see Discourses 2.10.7–13). Put simply, our interest to live well as
rational beings obliges us to act virtuously, to be patient, considerate,
gentle, just, self-disciplined, even-tempered, dispassionate, unperturbed, and
when necessary, courageous. This returns us to the central Stoic notion that the
eudaimôn ('happy') life is realised by those who are motivated by virtue.
The Discipline of Action points out to the prokoptôn how this should be
applied in our practical affairs.
Epictetus sums up the first two disciplines:
We must have these principles ready to hand. Without them we must do
nothing. We must set our mind on this object: pursue nothing that is outside
us, nothing that is not our own, even as He that is mighty has ordained:
pursuing what lies within our will [prohairetika], and all else
[i.e., indifferent things] only so far as it is given to us. Further, we
must remember who we are, and by what name we are called, and must try to
direct our acts [kathêkonta] to fit each situation and its
possibilities.
We must consider what is the time for singing, what the time for play,
and in whose presence: what will be unsuited to the occasion; whether our
companions are to despise us, or we to despise ourselves: when to jest, and
whom to mock at: in a word, how one ought to maintain one's character in
society. Wherever you swerve from any of these principles, you suffer loss
at once; not loss from without, but issuing from the very act itself.
(Discourses 4.12.15–18, trans. Matheson)
The loss here is of course loss of eudaimonia.
Failing to 'remember who we are' will result in our failing to pursue those
actions appropriate to our individual circumstances and commitments. Epictetus
says that this happens because we forget what 'name' we have (son, brother,
councillor, etc.), 'for each of these names, if rightly considered, always
points to the acts appropriate to it' (Discourses 2.10.11, trans. Hard).
To progress in the Discipline of Action, then, the prokoptôn must be
conscious, moment by moment, of (a) which particular social role they are
playing, and (b) which actions are required or appropriate for fulfilling that
role to the highest standard.
iii. The Discipline of Assent
This exercise focuses on 'assenting to impressions', and continues the
discussion already introduced in the section above on |
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