Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 2.10

Theophrastus, in his comparison of bad acts—such a comparison as one would make in accordance with the common notions of mankind—says, like a true philosopher, that the offences which are committed through desire are more blameworthy than those which are committed through anger.

For he who is excited by anger seems to turn away from reason with a certain pain and unconscious contraction, but he who offends through desire, being overpowered by pleasure, seems to be in a manner more intemperate and more unmanly in his offences.

Rightly then, and in a way worthy of philosophy, he said that the offence which is committed with pleasure is more blameworthy than that which is committed with pain; on the whole the one is more like a person who has been first wronged and through pain is compelled to be angry, but the other is moved by his own impulse to do wrong, being carried towards doing something by desire.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 2 (tr Long)

Theophrastus was the successor to Aristotle at the Lyceum, the Peripatetic School. I share in Marcus Aurelius’ respect for his observation, because I have come across the same distinction so often in my own life.

It is necessary for me to consider not only that I am accountable for my actions, but also why I make the decisions I do, and how the nature of my choices affects the degrees of my responsibility. It is an act of judgment, informed by knowledge or by ignorance, that will ultimately determine how I act, but I must not underestimate the influence that the passions will play in that estimation.

Feelings are powerful things, and the greater their force, the greater the strength of mental discipline necessary to guide and order them. This is especially true if I have not yet built up good habits of self-control, which can make it possible to act with far less inner tension, or if my passions are suddenly excited.

Pain and pleasure are at the two ends of our emotions, and they in turn breed anger and desire. Pain is, of course, less agreeable than pleasure, and anger is usually more difficult to resists than desire. In my own experience, anger is sharp, spontaneous, and urgent, and can easily reveal itself through a state of panic. Desire, in contrast, always appears more subtle, deliberate, and intentional, and is often accompanied by a grasping calculation.

Anger acts with desperation as it violently lashes out at what pains us, but desire acts with selfishness as it cleverly consumes the pleasures we crave. Succumbing to anger seems far more instinctive, while surrendering to desire seems far more considered. Anger feels more like a rabid dog, and desire like a slowly constricting snake.

Whenever I have yielded to anger, I observe that I often immediately regret my mistake, sometimes even as the deed is being done, and I am far more willing to make things right. Whenever I have yielded to desire, I will surround myself with pathetic excuses, trying to justify as right what I know deep in my heart is quite wrong, and I will staunchly resist taking responsibility or making amends.

The blame is most certainly always my own, but I know desire is more grievous than anger, because it is far more purposeful in its character. My worst act of anger, which I feel guilty about every day of my life, arose from despair, but my worst act of desire, which I still find difficult to even acknowledge, arose only from greed.

It is surely no accident that I also find it easier to forgive the insult from a moment of rage than I do from a scheming act of lust. 

Written in 8/2004

Image: A statue of Theophrastus at the Palermo Botanical Garden