Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 2.16

The soul of man does violence to itself, first of all, when it becomes an abscess and, as it were, a tumor on the Universe, so far as it can. For to be vexed at anything which happens is a separation of ourselves from Nature, in some part of which the natures of all other things are contained.

In the next place, the soul does violence to itself when it turns away from any man, or even moves towards him with the intention of injuring, such as are the souls of those who are angry.

In the third place, the soul does violence to itself when it is overpowered by pleasure or by pain.

Fourthly, when it plays a part, and does or says anything insincerely and untruly.

Fifthly, when it allows any act of its own and any movement to be without an aim, and does anything thoughtlessly and without considering what it is, it being right that even the smallest things be done with reference to an end; and the end of rational animals is to follow the reason and the law of the most ancient city and community.

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

As long as I can remember, I was told that it wasn’t nice to hurt other people. Now such an appeal can help to remind me that I should nurture respect for the rights of others, and sympathy for how they might feel. Yet there would sometimes be a sinister little voice deep inside, that one that would seductively suggest: “Well, sure, you might hurt someone else, but think about how much it will help you?” After all, despite what I was being told, I just had to look around me to see how many people seemed to thrive on the losses of others.

Yet that voice can only seem convincing if we are still working from a confused premise, the thinking that our vices may bring harm to others, but can also offer benefit for ourselves. As usual, Stoicism considers this from a different perspective.

Whenever I act unjustly toward another, I am most certainly doing wrong to him. Yet of all the things I may take away with force, with guile, or with deceit, I remain powerless over the very core of what he is, a being of reason and choice who can rule his own actions. I may act with vice toward someone else, but I can never make someone else act with vice. What he makes of the hurt I throw at him will be entirely up to him. He may even use it to be good himself in return.

At the same time, what have I done to myself? I may have affected the fortune of another, but I have deeply harmed my own nature. In choosing vice, I have surrendered the dignity of my own reason, and I have neglected the very core of who I am. My own actions were the only things that were ever truly my own, and now I have wasted them by loving all the wrong things. My intended victim may lose the goods of his body, but I lose the goods of my soul.

One of the first things I noticed in this passage by Marcus Aurelius is the claim that when we live poorly, we are really doing violence to ourselves. The text tells me not only what I should avoid in the way that I live, but also the very reasons why I am the one who ends up hurt the most.

Whenever I go around declaring war, hoping to be victorious over my enemy, I have already made myself my own worst victim. I am fighting myself most of all.

When I feel the world has been unfair, and that I have been treated poorly by my circumstances, I may think I should lash out and blame everything around me. I am hardly doing any violence to the Universe when I choose this, but I am certainly doing violence to myself.

When I resent my neighbor, and harbor malice toward him, I may think I will feel better if I cause him pain and loss, and that he should feel as badly as I may feel. I am hardly doing any violence to the Universe when I choose this, but I am certainly doing violence to myself.

When I am confronted by the lust for pleasure and the fear of pain, I may think it easiest to surrender my knowledge of what is right for the feeling of what is gratifying. I am hardly doing any violence to the Universe when I choose this, but I am certainly doing violence to myself.

When I see a difficulty looming ahead of me, I may think it more expedient to deceive than to practice integrity, to sacrifice truth for the sake of convenience. I am hardly doing any violence to the Universe when I choose this, but I am certainly doing violence to myself.

When I grow tired of effort, and I am tempted by the achievement of what is immediate at the expense of what is ultimate, I may think it best to neglect reflection on the meaning and purpose of my actions. I am hardly doing any violence to the Universe when I choose this, but I am certainly doing violence to myself.

Like they say, it only comes back to bite me. 

Written in 11/2004