The Death of Marcus Aurelius

The Death of Marcus Aurelius

Monday, April 9, 2018

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 4.11



Consider how everything that happens, happens justly, and if you observe carefully, you will find it to be so.

I do not say only with respect to the continuity of the series of things, but with respect to what is just, and as if it were done by one who assigns to each thing its value.

Observe then as you have begun, and whatever you do, do it in conjunction with this, the being good, and in the sense in which a man is properly understood to be good. Keep to this in every action.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 4 (tr Long)

This can be one of the most difficult parts of Stoicism to come to terms with, though I suggest it is also one of the most important parts.

It might seem rather foolish to suggest that everything happens justly, when all around me I can see such clear evidence of injustice. I see people who abuse, who steal, who deceive, who take possession of what is not theirs, who do violence to others. Especially when I am myself the target of such misdeeds, I might even be angered at the idea that what I am going through is somehow quite fair.

My own way of working through such a problem has always involved two parts. First, I reflect on how everything does indeed happen for a reason. Second, I consider what is truly good for my human nature.

I have come to understand the Stoic Universe as a single whole, subject to rule and order, in which all the parts are related to one another within the perfection of the whole. Motion and rest, action and reaction, combination and division are all aspects of this structured balance. Something comes to be through something else, and effects proceed from causes under the guidance of Providence.

I leave it to the theologians to consider, far more clearly than I can, what it is that we really mean by God. For the specific purposes of Stoic practice, I find it sufficient to simply say that order necessitates design, and design necessitates awareness. The order present in the perfection of all things is, in turn, an activity of perfect reason. Name or define this in whatever way is most helpful to you.

This surely means that everything that is, is what it is for a very specific purpose within that unity. I may look at the events and changes around me and see no pattern, and I may call it chance or randomness. But this is only in the limitation of my perception, because to say that an occurrence is in itself random is to do nothing less than contradict the logical principle of causality.

All the fancy metaphysics aside, I can trust that if it happens, there was a very distinct reason why it happened, and that this reason participates in the reasons behind all other things. Nothing happens without meaning or in isolation. I will hardly always know the specifics of the why, but I can certainly know that there is a why.

I might still protest. It hardly makes me feel any better to think that injustice happens for a reason, when what is most apparent to me is that it seems to be making me miserable. So Nature always acts with purpose, but now my own unjust suffering is a part of that purpose? Does the Universe somehow want people to do me wrong? As one of my students said many years ago, “Wait! That means God just wants people to step all over me?”

This, in turn, calls for a second Stoic principle. What is it that actually makes something good or bad for me? We are quite familiar with the usual idea that the things that happen to us are good or bad, that events are either fair or unfair toward us. Stoicism, of course, turns this assumption on its head.

Instead of defining my worth by what happens to me, I need to rather seek it in what I do. The circumstances of my life are morally indifferent, and only become good or bad by the manner in which I use them, according to virtue or vice, good or bad action. What is good for me is living well, and anything that occurs to me can give me a chance to do so.

This means that every situation, every event, every condition, however unpleasant it may at first appear, is an opportunity to act with virtue. Anything that happens is in this sense just, because it can always be a benefit, if only I wish to take it. It only becomes harmful when I neglect to use it well.

Can my own action be bad? Yes, but that essentially does harm to my own character, and this is on me. Can the action of another be bad? Of course, but that essentially does harm to his own character, and that is on him. It is never unjust for any man to receive what he deserves, and by seeking to do harm, he makes himself the victim of his own vice.

But people seem to take things from me all the time, when they seek to gain control of my money, my property, or my reputation. This is what can so easily trip me up, because I will forget that whatever is good for me is never measured by the events, but by what I do with the events. It is never itself just or unjust, fair or unfair, to gain or to lose such external things. Whenever I am complaining about an unfair world, I am reducing myself from an active to a passive being, and I am forgetting where true happiness lies.

The beautiful irony can be that when I try to be unfair to someone, I am only taking away my own virtue, and giving someone else a chance to improve his. Those outside possessions will come and go, but a good man will know how to estimate his circumstances, and a bad man will let himself be ruled by them. From this perspective, the world actually seems quite fair.

Everything that happens is just, because everything in Nature exists for the good of the whole, and everything in my life will be as good as what I make of it.

Written in 7/2005




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