If
our intellectual part is common, the reason also, in respect of which we are
rational beings, is common. If this is so, common also is the reason that
commands us what to do, and what not to do. If this is so, there is a common
law also. If this is so, we are fellow citizens. If this is so, we are members
of some political community. If this is so, the world is in a manner a state.
For of what other common political community will any one say that the whole
human race are members?
And
from this, from this common political community, comes also our very
intellectual faculty, and reasoning faculty, and our capacity for law.
Or
from where do they come? For as my earthly part is a portion given to me from
certain earth, and that which is watery from another element, and that which is
hot and fiery from some peculiar source (for nothing comes out of that which is
nothing, as nothing also returns to non-existence), so also the intellectual
part comes from some source.
—Marcus
Aurelius, Meditations, Book 4 (tr
Long)
I grow
frustrated with the divisions between persons, and then I remind myself that
frustration is never an answer. Then I grow saddened with those divisions, and
I further remind myself that sadness is never an answer. My anger, or my
despair, are in my own estimation, so I need to attend to fixing myself, not
lashing out and trying to fix anyone or anything else. I can only be of aid to
anyone when I have mastered myself, and when I therefore have something of
worth to offer.
That
worth will never come from posing, posturing, or preaching. I remain convinced
that a sincere Stoic, whatever other things he may also value, can never build
himself up by tearing someone else down. I ought to define myself in relation
to others by what is fundamentally common, not by any characteristics that draw
attention to what is different.
What
essentially makes me any different from any other human being on this earth
right now, or from any human being who has ever lived? At our very core, we are
all one and the same. What the Aristotleans called accidents, or what the Stoics
called the ways we are disposed, do not define us. Our race, age, sex, wealth,
status, or position, here or there, then or now, makes no real difference.
I am a
human being, not just any sort of being, and not just any sort of living being.
I have within me a life of sensation and feeling. I also have within me a life
of reason. I not only feel, but I can understand what I feel, why I might feel
it, and the nature of the things I am feeling about. I can consider the why,
not just the what. I can move beyond what it seems like to me, to what it is in
itself. I can then act according to Nature, not merely to my particular
preference.
I have
come to avoid any “-ism”, even Stoicism, if we are to define it as some set
school of which some are members, and from which others are excluded. Any and
all truth, in any and all times or places, should surely be about finding what
is common and universal. If it is somehow special and particular, I will choose
to pass.
Is it primarily
about being a member of a tribe, a club, a nation, a creed, a cult, or a
political ideology? I will choose to pass. Is it primarily about race, gender,
upbringing, rite, culture, or class? I will choose to pass. There are
many things I may or may not prefer, but my preference should never outweigh my
commitment to a shared human nature.
They
told my grandfather that he wasn’t a good Austrian, because he didn’t believe
in fighting a certain war. I was recently told I was a bad American, because I
didn’t believe in torturing suspected terrorists. It all changes, yet it
all stays the same.
All
people are made of the same stuff, but most importantly, all people share in
the same basic qualities, the second of the four Stoic categories of being. The
power of reason makes us the same. This, in turn, gives us a shared nature, a
shared purpose, a shared model of right and wrong, and a shared law. There
isn’t just what is good for me, or what is good for you. There is what is good
for all of us. We proceed from one and the same origin, and we are directed to one and the same end.
I neglect
this at my deepest peril. Once I oppose myself to my brother or sister, I
reject that universal source and goal. I can certainly be a citizen of Athens or of America,
of Rome or of Russia, but with Diogenes of Sinope, that iconoclast Cynic, I
must first be a citizen of the world.
Written in 5/2005
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