Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.43

No joining others in their wailing, no violent emotion.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 7 (tr Long)

The term “stoic” or “stoical” in common usage indicates someone who can endure hardship, will not complain, or does not express emotion. Accordingly, it can also easily take on the negative meaning of a person who is unfeeling, uncaring, or coldly rational.

This is unfortunate, and falsely assumes that a life lived with calm, contentment, and self-control must surely also be completely emotionless. The problem is that because the Stoic does not act with great extremes of frantic feeling, it is concluded that he must have no feelings at all.

Now I know some people who live their lives in ways that are very Stoic, directly or indirectly, and who also happen to come across as very mild, restrained, or reserved. At the same time, I know just as many people who embrace Stoic-like values who also happen to come across as quite expressive, outgoing, and passionate. Of course the Stoic has feelings, just because he is human, and the sense of commitment he lives with, whatever his personality may be, does not proceed from repressing or denying these feelings. In fact, I would say that he actually embraces them fully, and he is able to do so because he can understand, and therefore be the master of, his passions.

A better grasp of who the Stoic really is would be, I suggest, not that he lacks emotion, but that he seeks to have ordered and balanced emotions. He works to let sound judgment about what is right and good guide his choices and actions, and so he is not swept this way and that by his desires and aversions. That’s hardly repression; it’s called character.

Having passions isn’t a problem, but not being able to rule them certainly is. Of course I feel pleasure and pain, affection and anger, excitement and weariness, while also recognizing that I have lost my way if I allow them to overwhelm me. Turbulent, hectic, and erratic passions are the problem.

My own experience has taught me that building good habits in guiding my feelings actually makes it possible for me to feel with greater meaning and depth. My attempts at living in a Stoic manner, however incomplete they may be, have allowed me to become a far more caring and compassionate person. I sadly suspect the man who calls himself Stoic, but acts without the deepest sympathy, is embracing the word, but not the task.

Whenever I allow myself to succumb to whining and complaining, for example, I know this follows only from my resentment, and I further know that my resentment follows from permitting my estimation to be swamped by the force of my feelings.

Temperance is a sadly neglected virtue, but still as necessary as it ever was. 

Written in 12/2007