Seneca, Moral Letters 85.2

Certain of the Peripatetics reply to this syllogism by interpreting “unperturbed,” “unwavering,” and “free from sadness” in such a way as to make “unperturbed” mean one who is rarely perturbed and only to a moderate degree, and not one who is never perturbed. 
 
Likewise, they say that a person is called “free from sadness” who is not subject to sadness, one who falls into this objectionable state not often nor in too great a degree. It is not, they say, the way of human nature that a man’s spirit should be exempt from sadness, or that the wise man is not overcome by grief but is merely touched by it, and other arguments of this sort, all in accordance with the teachings of their school.
 
They do not abolish the passions in this way; they only moderate them. But how petty is the superiority which we attribute to the wise man, if he is merely braver than the most craven, happier than the most dejected, more self-controlled than the most unbridled, and greater than the lowliest! Would Ladas boast his swiftness in running by comparing himself with the halt and the weak? 
 
“For she could skim the topmost blades of corn 
And touch them not, nor bruise the tender ears; 
Or travel over seas, well-poised above 
The swollen floods, nor dip her flying feet 
In ocean’s waters.” 
 
This is speed estimated by its own standard, not the kind which wins praise by comparison with that which is slowest. Would you call a man well who has a light case of fever? No, for good health does not mean moderate illness. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 85 
 
In every step of the above argument, each term is intended as a direct connection to the next. This is only possible if we define such terms clearly, without the ambiguity that so commonly gets us wrapped up in pointless squabbling, all because we didn’t take the time to establish what we meant by our words to begin with. 
 
How often have you been forced to sit through some partisan debate, where the opponents were yelling about the trendy cause of the day, only to realize how they were throwing around concepts like “justice” or “freedom”, without any ability to explain their most basic values? 
 
When politicians do this, it is about buying your vote, and when lawyers do this, it is about taking your money, and when scholars do this, it is about stroking their own egos. 
 
Only a restoration of simplicity can restore us to sanity. When the Stoic says that someone is unwavering, or unperturbed, or free from sadness, he means this as specifically as possible, spared from any equivocations that would negate the original sense. Whatever degrees of more or less may be present, a thing is what it is, and it isn’t what it isn’t, and we can’t be sitting on the fence, wishing it to be both. 
 
I have an immense respect for the way a Peripatetic and a Thomist ask us to make the proper distinctions, but this becomes excessive and untenable when we nitpick away at the very identity in question. 
 
I also have an immense respect for the Stoic insistence on never hiding behind conditions and qualifications, such that, regardless of the particular nuances, we recognize a virtuous man as a virtuous man, and a happy man as a happy man. 
 
If we begin with the fact that human nature is specified by reason and will, it follows that the perfection of our nature is within the excellence of such powers, and not merely by the presence or absence of some other conditions. 
 
From this, it becomes clear why happiness, the end for which we are made, is achieved through a knowledge of what is true and a love for what is good; any further circumstance becomes beneficial to us when directed toward virtue, and harmful to us when directed toward vice. 
 
Socrates knew this, and Plato knew this, and Aristotle knew this. The Stoics were simply making sure that we didn’t forget the primacy of this principle, or modify it out of existence by adding any extraneous requirements. And this is why I cling so closely to the Stoics. 
 
A man is truly unwavering, unperturbed, and free from sadness when such excellence remains constant, not when it happens to be present more often than not, or in a slightly greater amount. Mediocrity does not qualify as distinction, as any good athlete should know. 
 
For the critics, who are willing to settle for second-best, what an old friend used to call being “good enough for government work”, the good man has not conquered his passions, but he is satisfied with keeping them at bay, succumbing to them as little as possible. For the Stoic, this is admirable progress, but it is not yet the possession of the virtues. “Close, but no cigar” won’t cut it. 
 
Does this perhaps sound too demanding? Look at it from the other side, such that we will only rise as high as the level of our chosen standards. Nor is the Stoic asking us to abandon our emotions, but rather to tame our disordered feelings, and thereby to be at peace with feelings that are ordered by sound thinking.
 
Remember how the Stoics spoke of apatheia as being freed from unhealthy “passions” (such as distress, fear, lust, and gratification), which allows us to embrace the healthy sentiments of eupatheia (such as caution, wish, and joy). 
 
Neither bodies nor souls become healthy by just scraping by. 

—Reflection written in 1/2014