Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes, Introduction 1

Addressed to Marcus Brutus 
 
I have often observed, O Brutus, that your uncle Cato, when he delivered his opinion in the senate, was accustomed to handle important points of philosophy, inconsistent with popular and forensic usage; but that yet, in speaking, he managed them so that even these seemed to the people worthy of approbation; which was so much the greater excellency in him, than either in you or in me, because we are more conversant in that philosophy which has produced a copiousness of expression, and in which those things are propounded which do not widely differ from the popular opinion. 
 
But Cato, in my opinion a complete Stoic, both holds those notions which certainly do not approve themselves to the common people; and belongs to that sect which aims at no embellishments, and does not spin out an argument. He therefore succeeds in what he has purposed, by certain pithy and, as it were, stimulating questions. There is, however, nothing so incredible that it may not be made plausible by eloquence; nothing so rough and uncultivated that it may not, in oratory, become brilliant and polished. 

—from Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes, Introduction 
 
My colleagues have long insisted that Cicero isn’t a “real” philosopher, but I became the butt of even more jokes when I was caught reading these Stoic Paradoxes. It was a feeble text, I was told, at best a mediocre rhetorical exercise, and at worst a piece of lazy sophistry, which passes over complex distinctions in favor of facile cliches. Besides, don’t we all know how Cicero was an Academic skeptic, so this brief work can hardly be treated as sincere? 
 
I can only reply that Cicero’s opening offers us a helpful context for its purpose, and that his healthy eclecticism does not exclude any philosophy based upon mere dogmatic loyalties. To me, Cicero was first and foremost a disciple of common sense, and if this happened to touch on the teachings of the Stoics, then it was worth his time to learn something from their principles. To introduce an argument in an accessible manner is not to water it down, and to immerse oneself in a different point of view is not to be dishonest. 
 
While I don’t imagine that Cicero and Cato were friends, at least not in the usual sense, they both remained loyal to their principles, and they were united in a love for the values of the Republic. To Cicero, Cato probably seemed too headstrong, and to Cato, Cicero probably seemed too yielding. Yet for all their differences of personality, I would like to think that these two statesmen had very much in common when it came to their sense of right and wrong. 
 
At the risk of falling for a stereotype, I can see why the Stoics might have appeared as haughty and impractical, and why their teachings did not immediately appeal to the outlook of the everyman. Might it be possible to express the basic values of Stoicism in a more enticing package, with a bit more of an engaging style, and without the association of a high-minded obscurity? For all the power a chain of syllogisms may have for the sage, what could convince the average joe to seek a life of virtue as his highest good? 
 
In other words, it doesn’t need to sound snooty for it to be meaningful. The best truths will surely shine in the language of both the idealist and the pragmatist, just as there is no shame in tugging at the heartstrings in order to bring some clarity into the head. 

—Reflection written in 5/1999