Fear No Evil:
© 1988 Natan Sharansky
437 pages
Fear No Evil chronicles one man’s psychological war against the KGB and the entire Gulag system. Born a Jewish subject of the Soviet Union, Natan Sharansky wanted nothing more than to emigrate peacefully to Israel, along with his fiancé. Forcefully denied exit, Sharansky became an advocate for other ‘refusniks’, and a human rights activist in general, within the Soviet Union. Denounced as a traitorous spy in the employ of the Americans, Sharansky was arrested and thrown into the prison system of the Soviets, subjected to long periods of isolation and physical destitution which was moderated only by the Soviets’ desire to appear to be behaving. This is not a mere prison memoir, however, detailing the abuses of the Soviet state. Instead, Sharansky takes us through his campaign to maintain his character despite being in the clutches of a system that was designed precisely to erode or demolish individual spirits, leaving nothing but the New Soviet Man – an institutionalized zek, a placid cow who existed to be milked and slaughtered as the State wished.
From the beginning, Sharansky approached the KGB and the Soviet state strategically. Even while fighting against them, he did so completely in the open. He maintains that he concealed nothing, met with no one secretly, never once scurried in the dark like a criminal who had something to hid. He was a man, speaking ‘truth to power’ like a man (to borrow from King). While in interrogations, he listened between the lines, attempting to discern what sort of case they were trying to build against him. While the KGB sought to alienate him, he spent his prison hours revisiting every moment of his life, swaddling the memories of loved ones around him to remind him constantly of what he was fighting for. If the KGB wanted to divorce him from his Jewish heritage, he would be the best Jew he could by praying constantly and learning Hebrew – despite not being observant in the least in the outside world. If they wanted to threaten him with death, he would bring the subject so much that the word lost its sting. At every step, he engaged in noncooperation. He mocked the KGB relentlessly, spending day after day in solitary confinement. When threatened with the loss of ‘privileges’ for not cooperating, he deliberately broke rules to ensure that his happiness and peace of mind were never predicated on what the KGB could offer him, or could do to him. From the beginning he maintained that nothing they could do could humiliate him: only he could humiliate himself. Though he never once references Greek philosophy, Sharansky lived as a Stoic in the same way that James Stockdale did while similarly imprisoned. He used his mind to defend his character, his very person, from being broken and cast in an inferior mold.
Fear no Evil is an incredible and commendable chronicle of a man conducting himself brilliantly, who faced a system built on inhumanity and emerged triumphant. This is excellent stuff -- Arete in action.
I think it's high time I hunted down a copy of Gulag Archipelago...
Pursuing the flourishing life and human liberty through literature.
"Once you learn to read, you will be forever free." - Frederick Douglass
Showing posts with label Stoicism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stoicism. Show all posts
Friday, February 17, 2017
Wednesday, September 14, 2016
Selections from Musonius Rufus
These are a few passages from Ben White's modern interpretation of Musonius Rufus' lessons and fragments.
Prologue:
Of everything that exists, God has put some in our control, some not. He has put the noblest and most excellent thing in our control, the power of using our impressions. When correctly used, this means serenity, cheerfulness, constancy, justice, law, self control - virtue, overall.
From The Good:
If you do a good thing through your hard work, the work passes and the good remains. If you gain pleasure through dishonor, the pleasure will pass, but the dishonor remains.
None of the things which people believe they suffer as personal injuries are an injury or a disgrace to those experiencing them -- even being insulted, struck, or spat upon. Disgrace lies not in enduring them, but rather in doing them. For what does the man who accepts insult do that is wrong? It is the doer of wrong who puts themselves to shame. To be sure -- a good person can never be wronged by a bad. "
From Women:
Women and men have the gift of reason from the gods. Both are naturally inclined toward virtue and the ability to acquire it. Both are pleased by good, just, acts, and reject their opposites. If this is true, how can we say that men should search out how they may live good lives, but women should not? Should men be good, but not women?
Shun selfishness, revere fairness, and, being a human being, wish to help your fellow human --- this is the noblest lesson, making those learn it Just. Why is it more appropriate for a man to learn this? If women should be Just they must learn the same lessons; they are eminently appropriate to the character of each.
From Leadership:
With the exception of philosophy, there is no study that develops self-control. It teaches you to be above pleasure and greed, admire thrift and avoid extravagance -- in trains you to have a sense of shame, and to control your tongue - it produces discipline, order, and courtesy - in general, appropriate action. When these qualities are present in an ordinary person, they impart dignity and self-command - if present in a king they make him more godlike and worthy of reverence.
Courage breeds the fearless, the intrepid, the bold - how else would you acquire these characteristics other than by having a firm conviction that death and hardships are not evil? For these are the things that unbalance and frighten you -- philosophy is the only teacher that they are not evils. If kings ought to possess courage, and they should more than anyone else, they must study philosophy. They cannot become courageous by any other means.
From Resilience:
If you wish to be healthy, you must spend your life taking care of yourself. Reason shouldn't be cast out after an illness is cured; let it remain in the soul to guard your judgment. The power of reason shouldn't be compared to medicines, but to healthy foods -- it introduces a good frame of mind to those where it becomes habitual. However, when emotions are at their greatest heat, wise words and warnings have barely any effect at all. They are like the scents that revive those fallen in a fit, yet don't cure the disease.
Anyone will admit how much better it is instead of:
- struggling to win someone else's wife, struggle to discipline your desires?
- enduring hardship for money -- train yourself to want little?
- trying to injure an envied person -- ask how to stifle envy?
Hard work and hardship are a necessity for all -- both for those who seek better ends and for those who seek the worse -- it is ridiculous that those who are pursuing the better are not much more eager in their efforts than those who have small hope of reward for all their pains.
If we were to measure what is good by how much pleasure it brings, nothing would be better than self-control -- if we were to measure what is to be avoided by its pain, nothing would be more painful than lack of self-control.
Virtue isn't simply theoretical knowledge -- it is the practical application, just like the arts of medicine and music. If you wish to become good, you must not only know the precepts conducive to virtue, you must be constantly applying these principles.
From Marriage:
In marriage, there must be above all, perfect companionship and mutual love -- both in sickness and in health, under all conditions. It should be with desire for this and children that both enter upon marriage.
If you say that each one should look out for their own interests alone, you represent mankind as no different from the wild animals, born to live by violence and plunder, doing anything to gain some selfish advantage -- having no part in a shared life, no part of cooperation with others, no share of any concept of justice.
It is each man's duty to consider his own city, making his home a rampart for its protection. But the first step towards this is marriage. Whoever destroys the human marriage destroys the home, the city, the whole human race.
The home or the city doesn't depend on women or men alone, but their union with one another.
From Obedience
If your father or the archon or even the tyrant orders something wrong, unjust, or shameful, and you do not carry out the order -- you are in no way disobeying, as you do no wrong nor fail to do write. Disobedience is disregarding and refusing to carry out good, honourable, and useful orders.
From Food:
Surely a good man should be as robust as a slave; for that reason, Zeno thought he ought to beware of dietary delicacy. If he gave in just once, then he would go the whole way, since when it comes to food and drink, pleasure accelerates its pace alarmingly.
From True Wealth
We shall condemn the treasures of Croesus and Cinyras as deepest poverty. One man alone is rich, the man who has acquired the ability to want nothing, always and everywhere.
I choose sickness over luxury, for sickness only harms the body -- luxury destroys body and soul, bringing with it weakness, feebleness, a lack of self control, and cowardice.
Prologue:
Of everything that exists, God has put some in our control, some not. He has put the noblest and most excellent thing in our control, the power of using our impressions. When correctly used, this means serenity, cheerfulness, constancy, justice, law, self control - virtue, overall.
From The Good:
If you do a good thing through your hard work, the work passes and the good remains. If you gain pleasure through dishonor, the pleasure will pass, but the dishonor remains.
None of the things which people believe they suffer as personal injuries are an injury or a disgrace to those experiencing them -- even being insulted, struck, or spat upon. Disgrace lies not in enduring them, but rather in doing them. For what does the man who accepts insult do that is wrong? It is the doer of wrong who puts themselves to shame. To be sure -- a good person can never be wronged by a bad. "
From Women:
Women and men have the gift of reason from the gods. Both are naturally inclined toward virtue and the ability to acquire it. Both are pleased by good, just, acts, and reject their opposites. If this is true, how can we say that men should search out how they may live good lives, but women should not? Should men be good, but not women?
Shun selfishness, revere fairness, and, being a human being, wish to help your fellow human --- this is the noblest lesson, making those learn it Just. Why is it more appropriate for a man to learn this? If women should be Just they must learn the same lessons; they are eminently appropriate to the character of each.
From Leadership:
With the exception of philosophy, there is no study that develops self-control. It teaches you to be above pleasure and greed, admire thrift and avoid extravagance -- in trains you to have a sense of shame, and to control your tongue - it produces discipline, order, and courtesy - in general, appropriate action. When these qualities are present in an ordinary person, they impart dignity and self-command - if present in a king they make him more godlike and worthy of reverence.
Courage breeds the fearless, the intrepid, the bold - how else would you acquire these characteristics other than by having a firm conviction that death and hardships are not evil? For these are the things that unbalance and frighten you -- philosophy is the only teacher that they are not evils. If kings ought to possess courage, and they should more than anyone else, they must study philosophy. They cannot become courageous by any other means.
From Resilience:
If you wish to be healthy, you must spend your life taking care of yourself. Reason shouldn't be cast out after an illness is cured; let it remain in the soul to guard your judgment. The power of reason shouldn't be compared to medicines, but to healthy foods -- it introduces a good frame of mind to those where it becomes habitual. However, when emotions are at their greatest heat, wise words and warnings have barely any effect at all. They are like the scents that revive those fallen in a fit, yet don't cure the disease.
Anyone will admit how much better it is instead of:
- struggling to win someone else's wife, struggle to discipline your desires?
- enduring hardship for money -- train yourself to want little?
- trying to injure an envied person -- ask how to stifle envy?
Hard work and hardship are a necessity for all -- both for those who seek better ends and for those who seek the worse -- it is ridiculous that those who are pursuing the better are not much more eager in their efforts than those who have small hope of reward for all their pains.
If we were to measure what is good by how much pleasure it brings, nothing would be better than self-control -- if we were to measure what is to be avoided by its pain, nothing would be more painful than lack of self-control.
Virtue isn't simply theoretical knowledge -- it is the practical application, just like the arts of medicine and music. If you wish to become good, you must not only know the precepts conducive to virtue, you must be constantly applying these principles.
From Marriage:
In marriage, there must be above all, perfect companionship and mutual love -- both in sickness and in health, under all conditions. It should be with desire for this and children that both enter upon marriage.
If you say that each one should look out for their own interests alone, you represent mankind as no different from the wild animals, born to live by violence and plunder, doing anything to gain some selfish advantage -- having no part in a shared life, no part of cooperation with others, no share of any concept of justice.
It is each man's duty to consider his own city, making his home a rampart for its protection. But the first step towards this is marriage. Whoever destroys the human marriage destroys the home, the city, the whole human race.
The home or the city doesn't depend on women or men alone, but their union with one another.
From Obedience
If your father or the archon or even the tyrant orders something wrong, unjust, or shameful, and you do not carry out the order -- you are in no way disobeying, as you do no wrong nor fail to do write. Disobedience is disregarding and refusing to carry out good, honourable, and useful orders.
From Food:
Surely a good man should be as robust as a slave; for that reason, Zeno thought he ought to beware of dietary delicacy. If he gave in just once, then he would go the whole way, since when it comes to food and drink, pleasure accelerates its pace alarmingly.
From True Wealth
We shall condemn the treasures of Croesus and Cinyras as deepest poverty. One man alone is rich, the man who has acquired the ability to want nothing, always and everywhere.
I choose sickness over luxury, for sickness only harms the body -- luxury destroys body and soul, bringing with it weakness, feebleness, a lack of self control, and cowardice.
Saturday, September 10, 2016
How to Live
Musonius Rufus on How to Live
© 2012 Ben White
112 pages
Virtus isn't just for the men any more. Musonius Rufus is the forgotten Stoic, a man hailed alongside Socrates as nigh-saintly by Origen, but now almost forgotten. More's the pity, because Rufus didn't offer just another collection of admonishments to keep in mind what you can control and what you can't. What works remain of his are simply known as Lectures and Sayings, recorded not by him but by a student. They apply the lessons of philosophy across the entire experience of human existence, giving modern readers a taste for how broad the day to day lessons of the Stoics actually ran -- from the meaning of life to proper beard grooming.
The most extraordinary aspect of Rufus' teaching for the modern reader is that he maintained that philosophy was fit for women as well as men. The pursuit of virtue and the pursuit of manliness, for the Greco-Roman mind, were one in the same; virtue was manliness. Not one to be limited by etymology, Rufus argues that women can profit just as well by philosophy as men. They carry the same inner spark, and the fruits of a philosophically-tamed soul are just as salutatory for a woman as man. Does a woman not need courage to defend her young against those who would harm them? Does she not need clear thinking to balance the household accounts, and does she not need self control to maintain peace in the home, and to protect herself against the same foibles of humanity as her husband?
Rufus does not merely maintain that women can be philosophers, too; given that men and women share the same divine gift, Reason, they can perceive and are thus subject to the same natural law. The same rules apply to everyone, and from them there is no escape. Rufus admonishes men and women alike to practice sex only within the bounds of marriage, and only with one another. Rufus is not a prude; in regards to pleasure, he is consistent across the board. Don't wear more clothes than you need; excessive protection from the elements only creates a soft, fragile body, and a frail constitution. Rich foods? Nonsense. Fruit, cheese, and vegetables -- a simple diet is best. Why build a mansion? You only need shelter from the elements, no need of luxurious colonnades and precious gems. To fill a home with silver is to fill it with worry; no thief would take off with wooden cups and earthenware plates.
Another singular aspect of Rufus is his perception of man as a political animal. While Marcus Aurelius often alluded to man being a social creature, his Meditations are largely counsel to himself; Epictetus' works are the equivalent of philosophical boot camp, focused on the individual steeling himself for life. Seneca, in his letters counseling friends, is convivial, but he is surpassed by Rufus. There are numerous sections in this book which focus on humans in relationship with one another, with the most important bond being marriage. For Rufus, the family is the cell upon which society is based: marriage not only renews human life, creating new generations, but it provides its members one of the vital lessons of life: we are made for one another. Marriage should be engaged not for looks or money, but to be a companion to another -- to love, not merely with passion but with will, with duty. Philosophy is the art of life, and to practice it means to discern man's duty to his creator, to himself, to his fellows with whom he is made to work alongside.
Although I still plan to read a formal translation of Rufus (Lectures and Sayings, Cynthia King) to make sure that Ben White's adaptation here is faithful, I thoroughly enjoyed this little book by Rufus. His commitment to a simple, authentic life on all fronts is admirable, more detailed than Epictetus and carrying with it an integrity that Seneca can't quite muster. Rufus didn't just write pretty words about how exile was nothing; he practiced it. Like Epictetus, he makes Stoicism and philosophy matter of day to day life, but these lectures here cover more of the practicalities of human existence than Epictetus' boot camp does. Rufus is both challenging and bracing!
Related:
The other Stoics:
© 2012 Ben White
112 pages
Virtus isn't just for the men any more. Musonius Rufus is the forgotten Stoic, a man hailed alongside Socrates as nigh-saintly by Origen, but now almost forgotten. More's the pity, because Rufus didn't offer just another collection of admonishments to keep in mind what you can control and what you can't. What works remain of his are simply known as Lectures and Sayings, recorded not by him but by a student. They apply the lessons of philosophy across the entire experience of human existence, giving modern readers a taste for how broad the day to day lessons of the Stoics actually ran -- from the meaning of life to proper beard grooming.
The most extraordinary aspect of Rufus' teaching for the modern reader is that he maintained that philosophy was fit for women as well as men. The pursuit of virtue and the pursuit of manliness, for the Greco-Roman mind, were one in the same; virtue was manliness. Not one to be limited by etymology, Rufus argues that women can profit just as well by philosophy as men. They carry the same inner spark, and the fruits of a philosophically-tamed soul are just as salutatory for a woman as man. Does a woman not need courage to defend her young against those who would harm them? Does she not need clear thinking to balance the household accounts, and does she not need self control to maintain peace in the home, and to protect herself against the same foibles of humanity as her husband?
Rufus does not merely maintain that women can be philosophers, too; given that men and women share the same divine gift, Reason, they can perceive and are thus subject to the same natural law. The same rules apply to everyone, and from them there is no escape. Rufus admonishes men and women alike to practice sex only within the bounds of marriage, and only with one another. Rufus is not a prude; in regards to pleasure, he is consistent across the board. Don't wear more clothes than you need; excessive protection from the elements only creates a soft, fragile body, and a frail constitution. Rich foods? Nonsense. Fruit, cheese, and vegetables -- a simple diet is best. Why build a mansion? You only need shelter from the elements, no need of luxurious colonnades and precious gems. To fill a home with silver is to fill it with worry; no thief would take off with wooden cups and earthenware plates.
Another singular aspect of Rufus is his perception of man as a political animal. While Marcus Aurelius often alluded to man being a social creature, his Meditations are largely counsel to himself; Epictetus' works are the equivalent of philosophical boot camp, focused on the individual steeling himself for life. Seneca, in his letters counseling friends, is convivial, but he is surpassed by Rufus. There are numerous sections in this book which focus on humans in relationship with one another, with the most important bond being marriage. For Rufus, the family is the cell upon which society is based: marriage not only renews human life, creating new generations, but it provides its members one of the vital lessons of life: we are made for one another. Marriage should be engaged not for looks or money, but to be a companion to another -- to love, not merely with passion but with will, with duty. Philosophy is the art of life, and to practice it means to discern man's duty to his creator, to himself, to his fellows with whom he is made to work alongside.
Although I still plan to read a formal translation of Rufus (Lectures and Sayings, Cynthia King) to make sure that Ben White's adaptation here is faithful, I thoroughly enjoyed this little book by Rufus. His commitment to a simple, authentic life on all fronts is admirable, more detailed than Epictetus and carrying with it an integrity that Seneca can't quite muster. Rufus didn't just write pretty words about how exile was nothing; he practiced it. Like Epictetus, he makes Stoicism and philosophy matter of day to day life, but these lectures here cover more of the practicalities of human existence than Epictetus' boot camp does. Rufus is both challenging and bracing!
Related:
- A Guide to the Good Life: the Ancient Art of Stoic Joy, William Irvine. The definitive Stoic intro.
- Philosophy for Life and Other Dangerous Situations, Jules Evans; Plato's Podcasts, Mark Evans
- The Porch and the Cross, Kevin Vost. Good recap of Rufus, and the reason I was reminded to seek him out.
The other Stoics:
- The Meditations, Marcus Aurelius
- Discourses and the Handbook, Epictetus. The handbook has a 'modern' form, The Art of Living.
- Letters from a Stoic, Dialogues and Essays, Seneca.
Labels:
mindfulness,
philosophy,
simple living,
Stoicism,
virtue
Saturday, August 27, 2016
The Porch and the Cross
The Porch and the Cross: Ancient Stoic Wisdom for Modern Christian Living
© 2016 Kevin Vost
198 pages
Stoicism as a moral philosophy has had admirers through the ages, and especially during the medieval epoch. While modern snobbery tends to dismiss the medieval mind as intellectually somnolent, in truth the cathedral schools and universities of Europe were alive with discussion and engagement. Part of that engagement was with the classic tradition, which included not only the old masters but their progeny, like the Stoics. Doctors of the church, like Ambrose and Aquinas, were especially interested in the Stoics' understanding of how the mind could be entrapped by vice, or sin, and how people could resist such an influence. Kevin Vost is a contemporary Christian whose faith is informed -- even formed -- at the Painted Porch. I recognized this when reading his Seven Deadly Sins, which frequently looked to the Stoics for advice, and so knew I had much to look forward to in The Porch and the Cross. Here, he reviews the lives and principle ideas of four Stoics (Musonius Rufus, Epictetus, Seneca, and Marcus Aurelius), examines their legacies through history, and finally applies the lessons to Christian moral concerns.
The Porch and the Cross's format makes it immediately accessible to readers who have never heard of a stoic. The biographical intro chapters reveal first Stoicism's broad appeal, as the four authors spanned Roman societies, from slave to emperor. Vost follows this with a summary or distillation of their major works, which concentrate the very best of Stoic thinking and practice for the beginning investigator. If you have never heard of Stoicism before, here is the elevator version: the universe has a perceivable order, and the good life consists of conforming to that order, in part by recognizing that there are things within our control and things outside our control. To worry about that which cannot be controlled is self-defeating: we should instead focus on what we can do, like being prepared for what Fortune throws at us.
There are obvious points of agreement between Christianity and Stoicism: for instance, both emphasize the preeminent importance of a soul squaring itself with the order of the cosmos -- or in Christian terms, in line with the will of God. Both view spiritual order as superior to the needs and appetites of the body, though Catholic orthodoxy cautions the faithful against holding the latter in complete contempt -- that's the sort of thing Gnostics, Manicheans, and Puritans get up to. Vost instead looks to Stoicism as a guide for moderating the influence of both inner turmoil and outside temptation. Self-control is a virtue hailed by both Stoics and Christians, and Vost is especially pleased with Musonius Rufus' writings on sexual propriety.
Another common link is the Stoic conception of the cosmopolis, that all men hold within them a divine spark which makes them brethren. The well-ordered soul is not confined by tribalism, but can look beyond it -- just as the Christian life is not a nationalistic one, but one which brings together all people ("Greek and Jew, Scythian, barbarian") into communion. Communion is an important Stoic concept, as Marcus Aurelius often reminds himself: we are members with one another -- not units within a pile, as bureaucrats would have it, but discrete individuals with distinct jobs. We are, Aurelius said, like the fingers of a hand -- we can either work with one another, or put up with one another, but to antagonize the other is irrational and vice-laden.
At just under two hundred pages, The Porch and the Cross is a terrific little collection, bringing together the best-of from the extant masters into one slim volume, with connecting commentary. I'd forgotten how truly bracing they could be, and must look into reading Musonius Rufus!
Related:
The Stoics themselves:
© 2016 Kevin Vost
198 pages
Stoicism as a moral philosophy has had admirers through the ages, and especially during the medieval epoch. While modern snobbery tends to dismiss the medieval mind as intellectually somnolent, in truth the cathedral schools and universities of Europe were alive with discussion and engagement. Part of that engagement was with the classic tradition, which included not only the old masters but their progeny, like the Stoics. Doctors of the church, like Ambrose and Aquinas, were especially interested in the Stoics' understanding of how the mind could be entrapped by vice, or sin, and how people could resist such an influence. Kevin Vost is a contemporary Christian whose faith is informed -- even formed -- at the Painted Porch. I recognized this when reading his Seven Deadly Sins, which frequently looked to the Stoics for advice, and so knew I had much to look forward to in The Porch and the Cross. Here, he reviews the lives and principle ideas of four Stoics (Musonius Rufus, Epictetus, Seneca, and Marcus Aurelius), examines their legacies through history, and finally applies the lessons to Christian moral concerns.
The Porch and the Cross's format makes it immediately accessible to readers who have never heard of a stoic. The biographical intro chapters reveal first Stoicism's broad appeal, as the four authors spanned Roman societies, from slave to emperor. Vost follows this with a summary or distillation of their major works, which concentrate the very best of Stoic thinking and practice for the beginning investigator. If you have never heard of Stoicism before, here is the elevator version: the universe has a perceivable order, and the good life consists of conforming to that order, in part by recognizing that there are things within our control and things outside our control. To worry about that which cannot be controlled is self-defeating: we should instead focus on what we can do, like being prepared for what Fortune throws at us.
There are obvious points of agreement between Christianity and Stoicism: for instance, both emphasize the preeminent importance of a soul squaring itself with the order of the cosmos -- or in Christian terms, in line with the will of God. Both view spiritual order as superior to the needs and appetites of the body, though Catholic orthodoxy cautions the faithful against holding the latter in complete contempt -- that's the sort of thing Gnostics, Manicheans, and Puritans get up to. Vost instead looks to Stoicism as a guide for moderating the influence of both inner turmoil and outside temptation. Self-control is a virtue hailed by both Stoics and Christians, and Vost is especially pleased with Musonius Rufus' writings on sexual propriety.
Another common link is the Stoic conception of the cosmopolis, that all men hold within them a divine spark which makes them brethren. The well-ordered soul is not confined by tribalism, but can look beyond it -- just as the Christian life is not a nationalistic one, but one which brings together all people ("Greek and Jew, Scythian, barbarian") into communion. Communion is an important Stoic concept, as Marcus Aurelius often reminds himself: we are members with one another -- not units within a pile, as bureaucrats would have it, but discrete individuals with distinct jobs. We are, Aurelius said, like the fingers of a hand -- we can either work with one another, or put up with one another, but to antagonize the other is irrational and vice-laden.
At just under two hundred pages, The Porch and the Cross is a terrific little collection, bringing together the best-of from the extant masters into one slim volume, with connecting commentary. I'd forgotten how truly bracing they could be, and must look into reading Musonius Rufus!
Related:
- The Seven Deadly Sins: A Thomistic Guide to Vanquishing Vice, Kevin Vost. Makes frequent use of the Stoics.
- A Guide to the Good Life: the Ancient Art of Stoic Joy, William Irvine. The definitive Stoic intro.
- Virtual University: Marcus Aurelius, by Dr. Michael Sugrue. Four-part lecture (~30 minutes) on Aurelius and his Meditations, Outstanding talk which I listen to every few months. It's even on my morning-walk playlist.
The Stoics themselves:
- The Meditations, Marcus Aurelius
- Discourses and the Handbook, Epictetus. The handbook has a 'modern' form, The Art of Living.
- Letters from a Stoic, Dialogues and Essays, Seneca
Labels:
Christianity,
Kevin Vost,
philosophy,
praxis,
Stoicism,
virtue
Tuesday, July 5, 2016
The Obstacle is the Way
The Obstacle is the Way
© 2014 Ryan Holiday
224 pages
Let us say, dear reader, that you have heard of Stoicism, hailed as the go-to philosophy of mental fortitude. You want to read about it. But you don't want to take on Epictetus or Aurelius in their full, because the one time you peeked into a copy of the Meditations or the Discourses in the local bookstore, it was full of florid Victorian prose. What if you could have a Stoicism lite, watered down to a few punchy self-help lines, mixed in with other advice, and illustrated with a variety of various politicians, warriors, and businessmen who faced adversity head-on and triumphed? Well....here you are, The Obstacle is the Way! One pinch Stoicism, one pinch life coach, and a spoonful of people more successful than you are. It is energetic, quotable, and I suspect, forgettable.
A few concepts from Stoicism wander in: first, the essential tenet that there are things under our power, and things not, and that wisdom lies in only concerning ourselves with that which is under our power, The second is 'impressions', or the automatic reactions/judgments our brains create about things, the reactions that cause us more misery than the actual events. If we have escaped a burning home, we are in no danger; the suffering comes from lamenting over the possessions. We can choose to cease the wailing. A few Stoic practices appear, too, like negative visualization -- imagining the worst that could befall you, and thinking practically about the consequences in order to steel your brain for what is to come. To this is added "The Process", or approaching a problem one step at a time, and other sundry advice that includes the gem, "What Works is Right". This section is supported by that contemptible little soundbite from Rahm Emanuel -- "never let a crisis go to waste". Straying a little close to the ends justifying the means, aren't we? It rather brings to mind the Reichstag fire or other machiavellian manipulation. Oh, this advice can be made innocent, translated to truisms like 'don't let the perfect become the enemy of the good', but Holiday cares nothing for context. That's the entire problem of the book, actually. The cohesiveness of Stoicism is abandoned altogether, and his attempt at mentioning ethics is tacked on at the end, in a "Oh, yeah, and be nice, because we're all in this together". It's about as inspirational as a schoolroom public service announcement. ("Just say no, kiddos!")
The Obstacle is the Way has its merits, in potentially introducing people who view philosophy as academic naval-gazing to its practical benefits. If any of this advice actually sticks, it would prove fruitful...but like most self-help books, there's just one witticism after another and most will float right out. It doesn't help that the author devotes a section at the end to congratulating his reader for having become a philosopher, a Stoic ubermensch. What indulgent nonsense! Stoicism is practiced, not read, and so as rebuttal I offer Epictetus,
Holiday might make a good read for people with a vague interest in taking back control of their emotional life, but if you're even remotely aware of Stoicism, there's not much here for you.
For an introduction to Stoicism, the mark to beat is still A Guide to the Good Life: the Ancient Art of Stoic Joy, authored by William Irvine.
Other books of note:
The Consolations of Philosophy, Alain de Botton.
Philosophy for Life and Other Dangerous Situations, which casts an appraising eye on Stoicism among other philosophies, like Epicureanism
The Stoics themselves:
© 2014 Ryan Holiday
224 pages
Let us say, dear reader, that you have heard of Stoicism, hailed as the go-to philosophy of mental fortitude. You want to read about it. But you don't want to take on Epictetus or Aurelius in their full, because the one time you peeked into a copy of the Meditations or the Discourses in the local bookstore, it was full of florid Victorian prose. What if you could have a Stoicism lite, watered down to a few punchy self-help lines, mixed in with other advice, and illustrated with a variety of various politicians, warriors, and businessmen who faced adversity head-on and triumphed? Well....here you are, The Obstacle is the Way! One pinch Stoicism, one pinch life coach, and a spoonful of people more successful than you are. It is energetic, quotable, and I suspect, forgettable.
A few concepts from Stoicism wander in: first, the essential tenet that there are things under our power, and things not, and that wisdom lies in only concerning ourselves with that which is under our power, The second is 'impressions', or the automatic reactions/judgments our brains create about things, the reactions that cause us more misery than the actual events. If we have escaped a burning home, we are in no danger; the suffering comes from lamenting over the possessions. We can choose to cease the wailing. A few Stoic practices appear, too, like negative visualization -- imagining the worst that could befall you, and thinking practically about the consequences in order to steel your brain for what is to come. To this is added "The Process", or approaching a problem one step at a time, and other sundry advice that includes the gem, "What Works is Right". This section is supported by that contemptible little soundbite from Rahm Emanuel -- "never let a crisis go to waste". Straying a little close to the ends justifying the means, aren't we? It rather brings to mind the Reichstag fire or other machiavellian manipulation. Oh, this advice can be made innocent, translated to truisms like 'don't let the perfect become the enemy of the good', but Holiday cares nothing for context. That's the entire problem of the book, actually. The cohesiveness of Stoicism is abandoned altogether, and his attempt at mentioning ethics is tacked on at the end, in a "Oh, yeah, and be nice, because we're all in this together". It's about as inspirational as a schoolroom public service announcement. ("Just say no, kiddos!")
The Obstacle is the Way has its merits, in potentially introducing people who view philosophy as academic naval-gazing to its practical benefits. If any of this advice actually sticks, it would prove fruitful...but like most self-help books, there's just one witticism after another and most will float right out. It doesn't help that the author devotes a section at the end to congratulating his reader for having become a philosopher, a Stoic ubermensch. What indulgent nonsense! Stoicism is practiced, not read, and so as rebuttal I offer Epictetus,
"Suppose I should say to a wrestler, 'Show me your muscle'. And he should answer me, 'See my dumb-bells'. Your dumb-bells are your own affair; I want to see the effect of them.
'Take the treatise 'On Choice', and see how thoroughly I have perused it.'
I am not asking about this, O slave, but how you act in choosing and refusing, how you manage your desires and aversions, your intentions and purposes, how you meet events -- whether you are in harmony with nature's laws or opposed to them. If in harmony, give me evidence of that, and I will say you are progressing; if the contrary, you may go your way, and not only comment on your books, but write some like them yourself; and what good will it do you?
Holiday might make a good read for people with a vague interest in taking back control of their emotional life, but if you're even remotely aware of Stoicism, there's not much here for you.
For an introduction to Stoicism, the mark to beat is still A Guide to the Good Life: the Ancient Art of Stoic Joy, authored by William Irvine.
Other books of note:
The Consolations of Philosophy, Alain de Botton.
Philosophy for Life and Other Dangerous Situations, which casts an appraising eye on Stoicism among other philosophies, like Epicureanism
The Stoics themselves:
- The Meditations, Marcus Aurelius
- Discourses and the Handbook, Epictetus. The handbook has a 'modern' form, The Art of Living.
- Letters from a Stoic, Dialogues and Essays, Seneca
Monday, October 26, 2015
The Seven Deadly Sins
The Seven Deadly Sins: A Tomistic Guide to Vanquishing Vice and Sin
© 2015 Kevin Vost
224 pages
In the first centuries of the Christian epoch, devotees retreated into the desert wastes to flee temptation. Even away from the cry of the maddening crowd, however, they found themselves struggling with the everyday vices of mankind -- tendencies toward pride, apathy, lust, envy, gluttony, anger, and sloth, and so on. In an attempt to organize a campaign against them, the monk-progenitors first had to identify the enemy, creating a list of the chief frailties that all others stemmed from. These seven enemies of the soul are not uniquely Christian sins; they are universal problems of the human condition, and Vost draws on classical sources (Aristotle and the Roman Stoics -- Seneca, Epictetus, and Marcus Aurelius) for both insight and remedy. The remedy is only partially philosophical, however, as Vost also counsels readers to seek help in the sacraments of the Church, especially Confession and the Eucharist. Written in three stages, Vost first reviews how these seven in particular were singled out, shares patristic thought on the progression of vice from initial impulses to behavioral habit, and then offers a "Jacob's ladder" route away from downfall. These include practices useful against every vice, while some are sin-specific. A few of the 'rungs' -- an examination of conscience, mental awareness of drifting into vicious habit, and the deliberate cultivation of each vice's counter-virtue, could easily be found in a book like A Guide to the Good Life.The master here, however, is not Epictetus, but Thomas Aquinas. It is Aquinas' study of the desert fathers that produces a list of seven sins, and not eight -- and Aquinas who offers advice for remedy, himself bringing together both the Hebrew and Greek wisdom traditions -- harnessing both mindfulness and prayer, contemplation and action, philosophical principle and sacrament. The Seven Deadly Sins is thus true to its name in being a 'Tomistic' guide to vice and virtue, in effect offering laymen a guide into the theological expanse of Aquinas. Few people commit great evils, but we all hindered by the same seemingly minor snares. It is those small seed which can produce horror if left unchecked, however, and so this tidy little volume seems most valuable in the pursuit of spirituality, especially Christian.
© 2015 Kevin Vost
224 pages
In the first centuries of the Christian epoch, devotees retreated into the desert wastes to flee temptation. Even away from the cry of the maddening crowd, however, they found themselves struggling with the everyday vices of mankind -- tendencies toward pride, apathy, lust, envy, gluttony, anger, and sloth, and so on. In an attempt to organize a campaign against them, the monk-progenitors first had to identify the enemy, creating a list of the chief frailties that all others stemmed from. These seven enemies of the soul are not uniquely Christian sins; they are universal problems of the human condition, and Vost draws on classical sources (Aristotle and the Roman Stoics -- Seneca, Epictetus, and Marcus Aurelius) for both insight and remedy. The remedy is only partially philosophical, however, as Vost also counsels readers to seek help in the sacraments of the Church, especially Confession and the Eucharist. Written in three stages, Vost first reviews how these seven in particular were singled out, shares patristic thought on the progression of vice from initial impulses to behavioral habit, and then offers a "Jacob's ladder" route away from downfall. These include practices useful against every vice, while some are sin-specific. A few of the 'rungs' -- an examination of conscience, mental awareness of drifting into vicious habit, and the deliberate cultivation of each vice's counter-virtue, could easily be found in a book like A Guide to the Good Life.The master here, however, is not Epictetus, but Thomas Aquinas. It is Aquinas' study of the desert fathers that produces a list of seven sins, and not eight -- and Aquinas who offers advice for remedy, himself bringing together both the Hebrew and Greek wisdom traditions -- harnessing both mindfulness and prayer, contemplation and action, philosophical principle and sacrament. The Seven Deadly Sins is thus true to its name in being a 'Tomistic' guide to vice and virtue, in effect offering laymen a guide into the theological expanse of Aquinas. Few people commit great evils, but we all hindered by the same seemingly minor snares. It is those small seed which can produce horror if left unchecked, however, and so this tidy little volume seems most valuable in the pursuit of spirituality, especially Christian.
Labels:
Catholicism,
Christianity,
Kevin Vost,
religion,
Stoicism,
virtue
Sunday, August 30, 2015
Philosophy for Life and Other Dangerous Situations
Philosophy for Life and Other Dangerous Situations
© 2013 Jules Evans
320 pages
For most, philosophy is a subject that screams impotent academic prattle, the practice of strange individuals who are clearly paid too much to gaze into their navels and pontificate on the Meaning of Lint. That reputation is a modern one, achieved only in the last century, for most of western history philosophy was the common fount of all knowledge and artistic endeavor. It guided not only men’s thoughts about how the world was, but how they should act within it. The streets of ancient Athens were alive with debate on how man should live. Philosophers' answers were not uniform; names mentioned together in survey courses now, then disagreed with one another vehemently. In Philosophy for Life and Other Dangerous Situations, author Jules Evans introduces the principles and practices of several Greek schools which, while at loggerheads on many issues, were united by some core convictions: namely, that the world was rational, that man could be happy within it, and that he could use his rationality to achieve that happiness.
Evans covers a wide variety of Greek schools, some more than others. The schools are sampled in one-chapter lessons, and the author presents them as though the reader is visiting a day-seminar. (Lunch, naturally, is taken with the Epicureans.) Some schools of thought receive more attention than others; the Stoics, for instance, run across three chapters in the early morning, with Epictetus, Musonius Rufus, and Seneca all providing distinct skills. Some of the lessons provide mental tricks, like using mottoes to remember principles. Underlying many of the schools, however, is the principle of mindfulness. A dark night of the soul brought Evans to Athens in the first place; in a period of crisis, he was introduced to therapeutic techniques borrowed from Stoicism. Learning to be aware of his emotions, to realize he had the ability to step away from them, allowed Evans to climb out of a mental pit. He developed mental habits like auditing his thoughts and learned to stop dwelling on the negative. Our misery is often self-inflicted; as Marcus Aurelius wrote, we are more troubled by our reactions about things than the things in themselves. Although Epicureanism has a much different basis than Stoicism, both work to effect a calm, contented mental state amid life's troubles. Stoicism is martial and trains the soul to be immune to the worse that may come, at its most intense calling for a person to retreat into a citadel of the mind. Epicureanism calls for a retreat, too, a kind of detachment from the cares of the world; but instead of being impervious to all care and stolidly devoted to the pursuit of virtue, the Epicurean seeks to focus on a few key ingredients: community, self-reliance, and mindful simplicity. The true Epicurean seeks to be the master of pleasure, by downshifting his expectations so as to manufacture a feast out of a little cup of cheese. The pervasive theme throughout is mindfulness, even extending to the final chapter on dying well. Though moderns close our eyes to Charon, pushing off our arrival at his boat through medicine and miracle-working machines, death is inescapable. The boatman waits for us all; we must truly seize the day.
Philosophy for Life is an important book to consider, for the problems it sought to remedy are universal. Misfortune and unhappiness did not vanish simply because we are 'modern'; knowledge and technology have not conquered the human heart. When we are inundated with material wealth - literal lifetimes of entertainment at our fingertips, grocery stores and online markets offering goods to feed every taste and appetite -- we stand in danger of being overwhelmed and addicted, constantly chasing after new and increasingly intense hits, like a victim of drugs. Epicurus has the answer. Similarly, as our brain misfires trying to make sense of the world, imposing purpose when there is none -- growing wrathful at a car that pulls out in front of us as if they meant to frustrate our travel -- the Stoa stands as a relief. Similarly, when the news is so utterly discouraging, constantly placing the worse of our behavior on display, it is helpful to follow Plutarch's example and deliberately consider the lives of the good and the heroic; to take inspiration from their example.
There are limits to Philosophy for Life, chiefly in its emphasis on the individual as the sole actor in achieving his happiness. The Stoics believe that people were members of a community; not simply individual units within a collective, but members-- distinct, purposeful in relation to one another. The Epicureans, too, stressed the need for companionship. These suggest that there is wisdom in traditions like Buddhism and Christianity which stress the need to die to the self, rather than ruled by it; we live not just for ourselves. This aside, however, the variety of thought, and the satisfying practicality of it all, recommend Evans to readers interested in living wisely.
Related:
© 2013 Jules Evans
320 pages
For most, philosophy is a subject that screams impotent academic prattle, the practice of strange individuals who are clearly paid too much to gaze into their navels and pontificate on the Meaning of Lint. That reputation is a modern one, achieved only in the last century, for most of western history philosophy was the common fount of all knowledge and artistic endeavor. It guided not only men’s thoughts about how the world was, but how they should act within it. The streets of ancient Athens were alive with debate on how man should live. Philosophers' answers were not uniform; names mentioned together in survey courses now, then disagreed with one another vehemently. In Philosophy for Life and Other Dangerous Situations, author Jules Evans introduces the principles and practices of several Greek schools which, while at loggerheads on many issues, were united by some core convictions: namely, that the world was rational, that man could be happy within it, and that he could use his rationality to achieve that happiness.
Evans covers a wide variety of Greek schools, some more than others. The schools are sampled in one-chapter lessons, and the author presents them as though the reader is visiting a day-seminar. (Lunch, naturally, is taken with the Epicureans.) Some schools of thought receive more attention than others; the Stoics, for instance, run across three chapters in the early morning, with Epictetus, Musonius Rufus, and Seneca all providing distinct skills. Some of the lessons provide mental tricks, like using mottoes to remember principles. Underlying many of the schools, however, is the principle of mindfulness. A dark night of the soul brought Evans to Athens in the first place; in a period of crisis, he was introduced to therapeutic techniques borrowed from Stoicism. Learning to be aware of his emotions, to realize he had the ability to step away from them, allowed Evans to climb out of a mental pit. He developed mental habits like auditing his thoughts and learned to stop dwelling on the negative. Our misery is often self-inflicted; as Marcus Aurelius wrote, we are more troubled by our reactions about things than the things in themselves. Although Epicureanism has a much different basis than Stoicism, both work to effect a calm, contented mental state amid life's troubles. Stoicism is martial and trains the soul to be immune to the worse that may come, at its most intense calling for a person to retreat into a citadel of the mind. Epicureanism calls for a retreat, too, a kind of detachment from the cares of the world; but instead of being impervious to all care and stolidly devoted to the pursuit of virtue, the Epicurean seeks to focus on a few key ingredients: community, self-reliance, and mindful simplicity. The true Epicurean seeks to be the master of pleasure, by downshifting his expectations so as to manufacture a feast out of a little cup of cheese. The pervasive theme throughout is mindfulness, even extending to the final chapter on dying well. Though moderns close our eyes to Charon, pushing off our arrival at his boat through medicine and miracle-working machines, death is inescapable. The boatman waits for us all; we must truly seize the day.
Philosophy for Life is an important book to consider, for the problems it sought to remedy are universal. Misfortune and unhappiness did not vanish simply because we are 'modern'; knowledge and technology have not conquered the human heart. When we are inundated with material wealth - literal lifetimes of entertainment at our fingertips, grocery stores and online markets offering goods to feed every taste and appetite -- we stand in danger of being overwhelmed and addicted, constantly chasing after new and increasingly intense hits, like a victim of drugs. Epicurus has the answer. Similarly, as our brain misfires trying to make sense of the world, imposing purpose when there is none -- growing wrathful at a car that pulls out in front of us as if they meant to frustrate our travel -- the Stoa stands as a relief. Similarly, when the news is so utterly discouraging, constantly placing the worse of our behavior on display, it is helpful to follow Plutarch's example and deliberately consider the lives of the good and the heroic; to take inspiration from their example.
There are limits to Philosophy for Life, chiefly in its emphasis on the individual as the sole actor in achieving his happiness. The Stoics believe that people were members of a community; not simply individual units within a collective, but members-- distinct, purposeful in relation to one another. The Epicureans, too, stressed the need for companionship. These suggest that there is wisdom in traditions like Buddhism and Christianity which stress the need to die to the self, rather than ruled by it; we live not just for ourselves. This aside, however, the variety of thought, and the satisfying practicality of it all, recommend Evans to readers interested in living wisely.
Related:
- "Humanist Spirituality", an introduction to the basics of Cynicism, Skepticism, and Stoicism, with the author (a Unitarian Univeralist minister) arguing that Stoicism has the most promise as a rational-yet- introspective path for an increasingly secular world.
- Plato's Podcasts: The Ancients' Guide to Modern Living, Mark Vernon. Though not quite as serious, this was produced first and made numerous connections to various movments which have realized the same principles as the Stoics, Epicureans, etc.
- The Meditations, Marcus Aurelius; a modern translation is The Emperor's Handbook.
- The Consolations of Philosophy, Alain de Botton.
- Letters from a Stoic, Dialogues and Essays, Seneca;
- A Guide to the Good Life: The Ancient Art of Stoic Joy, William Irvine
- Discourses, Epictetus ; The Art of Joy, Sharon Lebell. (Modern interpretation of Epictetus.)
- American Mania, Peter Whybrow, on the psychology of consumerism and addiction
Labels:
Epicurean.,
Greece,
mindfulness,
philosophy,
Stoicism,
virtue
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
American Cicero
American Cicero: The Life of Charles Carroll
© 2010 Bradley Birzer
230 pages
When Charles Carroll of Carrollton signed the Declaration of Independence, he was risking the biggest fortune on the American mainland. But Carroll had yearned for independence for more than a decade before he put pen to paper, before strife ever disrupted the happy relationship between British America and Parliament. Whatever the risk, if the cause was right Carroll could have taken no other course; more than any other founder, he was steeped in the classical tradition and its traditions of civic virtue. When he died in 1832, having outlived all the other founders, he was hailed as the Last of the Romans. In American Cicero, Bradley Birzer presents a study of his life, the tale of a Roman in a nation of would-be Jacobins.
Many of the founding generations were besotted with the classical world; they studied the classics not as segregated and dusty literature to be discussed in clubs with other eccentrics, but as the fount of worldly knowledge. Metaphysics, politics, natural philosophy, and even farming wisdom were the gift of Greece and Rome to the American frontier, and a study of classical political constitutions would later inform the creation of the American bedrock. Educated for fourteen years in England and France, Carroll was even more formed by the classics than his contemporaries, who all adopted Latin pen names whenever they wrote in public forums. He considered the ancients to be not only teachers, but friends – especially Cicero, whose Stoicism would undergird Carroll’s political philosophy.
Though he is little remembered today, Carroll’s early career was accomplished; after creating a reputation as a champion-patriot in furious exchange of letters, he served as an emissary to Canada; later he attended the Second Constitutional Convention and signed both it and the Articles of Confederation; still later, when the Constitution supplanted the Articles, he was elected Maryland’s first Senator. This was, Birzer writes, utterly appropriate given how much ink Carroll had spilled in the service of creating a genuine Republic, especially concerned with the role that a Senate would play in maintaining an even keel amid populist furor. If he is forgotten today, it may owe to his well-deserved reputation as a critic of mass democracy: like John Adams, he regarded pure democracy as dangerously unstable, a threat to the liberty of minorities and the right of property.
Carroll was especially conscious of the threat of mobs given his status as a Catholic in a predominately Protestant world. In a list of the signers of the Declaration, Carroll is alone in his Roman devotion. Despite Maryland’s birth as a safe haven for Catholics fleeing the persecution of the Reformation, the state was heavily settled by Protestants and actually became one of the most hostile to Catholicism. In this age, hostility toward a man’s religion didn’t mean calling him names. Seizing his land and setting him on fire were more likely. The despoiling of Catholics had happened in England, and could very well happen in America were the Rule of Law not enthroned.
Carroll feared the rage of a mob, and he had a great deal of property to lose – but he was a man who lived in hope. His faith was more cosmopolitan than most, as he believed all those followed the moral laws of Jesus would see his face regardless of their doctrinal differences with the Church. This universal stance was not sheer pragmatism on Carroll’s part, though he could not expect to live in peace with his neighbors, let alone play a part in the public sphere, were he antagonistic toward his Protestant brethren. The Stoicism of Cicero also deeply informed Carroll’s beliefs, especially the belief that each man was imbued with a divine spark, a piece of the Cosmic logos, and that this made every man and woman kin in a fundamental way, and opened the possibility of a universal republic.
A genuine Republic was possible only if people conducted themselves with virtue, however, obeying the laws of Nature and its God; let passion reign, and the fruits of civilization will be felled under a barbarian storm. Carroll’s staunch belief in the need for virtue predisposed him to favor administration by a relatively small group of men, chosen for the strength of their character and themselves limited by government that kept the inherent abuses of government to a minimum. (The choosing of an American president by Congressionally-appointed Electors reflected the value other founders saw in a moderated national democracy.) He believed in genuine aristocracy, but not the arbitrary sort. Men’s characters were to be judged by their submission to law, both divine and civic. Before the law that bound the cosmos and the republic together, no man could stand superior.
Like Marcus Aurelius, Carroll is an easier man to admire from afar than to enjoy having supper with. John Adams thought him a marvelous specimen of humanity, but Mr. Adams had a moral severity of his own. Contemporaries marveled at his intelligence and devotion to the Patriot cause, arguing as he did against the abuses of the king and Parliament with respect to the common law, but his long education and affluent upbringing seemed to deny him that charismatic common touch that so endeared the public to men like Jefferson, or later Lincoln. He was highly esteemed by his peers, and sometimes admired by the people, but when he passed away he was mostly remembered as a historical curiosity, the last living signer of the declaration. Like Dickinson, he helped to shape popular rage against taxes and government meddling into a respectable cause, and is thus worth considering even if the cause took on a more incautious nature than either man cared for.
© 2010 Bradley Birzer
230 pages
When Charles Carroll of Carrollton signed the Declaration of Independence, he was risking the biggest fortune on the American mainland. But Carroll had yearned for independence for more than a decade before he put pen to paper, before strife ever disrupted the happy relationship between British America and Parliament. Whatever the risk, if the cause was right Carroll could have taken no other course; more than any other founder, he was steeped in the classical tradition and its traditions of civic virtue. When he died in 1832, having outlived all the other founders, he was hailed as the Last of the Romans. In American Cicero, Bradley Birzer presents a study of his life, the tale of a Roman in a nation of would-be Jacobins.
Many of the founding generations were besotted with the classical world; they studied the classics not as segregated and dusty literature to be discussed in clubs with other eccentrics, but as the fount of worldly knowledge. Metaphysics, politics, natural philosophy, and even farming wisdom were the gift of Greece and Rome to the American frontier, and a study of classical political constitutions would later inform the creation of the American bedrock. Educated for fourteen years in England and France, Carroll was even more formed by the classics than his contemporaries, who all adopted Latin pen names whenever they wrote in public forums. He considered the ancients to be not only teachers, but friends – especially Cicero, whose Stoicism would undergird Carroll’s political philosophy.
Though he is little remembered today, Carroll’s early career was accomplished; after creating a reputation as a champion-patriot in furious exchange of letters, he served as an emissary to Canada; later he attended the Second Constitutional Convention and signed both it and the Articles of Confederation; still later, when the Constitution supplanted the Articles, he was elected Maryland’s first Senator. This was, Birzer writes, utterly appropriate given how much ink Carroll had spilled in the service of creating a genuine Republic, especially concerned with the role that a Senate would play in maintaining an even keel amid populist furor. If he is forgotten today, it may owe to his well-deserved reputation as a critic of mass democracy: like John Adams, he regarded pure democracy as dangerously unstable, a threat to the liberty of minorities and the right of property.
Carroll was especially conscious of the threat of mobs given his status as a Catholic in a predominately Protestant world. In a list of the signers of the Declaration, Carroll is alone in his Roman devotion. Despite Maryland’s birth as a safe haven for Catholics fleeing the persecution of the Reformation, the state was heavily settled by Protestants and actually became one of the most hostile to Catholicism. In this age, hostility toward a man’s religion didn’t mean calling him names. Seizing his land and setting him on fire were more likely. The despoiling of Catholics had happened in England, and could very well happen in America were the Rule of Law not enthroned.
Carroll feared the rage of a mob, and he had a great deal of property to lose – but he was a man who lived in hope. His faith was more cosmopolitan than most, as he believed all those followed the moral laws of Jesus would see his face regardless of their doctrinal differences with the Church. This universal stance was not sheer pragmatism on Carroll’s part, though he could not expect to live in peace with his neighbors, let alone play a part in the public sphere, were he antagonistic toward his Protestant brethren. The Stoicism of Cicero also deeply informed Carroll’s beliefs, especially the belief that each man was imbued with a divine spark, a piece of the Cosmic logos, and that this made every man and woman kin in a fundamental way, and opened the possibility of a universal republic.
A genuine Republic was possible only if people conducted themselves with virtue, however, obeying the laws of Nature and its God; let passion reign, and the fruits of civilization will be felled under a barbarian storm. Carroll’s staunch belief in the need for virtue predisposed him to favor administration by a relatively small group of men, chosen for the strength of their character and themselves limited by government that kept the inherent abuses of government to a minimum. (The choosing of an American president by Congressionally-appointed Electors reflected the value other founders saw in a moderated national democracy.) He believed in genuine aristocracy, but not the arbitrary sort. Men’s characters were to be judged by their submission to law, both divine and civic. Before the law that bound the cosmos and the republic together, no man could stand superior.
Like Marcus Aurelius, Carroll is an easier man to admire from afar than to enjoy having supper with. John Adams thought him a marvelous specimen of humanity, but Mr. Adams had a moral severity of his own. Contemporaries marveled at his intelligence and devotion to the Patriot cause, arguing as he did against the abuses of the king and Parliament with respect to the common law, but his long education and affluent upbringing seemed to deny him that charismatic common touch that so endeared the public to men like Jefferson, or later Lincoln. He was highly esteemed by his peers, and sometimes admired by the people, but when he passed away he was mostly remembered as a historical curiosity, the last living signer of the declaration. Like Dickinson, he helped to shape popular rage against taxes and government meddling into a respectable cause, and is thus worth considering even if the cause took on a more incautious nature than either man cared for.
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
On Desire
On Desire: Why We Want What We Want
© 2007 William Irvine
337 pages
© 2007 William Irvine
337 pages
Why
do we want what we want? William Irvine’s On
Desire examines the nature of desire, exploring first how profoundly it
affects our lives, then surveying psychological inquiries into its basis before
at last turning to consider how religions, philosophies, and odd ducks have
attempted to grapple with it. Irvine is
author previously of A Guide to the Good
Life, a manual on the practice of
Stoicism, and the two works have a common subject and a likely audience. On
Desire is one part science and
another philosophy, thorough but
concise.
We
are not merely what we think deliberately;
anyone can realize their mind has a life of its own with a simple
experiment: simply shut your eyes and attempt to count slowly to ten. The count will not even reach five before
thoughts start floating up and competing for attention. Where do these
distractions come from? After a brief
introductory section in which Irvine comments on how profoundly our life can be
changed by desires beyond our control --
falling in love, for instance --
the second part of the book offers that desires are ultimately the
result of our instincts, a kind of biological incentive system that’s had a
cobbled-together evolutionary history.
That our minds are driven by evolutionary forces is natural, but not ideal; following every desire is not the road to happiness. Indeed, even if the desires didn't lead to our immediate destruction (like the urge to pet a sleeping lion), heeding every impulse leaves a person constantly in need of stimulation. That in mind, it is no accident that
virtually every religion, and most moral philosophies, have addressed the
matter of desire, and in the third section of the work Irvine examines
Abrahamic, Greek, and Buddhist approaches. While the Abrahamic religions typically
couch mastery of desire so that people can attain heaven and everlasting
bliss, the Greek schools (Stoicism and
Epicureanism) and Buddhism have a more this-worldy approach: desire is countered to achieve tranquility or
to maximize enjoyment. After surveying
the advice given to students by such luminaries as Augustine, Seneca, and Henry David Thoreau, Baxter notes that despite the variety of
contradictions, there are some common lessons that can be distilled.
The foundational observation is that desires should not be trusted. If we practice mindfulness, we will immediately realize their impermanence; like a child blowing bubbles, one desire will be a phantasm among dozens, constantly moving, eventually fading. Desires compete with one another, and so thick are they that our intellect is crowded out; it plays 'second fiddle'. The most potent desires are the ones we have the least control over, but no desire is really insatiable. Even though they cannot be fulfilled, they can be resisted; our biological incentive system may try to punish us, but it's not the end the world. Ultimately, the only way to truly fight desires is to change ourselves to learn to appreciate -- through philosophy, religion, etc -- what we have, to use techniques both ancient and modern to strengthen our minds against the distractions of the moment. Irvine covers a lot of varied practices within the text for those who develop an interest.
On Desire is a superb work, quite attractive to anyone with an interest in mindfulness. My own Stoic leanings predispose me to enjoy it, of course, but I think it laudable also for demonstrating how our evolutionary history has consequences in our present life; although we'd like to think that natural history is history, a closed book, in truth we are driven by the same instincts today that wrote that book. The thoughtfulness of a work such as this gives us the ability to avoid much of the suffering that nature's book is replete with.
Related:
Irvine's own The Good Life: the Ancient Art of Stoic Joy, any book in Stoicism
The foundational observation is that desires should not be trusted. If we practice mindfulness, we will immediately realize their impermanence; like a child blowing bubbles, one desire will be a phantasm among dozens, constantly moving, eventually fading. Desires compete with one another, and so thick are they that our intellect is crowded out; it plays 'second fiddle'. The most potent desires are the ones we have the least control over, but no desire is really insatiable. Even though they cannot be fulfilled, they can be resisted; our biological incentive system may try to punish us, but it's not the end the world. Ultimately, the only way to truly fight desires is to change ourselves to learn to appreciate -- through philosophy, religion, etc -- what we have, to use techniques both ancient and modern to strengthen our minds against the distractions of the moment. Irvine covers a lot of varied practices within the text for those who develop an interest.
On Desire is a superb work, quite attractive to anyone with an interest in mindfulness. My own Stoic leanings predispose me to enjoy it, of course, but I think it laudable also for demonstrating how our evolutionary history has consequences in our present life; although we'd like to think that natural history is history, a closed book, in truth we are driven by the same instincts today that wrote that book. The thoughtfulness of a work such as this gives us the ability to avoid much of the suffering that nature's book is replete with.
Related:
Irvine's own The Good Life: the Ancient Art of Stoic Joy, any book in Stoicism
Labels:
Buddhism,
Christianity,
mindfulness,
philosophy,
praxis,
religion,
science,
Stoicism
Thursday, June 20, 2013
Disrupting the Rabblement
Disrupting the Rabblement: Think For Yourself, Face Your Fears, Live Your Dreams, and Piss off some Zombies
© 2012 Niall Doherty
~138 pages
There are those who live, and those who simply exist. The majority of people, the rabblement, simply exist, and it's Niall Doherty's mission in life to wake them up, or failing that, to at least ruffle their feathers. Looking to live life more abundantly, Doherty left the trappings of ordinary living behind: he's traveling across the world with his every possession in a 42 liter backpack, and occasionally posts from internet cafes to ask provocative questions and offer advice for better living. Disrupting the Rabblement is an extension of his blog; more than a collection of posts, but not quite a book in its own right. It reads more like an anthology than a cohesive book, but one certainly of interest.
In Disrupting the Rabblement, Doherty calls for readers to ask themselves probing questions to suss out what they really want out of life, to establish their values and then to boldly compare the life they live now, their actions, to their ideals. He suggests practices, like freethought and minimalism, that help people to sort out what is real and what is important from what is assumed, and what we only think is important. This is followed by advice on how to begin creating a more fulfilling life, and here Doherty draws partially from Stoicism, with frequent references to Buddha; he suggests people reflect on and engage their fears. There are proper reasons to be afraid, of course: it is probably wise to resist that urge to pet the jaguar at the zoo. But why not say hello to the astonishingly interesting girl at the bar? Sure, people may not respond to us as we wish, but most of the time, the potential rewards far outweigh the potential consequences. One of the more useful sections here is his guide to establishing habits that allow people to learn new skills and wean themselves off of destructive behaviors while establishing healthy ones.
Although I wouldn't go so far as to call Disrupting the Rabblement a book, its informality doesn't diminish from the accuracy of Doherty's observations or the usefulness of his advice, especially considering that he really does practice what he preaches: while writing this, Doherty was a vegetarian, something he adopted after a thirty-day trial. In recent months, however, he has left the vegetarian diet, and done so after subjecting some of his assumptions to scrutiny. He's not afraid to court unpopularity (one wonders if he's ever read the Cynics): his recent blog and video on quitting vegetarianism have caused quite a stir.
If these ideas interest you, I would suggest watching some of his videos (like "What would it take to change your mind?") or reading his posts to get an idea as to whether or not they would be worth your while. I found Doherty accidentally, while looking for videos on simple living, I discovered his "What Minimalism Is Not". I enjoy his videos, and so figured the $3 ebook would be worth it; and, though I wish it was meatier, worth it it was. It's not offered as a 'real' book.
© 2012 Niall Doherty
~138 pages
There are those who live, and those who simply exist. The majority of people, the rabblement, simply exist, and it's Niall Doherty's mission in life to wake them up, or failing that, to at least ruffle their feathers. Looking to live life more abundantly, Doherty left the trappings of ordinary living behind: he's traveling across the world with his every possession in a 42 liter backpack, and occasionally posts from internet cafes to ask provocative questions and offer advice for better living. Disrupting the Rabblement is an extension of his blog; more than a collection of posts, but not quite a book in its own right. It reads more like an anthology than a cohesive book, but one certainly of interest.
In Disrupting the Rabblement, Doherty calls for readers to ask themselves probing questions to suss out what they really want out of life, to establish their values and then to boldly compare the life they live now, their actions, to their ideals. He suggests practices, like freethought and minimalism, that help people to sort out what is real and what is important from what is assumed, and what we only think is important. This is followed by advice on how to begin creating a more fulfilling life, and here Doherty draws partially from Stoicism, with frequent references to Buddha; he suggests people reflect on and engage their fears. There are proper reasons to be afraid, of course: it is probably wise to resist that urge to pet the jaguar at the zoo. But why not say hello to the astonishingly interesting girl at the bar? Sure, people may not respond to us as we wish, but most of the time, the potential rewards far outweigh the potential consequences. One of the more useful sections here is his guide to establishing habits that allow people to learn new skills and wean themselves off of destructive behaviors while establishing healthy ones.
Although I wouldn't go so far as to call Disrupting the Rabblement a book, its informality doesn't diminish from the accuracy of Doherty's observations or the usefulness of his advice, especially considering that he really does practice what he preaches: while writing this, Doherty was a vegetarian, something he adopted after a thirty-day trial. In recent months, however, he has left the vegetarian diet, and done so after subjecting some of his assumptions to scrutiny. He's not afraid to court unpopularity (one wonders if he's ever read the Cynics): his recent blog and video on quitting vegetarianism have caused quite a stir.
If these ideas interest you, I would suggest watching some of his videos (like "What would it take to change your mind?") or reading his posts to get an idea as to whether or not they would be worth your while. I found Doherty accidentally, while looking for videos on simple living, I discovered his "What Minimalism Is Not". I enjoy his videos, and so figured the $3 ebook would be worth it; and, though I wish it was meatier, worth it it was. It's not offered as a 'real' book.
Labels:
authenticity,
e-book,
essays,
mindfulness,
philosophy,
praxis,
skepticism,
Stoicism
Friday, August 31, 2012
Dialogues and Essays
Seneca: Dialogues and Essays
© 2007 Oxford World's Classics
translated by John Davie
263 pages
Care to read the thoughts of a man chosen to tutor an emperor? Seneca the Younger lived in the opening century of the Roman Empire, and was such an accomplished author that even the early Roman Church tried to claim him. I've previously read a collection of his letters (Letters from a Stoic), part of an exchange between Seneca and his friend Lucilius, but Analogs and Essays is far more sharply focused. The theme of the letters ran toward the general; here, Seneca writes on particular topics, beginning with theodicy and touching on anger, happiness, tranquility of mind, sorrow, and -- oddly -- earthquakes.
This is a magnificent collection. If the translators' rendering in English is representative of the power Seneca imbued his Latin with, little wonder the early Church regarded a 'pagan' author with such admiration. Seneca here is clear, direct, and forcefully dramatic. After I finished the final piece, I re-read several essays over again, just to savor the experience. Stoicism is the reigning influence, of course: the ideas of Zeno are utterly pervasive. In the opening essay "On Providence", Seneca asserts that the universe is a fundamentally sensible and moral place: nothing happens without good purpose, and even the harshest of circumstances can prove a boon to the wise man. It matters not what we endure, Seneca writes, but how we endure it. Difficulties are not punishments: they are opportunities. The worst of luck is in fact a sign of favor of the gods, that they have deemed a man worthy of his character being tested. While I don't particularly agree with the notion that everything that happens is the product of a deity enforcing character training on we poor mortals, I rather like the indomitable attitude, and the idea that can winnowed out from the text -- life is nothing without struggle. We are creatures made to run and strive, not sit idly whining.
Although Stoicism dominates, Seneca is no puritan: he freely borrows from Epicurus, and not simply to 'know his enemy' as he piously defended himself in the Letters. Seneca sees Epicurus as quite wise, in fact, and not at all deserving the slander heaped upon him because of the abuses of those who call themselves his followers. Epicurus is in Seneca's eyes the soul of virtuous moderation -- and Seneca defends comfort and wealth at several points, perhaps feeling guilty at his own success. But lest we think him a hypocrite, when the time came Seneca followed in the path of his heroes, Cato and Socrates -- accepting death in the manner he advocated several times in this collection. (The final piece on earthquakes isn't quite as odd as it might seem: while Seneca spends most of it musing on how earthquakes might happen, he uses the then-recent destruction of Pompeii to point out that nothing in the material universe is truly reliable: only virtue matters, only it can maintain us against the ravages of fickle fortune.)
I have been sharing excerpts from this book on facebook's Stoics group, and they've found a very will-pleased audience there. This is the stuff of excellence; obviously of interest to those interested in philosophy, mindfulness, and wisdom literature, but a must-read for moderns who find such value in the Stoa as I do. Seneca's essays are elaborations on the potent thoughts of Epictetus' Handbook and Marcus Aurelius' Meditations.
This is one to re-read, remember, and recommend.
© 2007 Oxford World's Classics
translated by John Davie
263 pages

Care to read the thoughts of a man chosen to tutor an emperor? Seneca the Younger lived in the opening century of the Roman Empire, and was such an accomplished author that even the early Roman Church tried to claim him. I've previously read a collection of his letters (Letters from a Stoic), part of an exchange between Seneca and his friend Lucilius, but Analogs and Essays is far more sharply focused. The theme of the letters ran toward the general; here, Seneca writes on particular topics, beginning with theodicy and touching on anger, happiness, tranquility of mind, sorrow, and -- oddly -- earthquakes.
This is a magnificent collection. If the translators' rendering in English is representative of the power Seneca imbued his Latin with, little wonder the early Church regarded a 'pagan' author with such admiration. Seneca here is clear, direct, and forcefully dramatic. After I finished the final piece, I re-read several essays over again, just to savor the experience. Stoicism is the reigning influence, of course: the ideas of Zeno are utterly pervasive. In the opening essay "On Providence", Seneca asserts that the universe is a fundamentally sensible and moral place: nothing happens without good purpose, and even the harshest of circumstances can prove a boon to the wise man. It matters not what we endure, Seneca writes, but how we endure it. Difficulties are not punishments: they are opportunities. The worst of luck is in fact a sign of favor of the gods, that they have deemed a man worthy of his character being tested. While I don't particularly agree with the notion that everything that happens is the product of a deity enforcing character training on we poor mortals, I rather like the indomitable attitude, and the idea that can winnowed out from the text -- life is nothing without struggle. We are creatures made to run and strive, not sit idly whining.
Although Stoicism dominates, Seneca is no puritan: he freely borrows from Epicurus, and not simply to 'know his enemy' as he piously defended himself in the Letters. Seneca sees Epicurus as quite wise, in fact, and not at all deserving the slander heaped upon him because of the abuses of those who call themselves his followers. Epicurus is in Seneca's eyes the soul of virtuous moderation -- and Seneca defends comfort and wealth at several points, perhaps feeling guilty at his own success. But lest we think him a hypocrite, when the time came Seneca followed in the path of his heroes, Cato and Socrates -- accepting death in the manner he advocated several times in this collection. (The final piece on earthquakes isn't quite as odd as it might seem: while Seneca spends most of it musing on how earthquakes might happen, he uses the then-recent destruction of Pompeii to point out that nothing in the material universe is truly reliable: only virtue matters, only it can maintain us against the ravages of fickle fortune.)
I have been sharing excerpts from this book on facebook's Stoics group, and they've found a very will-pleased audience there. This is the stuff of excellence; obviously of interest to those interested in philosophy, mindfulness, and wisdom literature, but a must-read for moderns who find such value in the Stoa as I do. Seneca's essays are elaborations on the potent thoughts of Epictetus' Handbook and Marcus Aurelius' Meditations.
This is one to re-read, remember, and recommend.
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