Some Thoughts on the Shortcomings of Stoicism.
In September of 2024, I stepped back from writing weekly to clear my mind. It was the right move, and I’m glad to be back writing again. Writing is a form of meditation for me. I don’t feel I’m an exceptionally gifted writer, but I enjoy it, and spending more time working on things I enjoy is deeply important to me. I’ve found that whenever I’ve gotten into a rut in life, I’m out of alignment with intrinsically working on things I enjoy. It might seem selfish, but I don’t think it is possible to be our best selves without deeply engaging in that sense of play, curiosity, and joy that comes from autotelic pursuits. I don’t think it’s our purpose to lord over others and force behaviors. Instead, if we truly live in accordance with our values, the world would be a better place. Imagine if we could fill our days working on what deeply interested us without worrying about getting ahead or upward mobility. In Epicurean philosophy, this is known as ataraxia, or the katastematic pleasure of the mind. I’ve also written about this based on Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi’s work on autotelic pursuits.
I know that studying the stoics is quite the topic these days, and while stoic thought is worth exploring, I think it misses two significant points:
The pursuit of Stoic ideals doesn’t ever deal with the systemic dysfunction they came out of.
Stoicism seems to lack an appreciation for play and joy for its own sake.
On the first point. I think stoicism overemphasizes inner virtual and resilience at the expense of understanding one’s place in the larger social structure. Imagine you are a soldier who must be brave in battle, fighting for your country and putting the good of others before yourself. Stoicism is a fantastic framework for honor, valor, and overcoming adversity. Still, it does a terrible job of asking the deeper question of “Should I be participating in this in the first place?” Stoicism doesn’t ask the soldier to question, “Is this war justified?” or “Why are we fighting in the first place?” Instead, it is a framework meant to provide guidance within a system accepted largely without question. Marcus Areleas is a thoughtful writer in his writing in Meditations, yet he was still an emperor, utterly reliant on the Roman Empire’s force and coercion to maintain his power. By contrast, Epicurus discouraged political involvement because seeking power separates us from our more authentic, more joyful selves. Epicureans largely withdrew from the larger society to form small communities of shared values called “gardens” where folks could support one another in an environment of trust and respect. The types of folks who seek out the highest levels of power seem to be deeply unhappy to me (if they were happy, would they need to seek power?). Stoicism does a fantastic job of framing honor and valor, but it does a terrible job of questioning whether someone should be involved in the first place.
On the second point, Emma Goldman said it best: “If I can't dance, I don't want to be part of your revolution.” In Stoicism, pleasure and play are treated as “indifferents,” things not central to a meaningful life. In Epicurean thought, maximizing ataraxia and minimizing pain is our highest goal. In doing so, each of us lives our best lives so that we can love and support those around us. What I find so powerful about living in alignment with these values is that it forces these more profound questions.
I’ve been researching both Epicurean philosophy and Metamodernism in my spare time, so you’ll be seeing more on the topic as I learn and grow in my knowledge. If you are interested, I recently had a fun conversation with Robert Kelley on the subject of metamodernism, which still has my mind turning.
I’m not sure I’m ready to commit to writing weekly again (just yet), but you should expect to see more stuff on this substack as I grow and learn in public.