Stoicism and Christianity
In an earlier conversation, when someone said Nihilism leads to Hedonism, I made this comment:
What I do not understand is why philosophical growth does not work the other way:
Nihilism leads to Hedonism, and then, once a man is a hedonist, he realizes that short term pleasure leads to long term pain, so he becomes an Epicurean, and attempts to moderate his passions and govern them by reason.
Once he attempts to govern his passions by his reason, he realizes that he has control only over his judgment about and reaction to outside things, and that outside things are forever beyond the control of his will. True happiness, therefore, consists of nothing but iron self-control, and the limitation of the objects of desire toward one’s own mind: and this is the doctrine of the Stoics.
Once he becomes a Stoic, he realizes that no man can live up to this exacting doctrine, and would lose his humanity if he tried, whereupon he deduces that the human heart cannot be happy absent a transcendent cause to believe in.
After piddling with various political causes as a source of transcendent meaning, he realizes that these political causes are vanity […] If he looks at the roots of modern political movements, he finds, lo and behold, his old enemy, the Church spreading all the seeds from which modern ideologies grow: Marx was, after all, indistinguishable from a prophetic heresiarch: a Jeremiah of Evil.
If our man turns from false prophets from true ones, what started as a nihilistic pursuit of pleasure end with him seeking the eternal and inexpressible joys of the Beatific Vision, or, if he is oriental, the unruffled freedom from reincarnation of Nirvana.
(But a true nihilist would never become a hedonist because a nihilist thinks the pleasure principle, along with all other principles, is meaningless.)
I am not describing a process I think is inevitable. I am indeed asking a question–what is it about Nihilism that makes it a dead end rather than a starting point toward real moral growth? It is an infantile doctrine, and it is a condemnation of the corruption and folly of the post-Christian 20th Century that such doctrines are taken seriously among us.
kaltrosomos asks:
(quoting me) “Once he becomes a Stoic, he realizes that no man can live up to this exacting doctrine, and would lose his humanity if he tried, whereupon he deduces that the human heart cannot be happy absent a transcendent cause to believe in.”
I don’t see the connection between finding the Stoic philosophy too hard to live by and jumping to a transcendent cause. How does the one (impossibility of being a true Stoic) lead to the other (needing a transcendent cause)?
If the man is unable to be a Stoic, he seems doomed to fail at any and every other chosen philosophical path. Just as he couldn’t be a good Stoic, he could never really be a good Christian, Muslim, Jew, Hindu, or other sort of transcendentalist either. But Christians insist that they should continue attempting to be Christians even when it seems impossible for them to live by their ideals all the time.
But if a Christian insists he should still be Christian even if he is a bad one, why couldn’t the Stoic or the Epicurean insist that it is good to be either Stoic or Epicurean even if men sometimes fall short of these ideals?
The ideal is there to be aimed for. You shouldn’t give up when you miss the target the first time. You take another shot, and another, trying to get better each time. In your man’s case, though, you seem to be suggesting that since he couldn’t live up to the ideal of the Stoic he needed a new ideal. If the man cannot live up to the Christian ideal will he give up being a Christian? Where does the failed ex-Christian go once he realizes he cannot live up to the ideal of Christ?
Let me deal with these questions seriatim. I will make a brave attempt to answer, but cannot promise my attempt will satisfy.
- How does impossibility of being a true Stoic lead to needing a transcendent cause?
By process of elimination.
First, let us be sure we understand the claim being made: I did not say that failure at Stoicism would lead a person to believe in a transcendent cause. All I said was that seeing the impossibility and inhumanity of stoicism would lead a person of ordinary prudence to conclude that the belief in a transcendent cause was necessary for human happiness.
I am assuming here that the man of ordinary prudence has sufficient firsthand experience in life (or, through the reading of great books, secondhand experience in life) to see that naturalism and supernaturalism are mutually exclusive and exhaust the options.
The naturalist philosophies of life seek joy either through the satisfaction of passionate pleasures (as a Hedonist) or of moderate pleasures as governed by reason (as an Epicurean), or through the use of reason to the exclusion of personal pleasure (as a Stoic). These repretsent the options of no self-control, modest self-control and total self-control. There is no naturalistic moral philosophy left once these three positions have been found wanting.
History would prove them wanting. They have been revived in the modern day under various guises, and labeled as new things, only because we live in a skeptical yet arrogant time, where we have come to believe that no experimental results discovered by any previous generation need be heeded.
Let us contemplate death for a moment. (We can contemplate it only for a moment, since human psychology cannot look into the hungry void of the grave without vertigo.)
The Hedonist fears death as a nameless horror; it is not a proper topic of conversation at an orgy. The Epicurean must attempt to relax his rigid fear of death, since this fear might trouble the placid enjoyment of his moderate pleasures. The Stoic manfully faces what these effete philosophies dare not name, and declares, that since death is both universal and inevitable, to fear it is illogical.
Since death cannot be avoided, so the Stoic reasons, the emotion that prompts aversion, namely fear, is inappropriate. When the father of a Stoic is carried home on the shields of his men, ugly wounds gaping from every beloved limb and organ, his eyes dead as the eyes of a fishhead, instead of weeping, the Stoic merely remarks: “I knew my father was mortal,” and returns to his backgammon game.
When the Stoic hears that your father died after prolonged suffering, let us say, trapped for hours or days aboard a submarine, or in a prison camp, or in an insane asylum, the Stoic merely remarks, “Pain is a signal in the nervous system having no affect on the soul. Since you cannot control whether your father lived or died, or how, the matter is neutral and indifferent to you. It is only ‘painful’ for your father to die in prolonged terror and agony if you judge it to be so.”
Compare that to how a pagan greets the news. He, at least, will mourn extravagantly, sheering off his own hair and wailing in public. This is a human reaction. It is normal and wholesome.
A heathen of the civilized religions of the East might react with more stoicism, telling himself that the dead will come again to suffer another life in the endless wheel of life; or perhaps the dead has dissolved into tranquil oneness with the cosmos; or that life itself is an illusion, therefore death is not what it seems.
The Christian reaction is neither stoical nor natural nor mystical, but has elements of all three. The black of mourning is donned, and tears are shed, as is only natural, but at the grave are recited extravagant and absurd promises of life everlasting and joy neverending. In the very shadow of death, death itself is defied: “Where is thy sting? Where is thy victory?”
I suppose the pagan reaction would be much the same whether he believed the soul perishes with the body, or if he believed the soul fled to the miseries of the underworld, twittering like a bat. The Christian reaction, on the other hand, makes no sense emotionally or rationally unless the Christian believes in the Resurrection. Christianity makes no sense shorn of its supernaturalism.
To draw this example back to my point: to live life for the sake of natural life is insufficient to maintain normal human happiness in good times and to maintain the courage to endure in hard times.
The human condition is intolerable.
The enigma of life, if we attempt to solve the problem merely taking natural explanations into account, leads to a bizarre and even ghastly world-view.
If we are nothing but meat machines, then to throw baby Oedipus, if he is born with a swollen foot, into the Apothetae where the Spartans threw their unwanted newborns is a reasonable action, or to drown unwanted Chinese girls. Once dead, they will suffer no unpleasant sensations, therefore it is no crime to kill them.
If life has no point but pleasure, then to gas a wheelchair bound paralytic like Stephen Hawkings (or, for you Star Trek fans, Captain Pike) or anyone else who cannot partake in the orgy of life, is a rational action. To forsake from your wife of forty years, because she is now tired and baggy, and cleave to pneumatic blond Anna Nicole Smith is a perfectly rational proposition of pleasure-seeking. For that matter, Benedict Arnold, denied dignities he thought due him by the Colonials, makes a perfectly rational decision to betray West Point to the British.
But even if we eschew Hedonism and Epicureanism and cling to the harsh and rocky heights of a dignified doctrine like Stoicism, we find ourselves in a position somewhere between Mr. Spock of Star Trek and the 47 Ronin. When faced with defeat, the noble Cato of Utica was required by the iron code of Stoicism to commit suicide rather than submit to Caesar, and to do so in a way that showed contempt for pain and death.
Once the natural philosophies of Hedonism, Epicureanism and Stoicism are proved insufficient, the only option left is something other than a natural philosophy: a supernatural one.
Now, there are any number of halfway philosophies that have a supernatural mood to them, and enjoy in part the same appeal that devotion to God has in full. Technically, these are known as heresies. In the modern day, the only really popular heresies are devotions to utopian secular causes with transcendental trappings: abortionism, environmentalism, socialism, and the like. We need not dwell long on these: it would be an odd psychology indeed that could find meaning in life from hugging trees, killing babies, and kissing Stalin. The miasma of unwholesomeness, the spiritual sickness, the odor of deception and desperate self-deception that hangs over these movements needs no emphasis from me.
- If the man is unable to be a Stoic, he seems doomed to fail at any and every other chosen philosophical path. Just as he couldn’t be a good Stoic, he could never really be a good Christian, Muslim, Jew, Hindu, or other sort of transcendentalist either.
Since this is an assertion, rather than a question, I need offer no answer, but I am curious as to what line of thinking supports this conclusion.
My conclusion would be that one does not imply the other. Inability to be a Stoic is not the same as inability to be an observant Muslim or a Jew. The standards differ. Abiding by the highest possible standard of self-control by sheer teeth-gritted willpower is not the same as abiding, with the help of Allah, to the law of Sharia, or with the help of Jehovah, to the law of the Torah.
The motives differ. Obeying God, or living for any higher cause, is not the same as living for one’s own pleasure, self-interest, or duty.
- Why couldn’t the Stoic or the Epicurean insist that it is good to be either Stoic or Epicurean even if men sometimes fall short of these ideals?
Because the claims made by these philosophies makes that stance hard to defend.
Again, let us be clear what claim is being made: I say that it is better to be a Stoic than an Epicurean, an Epicurean than a Hedonist, or a Hedonist than a Nihilist. Any attempt to try to live according to a higher moral standard is better, from the my point of view, than no attempt, even if the attempt proves to be in vain. But my argument here is that from the Stoic point of view, being a Stoic in vain is not good (as Stoics define good, i.e. achieving serenity); from an Epicurean point of view, being an Epicurean in vain is not good (as Epicureans define good; i.e., achieving pleasure).
To answer your question: Stoicism and Epicureanism are pragmatic rather than mystical, and hence cannot judge themselves by other than a pragmatic standard.
Epicureanism says that the nature of the good is such that good derives from pleasure rightly understood. (This ‘right understanding’ means one must contemplate both the long-term results of pleasure-seeking as well as the immediate sensations, and adjust one’s desires accordingly). What pleases is good; what displeases is not good.
When placed in a world where sin, suffering, and death are triumphant, absolute tyrants from which there is no escape, the Epicurean is at a standstill. The yearning for immortal, eternal bliss is one which cannot be uprooted from the human heart. The pleasures to be found in one span of life, even for a Croesus or a Caesar, are insufficient.
Why should he be a moderate Cato rather than an ambitious Caesar, if the pain of death for both men other the death-bed is the same? Why should he moderate his desire for pleasure by contemplating the long-term if he has but a short term to live? The pain of the sword of Cato in Cato’s flesh was not less than the pain of the dagger of Brutus in Caesar’s.
If pain and pleasure are the measure of good and evil, the good of both these dead men is the same, the evil of their deaths is the same, ergo, by Epicurean logic, there is no moral reason to live a virtuous life as Cato rather than to live a vicious life as Caesar.
Pragmatically speaking, then, the Epicurean definition of the good means that when placed in a world where ultimate good cannot be achieved, there is no good to be found by pursuing Epicureanism in half measures, because there is no pleasure in it.
Being a failed Epicurean means that you have attempted to be modest and moderate in your pleasures, guided by right reason only to seek those things that serve your long term good, and you have failed. This means your attempt to achieve pleasures modestly has not resulted in pleasure, and ergo not resulted in good. By Epicurean logic, there is no good in attempting and failing to achieve the good.
Stoicism makes the claim that pain and pleasure, good and evil, come only from our judgments about impressions, not from the impressions themselves. Death is not evil if Socrates prefers death to betrayal of his principles. Wounds are not evil if Mucius Scaevola prefers to burn off his hand rather than show weakness before the Etruscan king, Porsenna.
The proper way to judge evil, according to the Stoics, is to regard only whether the matter is internal, under one’s control, or external, not under one’s control. Under your control are thought, will, judgment, impulse to act. Whatever is not under your control is immaterial and indifferent to you. Not under your control are body, property, reputation, dignities, and so on.
The Stoic promises that you will achieve ‘ataraxia’ serenity or firmness of mind, once you achieve correct judgment of good and evil. At that point, you will be immune to pain and pleasure.
Suppose you achieved this happy state halfway. You are serene about any personal danger or hardship to your body or property. Your leg has been bitten off by a whale, and the utter loss of every worldly possession means nothing to you. No tear can be drawn from your iron cheek. You are as calm and undisturbed in your passions as Captain Ahab. Let us suppose that, as a halfway Stoic, unfortunately, you are still consumed by ambition for reputation and dignities, so when your name is slandered or when your rival wins some important honor you crave, you rage like Iago and sulk like Lucifer.
The serenity promised by Stoicism is simply not present in half measures. The Stoics themselves have a saying about this: submersion under an inch of water is as deadly as a fathom.
The most the Stoic or the Epicurean can claim is that he would be even more displeased or even less serene if he abandoned his principles.
That is a true claim, as far as it goes, but it does not solve the problem that Stoicism and Epicureanism do not even claim that failed attempts will achieve the good the Stoic and Epicurean seeks.
The Stoic does not promise that if you try and fail to be a Stoic, any good comes of this. Indeed, they claim that misery is the outcome of failure. The most the Stoic can say, once you have tried and failed, is that you must try again, since the only alternative to Stoicism is certain misery. A pragmatic doctrine can pragmatically tell you that certain misery is worse than uncertain serenity.
Christianity, on the other hand, is a mystical doctrine of salvation which promises, paradoxically enough, that you are a sinner who cannot be righteous by your own effort no matter what. You are born to fail; you are bound to fail; and you are bound to discover that the pleasures and glories of this world are all vanity, a vanity of vanities.
What the Christian prophets promise is only this: when you fail (when, not if) Christ Himself will help you to your feet again. When you sin (and no man is free of sin) you will be forgiven and absolved if you repent, and turn to Him for forgiveness. Eternal bliss will be granted you on Judgment Day, not due to your own efforts, and not through your own righteousness, but as a gift from a gracious Lord who loves you and seeks your good. You are nonetheless obligated to eschew sin.
The Christian promises that you will be saved from sin if you are baptized, and on the Last Day, you will be raised from the dead to join the saints and martyrs in bliss, and dwell in the house of the Lord forever. At that point, you will be free from sin and suffering, and death will be defeated.
Let us suppose you are a God-fearing man who leads a mostly righteous life and enjoys the blessing of heaven, and then you see Bathsheba bathing nude, and you have husband, Uriah the Hittite, killed off, and the girl taken to your harem to serve your royal pleasure. Can a murderer be forgiven if he repents? The Christian teaching answers with an unambiguous affirmative. St. Dismas is the thief hanging next to Jesus on the cross, the one who asked to be forgiven: hardly a model life, and yet he was canonized. St. Paul was a persecutor of the early Church. St. Peter denied his Lord three times before cockcrow not long after he vowed never to do it. Need I go on? None of these people lived up to the ideal of Christ.
The claims being made are opposite.
Stoics and Epicureans claim you can find pleasure and peace of mind in this life by a proper moderation and discipline of the desires. By this means, you can achieve the good. That claim is false: the open grave mocks it. The all conquering worm who will one day eat your cherished flesh show the ultimate vanity of seeking pleasures of the flesh. Christians claim true and lasting pleasure cannot be found in this life, and that proper moderation and discipline of the desires must be attempted, even if only saints can attain it, out of respect and love for our Creator, but not as an instrumentality to achieve the good.
3. If the man cannot live up to the Christian ideal will he give up being a Christian?
No. But your rhetorical question here skips aside from the point. You mean to imply that since bad Christians do not give up Christianity, bad Stoics should not give up Stoicism.
Yet no one said being a Christian was a practical way to achieve happiness in this life. Indeed, Christianity openly and loudly and frequently says the opposite. We revere martyrs. We worship a tortured god. We are not pleasure seekers.
Stoics and Epicureans, however, are pleasure seekers. The Epicurean says pleasure can be found in the world if the appetites are schooled to moderation; the Stoic says pleasure can be found if the passions are schooled to seek satisfaction only in the mind, never in the world.
The same question cannot be asked of Christian theology as is asked of pagan philosophy. The two studies are founded on radically different axioms.
4. Where does the failed ex-Christian go once he realizes he cannot live up to the ideal of Christ?
No. But your rhetorical question here skips aside from the point. You mean to imply that since bad Christians do not give up Christianity, bad Stoics should not give up Stoicism.
Stoics teach that Stoics can live up to Stoicism. Christians teach that Christians cannot live up to Christ.
This question assumes that Christians teach they can live up to the ideal of Christ, and that our reaction to failure is to denounce the Church, un-baptize ourselves, curse God and die. That assumption is false; indeed, it is precisely the opposite of orthodox Christian teaching. Baptism is irrevocable; sin is part of every human soul; Christ is someone to imitate, but for fallen man to fall short of the perfection of the sinless Son of Man is not merely expected, but doctrinally inevitable (Catholics make an exception for St. Mary, whom we also regard as sinless).
Even if I knew nothing about Christianity aside from what I saw in Japanese Anime where cutie-pie ninja nuns with machineguns battled demon-cyborgs, I would have at least gleaned that aspect of the dogma: Christianity is a belief about salvation.
We Christians believe we are naturally damned and shall be supernaturally saved. We think all human beings are afflicted with an innate moral depravity from conception. That belief is not mysterious. The mystery of our faith is that we think this stain can be cleansed as if with magic water from a well beyond the world’s edge. That is a strange and incredible belief, even to us. When we say “here is the water of eternal life, be clean!” it makes no sense to ask of us, “But what shall you do if you are not clean?” We are assuming you are not clean.
Stoicism is not about salvation, but about self-command. Stoics talk about how to live without evil. Stoic advice: Control yourself. Have no evil impulses. Christians talk about how to live once your evil impulses have triumphed and made you their slave. Christian advice: Repent, Confess, show Contrition, and accept Absolution. Do you see the difference between the forms of advice? Stoicism is preventative; Christianity is restorative.
The way you phrased your question is funny. One cannot flee the Omnipresent. There is no place to go.
Whither shall I go from thy spirit? Or whither shall I flee from thy presence?
If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there.
If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea;
Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me.
About John C Wright
John C. Wright is a practicing philosopher, a retired attorney, newspaperman, and newspaper editor, and a published author of science fiction. Once a Houyhnhnm, he was expelled from the august ranks of purely rational beings when he fell in love; but retains an honorary title.
