No More Learning

Thus, act­ ing in accordance with reason means acting in con rmity with nature.
Just as bees and vines do the work which is proper to bees and vines, so human beings must do the work which is proper to human beings. Precisely because doing good is the same thing as acting naturally, how­ ever, good actions must be accomplished spontaneously, purely, and almost unconsciously. Animal instinct, like a rce which never exhausts itself in its mani stations, somehow transcends all the actions which it accomplishes, as it passes spontaneously om one action to another; it does not linger to take pleasure in any speci c action. In the same way, moral intention transcends all the actions which it inspires, and passes " om one action to the next,"18 without considering these actions as ends in themselves, without claiming ownership of them, and without wanting to derive any bene t om them. It there re remains com­ pletely ee with regard to its actions, and it accomplishes them natu­ rally-that is to say spontaneously, and in a way unconsciously. As Christ had said: "When you give alms, let your le hand not know what your right hand is doing. "19
Later, Plotinus20 would a rm that
it is not at all necessary r a brave person to be conscious ofthe ct that he is acting courageously and in con rmity with the virtue of courage . . . One could even say that consciousness seems to trouble and weaken the activities and acts of which it is conscious. If these
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acts are not accompanied by consciousness, it is then that they are pure, and that they are as intense and as alive as they can be.
Marcus Aurelius' re ections already point in this direction. A genu­ inely good action, he says, must be spontaneous and unconsidered, like animal instinct. It must come without e ort, and om one's very being, r consciousness disturbs the purity ofthe act. Being conscious ofdoing good means to assume an attitude-to take pleasure in such a ectation, and not to devote all one's energy to the act itself
There is a most pro und idea behind this criticism ofthe conscious­ ness of doing good: goodness cannot be anything other than complete generosity, without any return upon or complacency in itself It must be wholly directed toward others. It is perfectly disinterested, inwardly ee, and is not attached to what it is accomplishing.
Marcus, however, is quite aware that such an attitude seems to go against the Stoic's ndamental disposition of attention to oneself and acute consciousness ofwhat one is doing. Thus, he introduces an objec­ tor to remind him ofthis (y, 6, 6):
It is characteristic ofa person acting in the service ofthe community to be aware ofthe ct that he is acting in the service ofthe commu­ nity, and, by God, to want his neighbor to know it too.
Marcus does not, moreover, attempt to resolve the contradiction. "That is true," he replies, "but you don't understand what I mean. " What Marcus "means" here, in all probability, is that moral li is the art of reconciling such opposing attitudes as, on the one hand, attention to oneself and the awareness of duty, and, on the other, spontaneity and complete disinterestedness.
The eedom of moral intention with regard to the actions it under­ takes is also manifested on the occasion of another problem which crops up in the discipline of action. We have seen that this discipline requires that decisions be care lly considered, so that, in theory, nothing could cause a person to change his mind once he has made his decision. Here too, however, the agent must not attach himselfblindly to his decision to undertake a given action: he must be able to change his mind, ifsomeone gives him valid reasons to do so (VIII, 16):
Remember that changing your mind and llowing one who can lead you back onto the right track is another sign ofinner eedom.
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For such an action is still yours, since it is accomplished in con rm­ ity with your will, yourjudgment, and, nally, with your intellect.
To reiterate: what matters is not the ct of performing a speci c action, and then to appropriate it as something belonging to us. Rather, what matters is to con rm our intentions to reason and to reasonable nature. This is equally true when we listen to the advice ofa counselor whose reasons seem to us to be well unded (IV, 12, 2). The same holds true ifwe are not able to accomplish an action by ourselves (VII, 5, 3):
Whatever I do, whether alone or with some other, I must aim at one single goal: that which is use l to the human community and is in accord with it.
The "reserve clause" and exercices to prepare oneselfto encounter di culties
As we have seen, when Marcus discusses the discipline ofaction, he often brings up the idea ofa "reserve clause. " This is particularly true when he quotes this text om Epictetus (XI, 37) which de nes the three exercise­ themes:
In the exercise-theme which deals with the impulses which lead us to action, we must never relax our attention, so that these impulses may be accompanied by a reserve clause, that they may have as their goal the service of the community, and that they may be propor­ tionate to value.
This "reserve clause" corresponds to the rmula "ifnothing prevents me. " That which can prevent an action om being carried out is Des­ tiny, and there re the will of universal Nature and Reason, and hence the will of God or of the gods. The exercise-theme which deals with impulses and intentions to act thus becomes con sed with the exercise­ theme which deals with the desires, since when an obstacle comes up which prevents an action, the only thing left r us to do is to wish-in vain- r the act to succeed in spite of everything. There re, we must desire nothing other than what is willed by the All, or universal Nature. This joy l consent which Marcus demands of us, however, is not easy.
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We must practice it and prepare ourselves r it; in particular, we must resee the di culties and the setbacks which we will have to con ont.
Acting "with a reserve clause" means precisely to prepare oneself r such setbacks. In the words of Seneca:21
Nothing happens to the sage contrary to his expectations, r he resees that something may intervene to prevent what he has planned om being carried out.
All things happen to him, not according to his wish, but according to what he has thought. What he thinks above all is that something can always oppose his plans. But the pain caused by an unsatis ed desire must be lighter r one who has not promised success to himself be rehand.
This last sentence shows us that we can distinguish two aspects in the exercise intended to prepare us r encountering hardships. In the rst place, there is a psychological aspect: blows that are not unexpected, but reseen, strike us less hard, and wound us less deeply, than those which strike unexpectedly. Greek wisdom had long since made this observa­ tion. 22 The Stoics had made it a part of their system, and we probably have an echo of this Stoic theme in the llowing passage om Philo of Alexandria:23
They do not bend under the blows of te, because they have calculated its attacks in advance. For of the things that happen against our will, even the most pain l are alleviated by resight. Then, thought no longer encounters anything unexpected in events, but the perception of them is dulled, as if it were dealing with old and worn-out things.
In his ninety- rst letter to Lucilius, Seneca imagines in a somewhat grandiloquent shion the wars, earthquakes, res, mud slides, tidal waves, volcanic eruptions-in a word, every catastrophe that could pos­ sibly occur. If we leave such rhetoric out of consideration, what Seneca means is essentially that we must always be ready r everything.
Marcus does not give us such lengthy descriptions of every possible calamity. He does, however, constantly remind himself of the great law of nature called universal metamorphosis, or the swift course of the movement ofthings. He practices seeing beings and things concretely, in
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their perpetual movement and trans rmation. Once, he evokes the van­ ished cities ofHelice, Pompeii, and Herculanum. Above all, he tries to place himself within the ndamental disposition of constant vigilance and readiness r anything that is characteristic of such Stoics as Epictetus (see III, 24, 86). Marcus sums up Epictetus' thought in the llowing terms (XI, 34):
When you kiss your child, you must say to yourself in your mind: "Perhaps you will be dead tomorrow. "
It must be admitted, however, that this kind of exercise is not easy to practice. Do we not run the risk ofbeing troubled, overwhelmed, and discouraged by imagining everything that might happen in this way? Is there not a criticism ofthis exercise in the llowing passage?
Don't let yourself be troubled by the representation of your entire li . Don't try to add up in your mind all the pain l dif culties that are likely to happen, in all their intensity and numbers (VIII, 36).
The way to avoid this, Marcus continues, is to concentrate on the pre­ sent and the present action, as well as on present di culties, which are easier to bear ifthey are isolated. Is there not a contradiction between the exercise of concentration on the present, which Marcus is talking about here, and the exercise which consists in imagining ture di culties?
In ct, what M rcus is criticizing here is the same thing that Seneca attacks in several of his letters: the "anguished imagination of the ­ ture";24 that is to say, imagination when it is not controlled by reason. As Seneca says, "A soul obsessed with the ture is miserable indeed; it is unhappy even be re any mishaps. "25
The exercise of preparing oneself r hardships is intended to help us avoid not only being unhappy during mishaps, but also being "unhappy be re any mishaps. " It does this in two ways: in the rst place, it makes us understand that ture mis rtunes-mis rtunes, that is, which are merely possibl are not mis rtunes for us . Second, it reminds us that, according to Stoic principles, mis rtune itself-which may perhaps oc­ cur-is not really a mis rtune.
Future mis rtunes are not mis rtunes. When Marcus writes, "Don't let yourselfbe troubled by the representation ofyour entire li ," he is practicing not only the exercise of concentration on the present, but also the exercise of reseeing mis rtunes, such as it ought to be practiced.
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He thinks about ture mis rtunes, but only in order to add right away that it does no good to worry about them in advance. This implies that mis rtunes which exist only in the ture are not genuine mis rtunes:
It is not the past or the ture which weigh upon you, but only the present.
Besides, Marcus knows that if one concentrates on the present, and circumscribes mis rtunes at the moment when they occur, it will be easier to put up with them one instant at a time. The exercises of concentration on the present and ofpreparation r mis rtune are thus intimately linked and mutually complementary.
The evils that we fear are, moreover, not really "evils" in the �toic sense of the term. The preparation r di culties and hardships consists essentia y in recollecting the ndamental principles of Stoicism, while still thinking about the ture. The rst principle we must recall is that what we consider an evil is really an event willed by Destiny. Conse­ quently, it must be resituated within the overall movement of the Whole, and be given the "physical" de nition ofwhich I have spoken. In other words, apparent evils must not be considered anthropomorphi­ cally, but as natural phenomena.
It is om this perspective that we may inte ret the exercise of re­ seeing mis rtunes, as we und it in the passage om Epictetus which Marcus cites: "When you kiss your child, you must say to yourself in your mind: 'Perhaps you will be dead tomorrow. "' Epictetus continues by imagining the llowing dialogue (III, 24, 86-87 = Marcus Aurelius, XI, 34):
" Those are words of i omen. "
-"They are not ill-omened at all; rather, they are words which
mean nothing other than a natural process. Or would it be 'ill­ omened' to say that grain will be harvested? "
Marcus himself o en returns to this theme; as we have seen, he a rms that the things which seem unpleasant and pain l to us are only the necessary consequences ofnatural laws.
Finally, the exercise ofpreparation consists in remembering the Stoic dogma that will enable us to understand that whatever di culties, obsta­ cles, trials, and su erings may happen to us are not evils, since they do not depend upon us and fall outside the realm ofmorality.
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The recollection of Stoic principles is not just r dramatic circum­ stances, but is also e ective against the di culties ofeveryday life (II, 1):
At the break of dawn, say to yoursel " I am going to encounter a busybody, an ingrate, an insolent person, a crook, an envious per­ son, and an egotist. this happens to them om their ignorance of the distinction between goods and evils. "
Marcus then continues by recalling the principles which de ne good and evil, but which also de ne the community among human beings. Since people participate in the same intellect, and belong to the same divine race, says Marcus, I cannot su er any damage at their hands and I cannot get angry with them.
Here we can see that the exercise of preparation r di culties-a kind of examination of conscience in advance-does not concern only the discipline ofdesire and the acceptance ofthe will ofDestiny. Rather, it is an integral part ofthe discipline ofthe will and ofaction. In this latter case, its nction is to motivate a speci c type of conduct toward other human beings. Throughout the Meditations, Marcus Aurelius returns sev­ eral times to this exercise, which consists, on the one hand, in expecting to encounter resistance and ill will on the part of his collaborators and subjects, and, on the other, in preparing to assume an attitude which is rm but benevolent, indulgent, and even loving, toward those who oppose him.
The exercise of rational resight will not only prevent us om being "unhappy be re mishaps"-that is, victims of a lse representation of ture evils-but it will also allow us not to be unhappy in mis rtunes, by means of a two ld process of psychological preparation. First, as we have seen, we will practice con onting in our minds the ture trials which may happen to us, so that they do not take us by surprise. Second, we will accustom ourselves to remain inwardly ee with regard to what may be beyond our control in our daily lives. As Epictetus says (IV, I , I 12):
Begin with the little things: a pot, a cup, and then continue in the same way as r as a little tunic . . . as r as a piece ofland. From there, move on to yourself, your body, the parts ofyour body, your children, your wife, and your brothers. . . . Puri your judgments so that nothing which does not belong to you becomes attached to
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you or becomes as one with you, so that it causes you su ering ifit is torn away om you . . . r this is true eedom.
Resignation?
As we have seen, when our action ils or encounters an obstacle, the Stoics-and Marcus Aurelius the Stoic-seem to tell themselves: "My intentions were good, and that's what really counts. Destiny has decided otherwise. I must accept its will and resign mysel the virtue I must practice now is not justice but the virtue of consent. I must switch om the exercise of the discipline of action to that of the discipline of desire . "
This posed a problem r the Stoics. Marcus does not articulate it explicitly, but it was very real r him; it might even be called the drama ofhis li .
How can we avoid having our consent to the will of universal Na­ ture-that will which is preventing our action om being accom­ plished-trans rmed into talistic resignation and nonchalance? How can we not be overcome by worry and even by anger, when our collabo­ rators impede our action or when Destiny-by means ofplagues, wars, earthquakes, or floods-prevents us om achieving the happiness of the Empire? Above all, what should we concretely do, when the obstacles, dif culties, and trials which Destiny has willed turn up?
Epictetus had devoted one of his Discourses (II, 5) to the problem: "How can concern coexist with greatness of soul? " By "greatness of soul," Epictetus meant "serenity," while by "concern" he meant "being concerned about acting well. " This is the same problem that we are cing now.
In order to reply to it, Epictetus used a comparison taken om dice games. It does not depend upon me, he reasoned, that a particular die should ll. Likewise, the ct that I am in a certain situation, or that circumstances present an obstacle to my action, does not depend upon me, but upon Destiny. I must accept my situation with serenity, and consent to it. In a dice game, however, it does depend on me to play the die that does fall with concern, care, and skill. Similarly in life: it does depend on me to use the die which has llen-that is, the circumstances of my action such as they have been willed by Destiny-with care, attention, and skill.
We nd this conception ofaction-at least implicitly-in a passage by Marcus which has the merit of recapitulating the various situations in whichtheStoicmay ndhimselfwhenheundertakesanaction(X, 12):
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What good is it to suppose, when you can clea y see what must be done? Ifyou see this, you must travel that path, benevolently, but without turning around.
Marcus emphasizes that such an energetic, rm, and unshakable decision must not impede our benevolent dispositions. He repeats this motif in another passage (VIII, 5 , 2) :
Do what the nature of man demands, without tu ing aside om the path you have entered upon, in accordance with what seems most just to you. Only do it with benevolence and discretion, without any posing.
One can, of course, have doubts about what one ought to do (X, 12, 1):
If you cannot see what must be done, then suspend your judgment and use your best advisers.
Obstacles-willed by Destiny-can also arise:
If other things oppose your plan, then keep advancing, and, a er having considered things at length, use whatever resources are avail­ able to you, while holding rmly to that which seems just to you.
The "resources" which we can nd in any given situation are the possibilities which we must be able to exploit in our dice game. They must, however, be exploited in a rational and thought l way, so that two apparent opposites may be reconciled: the serenity of the sage, who is not troubled by dramatic situations, but accepts reality r what it is; and the conce of the man of action, who pursues whatever action he has undertaken, in spite of obstacles and di culties, modi ing it in accordance with circumstances, yet always remaining aware of the goal which must be his: justice and the service of the human community. A er , isn't inner peace the surest guarantee ofe ective action?
t ism
As we have seen, the discipline of action consists essentially in acting r the good of the community. Once again, divine action is the model r human action (V, 3 0) :
The Discipline ofAction 21I
The Intellect ofthe cares about the common good ofthe (koinonikos). This is why it has done the lower things r the sake of the higher, and has set the higher things in harmony with one another. See how it has introduced subordination and coordination; how it has distributed to each thing its portion, in accordance with its value; and how it has brought the most excellent things together into a state ofmutual concord.
Here the Intellect of the appears like a good king who watches over the health ofthe City. He cares about the well-being ofhis subjects, the other rational beings, and places inferior things-that is, animals, plants, and inanimate things-in their service. He institutes community, harmony, and concord among rational beings, and distributes goods with
justice. Such an anthropomorphic and "political" representation of the City ofthe World should not, however, make us rget that the relation­ ship between the Intellect and intelligent beings is based upon Nature herself The City ofthe World is rst and remost the common City of rational beings-gods and men-ruled by that law which is at the same time common and particular to each ofthese beings. It is also simultane­ ously Reason and Nature, since their nature is reasonable. The very de nition of"man" is "rational animal" (VII, I I):
For rational animals, action in con ity with nature is at the same time in con rmity with reason.
The goal of rational animals is to obey Reason and the Law of the most venerable city (II, 16, 6).
This most venerable City is the City on high, of which man is the citizen and "of which the other cities are mere houses" (III, I I , 2). "What is a man? " Epictetus had asked (II, 5, 26).
A part of a city. Of the rst city, that is, which is made up of gods and men; then ofthat which is so called in order to come as close as possible to it, and which is a tiny image ofthe whole.
As Emperor, Marcus could not il to be attentive to such a doctrine, which placed his entire li in question, as we can see in the llowing Meditation, which rms, as it were, his motto or his rule of li (VI, 44, 6):
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My City and my Fathe and, inso r as I am an Antonine, is Rome .
My City and my Fatherland, inso r as I am a man, is the world.
Everything that is use l to these two Cities is, r me, the only good.
It is, says Marcus (IV, 4, 2) , om the City ofthe World, or the City on high, which is the City ofreasonable beings, that we receive intelligence, reason, and law. This equation is not without signi cance. Intelligence and reason are common to all reasonable beings; hence they are univer­ sal. This is why they are that common and universal law which is within all rational beings, r by virtue of their universality which transcends individuals, they allow us to shi om the egocentric viewpoint of the individual to the universal perspective ofthe . This is why intelligence and reason tend naturally to envisage the good and the interests of the Whole. Logikon ("rational") and koinonikon ("caring about the common wel re") are inseparable (VII, 55):
Each being must act in con rmity with its constitution. By their constitution, the other beings are made r rational beings . . . and rational beings are made r one another. The primary constituent in the makeup ofhuman beings is there re the tendency to act r the common good.
It has often been held that Stoicism was ndamentally a philosophy of self-love, since the point ofdeparture both r its physics and r its ethics is the tendency to self-preservation, and to remain in a state ofcoherence with oneself In ct, however, the ndamental tonality of Stoicism is to a much greater extent the love of the , r self-preservation and self-coherence are possible only by virtue of complete adherence to the Whole ofwhich one is a part. To be a Stoic means to become aware of the ct that no being is alone, but that we are part of a Whole made up of the totality of rational beings and that totality which is the Cosmos.
The reason the divine Intellect cares about the common wel re ofthe All is that it un lds itselfwithin this . It is at the same time itselfand all things, by virtue of a dynamic identity. If it has set in harmony the beings which participate in the Intellect, this is because all such beings are parts of it, and all have communion within it. It communicates its inten­ tion to realize the common good of the Whole to all beings, inso r as it is present within them. Like the Intellect, all rational beings are koi-
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n nikoi: that is, they tend naturally to place themselves in the service of the , and to ensure the unity ofthe .
In a particularly beauti l Meditation, Marcus evokes the great "uni­ ties" which reveal to us the ndamental unity of all things (XII, 30): "The light ofthe sun is one," even ifwa s present an obstacle to it. "One is the common substance, even ifit is divided among thousands ofbodies which possess individual qualities. " "One is the intelligent soul," even if it seems to divide itself If there is a rce of unity in all things, albeit an unconscious one, then, by contrast, in the unity constituted by the intel­ ligent soul-constituted, that is, by all the intelligent souls which partici­ pate in it and which are one with it-there is this particular privilege to tend consciously "to join that which is akin to it and to unite with it. " "This passion r community knows no obstacles. "
Here we can impse, beyond the uni ing rces which cause bodies to be held together, a universe of transparency and innerness where minds tend toward one another in reciprocal community and intimacy. Rational beings are linked together, inso r as their intention, like that of the divine Intellect, wills the good of the ; and hence to the extent that their intentions coincide with the end willed by the divine Intellect. Such a spiritual universe is thus one ofconcordant wills. From this point ofview, moral intention becomes an absolute value and a goal in itself, which transcends all the particular goals to which it may be applied, and each rational being, inso r as it is ee to have this moral intention, becomes in turn an end r itself and r others. Marcus never tires of repeating this (see, r example, IX, 1):
Universal Nature has made rational beings r the sake of one another.
In a sense, then, it could be said that this community ofrational beings which the divine Intellect unites around itselfreminds one ofthe "king­ dom of ends" discussed by Kant. For Kant, this "kingdom of ends" corresponds to the community of rational beings, inso r as it is linked together by the law which each person postulates and accepts r himself This law prescribes that each rational being must be an end in itsel both r itself and r others, by virtue of the moral eedom within it. 26 It is because rational beings postulate the moral end r themselves as a law that they are themselves an end in themselves. As Marcus said, such an end is to be preferred above all else (XI, 1, 4):
214 THE INNER CITADEL I t is the property of the rational soul to love its neighbor . . . and to
pre r nothing to itsel which is also the property the law.
Most people, however, are unaware of this City of the World, and of Reason. They live in egotism, which is just as pernicious to the City of the World as it is to the city here below (IX, 23, 2):
Each ofyour actions which is not related either distantly or imme­ diately to an end which serves the common good tears li apart, and prevents it om being one. It is a seditious act, as when, within a nation, someone separates his party om the concordant union of all citizens.
Egotism is harm l not only to the State, but also to the individual. Egotism isolates him, and as Epictetus had said (II, 5, 26):
When he is isolated, man will no longer be a man, any more that a ot would be a genuine ot. For what is man? A part of the state . . .
Marcus Aurelius takes up the same metaphor (VIII, 34):
Have you ever seen a lopped-o hand, ot, o r head, lying sepa­ rated om the rest of the body? That is what one does when he does not accept what happens, and thereby separates himself om the All, or who commits any act inspired by egotism. You yourself have excluded yourself om the unity of Nature, r you had grown within the Whole like a part, and now you have cut yourself o om it.
The two disciplines are brought up here: that ofdesire, implying that one must accept everything that happens, and that of action, which prescribes that we act r the common good. It is clear om the passages quoted above that they both correspond to one and the same attitude: that ofbecoming aware that we are only a part ofthe Whole, and that we
live only by and r the Whole. What other beings do "naturally," man must do "rationally"; yet in the last analysis this is the same r him as acting " naturally, " since his nature is reason and eedom. Mankind there re has the strange power (VIII, 34, 3-5) to be able, by means ofhis intentions, his eedom, and his reason, to separate himself om the
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Whole by re sing his consent to what happens, and by acting egotisti­ cally. He thus has the uncanny power, in a sense, to annihilate himself spiritually. And yet, says Marcus, by means of an even more marvelous power, mankind can return to the Whole a er having cut himself o om it. He can convert and trans rm himsel and change om egotism to altruism.
Action and value; justice and impartiality
In his de nition of the discipline of action which is cited by Marcus Aurelius (XI, 37), Epictetus enumerates three characteristics which dis­ tinguish active impulses (hormai), if they are good. First, they must be accompanied by a "reserve clause," and their goal must be the service of the common wel re. I have already discussed these rst two points. They must also, says Epictetus, be in accordance with value (kat' axian).
This terminology seems vague and imprecise; are we talking about the value of the objects upon which our action is exercised, or about the people a ected by such action? Marcus himself often uses the term kat' axian; in ct it is a terminus technicus, current in the Stoic schools of Marcus' time. Its meaning was obvious to contemporary initiates, but today we must try to explain it.
The Stoics had long since developed a rather elaborate theory of "value. "27 To summarize this doctrine-albeit in simpli ed rm-we may say that they distinguished three degrees ofvalue. First came those things which are an integral part of"li according to nature"-that is, of virtue- r instance, the exercises consisting in the examination of con­ science and in attention to oneself, which contribute to the practice of moral li . The value of these things was considered to be absolute. In second place came those things which could help the practice ofvirtue in a secondary way. Taken by themselves, these things are neither good nor bad, but are indi erent with regard to moral good. Possessing them and exercising them, however, allows us to practice better the virtuous life. Examples would include health, which makes it possible r us to do our duty; and wealth, if it allows us to come to the aid of our fellow man. These second-rank values do not have the absolute value which pertains only to the moral good, but they can be ranked in hierarchical order according to the closeness oftheir relationship to the moral good. Finally, in last place came those things which, under certain circumstances, could be use l to virtue. Such things have no value in and ofthemselves, but can be exchanged r some good.
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To recognize the exact value of a thing was thus a very important exercise, and a part of the discipline of judgment. Not only must we always try to see each object as it appears in its naked reality, says Marcus (III, rr, r-2), but we must also become aware ofits place within the universe, and of
the value it has in relation to the Whole and in relation to mankind, inso r as mankind is a citizen of the highest City, of which the other cities are like mere households.
As we have seen, the discipline ofjudgment is intimately linked to the discipline of action. Once we have seen the value of things in this way, we must act in consequence (VIII, 29):
I see things as they are, and I use each of them in accordance with its value (kat' axian).
What Marcus means by this is that, when ced with each event and each situation, he tries to recognize the bene t he can derive there om r his moral life, and thus to use it in the best possible way (VIII, 43):
What brings me joy is to keep the guiding principle within me healthy, so that it has no aversion r any human being, nor r anything that can happen to them, but can look at all things with benevolent eyes, and know how to receive and to utilize each thing in accordance with its value.
The discipline of actions thus demands that we be able to recognize the value of objects, and be able to distribute the intensity of our acts proportionately. Seneca28 had de ned the discipline ofaction as llows: in the rst place, judge the value of the matter in question; then adjust our active impulses to this value; nally, bring active impulse and action into harmony, so that we may always remain in accord with ourselves.
This, then, is the rst meaning that can be given to Epictetus' phrase kat' axian. Yet the consideration ofvalue is not situated only on the level ofindividual conduct, but also at the level ofsocial life.
It is here, moreover, that a grave problem arises r the Stoic, r he does not have the same scale ofvalues as other people. Others attribute an absolute value to things which, to the Stoics, are indi erent, and there re can only have a relative value. Conversely, the Stoic attributes
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an absolute value to moral good, which is ofno interest to most people. Marcus seems to allude to this con ict when he writes, a propos ofthe topic of helping others (V, 3 6) :
Don't let yourself be completely carried away by their repre­ sentation. 29 Instead, help them as r as possible, and in accordance with the value of the matter at hand. If they incur a loss in the domain of indi erent things, do not say to yourself that they have su ered harm, r that is a bad habit.
What is needed is to help others, and there re also to help them in the domain ofindi erent things, which seem so important to them. Yet we must still bear in mind the real value of things-their moral nality­ without sharing other people's judgments about the value of things. Nor must we pity them, as ifwhat happens to them were a genuine mis r­ tune.
This is the problem that Marcus ced as Emperor: he had to seek the happiness of his subjects in the domain of indi erent things, which had no value in his eyes. Yet by so doing, he would be imitating the divine example:
The gods help mankind in every possible way: through dreams and through oracles; and yet it is in order to obtain things which have value only in the eyes ofmankind (IX, 27, 3).
The gods themselves wish the best r mankind, r such is their goodness that they o en help them to obtain health, wealth, and glory (IX, II, 2).
Thus, the gods place themselves within mankind's reach, and provide them with that which, in itself, has only a very relative value. The same thing must there re apply to the Emperor. When de ning his attitude to his llow human beings-whom Marcus declares to be his relatives and his associates, even if they do not practice virtue-Marcus declares (III, II, 5):
I behave with benevolence andjustice toward them, in con rmity with the natural law which unds the human community. At the same time, however, I share their quest r what has value among indi erent things.
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In addition to one's inner dispositions ofbenevolence, then, we here have concrete action, which obliges the Emperor to occupy himselfwith things which people consider to be values. In his eyes, too, they can have a certain value: inso r as they allow r eventual moral progress.
Such, then, is the second meaning we can attribute to the allusion to axia, or value in Epictetus' de nition ofthe discipline ofaction.
There is, however, another meaning of the word "value. " Here, the word no longer designates the value ofan object, but that ofa person, and it is synonymous with his or her merit. For Marcus, as r the Stoics in general, justice consists in giving to all people what they deserve according to their value or merit. 30 We cannot, however, assert that this new sense ofthe word "value" could also be reconciled with Epictetus' de nition of the discipline of action, as discussed above. Curiously enough, we nd very few allusions to the virtue ofjustice in the dis­ courses of Epictetus as recorded by Arrian, and no de nition of it. In Marcus, by contrast, the virtue ofjustice is so important that it is some­ times su cient to de ne the discipline of action, as r instance in VII, 54: "To conduct oneselfwithjustice with regard to the people present. "
Is it because Marcus was conscious of his responsibilities as Emperor that he attributed such importance to justice? In any event, he alludes to the de nition of this virtue when, speaking about the emperor Anton­ inus Pius, his adoptive ther, Marcus says (I, r6, 5) that "he distributed goods to each person, without letting himselfbe in uenced. " This means in particular that he distributed duties and responsibilities without vor­ itism, taking into consideration only the individual's merits and value, as well as his ability to carry out the tasks in question. It certainly also means that he renderedjustice with impartiality.
"Value" and "merit," moreover, do not necessarily mean Stoic moral value, but can mean either the ability to carry out a speci c task, or else, injudicial matters, guilt or innocence. According to the historian Cassius Dio, Marcus did not demand perfection ofthose to whom he entrusted a miss10n:
If someone did something good, he praised him r it, and he used him in the task in which he excelled; but he did not take the rest of his conduct into consideration. He used to say that it was impossible to create men the way one would like them to be, but that it was tting to use men such as they are r the tasks in which they are use l. 31
The Discipline ofAction 219
The people who have value are those who carry out their "duties" conscientiously. They are those who, in the domain of political and everyday li -which is also the domain of indi erent things-do what needs to be done, even if they do not do it in a Stoic spirit (that is, considering that the only absolute value is the moral good).
The model of this justice which distributes goods as a nction of personal merit, without voritism, and in impartiality, is divine ac­ tion. There is nothing surprising about this, r mankind's moral action proceeds om his rational nature, which is a part of or an emanation om divine rational nature. Marcus says ofthis divine nature (VIII, 7, 2):
It has no obstacle; it is intelligent and just, since it carries out a distribution-equal and in accordance with value (kat' axian)-of time, of substance, of causality, of activity, and of the conjunctions ofevents.
One might think that an "equal" distribution cannot be "in accord­ ance with value"; but we must recall that, since Plato and Aristotle,32 political equality had been a geometrical equality-in other words, it had been a proportion in which it was tting to attribute a superior good to a superior value, and an in rior good to an inferior value. Distribution was proportionate to a te, which once designated aristocratic nobility, but which r the Stoics meant nobility of the soul, or virtue. Stoic justice, then, was aristocratic: not in the sense that it consisted in giving wealth and power-that is, indi erent things-to the aristocratic class, but in the sense that it made the consideration of value and of moral responsibility enter into every decision of political and private life. The historian Herodian relates that when it came time r Marcus Aurelius to marry o his daughters, he did not choose patricians or rich personages r them, but men of virtue. Wealth of the soul, Herodian continues, was, in Marcus' eyes, the only genuine, proper, and inalienable wealth. 33
Divine action, then, is "without obstacle" and "just" because it is supremely rational, which means that it imposes an order upon itsel In the rst instance, such an order subordinates particular goals to one unique end: the intention to ensure the good ofthe Whole. This is why divine action has no obstacles: because it aims at one thing only through­ out the particular goals, and knows how to make all the obstacles which seem to oppose it cooperate toward this unique end. Divine action also introduces an order and a hierarchy of values among the particular goals it assigns to itsel Inferior beings-minerals, plants, and
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animals-are at the service of rational beings, and rational beings them­ selves are ends r one another. From the perspective ofsuch a hierarchy ofvalues, then, divine action distributes time, matter, and causality as a nction of the value of each thing. That is why it is just.
The justice of rational Nature is at the same time the justice of the Intellect ofthe Whole (V, 30), "which has introduced subordination and coordination into the Whole," and which "distributes to each its por­ tion, in accordance with its value. " It is, moreover, the justice of the Nature ofthe Whole (IX, I , 1), "which has shioned rational beings r each other's sake, so that they may help each other mutually, in accord­ ance with their value and their merit. "
Everyday experience could, of course, inspire doubts about such a divine justice. Indeed, experience seems (IX, I , 6)
to carry out a distribution which is contrary to merit ar' axian) in the case of good and of evil men, r evil men often live in pleas­ ures, and obtain the means to do so, while the good encounter only misery, and that which causes misery.
This, however, is the judgment ofpeople who consider pleasures to be good, and who do not understand that li and death, pleasure and pain, glory and obscurity, are neither good nor bad, when what one is search­ ing r is the moral good. On the contrary, says Marcus (IV, I O) :
Everything that happens, happens in a just way. If you examine this attentively, you will see that it is true. I am not just saying that "that happens by way ofnecessary consequence," but that "that happens in accordance withjustice,"just as ifit was brought about by some­ one who distributed to each his portion, in accordance with his merit.
In the context of the discipline of desire, we have already caught a glimpse of the problems posed by the mode of action of Nature or universal Reason. Did the latter start the cosmic process in motion by one unique initial impulse, with all things then happening by way of "necessary consequence"? Or rather, did Nature or Reason pay attention to each individual, "distributing to each his portion, in accordance with his merit" (IV, rn)? We saw that, in the nal analysis, these two hypothe­ ses did not exclude each other, since the general law of the universe somehow assigned to each person the role he or she had to play within
The Discipline ofAction 221
the universe. Divine action is a unique action, which seems to adapt itself marvelously to each particular case. It is, then, as if"it was brought about by someone who distributed to each his portion, in accordance with his merit" (IV, ro). This holds true r the lower beings, which, as Marcus said (VIII, 7, 2), receive their portion ofduration, substance, and causal­ ity in accordance with their value in the hierarchy ofbeings. Yet it is still more true in the case of rational beings. Destiny distributes to each person that which corresponds to his or her being and value. Each event is in perfect con rmity with the person to whom it happens:
Love only the event which happens to us, and which is linked to us by Destiny. A er all, what could be better suited to us? (VII, 57).
Such-and-such an event happened to you, was coordinated with you, was set in relation to you, was woven together with you, om the beginning, starting om the most ancient of causes (V, 8, 12) .
Has something happened to you? Good! Every event that comes your way has been linked to you by Destiny, and has been woven together with you, starting om the Whole, since the beginning (IV, 26, 4).
Whatever happens to you was prepared r you in advance om all eternity, and the network of causes has woven together your sub­ stance and the occurrence of this event r time (X, 5) .
Everything that happens, then, happens in a just way, because every­ thing that happens to us brings us that which belongs to us and was owed to us-in other words, that which suits our personal value-and there­ re also contributes to our moral progress. Divinejustice is an educator. The end it aims r is the good ofthe Whole, as ensured by the wisdom ofreasonable beings.
The Stoic Diogenes ofBabylon34 said that, in the de nition ofjustice as that virtue which gives to each person the portion corresponding to his or her value, the word "value" (axia) meant "the portio due to each person" (to epiballon). The myste of divine justice shows itselfin such nuances of vocabulary. Marcus Aurelius, r instance, speaks (X, 25) of "He who administers all things," that is to say, he adds, "who is the Law (nomos) which distributes (nemon) to each person that which is due to him (to epiballon). " "What is distributed according to the laws is equal r all"
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(XII, 36, r). When, there re, the divine Law gives to each person the portion which corresponds to his value, this means at the same time the portion which is due to that person as a nction ofhis merit and ofwhat he is, and the portion which lls to his lot or is given to him by te or Destiny. It is thus at the same time what people choose to be their own moral decision, and what the w, by means ofits initial decision, chooses that they should be. In the same way, the daimon (that is, individual destiny), which according to Plato is attached to each soul, is assigned to it by te, and yet is chosen by it. 35
Such, then, was the ideal ofjustice which his Stoic ith proposed to Marcus, and ifhe could, he would certainly have realized on earth such a justice which takes only moral value into consideration, which has no other objective than human moral progress, and r which "indi erent" things have value only as a nction ofthe assistance they may provide r moral progress. We shall see that Marcus did not have many illusions
about the possibility of what he ironically called "the realization of Plato's Republic. "
Such an ideal ofjustice could, however, inspire an overall inner dispo­ sition, which imitated both the impartiality of universal Reason, which imposes the same law upon all, and the attentive solicitude of provi­ dence, which seems to adapt itselfto each particular case and take care of each individual, taking into consideration the individual's particular strengths and weaknesses.
In order to describe this attitude, one might quote a passage om Louis Lavelle,36 who, without wishing to give an account of Stoic doc­ trine, gives quite exact expression to the spirit ofjustice according to the Stoics:
There is a sacred indi erence: it is that which consists in according no preference to any of the beings upon our path, but in giving them our entire presence, and responding with precise ith lness to the call they utter to us. This is positive indi erence, which is the converse ofnegative indi erence, with which it is often con sed. Positive indi erence only requires us to reserve r all the same luminous greeting. We must keep the balance between them equal: may there be in us neither prejudice, nor predilection to cause the beam to sway. It is then that, in our conduct toward them, we become capable of introducing the most subtle di erences; all the while giving to each person what he expects, requires, and is tting
The Discipline ofAction 223
r him. Here, the most perfectjustice becomes one with the purest love, and we cannot tell whether it abolishes all choice, or whether it is everywhere the same loving choice.
We all know that "not making any distinction" is the same thing as being just; it means applying the same rule to all, without intro­ ducing any exception or vor into our judgment. It is to place ourselves in the point of view of God, who embraces all beings in the simplicity ofone single glance. Yet this glance is the opposite of an insensitive glance; it is a loving ance which distinguishes, within each individual being, precisely what he or she needs: the words that touch him, and the treatment that he deserves.
Pi , gentleness, and benevolence
In the context ofthe discipline ofjudgment, we have seen that although the Stoics held that the majority of humanity was in an evil state, they were in this state against their will, simply out ofignorance ofthe de ni­ tion oftrue good and true evil. This is the great Socratic tradition, which thus extends, through Plato and Aristotle, as r as Stoicism. "No one is voluntarily evil. "37 Such Platonic assertions are based upon the Socratic idea that virtue is a "science"; in other words, that it consists essentially in knowing, with all one's soul, where the good is and what the true good is. After all, the human soul naturally desires the good, and spontaneously tends toward that which seems to it to be good. If it seems to become evil, this is because it allows itselfto be deceived by the appearance ofthe good; but it never desires evil r evil's sake. It was all the more easy r the Stoics to take up this doctrine, in that r them, "everything is a matter ofjudgment, " and the passions themselves are judgments. In his treatise On Becoming Aware efPsychic D cts,38 the physician Galen gives excellent expression to this Stoic doctrine: "The principle ofmany de­ cts is the false judgment which is brought to bear upon the goal which ought to be assigned to one's own life. "
The great Socratic tradition which runs om Platonism and Stoicism through Neoplatonism is united by its ith in the eminent dignity of human nature, which is based on the natural and unconscious desire r the good which every human being possesses.
Epictetus also ts within this tradition, as he makes an explicit allusion (I, 28, 4 ) to the teachings ofPlato:
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When someone gives his assent to error, know that it was not done on purpose, r " every soul is deprived of the truth against its will, " as Plato says. Rather, what was lse seemed to him to be the truth.
Epictetus goes on to remark that what corresponds to truth and error in the area ofaction is duty and its contrary, as well as the advantageous and its contrary. We cannot not choose what we think is duty, or what is advantageous. The mistake is there re an error, and as long as the soul has not been shown the error of its ways, it cannot behave otherwise. Why, then, should we be angry at it?
Shouldn't you rather have pity r those who are blind and muti­ lated with regard to what is most important, as we have pity r the blind and the lame?
This gives Epictetus the opportunity to describe the ideal attitude which the Stoic must exhibit toward his fellow man (II, 22, 36):
With regard to those who are di erent om him [by the principles oftheir life], he will be patient, gentle, delicate, and rgiving, as he would toward someone in a state of ignorance, who missed the mark when it came to the most important things. He will not be harsh to anyone, r he will have per ctly understood Plato's words: "Every soul is deprived ofthe truth against its will. "
Following Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius also lt tremendous respect r the unconscious desire r the truth and the good, which constitutes the most pro und wellspring r mankind's rational nature. Marcus takes pity on the i ness ofthose souls which, against their will, are deprived of what they obscurely desire:
"Every soul, " says Plato, "is deprived of the truth against its will. " And the same holds true ofjustice, temperance, benevolence, and all such virtues. It is there re absolutely necessary to remind your­ self of this constantly. Thus, you will be more gentle with others (VII, 63).
If they do not act rightly, it is obviously against their will and out of ignorance. For "every soul is deprived, against its will, oftruth" just
The Discipline ofAction 225 as much as ofthe possibility ofbehaving toward others in an appro­
priate way (XI, 18, 4-5).
Here, Marcus reveals himself as a ith l student of Epictetus. As he quotes Plato, he does not llow the text ofPlato, but instead he repeats the literal rm ofthe quotation in the de rmed state in which it is to be und in Epictetus. Above all, he draws the same moral consequences om it.
This ignorance ofgenuine values in which people are submerged, says Marcus, is "in a sense, worthy ofpity" (II, 13, 3). We will el this ifwe attempt to understand the error in judgment which explains their mis­ deeds (VII, 26, 1). "In a sense, worthy ofpity": this quali cation is an allusion to the traditional Stoic critique ofpity, which the Stoics consid­ ered a passion. "Pity," said Seneca,39 "is an illness ofthe soul produced by the sight of the su ering of others, or a state of sadness caused by the mis rtunes of others. But no illness a ects the soul of the sage, who always remains serene. "
Marcus Aurelius and Epictetus remain ith l to Stoic doctrine, inso­ r as what they call "pity" is not a passion or an illness ofthe soul, but is instead de ned negatively as the lack of anger and hatred toward those who are ignorant of genuine values. It is not enough, however, to have pity on people or to be indulgent with them. We must above all try to help them, by in rming them about their error, and teaching them genuine values (IX, 42, 6):
In general, it is within your power to instruct the mistaken person so as to make him change his mind, r whoever commits a misdeed is a person who misses what he was aiming at, and goes astray.
We must, then, try to reason with the mistaken person (V, 28, 3; VI, 27, 3; VI, 50, 1; IX, 11). Ifwe il in our ef rts, then it will be time to practice patience, rgiveness, and benevolence. Marcus likes to present our duty toward our fellow men in the rm of a dilemma:
People were made r one another; so either instruct them or put up with them (VIII, 59) .
Ifhe is wrong, instruct him to that e ect with benevolence, and show him what he has overlooked. Ifyou do not succeed, then be mad at yoursel or rather not even at yourself (X, 4) .
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Epictetus (II, 12, 4; II, 26, 7) had said that we must, like good guides, set those who have gone astray back on the right track again, without mocking them or insulting them. If we do not succeed, we must not make n of the person who has gone astray, but rather must become aware of our own inability and accuse ourselves, rather than the person whom we cannot persuade. As we have just seen, Marcus adds to this that we must not even be upset with ourselves, r it could be that some people are incorrigible, and "it is necessary that there be some such people in the world" (IX, 42, 2).
Be that as it may, we must try to convert those who go astray and are ignorant ofgenuine values. Above all, however, we must do this without getting angry (VI, 27, 3; V, 28, 3). What is more, we must display an in nite delicacy. It seems as though Marcus was extremely sensitive to the tact and gentleness with which souls must be treated, and with which we must try to change their way ofperceiving the world and the things within it. I must address others
without humiliating them, and without making them feel that I am merely putting up with them, but with genuineness and goodness (XI, 13, 2).
. . . without irony, without humiliation, but with a ection, and a heart ee om bitterness; not as one would act in school, nor in order to be admired by some bystander, but truly one on one, even ifothers are present (XI, 18, 18).
There is a great wealth ofpsychological observation in these remarks, and a remarkable sense of the purity of intention. The paradox of gentle­ ness is that it ceases to be gentleness ifwe make an e ort to be gentle: any arti ce, a ectation, or feeling ofsuperiority will destroy it. Delicacy only acts inso r as it does not seek to act, with an in nite respect r beings, and without any shadow ofviolence, be it only spiritual. Above all, we must not do violence to ourselves in our attempt to be gentle. Gentleness must possess an almost physiological spontaneity and sincerity. Marcus expresses this in a striking way (XI, 15), as he satirizes those people who begin their conversation by saying, "I've decided to be ank with you. " What good are these words? asks Marcus:
If you are sincere, it must be written on your rehead, ring out instantly in your voice, and shine om your eyes, just as a beloved person immediately sees his lovers' feelings in their eyes . . . The
The Discipline ofAction 227 person who is good, without duplicity, and gentle, has these quali­
ties in his eyes, and everybody can see them.
Even more strikingly, Marcus states that goodness can be sensed when one approaches a good person, just as, whether one likes it or not, one immediately smells the odor of someone who smells bad. This pure gentleness and delicacy have the power to change people's minds, to convert them, and to make those who are unaware of genuine values discover them:
Goodness is invincible, ifit is sincere, without a phony smile, and w i t h o u t a e c t a t i o n ( X I , 1 8 , 1 5 ) .
Far om being a weakness, goodness is a strength:
It is not anger that is manly, but gentleness and delicacy. It is because they are more human that they are more manly; they possess more strength, more nerve, and more virility, and this is precisely what is lacking in the person who gets angry and loses his temper (XI, 18, 21).
What underlies its strength is the ct that gentleness is the expression of a pro und urge of human nature, which seeks harmony between people. In addition, its strength resides in the ct that it corresponds to the domination ofreason, whereas anger and ill-temper are mere illnesses ofthe soul.