Stockdale Center for Ethical Leadership

The Discourses of Epictetus with Running Commentary - Book I, Chapter 2

WAS POSTED ON: Friday, July 19, 2024 12:00 AM BY Shaun Baker

This is a second installment.

Arrian, a student of Epictetus, wrote eight books, The Discourses of Epictetus, of which four survive. Selections from those eight books were also collected in the Enchiridion, or "Handbook." The Discourses give us a quite vivid portrait of the man who inspired them, and also give us fascinating glimpses into his singular didactic style. We very quickly see how Epictetus ran his school, the nature of its curricula, and how he mentored his students. We see his earnestness, his zeal, and piety, but we also get a good dose of his sharp and often acerbic sense of humor. It is no wonder that Arrian felt he 'had to get this down.'

It also can be quite a challenge to understand exactly what is being said in the chapters of the Discourses. The text is composed of lecture notes, we must recall.

So, with that genesis in mind, I've set out to read through the four books, a chapter at a time, while also breaking up the text with commentary, (essentially my best guesses as to how we might flesh out what can be very brief or truncated sketches of dialogue and argumentation), as it was no easy business for Arrian to get down what he had experienced in the lecture halls of Nicopolis!

Commentary is indented and in italics! Also, please forgive some formatting issues (spacing between paragraphs) that stubbornly will not go away no matter what I do!

Book I, Chapter 2.

How May a Man Preserve His Proper Character Upon Every Occasion?

To the rational being only the irrational is unendurable, but the rational is endurable. Blows are not by nature unendurable.

How so?

Observe how: Lacedaemonians take a scourging once they have learned that it is rational.

But is it not unendurable to be hanged?

Hardly; at all events whenever a man feels that it is rational he goes and hangs himself.

In short, if we observe, we shall find mankind distressed by nothing so much as by the irrational, and again attracted to nothing so much as to the rational.

One can quibble with the choice of words here, but the idea is clear. When people consider themselves to having good reason for undergoing or suffering something, then, that something, no matter its intrinsic nature, will be voluntarily endured, for the sake of that good reason. On the other hand, if there is no discernable reason for undergoing or suffering that same sort of thing, people will consider the same experience as being unendurable, and will not volunteer for it.

Consider the days of dentistry without Novocain. People endured painful procedures for health’s sake. Those same people would not undergo that same experience if there was no rational reason for doing so.

Now it so happens that the rational and the irrational are different for different persons, precisely as good and evil, and the profitable and the unprofitable, are different for different persons.

It is an undeniable matter of fact that differing valuations exist. Some people or groups will consider certain things to be unendurable, where other people or groups will consider those same things to be endurable. Again, this will vary with the ends people have in mind as attained via these means, if any.

Yet, Epictetus does not intend to say that all valuational systems are on a level, being equally valid or equally arbitrary. Some are more defensible than others, and the grounds for such distinctions lies in the nature of things: Firstly, nature, broadly construed, secondly, and obviously in our special case; in the nature of humanity. As we learn more and more about these two things, we will necessarily have to adapt those notions of good reason with which we encounter and deal with life and the world around us.

To put it succinctly, Epictetus is no mere relativist:

It is for this reason especially that we need education, so as to learn how, in conformity with nature, to adapt to specific instances our preconceived idea of what is rational and what is irrational. But for determining the rational and the irrational, we employ not only our estimates of the value of external things, but also the criterion of ‘that-which-is-in-keeping- with-one’s-own-character.’

In focusing on human nature, we not only look externally for those things that serve it, but internally, at what sorts of actions and judgments comport with what we take ourselves, both individually and collectively, to be. This internal look necessarily is done via the filter of the various layers of valuation with which we come at life. To repeat, those can vary. Some are uniquely human values. One such is the notion of dignity. We are given a great illustration of this, one that, for those familiar with the films of Mel Brooks, will bring a chuckle:

For, to one man it is reasonable to hold a chamber-pot for another, since he considers only that, if he does not hold it, he will get a beating and will not get food, whereas, if he does hold it, nothing harsh or painful will be done to him; but some other man feels that it is not merely unendurable to hold such a pot himself, but even to tolerate another’s doing so. If you ask me, then, “Shall I hold the pot or not?” I will tell you that to get food is of greater value than not to get it, and to be flayed is of greater detriment than not to be; so that if you measure your interests by these standards, go and hold the pot. “Yes, but it would be unworthy of me.” That is an additional consideration, which you, and not I, must introduce into the question. For you are the one that knows yourself, how much you are worth in your own eyes and at what price you sell yourself. For different men sell themselves at different prices.

Notice the distinction, here drawn between valuable things that are of service to human life, or detrimental to it biologically, necessities common to all, on the one hand, and, on the other, standards of personal worth, standards that create prices for certain actions, above which people will not deign to go. These standards or prices, again, vary from person to person and they can be valued above or below basic biological goods. Some place dignity at higher worth than the biologically necessary or valuable, and others do not. But, to be clear here, Epictetus’s emphasis upon the fact of this variability should not be taken to imply that he believes the pricing, and valuation schemas are, in the end simply arbitrary, each being as valid or true to our specific character as all others. He illustrates with an instance:

Wherefore, when Florus was debating whether he should enter Nero’s festival, so as to make some personal contribution to it, Agrippinus said to him, “Enter.” And when Florus asked, “Why do you not enter yourself?” he replied, “I? why, I do not even raise the question.”

This festival was a competition of sorts, consisting of musical, theatrical, athletic, and oratorical contests. Now, why would Agrippinus not even consider entering? He doesn’t want to curry favor or grovel. It is his dignity that he is concerned with.

Consider reasons people typically have for entering such contests, or pursuing public approbation; they often do this so as to derive some personal benefit from those that hold the contests or give the applause or approval. The occasions may offer prizes, pay, or reputation. The entrant may hope to cash in for future favors or aid of some sort, perhaps not immediately called in, but held in the kitty for some other time down the line.

In each of these cases, those desired ends are ‘externals,’ in the precise sense that their provision is in the hands of those others. The suppliant does not ultimately control whether or not he receives these things. What is more, if this suppliance becomes habitual, it is often the case that people tie their sense of self-worth or dignity to this transactional life, and ultimately tie it to how they are perceived by these others that they petition. This focus is wrong-headed and against man’s ‘proper character’ according to Epictetus.

For when a man once stoops to the consideration of such questions, I mean to estimating the value of externals, and calculates them one by one, he comes very close to those who have forgotten their own proper character.

With this notion of ‘proper character’ we see, again, that Epictetus is no mere moral relativist. He means by the phrase ‘proper character’ to point out that each of us has that ability to ‘rationally,’ and conscientiously determine if and how he should act with regard to externals, and determine whether or not he will cast those externals in a controlling or ‘masterly’ role with regard to his own being, and his own wellbeing, taking on the role, (again I use this term advisedly) of suppliant or slave to that master. It is inevitable, as we have seen, for men that pursue such things, especially those in charged political environments, that they will be confronted with choosing whether or not to place personal integrity, or service to the moral good in a secondary position with regard to these external gains, such as repute. As we saw in chapter 1, it is also possible that the harder choice of life over the moral may occur. When men make such choices, they are acting in ways that are in conflict with man’s ‘proper character.’ Epictetus elaborates with one of his mini-dialogues:

Come, what is this you ask me? “Is death or life preferable?”

I answer, life.

“Pain or pleasure?”

I answer, pleasure.

“But unless I take a part in the tragedy I shall be beheaded.”

Go, then, and take a part, but I will not take a part.

“Why not?”

At this point, we might expect a straightforward answer to this question. Instead, we are given an analogy which needs some unpacking, one having to do with garment design, and fashion. Again, and not to belabor the point, it is used in connection with the notion of man’s ‘proper character’:

Because you regard yourself as but a single thread of all that go to make up the garment. What follows, then? This, that you ought to take thought how you may resemble all other men, precisely as even the single thread wants to have no point of superiority in comparison with the other threads. But I want to be the red, that small and brilliant portion which causes the rest to appear comely and beautiful. Why, then, do you say to me, “Be like the majority of people?” And if I do that, how shall I any longer be the red?

Agrippinus claims here, that a majority of people will choose life or pleasure or currying favor over a principled refusal of bullying threat to these. The majority of people will act as Florus does, to preserve their lives or the sources of their pleasure in such threatening circumstance. But, when they do, they are effectively giving continuance of their lives or continuing possession of their ‘pleasures,’ influence or repute over to the whims and sufferance of these others that have so threatened them.

If, on the other hand, someone refuses to be cowed by such threat, while it is true he or she may be killed, that person would nevertheless die not having given over such control. Such individuals will not have voluntarily taken on the role of chattel slave. They would not have given over their freedom, the nucleus of their being, as Moral Purpose. This difficult, even perhaps terrifying ‘red-thread’ choice is, for Epictetus, one that better displays human dignity, human ‘proper character’ than is the much more common ‘white thread’ cowering reaction to mortal threat.

More illustrations are now provided, again from the precarious world of Roman politics. One such: Helvidius Priscus. The bully? Emperor Vespasian:

This is what Helvidius Priscus also saw, and, having seen, did:

When Vespasian sent him word not to attend a meeting of the Senate, he answered, “It is in your power not to allow me to be a member of the Senate, but so long as I am one I must attend its meetings.”

“Very well then, but when you attend, hold your peace.”

“Do not ask for my opinion and I will hold my peace.”

“But I must ask for your opinion.”

“And I must answer what seems to me right.”

“But if you speak, I shall put you to death.”

“Well, when did I ever tell you that I was immortal? You will do your part and I mine. It is yours to put me to death, mine to die without a tremor; yours to banish, mine to leave without sorrow.”

One might ask if such brave resistance is really worth it. What exactly does it accomplish? Yes, one does not live as a slave, but the cost is extinction itself. In answering this, Epictetus leans into the analogy he draws with that red thread in a white mantle, one that, precisely because it is not the same color as all the other threads in the garment, serves to ‘highlight’ the rest, make the entire garment more beautiful. Red threads of humanity serve to highlight what is best in the species, what is unique in the species, morality, and in extremis, moral courage.

What good, then, did Priscus do, who was but a single individual? And what good does the red do the mantle? What else than that it stands out conspicuous in it as red, and is displayed as a goodly example to the rest?

The thread ‘stands as an example’ for the rest of the threads. How so? By being ‘comelier,’ more beautiful, and, because all the other threads would ‘know’ that it, too, was at one time just another white thread, they would thereby realize that they too could become red, and more beautiful threads.

Similarly, the examples of people like Priscus and Agrippinus show that human nature is such that individuals can through exercise of humanity’s ineliminable freedom, achieve remarkable moral excellence, commonly something we reference with words and phrases like ‘nobility,’ ‘courage,’ ‘moral courage’ and the like. Such individual exemplars exhibit a degree of freedom that is often described as divine. Coercion does not sway them, and indeed cannot sway them.

All of this, the ‘redness’ possible for human beings, is tied up with their cognizance of right and wrong, their freedom, and their ability to act in light of this knowledge, it is tied up with man’s unique status as Moral Purpose.

But had Caesar told another man in such circumstances not to attend the meetings of the Senate, he would have said, “I thank you for excusing me.” A man like that Caesar would not even have tried to keep from attending, but would have known that he would either sit like a jug, or, if he spoke, would say what he knew Caesar wanted said, and would pile up any amount more on the top of it.

Don’t ‘sit like a jug.’ Don’t be a yes-man lap-dog.

Now, Epictetus draws another analogical case, and a very stark one. His case is of an athlete who had a very difficult decision to make! (Gird your loins for this one, folks):

In like manner also a certain athlete acted, who was in danger of dying unless his private parts were amputated. His brother (the athlete was a philosopher) came to him and said, “Well, brother, what are you going to do? Are we going to cut off this member, and step forth once more into the gymnasium?” He would not submit, but hardened his heart and died.

I’m not sure about this, but the thought seems to be that this man’s role, that of wrestler, could not be played well without, how should we put this... testicular fortitude, and that, as athlete, he would be purchasing continuance of his life at the cost of playing that role well, which was something into which he had invested his whole person. While not exactly a case of someone deciding whether to choose preservation of his life at the cost of moral nobility or dignity, it is, nevertheless, an analogous case suited to Epictetus’s purposes. The man chose to forgo preservation of his life because it would be at the cost of his playing well the role of athlete, something to which he had dedicated his life. Insofar as he did this, it’s understandable, even admirable. The point is that, when it comes to those aspects of our life that are the most important, and most uniquely human, those moral aspects, similar choices are always there to be made, and like this present case, such occasions present opportunity for all of us to note singular and remarkable expressions of the highest aspects of human nature.

And someone asked, “How did he do this? As an athlete, or as a philosopher?”

“As a man,” replied Epictetus; “and as a man who had been proclaimed at the Olympic games and had striven in them, who had been at home in such places, and had not merely been rubbed down with oil in Bato’s wrestling school. But another would have had even his neck cut off, if he could have lived without his neck.”

This is what we mean by regard for one’s proper character; and such is its strength with those who in their deliberations habitually make it a personal contribution.

Regard for one’s ‘proper character” is something that allows us, (as we should), to provide ourselves as exemplary cases for others. These are the ‘personal contributions’ Epictetus references here. The case of the athlete is one of a professional providing himself as exemplar in his ‘proper character’ or role as athlete.

Providing such contributions is not always something easily accomplished, as we have seen from the political examples already canvassed, and as we have most certainly seen in the case of this wrestler! One must commit oneself to the practice. One must commit to deliberate and then act in accord with what comports with the ‘proper character’ of mankind. One must come at risks to life or reputation with determination to keep this pair of spectacles on, not letting threat dissuade from the goal. Only by committing to this as a way of life will it be possible to form a habit of doing so, and thereby making one’s contributions to the ‘profession’ in question; the ‘profession’ of being a person, a moral agent, a Moral Purpose, otherwise put; the profession of being ‘a philosopher,’ a ‘man’ in the Stoic sense of that term:

“Come then, Epictetus, shave off your beard.”

If I am a philosopher, I answer, “I will not shave it off.”

“But I will take off your neck.”

“If that will do you any good, take it off.”

One wonders at just how seriously Epictetus took beards as being indispensable for the philosophical life!

The point though, is that compromise with the bully that would have philosophers cut off their beards at risk of their lives or exile (as had happened in the Rome of his day, that is why this example is in the Discourses) would be tantamount to the philosopher handing that bully the reins, while himself taking on the bridle. For, it opens the door for the bully to demand more from the philosopher, leading up to an insistence that he stop philosophizing. While acquiescing to a shave is certainly not as grizzly an example as was the wrestler, it is still striking, and makes the point quite well. Socrates’s case was squarely in Epictetus’s mind as he provided this example. Socrates would not give up his mission of questioning and philosophizing, no matter the threat, no matter the cajoling. Neither friend nor foe could convince him to give up what, for him, was his divinely assigned mission.

Another thing to note here is that the various examples we have been given are from different walks of life or professions. Along with social climbers, we have political animals, athletes and academics. Each has what Epictetus here deems a ‘proper character,’ as a human being that goes along with his ‘proper character’ as a particular sort of professional and each is explicitly described as exercising this composite proper character within society. This is entirely intentional:

The gist of these passages is to tell us that we are not expected to retreat from society, but are expected to engage it, and play our proper parts, again as threads in the fabric of that mantle that is humanity, a mantle that is an integral part of the cosmos; a cosmos construed as designed, and each part of which is assigned a role in that overarching design, one it is expected to play well.

Who does this designing and ‘expecting,’ and how can we tell what our ‘proper characters,’ or roles are? We’ll see how Epictetus answered these questions as we proceed with the Discourses. But, nicely, as he rounds out chapter 2, Epictetus gives us a brief answer to the second question, while also asking us to think again about those rare exemplary cases, and what implications such cases have for the rest of us, who see in ourselves lesser levels of ability or lesser courage when it comes to bully’s threat:

Someone inquired, “How, then, shall each of us become aware of what is appropriate to his own proper character?”

“How comes it,” replied he, “that when the lion charges, the bull alone is aware of his own prowess and rushes forward to defend the whole herd? Or is it clear that with the possession of the prowess comes immediately the consciousness of it also? And, so, among us too, whoever has such prowess will not be unaware of it. Yet a bull does not become a bull all at once, any more than a man becomes noble, but a man must undergo a winter training, he must prepare himself and must not plunge recklessly into what is inappropriate for him.”

We each have, along with awareness of our moral agency, an awareness of our own inherited physical, psychological and emotional strengths, weaknesses, skills and abilities, and based upon this, do a more or less adequate job of finding our place in society, or a sort of natural selection process does this for us. Once we have found an appropriate slot, we take measures to hone the skills and abilities unique to the niche, tackle the weaknesses and strengthen strengths.

We also know that this process of training typically requires mentors. The analogous case of the bull illustrates this. Young bulls are naturally aggressive, territorial and protective of their herds, but do learn the tricks of the trade from their interaction with other bulls, cows, and outside threats, and absent that ‘training’ would fail miserably in their naturally assigned roles. What is more, there are gradations that exist within any herd’s bulls. Some are alphas, very good at their role, while others are betas, not quite as good. This does not mean, however, that it would do the herd any good if the lesser bulls decided to ‘give up.’ They still have vital roles to play, only one of which is provision of ‘training’ for the alphas.

Similar things can be said for us human moral agents! With regard to the above-mentioned selling price for one’s freedom, or control over one’s life, Epictetus has this piece of advice for his readers and pupils, people he knows will be of varying levels of fortitude when it comes to such choices. Some, he realizes, will not sell at any price, while others will sell at some breaking point. What implications does this have for us who are not one of these extraordinary individuals; what should we say or do if we are not someone like Socrates, who would not buy his life at the cost of ceasing his philosophizing and pestering of others? Epictetus has this to say:

Only consider at what price you sell your freedom of will. If you must sell it, man, at least do not sell it cheap. But the great and pre-eminent deed, perhaps, befits others, Socrates and men of his stamp.

Why then, pray, if we are endowed by nature for such greatness, do not all men, or many, become like him?

What, do all horses become swift, all dogs keen to follow the scent? What then? Because I have no natural gifts, shall I on that account give up my discipline? Far be it from me! Epictetus will not be better than Socrates; but if only I am not worse, that suffices me. For I shall not be a Milo (a famous athlete), either, and yet I do not neglect my body; nor a Croesus (a legendarily wealthy king of Lydia), and yet I do not neglect my property; nor, in a word, is there any other field in which we give up the appropriate discipline merely from despair of attaining the highest.

In short, while it is true that we are all free moral agents, (Moral Purposes, to use the term of art), it is also true that we have varying levels of fortitude. Some of us will break where others will not. Be that as it may, we all still have vital roles to play, roles we should not abandon simply because we have lower breaking points that the Socrateses of the world.

What are those roles, and how exactly are they assigned to us? Why do we have differing breaking points? These questions can be answered by noting this: Our lives are necessarily composite in nature, some things being outside our control (most, if not all of these tied up with our material side, so to speak) and others being completely within our control (aspects of our moral or spiritual nature). There are naturally varying degrees of ‘attachment’ to these aspects in individual human beings. How is it that our composite nature, these variances, and our free responses to same, assign us our places in the world? Epictetus asks these questions in the next chapter. He puts the question in this way: What practical implications lay in the fact that we are both intelligent ‘sons of Zeus’ and physical beasts and ‘brutes.’ The chapter is brief, but fascinating.

Category: Academics

Disclaimer: The views expressed are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the United States Naval Academy, Department of the Navy, or Department of Defense.

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The Discourses of Epictetus with Running Commentary - Book I, Chapter 2

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