Late in his reign, a friend stopped Marcus Aurelius as he was leaving the palace, carrying a stack of books. Finding this to be a surprising sight, the man asked where Marcus was going. He was off to attend a lecture on Stoicism, he said, for “learning is a good thing, even for one who is growing old. From Sextus the philosopher I shall learn what I do not yet know.”
That’s right, even as the most powerful man in the world, Marcus was still taking up his books and heading to class. In fact, Sextus was only one of his philosophy teachers. In Book 1 of Meditations, he lists the names and what he learned from six others, including one from a rival school and another, Rusticus, who Marcus thanks specifically “for introducing me to Epictetus’s lectures—and loaning me his own copy.”
You cannot find a Stoic who did not also treat their study of philosophy with this kind of lifelong seriousness. Zeno washed up in Athens and began studying under Crates, a well-known Athenian philosopher. Then, Cleanthes studied under Zeno, for decades. Cato was famous for his philosophical dinners, where invited the smartest and wisest minds of the ancient world to discuss the big philosophical questions he was struggling with. Even his last meal—before his famous suicide—he was debating the very implications of life and death, good and bad, with such teachers. Epictetus was taught philosophy by Musonius Rufus before becoming a teacher himself, of both the emperor Hadrian (directly) and Marcus Aurelius (indirectly).
Part of being a philosopher is being a lifelong learner. School is never out for summer or spring or winter break. You can never be too old or too good at what you do. No, school is for life. And life is school. Learning is a daily thing, wisdom an endless pursuit. You never arrive, you never fill up, you never graduate. Because the world is always revealing new lessons...even in the oldest texts.
Therefore, Seneca said, there is no one more foolish than one who stops learning. Even if you are one of the best at what you do, Seneca writes, “you should keep learning…to the end of your life.” He then points out one of the great things about learning—something that is overlooked. Wisdom is one of the few certainties in life in the sense that it is one of the few areas of growth we have control of. Money, titles, influence, authority, admiration—these are great but for the most part, they’re out of our control. But wisdom, learning, studying, Seneca says, do not fall upon us by chance. “‘How much progress shall I make?’ you ask. Just as much as you try to make. Why do you wait? Wisdom comes haphazard to no man.” ... The Daily Stoic
It would be wonderful if history was a pleasant picture to look at.
Sadly, it is not. Not today. It wasn’t to the people of history either.
Take Marcus Aurelius. When he was made emperor in 161 CE, he could not have helped but look back at his predecessors, most of whom had not stood up well to the duties of the office. It would have been nice to simply enjoy the pomp and glamor and traditions of the office, but to do that would have been to ignore its darker sides too. For instance, at an early age Marcus Aurelius was introduced to the inspiring examples of Cato, Thrasea, and Helvidius, the Stoics whose lives instructed in the importance of equality under the law, freedom of speech, and respecting individual rights. Yet it could not have escaped him that it was the emperors of the past who had brutally persecuted and taken the lives of these brave heroes.
It would have been easier not to think about this, but he had to. Lest he want to repeat the mistakes of the past. Lest he want to commit injustices himself. So Marcus wrestled with this. He looked uncomfortable truth in the face and tried to be made better for it. Was he perfect for this? No, of course not. Sadly, the persecution of Justin Martyr and other Christians under Marcus Aurelius was all too similar to the persecution of the Stoics under Nero and Domitian. But he tried. He moved the ball forward, if only a little.
Today, we must do the same. Whatever country we live in, whatever party we belong to, whatever generation we belong to. Are you, as an American, able to really sit and think about what it has been like for black people in this country—not just during slavery, but much more recently? Are you familiar with the history of redlining, lynching, poll taxes, jury nullification, Jim Crow, police harassment and brutality? Have you, as a German, really studied the Holocaust? Or as a British or French or Dutch person, do you understand the viciousness of colonialism? As a Turkish person, have you honestly looked at the Armenian Genocide? As a Chinese or Russian citizen, can you wrap your head around the extent of the enormous human suffering and loss during your revolutions in the 20th century? Horrible things have been done by good people. Horrible things have been done by bad people while good people looked on and told themselves it wasn’t up to them to stop (or that it wasn't really that bad). Horrible things are still happening, the legacy of these things is still very much alive.
It’s not just race or nationality either: Doctors need to wrestle with the opioid crisis. The church with homophobia and abuse scandals. Former bullies need to wrestle with their school yard behavior. Football with concussions and player safety. Academics with their support of left wing dictators. Hollywood with the blacklists. Parents with the mistakes they made with their own children. And on and on.
We do this not to whip ourselves, of course, the Stoics know you cannot change the past. But you can learn from it. You can end what has gone on way too long. You can make amends. You can help us get a little bit closer to a more just society. We can’t ever be perfect, Epictetus said, but we can strive to be better.
We must wrestle with the past...so that we can make a better future. Starting today.
There is something delightfully simple about Ulysses S. Grant. Napoleon seems like some sort of larger than life figure, a peerless genius like the freak athletes we see on television. The same for the incredible heroism of Admiral Stockdale. Their accomplishments are impressive, but not exactly relatable.
Grant, on the other hand, is more like us. Not just because he struggled in life, or because he was uninterested in pomp or circumstance, but because his theory of war was so simple that even a grunt could understand it. As the brilliant historian S.C. Gwynne writes in Hymns of the Republic, Grant’s “main approach was to punch the enemy in the gut and then afterward worry about what the enemy had been planning to do to him.” Contemporaries said Grant was like the mythological Thor—he just kept hammering away at problems until they fell. “He did not stop,” Gywnne writes, “and he would not be deterred…He came directly at you and smashed into you again and again until you were beaten, then persisted beyond that to the nonexistent terms of your surrender.”
Simple, but it worked. What’s better is that it still works, in war and in life. Marcus Aurelius said we solve our problems action by action, step by step. He said we can’t get deterred just because they are hard, or because they are hard for us. If it’s humanly possible to do it, he said, then commit to doing it and know that you can do it. Cato, like Grant, had that same kind of determination. The only way you could beat him was to break him and you were not going to break him (which was clear from boyhood on, when a bully tried to intimidate him by dangling Cato off a balcony and all he got in response was silence and a stare that gave him the chills).
We could all use a little bit of that in our lives. Clench your jaw. Sit down (or stand up) and get to work. Don’t get excited. Don’t get discouraged. Just keep hammering away. That’s how you win a war and win at life. You solve most problems by beating them into submission. You crush resistance. You cannot be deterred and you cannot stop. If you can do that, then nothing can stop you. -- The Daily Stoic
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