Our modern world is bursting with angst. News of an impending environmental crisis, worldwide political turmoil, gratuitous violence, wars, and human suffering are delivered instantaneously, twenty-four hours a day, to the smart devices in the palms of our hands. It seems there is no escape from the incessant stream of allegedly newsworthy catastrophes short of ignoring the news, abandoning all forms of social media, and sequestering ourselves in some form of safe space, far away from the mayhem of human society. That was the solution offered by the ancient Epicureans. They retreated from social and political life to their garden where they tried to live tranquil lives among like-minded friends. There were exceptions; some Epicureans engaged in society when they thought the benefit of doing so was significant enough to risk their tranquility. However, the primary Epicurean strategy was to retreat from society and thereby avoid the people and events that can cause psychological distress. The Stoics provided an alternative solution.

It appears the Epicurean garden did provide a place to develop tranquility for some ancients, and it seems reasonable to assume a similar approach to life can do the same for moderns. However, the Epicurean garden is no place for Stoics. To become a Stoic, one must avoid the alluring walls of the Epicurean garden that separate us from society. The Stoic path does not lead to any peaceful, secluded garden. Instead, it leads us out of the garden and into the clamor of society, where we can fulfill our roles and duties as rational, social creatures. Fortunately, Stoicism provides us with the psychological tools and training methods that will enable us to thrive and experience tranquility, even amid this seemingly hostile environment.

Stoics are a different breed; they can flourish in whatever sociopolitical circumstance they find themselves while they simultaneously work to create a society and world that exemplifies courage, justice, wisdom, and moderation. The Stoic prepares to handle the best and worst of human nature within their homes, marketplaces, cities, boardrooms, political forums, and battlefields, while the Epicurean prefers to remain in their garden to escape those potentially disturbing environments. While both pursue virtue, the Epicurean seeks inner tranquility (ataraxia), in part at least, by controlling their external environment; the Stoic, on the other hand, creates inner resilience that allows for psychological well-being (eudaimonia) regardless of external circumstances.

Stoics realize how easy it is for the hordes of externals to trample and burn the walls of the Epicurean garden. In contrast, the formidable walls of the Stoic’s inner citadel can withstand the siege of Fortuna and the crashing waves of inexorable fate. Therefore, it is not surprising that many ancient Romans from the political class adopted Stoicism as a way of life. In fact, two of our surviving textual sources come from a Roman emperor (Marcus Aurelius) and a Roman senator (Seneca), and a third comes from the lectures of a freed slave turned philosopher (Epictetus). These writings resonated with people throughout history because these three Stoics lived their philosophy in the real world. They were not academic philosophers expounding on hypothetical scenarios. Instead, each of these ancient Stoics lived and thrived in the tumultuous, chaotic, sweaty, and occasionally bloody world of humanity because they relied on their inner resilience, cultivated by Stoic practice, to live virtuously. The Stoic builds his retreat inside his psyche, not in a garden retreat. The Stoic inner citadel provides an ever-present fortress and retreat, where the Stoic’s soul remains untouchable amidst the vicissitudes of life. As a result, the ancient Stoics possessed the inner strength to engage in social and political life. As C. Kavin Rowe points out,

In contrast to the Epicureans,

Prepare for Death to Discover Freedom

What is most important? Having your soul on your lips.  This makes you free not according to the law of the Quirites, but according to the law of nature. A free person is one who escapes enslavement to himself, which is constant, unavoidable, oppressing by day and by night equally, without break, without respite. Enslavement to oneself is the most severe enslavement, but it is easy to shake it off if you stop expecting a lot from yourself, if you stop making money for yourself, if you set before your eyes both your nature and your age, even if it is very young, and say to yourself, “Why am I going crazy? Why am I panting? Why am I sweating? Why am I working the land, or the forum?  I don’t need much, and not for long.” (Natural Questions III, praef. 16-17)

This week-long meditation with Seneca on the topic of what is important in life ends at the most appropriate place—the contemplation of and preparation for our death. Seneca opens this final passage with the recommendation that we have our soul on our lips. In other words, we must be prepared to die. Why? Because doing so makes us free according to the law of nature. The Stoics did not measure freedom by one’s ability to move freely from place to place, city to city, or country to country. Instead, true freedom is the absence of enslaving desires and crippling fears that consume our life. We are afraid of not getting what we want: a large house, great job, good reputation, wonderful soul mate, retirement account, good health, etc. Likewise, we fear getting that which we do not want: homelessness, poverty, shame, loneliness, sickness, and death. As a result, we spend our time driving ourselves to madness and working ourselves to death for things we believe will make us happy. As Epictetus frequently reminds us, we are slaves to externals. All the while, we neglect to ask “What is most important?” As Seneca notes,

It’s not that we have a short time to live, but that we waste much of it. Life is long enough, and it’s been given to us in generous measure for accomplishing the greatest things, if the whole of it is well invested. But when life is squandered through soft and careless living, and when it’s spent on no worthwhile pursuit, death finally presses and we realize that the life which we didn’t notice passing has passed away. (On the Shortness of Life 1.3).

The Stoic practice of Memento Mori—the contemplation of death—is more than a preparation for our inevitable end. That is the obvious goal of this ancient, widespread practice. The less obvious, but equally important, goal of this practice is the development of true freedom, which is preparation for life. Pierre Hadot writes,

In the apprenticeship of death, the Stoic discovers the apprenticeship of freedom.[1]

Freedom for the Stoic is the inner freedom that allows us to contemplate and live in agreement with Nature regardless of life’s circumstances. As Hadot notes,

For the Stoic Epictetus, the meaning of our existence resides in this contemplation: we have been placed on earth in order to contemplate divine creation, and we must not die before we have witnessed its marvels and lived in harmony with nature.[2]

We moderns, especially we westerners, have been trained from childhood to move at a faster and faster pace, so we achieve greater and greater goals, and accumulate more and more possessions. We only half-jokingly repeat the 1980s bumper-sticker slogan, “He who dies with the most toys wins.” Stoicism is not a mind hack to be used to overcome external obstacles along the path to fame and fortune. Instead, the Stoic path trains us to overcome the obstacles within our mind that stand between our present state and an excellent character,

The Good Fight Against Fortuna

What is most important? Raising your spirits high above chance events; remembering your human status, so that if you are fortunate, you know that will not last long, and if you are unfortunate, you know you are not so if you do not think so. (Natural Questions III, praef. 15)

Fortuna—fortune in English—is a prevalent theme in Seneca’s writing. He uses some form of the word more than two hundred times in his Letters and more than twenty times in Natural Questions. As one scholar notes,

If we were to search for Seneca’s language that at one and the same time captured the nature of the world and human experience within it, the main word upon which we would land would doubtless be Fortuna. Fortuna and all that it invokes provide the organizing grammar of Seneca’s world. It is the overarching cosmological context in which all human life is lived.[1]

Like Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Seneca acknowledges the “Slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.” However, Seneca denies that these constitute “a sea of troubles.” How? By applying the dichotomy of control and trusting in a providentially ordered cosmos as a defense against the vicissitudes of fortune. Seneca declared,

The wise person is still not harmed by the storms of life— poverty, pain, and the rest. For not all his works are hindered but only those that pertain to others. He is himself, always, in his actions, and in the doing of them he is greatest when opposed by fortune. For it is then that he does the business of wisdom itself, which as we just said is his own good as well as that of others. (Letters 85.37)

However, we must keep in mind the fact that the dichotomy of control is not just a promise; it is also a warning. Whenever we desire those things that are “not up to us” we risk becoming a victim of Epictetus’ poignant warning:

You’ll have cause to lament, you’ll have a troubled mind, and you’ll find fault with both gods and human beings. (Enchiridion 1)

Seneca offers a similar warning for those who chase things that are “not up to us.” As he admits, he came to this realization late in life, after he had chased “those things that please the many” until they made him weary.

The right path, which I myself discovered late in life when weary from wandering, I now point out to others. My cry is this: “Avoid those things that please the many, the gifts that fortune brings. Be suspicious; be timid; resist every good that comes by chance. It is by the allurements of hope that the fish is caught, the game snared. Do you think these are the blessings of fortune? They are traps. Any one of you who wants to live in safety must make every effort to shun those baited favors amidst which we, poor creatures, are deceived. We think we have hold of them, when in fact they have hold of us. (Letters 8.3)

As noted in the previous episode, the life-transforming power of Stoicism lies in the application of two fundamental Stoic doctrines: the dichotomy of control and a love of fate engendered by trust in a providentially ordered cosmos. Stoic philosophy teaches us that virtue is the only good, and therefore, vice is the only bad. Everything else is morally indifferent. In Stoicism, virtue (excellence of character) is measured by our thoughts and intentions alone. When the Stoics famously declare that the wise person can experience well-being even while being tortured on the rack, they do not deny the reality of physical pain and suffering. They are simply pointing out the profound truth that physical well-being is not a necessary element of the moral well-being derived from virtue. Seneca admonishes,

Stop saying, therefore: “Will the wise person not receive an injury, then, if he is cut,

A Contented Mind and Pure Hands

What is most important? Refusing to let bad intentions enter your mind; raising pure hands to heaven; not seeking any good thing if someone else must give it or must lose it so that it may pass to you; wishing for a sound mind (something that can be wished for without competition); regarding the other things rated highly by mortals, even if some chance brings them into your home, as likely to exit by the door they entered. (Natural Questions  III, praef. 14)

This passage strikes at the core of human conflict. Seneca instructs us not to seek “any good thing if someone else must give it or must lose it so that it may pass to you.” Competition for possessions, money, power, prestige, and position is incompatible with the development of moral excellence (virtue) and well-being. Stoicism teaches us that whether we are rich or poor, powerful or powerless, famous or unknown, we should be content with our present circumstances. Moreover, when things are not to our liking, Stoicism teaches us to use those circumstances as an opportunity to develop our moral character. However, we live in a time when the predominant message is quite the opposite. If we are dissatisfied with our circumstances, we are encouraged to complain, sue, petition, protest, picket, march, riot, and even cause civil disturbance and property damage until we get what we want. We are led to believe that if someone has more money, education, power, better health care or housing than we do, an injustice must have occurred. Meanwhile, Marcus Aurelius poignantly reminded himself:

But perhaps you are discontented with what is allotted to you from the whole? Then call to mind the alternative, ‘either providence or atoms’ and all the proofs that the universe should be regarded as a kind of constitutional state. (Meditations 4.3)

I believe this is one of the primary reasons many moderns reject the Stoic conception of a providential cosmos. To accept this Stoic doctrine entails that the cosmos and our current circumstances are as they should be. In other words, we currently have what the cosmos allotted to us, and our current circumstances provide the perfect place from which to begin development of our moral character. That is a message many of us moderns simply do not want to hear because it makes us accountable for our lives. It is so much easier to blame others for our circumstances than it is to look in the mirror and accept responsibility.

Two common misconceptions are used to excuse our righteous indignation at perceived injustices. First, we mistakenly believe that our circumstances dictate or largely influence our well-being. However, circumstances are neither good nor bad; it is only our judgments of those events that can affect our well-being. According to the dichotomy of control, externals do not present a barrier to the development of our moral character or our well-being. Instead, the Stoics teach that our life circumstances are grist for the mill. Epictetus makes this point quite clear in his Discourse titled On providence when he asks:

What kind of a man do you suppose Heracles would have become if it hadn’t been for the famous lion, and the hydra, the stag, the boar, and the wicked and brutal men whom he drove away and cleared from the earth? (Discourses 1.6.32)

In other words, those dis-preferred external circumstances allowed Heracles to become who he truly was. Without them, he would not have become Heracles; he could not have lived up to his potential without those challenges.

The second common misunderstanding comes from the assumption that being content with and loving our present circumstances leads to a form of quietism and thereby subdues any desire to effect change in our personal or social circumstances. On the contrary, Stoicism does not teach us to remain quiet and passive in the face of real i...

A Courageous Mind for Courageous Action

What is most important? A mind that is brave and defiant in the face of calamity, not just opposed but hostile to luxury, neither courting nor fleeing danger; one that knows not to wait for fortune but to create it, to go to face both forms unafraid and undismayed, unshaken either by the turmoil of the one or the glitter of the other. (Natural Questions III, praef. 13)

As practicing Stoics, our equanimity is not derived from passivity, inaction, or avoidance of challenging and potentially troubling people and events. We do not stand by and let fate take its course. Instead, as Seneca makes perfectly clear in this passage, the Stoic is a person of action who is brave in the face of calamity and potential bad fortune. Stoic practice is not limited to the inner work discussed in the Day 3 meditation. In fact, that inner work is not an end in itself; that is not the goal of Stoicism. The goal is the development of an excellent character (virtue) and that can only be achieved through engagement with the people and events that can help us develop wisdom, courage, justice, and moderation. Ultimately, the development of that inner strength and character empowers us to engage serenely with the clamor and chaos of humanity and cosmic events so we can fulfill our role for the good of the all.

As I stated before, there are innumerable roles that can benefit the whole of humanity directly or indirectly. More often than not, we do not have to look far to discover our roles; fate typically ensures that our roles find us. This passage is not concerned with how we discern our roles; instead, it is focused on our preparedness to fulfill the roles in which fate places us. According to Seneca, a person who is fully prepared to face either good or bad fortune is “unafraid and undismayed, unshaken either by the turmoil of the one or the glitter of the other.” Such people possess three characteristics; they are:

1.    Brave and defiant in the face of calamity

2.    Hostile to luxury

3.    Neither courting nor fleeing danger

Brave and Defiant in the Face of Calamity

After we build an inner citadel in our soul (Day 1), learn to see things from the cosmic viewpoint (Day 2), and learn to accept and love fate (Day 3), we are prepared to be genuinely brave and defiant in the face of calamity. As practicing Stoics, we know that external events are “not up to us” and they cannot affect our moral character (virtue), neither can they disrupt our genuine well-being (eudaimonia). Stoic practice prepares us for every circumstance and any role fate may present. This enables Stoics to be co-creators of their fate. Again, Marcus Aurelius and Cato the Younger provide marvelous examples of Stoics who maintained their excellent character while engaged in their challenging social roles. Our role may not be battling an invading horde or resisting a tyrannical leader. Instead, it may be as simple as teaching, policing, designing, building, leading, etc., within a community. Likewise, our role may be providing for and raising children to be good citizens of the cosmopolis. We sometimes overlook the fact that every role in life has psychological dangers. The specter of calamity—the potential for loss, frustration, or failure—is present in every endeavor. Therefore, the perspective of the cosmic viewpoint combined with the strength and security of the inner citadel is indispensable to provide us with the assurance that our true self—our soul—cannot be harmed by external circumstances. That is how the Stoic can be brave and defiant in the face of calamity. This is not arrogance or false bravado. Instead, it is the peace of mind and calmness of action that comes forth from a place within us that cannot be harmed by people or events.

Hostile to Luxury

Both Seneca and Marcus Aurelius turned away from the luxuries their wealth and power...

Love of Fate (Amor Fati)

What is most important? Being able to endure adversity with a glad mind, to experience whatever happens as though you wanted it to happen to you. For you ought to have wanted it to, if you had known that everything happens according to god’s decree. Crying, complaining, and moaning are rebellion. (Seneca, Natural Questions III, praef. 12)

From the perspective provided by the cosmic viewpoint (Day 2), we can learn to love what happens in our lives. The Stoics propose that we should love all events, even those that appear tragic from our human perspective. Why? Because to do otherwise is “rebellion” according to Seneca. It is an act of rebellion against the cosmos because we are claiming more power than we truly have. If we act virtuously with the intent to have result “A” happen but “B” happens instead, “crying, complaining, and moaning” about it indicates we think we have more power than we actually have. As Epictetus repeatedly teaches, it is a psychologically damaging mistake to assume we have the power necessary to bring about the end we seek. Our intention to act is “up to us” but our ability to complete the act and the result are beyond our control. This is the primary lesson of the dichotomy of control. The truth is that neither “A” nor “B” are completely “up to us.” Only our thoughts and intentions toward “A” and ‘B’ are “up to us.” Therefore, when a Stoic intends result “A” and engages in actions to bring that about, they must do so with a “reserve clause” that acknowledges fate may not cooperate.

Obviously, love of fate and the cosmic viewpoint are interdependent. Together, they allow us to aim at an appropriate goal “A” and intend to bring about that goal with the attitude that we will accept and love outcome “B” if that is what happens. That is love of fate. Keep in mind that loving “B” does not preclude appropriate actions to bring about “A” a second, third, fourth, or thousandth time. There might be a reason it took numerous attempts at “A” to bring it about. Likewise, “A” may never happen. Marcus Aurelius accepted and loved fate because he trusted the cosmos was providentially ordered. He wrote:

Providence permeates the works of the gods; and the works of fortune are not dissociated from nature, but intertwined and interwoven by all that is ordered by providence. Everything flows from there; but necessity is implicated too, and the benefit of the whole universe of which you are a part. (Meditations 2.3)

In Meditations 12.24, Marcus tells us how to act in accordance with fate:

* Always act with a “definite aim” in accordance with Justice.

* Remember that “whatever happens to you from outside is due either to chance or to providence.” In other words, the result is “not up to us.”

* We “should neither blame chance nor bring accusations against providence.”

Interestingly, this attitude toward fate does not result in a fatalistic pessimism among the Stoics. The popular caricature of the stoic as someone who grins and bears the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune is an unfortunate mischaracterization. Seneca pointed out the difference between the grin and bear it attitude of “grudging obedience” and “willing obedience” to providence:

No matter which is true, Lucilius, or even if they all are, we must still practice philosophy. Perhaps the inexorable law of fate constrains us; perhaps God, the universal arbiter, governs all events; perhaps it is chance that drives human affairs, and disrupts them: all the same, it is philosophy that must preserve us. Philosophy will urge us to give willing obedience...

The Cosmic Viewpoint

What is most important? Raising your mind above the threats and promises of fortune, thinking that nothing is worth hoping for. For what have you to desire? Whenever you sink back from engagement with the divine to the human level, your sight will go dim, just like the eyes of those who return from bright sunlight to dense shadow. (Natural Questions III, praef. 11)

The cosmic viewpoint is a central theme of Stoicism, and Seneca’s Natural Questions highlights that theme. In it, Seneca “impels his reader to look upward, to transcend ordinary life at ground level, to reach for cosmic consciousness.”[1] I covered the cosmic viewpoint in episode 5 on prosoche. Nevertheless, the cosmic viewpoint is a critically important topic in Stoic practice; it cannot be repeated too often.

The cosmic viewpoint is often referred to as the “view from above.” This is the cosmic viewpoint, and it entails more than seeing the insignificance of life as if from afar. The cosmic viewpoint is more about attitude than altitude. Imagining that we are zooming away from the Earth may help distance us from the triviality of some troublesome events. However, that form of a “view from above” does not necessarily bring about the attitudinal change Stoicism prescribes. The ultimate goal of Stoic practice is not to distance ourselves from troublesome events or become indifferent to them. The goal is to learn to love those events as if we wished for them. Why? Because they are the events of Nature that have a purpose of their own, and, as Stoics, our aim is to live in agreement with that cosmic Nature. To do so requires more than a change in altitude; it requires a significant change in attitude. Stoic practice obliges us to develop an attitude of gratitude toward all events, even those we might otherwise consider troublesome, or tragic. As Epictetus taught:

From everything that happens in the universe it is easy to praise providence, if one has within him two things: the faculty of taking a comprehensive view of the things that happen to each person and a sense of gratitude. (Discourses 1.6.1)

Pierre Hadot considers the cosmic viewpoint the beginning of Stoic practice. He writes,

Putting theory into practice begins with an exercise that consists in recognizing oneself as a part of the Whole, elevating oneself to cosmic consciousness, or immersing oneself within the totality of the cosmos. While meditating on Stoic physics, we are able to see all things within the perspective of universal Reason. To achieve this, we must practice the imaginative exercise which consists in seeing all human things from above.[2]

When confronted with something which might appear unsettling or disturbing, we must take a step back and try to envision the situation from the perspective of the whole cosmos. It is reasonable to assume if we had all of the information about an event we would see things differently. To take on the perspective of the whole we must shed our personal desires, the desires of our immediate family and loved ones, and those of our local community or nation. That is a difficult thing to do; however, this paradigm shift is an essential part of Stoic practice. From the cosmic viewpoint, we can begin to see and love all events as parts of the Whole. Marcus Aurelius describes this exercise:

Watch the stars in their courses as though you were accompanying them on their way, and reflect perpetually on how the elements are constantly changing from one to another; for the thought of these things purifies us from the defilement of our earthly existence. A fine reflection from Plato.

Seven Days with Seneca

What is most important in human life? That is a perennial question that almost all of us ask ourselves, in one form or another, at some point in our lives. Unfortunately, many of us neglect to confront that question until late in life or when unforeseen circumstances force the question upon us. There, amid the faintly glowing embers of a long life approaching its end, or within the smoking and smoldering embers of a cataclysmic life event, we are more likely to listen to our inner sage as it admonishes us to consider what is really important in life before it is too late. Seneca, the wealthy and once powerful Roman senator repeatedly asked what is important in the preface to Book 3 of his Natural Questions. He was looking back on his life from old age when he wrote this work. From that perspective, he admits his motive for asking, “What is most important in life?” He wrote,

Old age is at my back and accuses me of having used up my years in fruitless pursuits. (Natural Questions III, praef. 2)

Many of us, maybe most, feel the weight of that same accusation at some point. We ask ourselves, what am I doing with my life? The question may be prompted by external events like divorce, a disabling accident, the death of a loved one, a brush with death, a terminal medical diagnosis, the birth of a child, etc. Likewise, the question may arise during meditation or a quiet moment of self-reflection. Many occasions might prompt the question. Nevertheless, it is fair to say that few of us ask it often enough or reflect on it deeply enough to effect lasting change in our life.

Fortunately, as Seneca points out, it is never too late to begin anew. No matter what stage of life we are in, we can “press on all the more” and give “hard work” the opportunity to “repair the losses of a misspent life” (Natural Questions III, praef. 2). How? By giving our mind—our rational faculty—time to itself for “contemplation of itself.” Here, Seneca echoes Epictetus’ confidence in our rational faculty’s self-judging and self-healing capabilities (Discourses 1.1). Nonetheless, we must create the time and space for our mind to work on itself. According to Seneca, if we create the time in our busy lives to allow our rational faculty to work on itself, it can “recover by using its present life with care.” While it is helpful to create a time and place for regular meditation or thoughtful reflection, it far more important to the recovery process that we practice constant attention (prosoche) throughout the day. This practice of attention focuses our rational faculty on our present judgments, present desires, and present actions; this is the real inner work of a practicing Stoic. Once we are paying attention, we can deploy the three Stoic disciplines to help us “transition from remorse to honorable action.” (Natural Questions III, praef. 2-3).

Seneca asks, “What is most important in life?” seven times and provides seven thought-provoking insights in Natural Questions, Book 3, praef. 10-16. This episode is the first of a week-long meditation program that draws from Seneca’s responses to that question to challenge and inspire practicing Stoics. Each daily meditation is short enough to be listened to or read quickly during a morning meditation and will give you something to consider throughout the day. The goal of this week-long meditation is twofold. First, I trust that Seneca’s responses to the question “What is important in life?” will provide some insight into this question. Second, my wish is that Seneca’s responses will provoke some deep soul-searching and motivate us to ask and answer this potentially life-changing question more frequently.

The Inner Work of Stoicism

What is most important in human life? Not filling the seas with fleets, nor setting up standards on the shore of the Red Sea, nor, when the earth runs out of sources of harm,

From the back cover of professor Tim Mulgan's book:

Two familiar worldviews dominate Western philosophy: materialist atheism and the benevolent to God of the Abrahamic faiths. Tim Mulgan explores a third way. Ananthropocentric Purposivism claims that there is a cosmic purpose, but human beings are irrelevant to it. Purpose in the Universe develops a philosophical case for Ananthropocentric Purposivism that is at least as strong as the case for either theism or atheism.

Those who are interested in exploring professor Tim Mulgan's concept of Purpose in the Universe further may find the links below helpful. His book is published by Oxford University Press.

A paper titled Beyond Theism and Atheism: Axiarchism and Ananthropocentric Purposivism by Tim Mulgan:

https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/epdf/10.1111/phc3.12420

Book Review in University of Notre Dame Philosophical Reviews:

https://ndpr.nd.edu/news/purpose-in-the-universe-the-moral-and-metaphysical-case-for-ananthropocentric-purposivism/

A podcast episode produced by The Forum that includes Tim Mulgan and others discussing Purpose in the Universe:

http://blogs.lse.ac.uk/theforum/does-the-universe-have-a-purpose/

Many people who were introduced to Stoicism by popular books that were written in the twenty-first century are surprised by the religious nature of Stoic philosophy when they first encounter it in the surviving Stoic texts and scholarship on those texts. That is because none of these popular authors address the deeply religious nature of Stoicism positively. Instead, they either ignore it or attempt to discredit it as the unwarranted beliefs of ancient philosophers who lacked our modern scientific understanding of the universe. For some, like Lawrence Becker, Stoic ethics cannot be “credible” if it remains attached to Stoic cosmology (a providential cosmos).[1] Likewise, William Irvine considers this aspect of Stoicism “off-putting to modern individuals, almost none of whom believe in the existence of Zeus, and many of whom don’t believe we were created by a divine being who wanted what was best for us.”[2] Ryan Holiday takes a different approach and justifies ignoring Stoic physics (which includes Stoic theology) by making the unsubstantiated claim that as Stoicism progressed, the later Stoics “focused primarily on two of these topics—logic and ethics”[3] to the exclusion of physics. In a unique approach, Donald Robertson attempts to obscure the modern divergence from Stoicism by making the unsupportable claim that some of the ancient Stoics “may have adopted a more agnostic stance”[4] or may have “believed that agnosticism or even atheism may have been consistent with the Stoic way of life.”[5] Claims like these may satisfy those who are unfamiliar with the Stoic texts and have not read any credible scholarship on Stoicism. Likewise, they will please those atheists and agnostics who wish those claims to be true. However, these claims do not stand up to the textual evidence or credible Stoic scholarship.

A more brazen example of a predisposition against the religious nature of Stoicism is offered by Massimo Pigliucci, who combines literary fiction with a bit of scientific hubris to justify the abandonment of the Stoic worldview and its deeply religious nature. In his 2017 book How to Be a Stoic, which should have been more appropriately titled How to Be a Secular Stoic, Pigliucci engages Epictetus in an imaginary conversation. He sits Epictetus down for a friendly chat and educates him about the “powerful double punch” that David Hume and Charles Darwin delivered to the Stoic conception of a providential cosmos.[6] Of course, in Pigliucci’s version of this story, Epictetus does not provide a defense of Stoic providence against the claims of modern philosophy and science. Instead, Epictetus remains silent while the Stoic worldview is laid waste. However, for those who have any familiarity with the Discourses of Epictetus, it is hard to imagine this conversation would be so one-sided if the real Epictetus were engaged with Pigliucci. It is easy to imagine Epictetus countering with something like, my dear philosopher, “The [Stoics] say that the first thing that needs to be learned is the following, that there is a God, and a God who exercises providential care for the universe” (Discourses 2.14.11). Then, Epictetus, in his typically protreptic style, might have asked Pigliucci, “What is the universe, then, and who governs it?” (Discourses 2.14.25).

Finally, it’s fair to assume a modern version of Epictetus would be familiar enough with the writings of Hume and Darwin to know that Pigliucci’s “p...