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The Enchiridion of Epictetus – a Difficult Ethic

Epictetus’ Encheiridion is, as the title states (when translated) a handbook. Specifically, it is a handbook to the moral life, as Epictetus himself sees it from within the Stoic school of philosophy. He presents, throughout, what at first may appear to be a very easy philosophy, but which, upon further analysis, is shown to be a rigid, regimented, and disciplined way of life. Of course, that his methods are so harsh proceeds logically from the goal which he sets at the end of the moral life, divinity itself. Three of his claims which most clearly demonstrate the difficult nature of his philosophy are: his command to keep our actions “in accord with nature” (En., Sec. 4), his command to be concerned only with the “governing principle” (En., Sec. 29), and his command not to be moved to sorrow by the occurrence of death (En., Sec. 5).

Epictetus says in Section 4, “You will undertake the action more securely if from the start you say of it, ‘I want…to keep my choices in accord with nature,'” citing specifically the occasion of going to a bath, and reminding the reader to keep in mind all the things that can, do, and may occur at a bath, and therefore to undertake the action of going there with greater security. He says also, “Certainly it is not easy…for one’s choices to be in accord with nature and also…[to be concerned with] externals, and a person who concerns himself with the one will be bound to neglect the other” (En., Sec. 13). He says later, “It is possible to learn the will of nature from the things in which we do not differ from one another” (En., Sec. 26), explaining that we should respond in the same way to our own misfortunes as to those of others, saying, “‘It’s the lot of a human being.'” (En., Sec. 26). He summarizes his point in Section 8, with the admonition, “Do not seek to have events happen as you want them to, but instead want them to happen as they do happen, and your life will go well.” He further sets down the rules for this attitude, using the analogy of actors in a play, saying, “Remember that you are an actor in a play…What is yours is to play the assigned part well. But to choose it belongs to someone else” (En., Sec. 17).

Another of Epictetus’ requirements for accurately living the Stoic way of life is to be concerned only with what is translated alternately as the “governing principle,” “ruling principle,” or “faculty of choice.” He makes the statement, “Just as in walking about you pay attention so as not to step on a nail or twist your foot, pay attention in the same way so as not to harm your ruling principle” (En., 38). He says also, “But are you not ashamed that you turn over your own faculty of judgment to whoever happens along…?” (En., Sec. 28). In fact, the entire premise of the Encheiridion is that “Some things are up to us and some are not up to us” (En., Sec. 1). He expands on this notion in the rest of the first section, making the claim that, “Our opinions are up to us, and our impulses, desires, aversions-in short, whatever is our own doing,” which are to be understood as elements of the “faculty of choice” which is mentioned by name only later. Throughout, he repeats the statement that, “What upsets people is not things themselves but their judgments about the things” (En., Sec. 5), signifying that what offends a person is his judgment (an action of his ruling principle), not an event. He says again later, in reference to a disobedient slave, “He is not in such a good position that your being upset or not depends on him” (En., Sec. 13). This point is made repeatedly, as if it were the very essence of his philosophy, that one ought to be concerned only with what is up to us, which he summarizes completely, again, in the first section, “And if it is about one of the things that is not up to us, be ready to say, ‘You are nothing in relation to me.'”

Perhaps the hardest facet of Epictetus’ ethic to accept is his opinion on death. “Death is nothing dreadful…, but instead the judgment about death that it is dreadful-that is dreadful” (En., Sec. 5) are some of his first words on the subject. However, he is not content to speak of death only in hypothetical terms. Rather, he relates the matter directly to the reader, saying, “Never say about anything, ‘I have lost it,’ but instead, ‘I have given it back.’ Did your child die? It was given back. Did your wife die? She was given back” (En., Sec. 11). Reminding his readers to keep in mind the nature of all things, and especially the ultimate mortality of all human beings, he says, “If you kiss your child or your wife, say that you are kissing a human being; for when it dies you will not be upset” (En., Sec. 3). In addition to saying that a person should not be grieved at the death of his child or wife (for, that is the way those things happen), Epictetus even suggests that the occasion of death should be used to one’s advantage, to train the appetites and help one to live the true, Stoic life, saying, “Let death…appear before your eyes every day,…and you will never have anything contemptible in your thoughts or crave anything excessively” (En., Sec. 21). He even provides instructions for how to respond when one observes or hears about the death of someone unrelated or unknown, “Do not hesitate, however, to sympathize with him verbally, and even to moan with him if the occasion arises; but be careful not to moan inwardly” (En., Sec. 16).

All of these opinions point ultimately to a philosophy that embraces such a detached, removed perspective that it would be easy for one to confuse it with utter apathy. However, the difference lies in the very minute details. Epictetus’ philosophy does not prescribe for instance, upon the death of a wife, a response such as, “Oh well. That’s the way it is, I guess.” Rather, Epictetus’ Stoicism dictates a response more like, “I cannot be grieved by this. No matter how tempting, I cannot allow myself to be moved by this. These things happen, and they are beyond me to control. I have to maintain.” And it is specifically because Epictetus’ philosophy is so actively geared toward overcoming the self that it is difficult to practice. The demands of a Stoic life are so great, require such absolute, constant, and perpetual detachment from all things (events, people, objects, etc.) that the single greatest criticism of them that can be raised is that they are beyond the human condition to enact. Yet, despite their difficulty, they seem to possess an intrinsic appeal. How great it would be not to be moved at the death of wife or child, to be concerned always and only with the governing principle, to passively allow all one’s actions to be in accord with nature, and to let events happen however they will! How peaceful a person could be to allow all things to transpire as completely beyond his control! However, as Epictetus himself notes, it is not easy, but rather requires a tremendous amount of effort, analogous to becoming an Olympic athlete (En., Sec. 29). However, if the question were asked, “Is it really possible for anyone to exert such effort, and persevere in it completely until death, never faltering?” Even Epictetus acknowledges that people can, and probably will, falter (En., Sec. 23). The ends of this philosophy then (divinity itself) may not be attainable at all, with so difficult a means.