If you want to make progress, don’t mind appearing foolish and silly where outward things are concerned, and don’t wish to appear an expert. Even if some people think you are somebody, distrust yourself. It is not easy, you can be sure, to keep your own will in harmony with nature and simultaneously secure outward things. If you care about the one, you are completely bound to neglect the other. (Ench 13)
After a short break from the Encheiridion, I start again with chapter 13. I will continue to work through the Encheiridion, chapter by chapter. However, I will take breaks from it occasionally to cover other topics or conduct interviews as I did recently with the authors of two new Stoic books.
Epictetus opens Encheiridion 13 with a familiar refrain, “If you want to make progress,” and then lists what a prokopton must do to progress along the Stoic path. So, what is Epictetus prescribing for us to make progress? He lists two things in this lesson:
First, don’t mind appearing foolish and silly where outward things are concerned. Why? Because it’s difficult to keep our will (prohairesis)—that which is within our power and up to us—in harmony with Nature while simultaneously desiring and seeking externals—those things not within our power and therefore not up to us.
Second, don’t wish to appear as an expert. Why? Again, if we desire to appear as an expert, we seek something not up to us.
Before we consider these two specific things Epictetus lists in this passage, let’s look at the overarching message. Some things are up to us, and others are not up to us. We learned that in Encheiridion 1. As a refresher, the things that are not up to us are external to us, like our health, financial status, other people’s opinion of us, etc. Obviously, our behavior can influence these externals; nevertheless, they are not entirely within our power. We can live a healthy lifestyle and still get cancer; we can work hard and save money and still end up broke and destitute during a widespread economic crisis; we can be kind, helpful, and act appropriately, and some people will still have a low opinion of us. On the other hand, our reasoning faculty (prohairesis) is entirely within our power; it is up to us. So much so, as Epictetus teaches in Discourses 3.3, not even Zeus can override this power granted to us by Nature.
Therefore, once again, Epictetus confronts us with the distinction between what is up to us and not up to us. We will continue to see this theme in the Encheiridion because it is central to Epictetus’ teaching and critically important for developing our moral excellence and progress toward well-being.
Now, let’s look at these two things not up to us Epictetus chose to highlight in this lesson. I will tackle the second item first because this episode will focus on the first.
Epictetus warns us not to wish to appear an expert. If some people have that opinion of us, that’s fine, but it’s not up to us. Because it’s not up to us, desiring that others think of us as an expert is not in accordance with the nature of things. As Keith Seddon points out in his commentary, this passage could have two different meanings.
When Epictetus warns against not wishing to appear knowledgeable about anything, he may mean this in a wholly general way – to have knowledge is one thing, but to have a desire to show it off and be regarded as a knowledgeable person is altogether something else, and is inappropriate for the Stoic prokoptôn – for placing one’s well-being (to however small a degree) on the satisfaction of this desire is to rely on something that is not in one’s power, something external and indifferent, and risks undermining one’s ‘good flow’ (euroia). But I suspect Epictetus means ‘knowledgeable’ to refer only to knowledge of good and bad, moral excellence, the indifferent and external things, and of Stoic ethics as a whole. However advanced our progress, it is unlikely ever to be complete, and to impose our views on others is not fitting, for however severe their faults may be, even if our faults are less, our efforts should be applied to diminish our own faults, not theirs.[1]
Epictetus is focusing the attention of his students inward. If we desire to appear knowledgeable or more advanced in our progress toward virtue, we are making our well-being dependent on others who are external to us. We learned where that path leads in Encheiridion 1:
…you will be frustrated, pained, and troubled, and you will find fault with gods and men.
I want Epictetus’ message to be clear here. He is not instructing us to avoid seeking knowledge. The path of the prokopton entails the acquisition of knowledge. Virtue is a form of knowledge—the knowledge of good and bad. Likewise, we are not doing anything wrong if others happen to think we are knowledgeable. Again, that is not up to us. The danger to our well-being lies in our wish (desire) to appear knowledgeable to others. Social media makes this a more present danger in modern times. It’s pretty easy to fall into the social media approval trap where we measure our value by the number of people who “Like” our posts and comments.
Now, we come to the second topic, the first item on Epictetus’ list in this passage. He said:
If you want to make progress, don’t mind appearing foolish and silly where outward things are concerned.
Why? Well, Epictetus tells us. Because it’s difficult to keep our will (prohairesis)—that which is within our power and up to us—in harmony with Nature while simultaneously desiring and seeking externals—those things not within our power and therefore not up to us.
So, what could Epictetus possibly mean by appearing foolish and silly where outward things are concerned? With Stoic teachings in mind, I think it’s easy to imagine several ways a Stoic prokopton might appear foolish and silly to others. First, most people in ancient and modern times would consider it foolish to focus one’s full attention inward to experience well-being.
Consider this imaginary scenario. You’re standing around with a group of your close friends one day when you suddenly feel compelled to tell them you’re embarking on a new philosophical way of life. “Cool,” one of them responds, “what is it?” It’s called Stoicism.
Another of your friends chimes in, “I’ve heard of that. I guess you’ll be developing a stiff upper lip, ol’ chap.”
You politely inform him that’s a mischaracterization of Stoicism.
“What is Stoicism about then?” He asks.
You tell them it entails paying attention only to those things that are up to me, like my judgment of impressions, desires, aversions, and intentions to act, rather than things like financial success, good health, promotions, fame, etc. Suddenly you realize the room went quiet, and everyone is staring at you curiously.
Oh, but wait, you insist, there’s more to it than that! You tell your friends you don’t need those things because you’ve discovered something infinitely more valuable. Now they're interested. “What is more valuable?” Bill asks as he leans forward with anticipation of hearing about a great stock tip, Bitcoin cache location, or a cure for Covid. All their attention is now focused on you as your words pierce the deafening silence. Well, I’ve discovered that developing courage, temperance, justice, and wisdom is the only path to true well-being.
John spits out his coffee; Tammy just stares at you disbelievingly. Your best friend Bill walks over, slaps you on the back, and says, “That was a good one; you had us all going there for a minute.”
Seriously, you insist. I’ve learned not to ask for events to happen as I would like them to. Instead, I now wish for events to happen just as they do? “Really?” John asks incredulously. “Even if that means the loss of your job, your home, your legs, your child, or your spouse?” Yes, you reply as the laughter increases in volume. Your best friend Bill asks, “How can you possibly believe something like that?”
As if the situation wasn’t bad enough, now you must reveal the truth about how it is you can hold such foolish and silly beliefs about tragic events.
I believe the cosmos is providentially ordered. You say a little hesitantly.
“What?” Tammy shouts! I must not have heard you correctly. What did you just say?” I said I believe the cosmos is providentially ordered. Things happen for a good reason. “Alright, now you’ve gone too far,” Tammy insists. “Don’t you know science has proved the universe and humans evolved from nothing?” Then, she tells you to sit down while she explains how the powerful double punch from Hume and Darwin made belief in things like providence “untenable” in modern times. “It’s all the result of chance,” she exclaims. “With enough time, anything can happen. That providence crap is pure nonsense,” she insists. “Worse, it’s nonsense of stilts. You need to stop reading those foolish and silly Stoics and start reading some of the ancient Sceptics.”
The rest of your friends stopped laughing a while ago. They are simply staring at you with their hands over their mouths and a genuine look of concern in their eyes.
Are you feeling foolish and silly yet?
Many moderns will applaud the tongue-lashing Tammy delivered in the name of science in this imaginary scene. Why? Because they agree that a concept like a providential cosmos is nonsense. They think it’s foolish and silly. Meanwhile, they somehow overlook how foolish and silly the rest of Stoicism is to the average modern person.
Here’s a challenge: go out to a busy street corner in any large city and try convincing those passing by that virtue is the only true good and it’s the only thing they need for well-being. I suspect you will get a response similar to the guy on the opposite corner telling people to repent because the return of God is at hand. Most people will consider you foolish and silly.
Yet, some of these same moderns believe the Stoic axiom that virtue is the only good, almost unquestioningly,
