Much is written about in the Stoic literature that we should do “the right thing.” But do we always? If you are like me, probably not. Sharon Lebell believes that it is because we lack our personal code and perhaps we should all have one written down. Editor
Goodness in and of itself is the practice and the reward.
Sharon Lebell, The Art of Living
Virtue as our personal code for living
Epictetus was obsessed with virtue, a quaint concept to 21st century ears. He taught “virtue is our aim and purpose.” However virtue as an abstract ideal changes nothing for the better in our real lives. Virtue must be defined for it to catalyze meaning. Knowing our personal code is a check against living reactively. We want to be rooted in logos, clear thinking. Epictetus urges us to articulate our personal code and navigate our lives in accordance with it.
Why we need it
But why do we need a code?
The Stoic answer is to save us from our feelings running riot. Feelings are not the enemy. They are essential to human experience. However many extol the idea of listening to our feelings as a guide to our behavior. “Isn’t it better to just love one another?” Or to “feel compassion?”
When I was young I sampled many spiritual traditions and learned to meditate, which I loved and still do. When I meditated I welcomed feelings of peace and compassion. Great. But, as tranquil as I felt, as at-one-with-everyone I felt —those feelings didn’t impel me to perform good deeds, nor did they prevent me from doing self-serving or foolish things. Ecstatic feelings or feelings of atoneness are swell, but they don’t in and of themselves lead to right action nor prevent us from taking amoral or immoral action.
Knowing is not the same as doing
During the Holocaust, some Nazi prison guards wept as they mowed down women and children. For all their feeling-filled tears, they still mowed down women and children. Feeling compassion for others may point toward right action, but it doesn’t help when doing the right thing comes at personal cost or when life presents a serious moral test.
We would like to help, but do we?
Who hasn’t felt that pang for the homeless guy across the street, but did you cross the street to talk to him or give him money? I know many times I have not crossed that street, because I felt uncomfortable. When our code is merely a fog of wishful thinking (can’t we all just be nice to each other?) we don’t cross the street. We don’t rise to the opportunity of being our better selves.
Feeling can misguide
Epictetus repeatedly cautions us: feelings, even transcendent ones, fall short at best, and can misguide. Existential philosopher Martin Buber, who had been an ardent student of mysticism, was once visited by a young troubled student when Buber happened to be in the throes of feelings of mystical ecstasy. Because Buber was immersed in his private feelings of transcendent illumination, he was blind to recognizing the student’s immediate need born of pain and confusion. Buber later learned that the student committed suicide. From that time forward Buber swore off the pursuit of rapture and espoused the value of a reason- and code-driven life.
A code ensures we don’t depend on the vagaries of feeling or on improvised self-styled virtue.
So, I have to go write down my code.
I hope you will too.
Sharon Lebell is the author of The Art of Living and is a member of our Advisory Board.