Justice doesn’t live only in courtrooms

Often when we think of justice, we picture a courtroom. There's a plaintiff who has suffered an injury or a crime, and a defendant who must answer for it. This is the classical image of justice—a legal proceeding with a clear wrong, a deliberation, and (hopefully) a fair outcome. Sometimes we’re even pulled into the process ourselves with a jury duty notice (don’t we all love those?).

Justice, of course, is open to interpretation. Themis, the Greek goddess of divine law, is the origin of the image we associate today with Lady Justice—a woman holding scales. Whenever we encounter a situation involving law or fairness, how the scales tip can deeply influence our sense of whether justice was truly served. We might say after a verdict, “That’s a light sentence given the crime,” or, “He got exactly what he deserved.”

But justice doesn’t live only in courtrooms.

We make judgments all day long. We judge the man who cuts us off in traffic. We judge the loved one whose sarcastic comment cuts a little too deep. We assess, evaluate, and respond—sometimes with fairness, sometimes with frustration or anger.

Justice isn’t only about punishment, but about living rightly

What if those moments are where Stoic justice is most needed? What if justice isn’t only about punishment, but about living rightly?

I like to think of Stoic justice as a daily practice—of fairness, patience, and fidelity to reason, even in the smallest interactions.

The foundation of all other virtues

The Stoics believed that justice was not just one virtue among others, but the foundation upon which all other virtues rest. It arises from our commitment to reason—and it crumbles when that commitment is weakened by irrational emotion, carelessness, or misplaced values. If someone is caught in a storm of passions or obsessed with externals—what the Stoics called “indifferents,” like wealth, reputation, or status—it becomes difficult to act justly.

And, indeed, hence is the origin of justice, and in justice the other virtues have their foundation: for justice will not be observed, if we either care for middle things, those things indifferent, or are easily deceived  and  careless  and  changeable. - Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 11.10

This is where Stoic justice begins to differ from many modern conceptions. It’s not rooted in punishment or retribution, but in right reason applied to right action—a commitment to treat others fairly because they are fellow rational beings.

When passion presides

Recently, I was following a thread on Twitter (or “X,” as it’s now called) about a high-profile individual accused of a serious crime. The replies were disturbing—some commenters called for hanging, others for punishments too graphic to repeat here. It made me pause and appreciate the modern judicial system, flawed as it may be. At least it grants due process and the right to confront one’s accusers.

Not too long ago, mobs took “justice” into their own hands. Lynchings sometimes occurred. No judge. No jury. No rational process—just raw vengeance. When passion presides, reason vanishes. And where there is no reason, there is no Stoic justice.

This brings to mind Seneca’s warning:

The sword of justice is ill-placed in the hands of an angry man.- Seneca, On Anger (De Ira), 1.19

Balancing the soul

In the Stoic tradition, justice is not merely about balancing the scales—it’s about balancing the soul. A courtroom verdict might bring closure, but our inner verdict matters just as much. It is our own perception—our paradigm of fairness and harm—that ultimately shapes our sense of justice.

Stoic justice invites us to examine our reactions, to choose restraint over retaliation, and to decide whether we will carry an injury as a scar or as a lesson. The Stoics knew that no external verdict—no punishment, no reparation—can grant us peace unless our reason agrees with it. And when reason rules, peace is possible even in the face of injustice. We’ve seen this countless times throughout history, in the lives of Martin Luther King Jr., Gandhi, or Nelson Mandela.

As Seneca reminds us:

Peace of mind is enjoyed only by those who have attained a fixed and unchanging standard of judgment; the rest of mankind continually ebb and flow in their decisions, floating in a condition where they alternatively reject things and seek them. - Seneca, Moral Letters, 95.57

In the end, Stoic justice isn’t reactive—it’s reflective. It is less about what happens in court or in any situation of life, and more about what happens in our hearts and minds.

Glenn Citerony is an Executive Wellness Coach who employs Stoic concepts to help improve people’s lives. He is passionate about Stoicism and its relevance to addressing today’s challenges. Glenn can be reached at glennciterony.com.

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