What’s Wrong with the Stoic Dichotomy of Control
Do you think Stoicism is unwarrantedly pessimistic? Think again.
One of the most popular elements of Stoicism - perhaps even the most popular - is a spiritual exercise described by Epictetus in the very first lines of the Enchiridion:
Some things are within our power, while others are not. Within our power are opinion, motivation, desire, aversion, and, in a word, whatever is of our own doing; not within our power are our body, our property, reputation, office, and, in a word, whatever is not of our own doing.
This exercise is now commonly called the “dichotomy of control.” It’s so foundational to Stoicism that it’s been said,
The dichotomy of control is one of the most important and profound concepts in Stoicism. You could even say that it is the foundation of which Stoicism sits upon.
The idea that it is possible for a person to control some things - a very limited set of things - and that the rest is outside that person’s influence is not unique to Stoicism. It is common in ancient Greek philosophy. It can even be said to be obvious - even though learning about it is frequently known to produce epiphanies. As we Buddhists say, “delusions are inexhaustible.” And, evidently, one of the most common delusions is about what one can and cannot control. If something labeled “Stoicism” helps people overcome this delusion, no wonder “Stoicism” is so popular.
The problem here is that Epictetus is deluded. He thinks we can control more than we actually can.
That accusation may be surprising, as Stoicism gets criticized as being “a philosophy that preaches us to accept the unacceptable while facing life’s challenges passively.” However, in the case of the dichotomy of control, Stoicism tells you that you can do the impossible: control your desires and aversions. As an example of this impossibility, consider this “success” story of adopting the dichotomy of control from Steven Bradford Long,
Grasping this dichotomy, he taught, is the path to peace, strength, and resilience. As I surveyed the disaster around me, I knew that Epictetus and Massimo Pigliucci were giving me the answer: accept. Accept, accept, accept.
Then just a few paragraphs later, Long tells us,
Young men always have illusions of control — that we are amateur sorcerers who can bend reality to our will. That illusion was shattered for me when I was 14 years old, and I realized that I wasn’t like other boys. While they were discovering that girls were endlessly fascinating, beautiful, and mysterious, and I started to notice my male peers. This was my first lesson in acceptance, and it came from my body.
…For the next decade, while my peers were going through the socially sanctioned rituals of first kisses, proms, break ups, courtship, and marriage, I was locked in a quiet, deadly battle with myself.
I went to support groups to change my orientation. I went through Christian exorcisms to no longer be gay. I met with pastors to do ex-gay therapy. I dated three women, one of whom I certain I was going to marry, and each relationship ended in heartbreak and catastrophe.
It wasn’t until I was 24 that I finally gave up in exhaustion. I was gay, and that wasn’t going to change. This was the sexuality nature had given me. I still didn’t know what that meant — I didn’t know, for example, if I was ever going to marry, have sex, or if I was called by God to a life of permanent celibacy. But I finally, after a decade of fighting, knew one thing: I was exclusively romantically and sexually attracted to men, and fighting that fact was far worse than accepting it.
According to Epictetus, desire and aversion are in your control. He emphasizes this claim, saying:
…the things within our power are by nature free, unrestricted, unhindered….
Nope. Your body has strong opinions on these things. You are subject to these opinions. They are not by nature free, unrestricted, and unhindered. You can’t just turn these things on or off because it seems convenient to you to do so.
It’s easiest to point out the extreme cases, as here with sexual orientation, but why should any other desire be different? Some people are driven by strong desires for status. Others are horrified about seeking status. Why should status orientation be considered different from sexual orientation?
Robert Pirsig was more perceptive than Epictetus here when he said,
And what is good, Phaedrus, and what is not good - need we ask anyone to tell us these things?
We all appear to be run by our own inner compasses about our desires and aversions. Neither Epictetus nor anyone else can reliably convince us that what we think is desirable is not desirable.
This is not to say that you have no influence whatsoever over your desires and aversions. For example, a lot of people who work in medicine start out with strong aversions to things such as blood, vomit, and excrement. Through training, these aversions dissipate - but not for everyone. My wife, a physician (who writes a charming Substack about her experiences as a doctor), tells a story about the reaction one of her medical school classmates had to dissecting a human body in anatomy class. After some respectable amount of time, her classmate announced that she had an urgent errand she had to attend to. She left the classroom and was never seen again by her classmates.
So much for the idea that one has control over one’s aversions.
Epictetus builds another spiritual exercise - the discipline of assent - on the unstable foundation of the dichotomy of control.
Practice then from the start to say to every harsh appearance, “You are an appearance, and not at all the thing you appear to be.” Then examine it and test it by these rules you have, and firstly, and chiefly, by this: whether the appearance has to do with the things that are up to us, or those that are not; and if it has to do with the things that are not up to us, be ready to reply, “It is nothing to me.”
Epictetus goes on to point out the kinds of things that are nothing to him:
If you are kissing your child or wife, say that it is a human being [a mortal] whom you are kissing, for thus when they die, you will not be disturbed.
It’s a logical conclusion from what Epictetus believes is under his control. Epictetus presents it as an ideal to strive for.
It may be ideal for a psychopath, but the rest of us are going to be disturbed by the deaths of our child or spouse. It’s natural. It’s not under our control. Even my wife, who says she is a natural Stoic, says she’s going to be disturbed when I’m gone.
The Buddhists and Pyrrhonists have advice that avoids Epictitus’ error.
The Buddha explained his approach through the parable of the two arrows. He said that when a person feels physical or emotional pain, it's like being hit by an arrow. This kind of pain is inevitable in life. It is outside our control. However, one's reaction to the pain can be like a second arrow. This arrow represents our resistance to the unavoidable difficulties of life.
The Pyrrhonists similarly point out that we should have no beliefs about what is good or bad by nature. While we will inevitably suffer from misfortunes in life, by freeing our minds from any conviction that those misfortunes are truly, objectively bad, we are able to endure them with moderation.
Good read! I think the Stoics differentiated between internal control and external control, so even if our thoughts are not necessarily “freely chosen” they are still under our control in a way that the weather is not. I’ve heard many say that the Stoics were basically compatibalists, so this may just boil down to a hard determinism vs. compatibalism debate.
I think you’re basically objecting to Stoicism on the grounds of hard determinism if you’re saying that the Dichotomy of Control is wrong because we don’t control our thoughts. Ironically, even though I call myself a Stoic…I am a hard determinist.
I guess I sort of just interpret Stoicism as “pro-social behavior (virtue) is the goal of life” and also think that I live a happier life focusing on that and focusing on my internal states than on external goods like wealth. But I am also determined to think that way! So there is no moral blame to go around.
I also tend to think there are multiple valid philosophies of life rather than just one. Stoicism just resonates with me the most. Perhaps this way of thinking is compatible with Stoicism, or perhaps it is not… I would be interested in exploring Buddhist ideas more one day too.
As someone suffering from some seriously extended mental illnesses, I’d have to question the idea that we can control motivation too.
Much like desires and aversions I suspect it is controllable to a point — you can suppress or embrace parts of your sexuality and preferences on a conscious level, though we obviously know quite a lot more about what suppressing sexuality and orientation entirely does to a person. Greece notably had an “acceptable outlet” for homosexuality — pedastry — that perhaps normalised the idea that homosexual desires should be “channelled” into young boys, thus supporting the stoic ideal that such desires are controllable. But when people deviated from this narrow allowance of sexuality, they were as quickly condemned as they would have been in many other ancient anti-gay societies.
Likewise, motivation is controllable but only up to a point. Or rather, it SEEMS within our control, a tool we are consciously using, a state we are skillfully psyching ourselves into. But that is what it is — a state, a fluctuating reading on a meter — and our ability to ‘control’ our motivation is much more about working around our inbuilt response to stimuli which we are constantly refining the circuitry of.
But psychology would suggest that motivation, like desire, is something we think we have a lot more control over than we do.