readoldthings

 

 

No plague has cost the human race more dear. You will see bloodshed and poisoning, the vile countercharges of criminals, the downfall of cities and whole nations given to destruction, princely persons sold at public auction, houses put to the torch, and conflagration that halts not within the city-walls, but makes great stretches of the country glow with hostile flame. Behold the most glorious cities whose foundations can scarcely be traced - anger cast them down. Behold solitudes stretching lonely for many miles without a single dweller - anger laid them waste. Behold all the leaders who have been handed down to posterity as instances of an evil fate - anger stabbed this one in his bed, struck down this one amid the sanctities of the feast, tore this one to pieces in the very home of the law and in full view of the crowded forum, forced this one to have his blood spilled by the murderous act of his son, another to have his royal throat cut by the hand of a slave, another to have his limbs stretched upon the cross. 
 

Anger is a passion, a term not much in use these days. The passions are the lowest of the emotional drives, the sort of experiences that we share with reptiles: terror, wrath, lust, hunger. Their chief characteristic is that once we are really caught in them, they have no object. One consumed by hunger wants food, not this or that food; one consumed by terror wants to flee; one consumed by lust wants an orgasm; one consumed by anger wants to destroy. If you thought of the "four fs" of the sympathetic nervous system-- flee, fighting, freezing and, er, mating-- you're not too far off. 

For the Stoics, the problem with passions is that they overwhelm the reason. Once we're caught in them, we can no longer control ourselves, and the central point of Stoicism is precisely to maintain control over the only thing that you really can control-- yourself. 

As I look around the world of my own experience, I find that it seems as if both anger and fear-- and lust, for that matter-- have been given reign over everything. If you don't agree with me, check your Facebook feed, or the comments section of a popular "news" site. If there isn't currently a fight going on about news or politics you will find that it is very easy to start one. Now, watch as previously rational people-- often friends and family members-- descend into wrath and make the best impression they can of apes that have learned to type. 

What is Seneca's approach to anger? Should we try to control it, channel it into constructive uses, even congratulate ourselves for our "righteous indignation"?

By no means.

In the first place, it is easier to exclude harmful passions than to rule them, and to deny them admittance than, after they have been admitted, to control them; for when they have established themselves in possession, they are stronger than their ruler and do not permit themselves to be restrained or reduced. In the second place, Reason herself, to whom the reins of power have been entrusted, remains mistress only so long as she is kept apart from the passions: if once she mingles with them and is contaminated, she becomes unable to hold back those whom she might have cleared from her path. For when once the mind has been aroused and shaken, it becomes the slave of the disturbing agent. There are certain things which at the start are under our control, but later hurry us away by their violence and leave us no retreat.

To indulge in wrath, for Seneca, is like an alcoholic having "just one drink." It doesn't work, because the first drink leads to the second, the second to the third, and now the reasoning mind is overwhelmed by the passions. 

The best course is to reject at once the first incitement to anger, to resist even its small beginnings, and to take pains to avoid falling into anger.

But how shall we do this? 

Come back tomorrow, and we'll find out.