This image of the sun and the clouds appears in two of Seneca’s letters, and in both cases the sun and its light represent lasting goodness, virtue, and joy: any adversities or anxieties we experience, he writes, “have no more power than a cloud can have over the sun.”17 Similarly, when we experience true joy, “even if something obstructs it,” it’s just like a cloud, “which is carried below, and never overcomes the light of day.”18
This symbolic image, which I find to be powerful, gives me a personal way to evaluate my mental or psychological state at any time. Do I possess the inner serenity of the sun, shining in the present moment, in which external disturbances are just like harmless clouds floating by my path? Am I experiencing the joyful state of being present and undistracted, with the right mental focus, and not worrying about some imaginary future event that might not even occur?
If my inner state is not focused, luminous, and joyful, I can remember and identify with Seneca’s image of the sun. Then, returning to the radiance of the present moment becomes easy.
Ultimately, this kind of “unbroken and lasting joy,” which Seneca speaks of and symbolizes by the sun, is a by-product of Stoic practice, and being fully present is one way to catch a compelling glimpse of it. But the way to make it into a continuous state—or as constant as possible, since no one is perfect—is through the development of virtue, one’s inner character, and the practice of Stoic mindfulness. This allows the Stoic to experience tranquility of mind, despite whatever troubles life throws our way.
CHAPTER 4
The Problem with Anger
A TEMPORARY INSANITY
I hate to admit it, but, like Seneca, I’m not a perfect person. One of my character failings is that I’ve had a bad temper at times in the past. It’s not as though I was always angry, by any means, but every now and then, something would set me off.
The good news is that I rarely get angry now, which I attribute to my study of Stoicism, and especially to Seneca, who wrote about anger in depth.
For the Stoics, anger (by which they meant rage) was the worst and most toxic of the extreme negative emotions, which they called “passions” (pathē).
In fact, in one of Seneca’s more memorable descriptions, he called anger “a temporary form of insanity.”1
Why is it that anger is so terrible and destructive, and how does it come into being? More importantly, how can we stop anger from taking root in the first place?
In answering these questions, Seneca is an almost perfect guide. He took the issue of anger so seriously that he wrote a lengthy book, On Anger, divided into three parts. It’s the most in-depth work of Stoic psychology that has come down to us from the ancient world, and the advice that Seneca offers about anger management is totally up to date. In fact, as the modern Stoic philosopher Massimo Pigliucci points out, if you read the American Psychological Association (APA) web page on how to manage anger, most of it matches the advice you find in Seneca’s book on anger.2 Some things, it seems, just never change.
When Seneca said that extreme “anger is a temporary form of insanity,” he wasn’t being metaphorical. In fact, he wants to impress upon the reader just how out of their minds humans act, like crazy people, when they’re under the spell of anger.
At the beginning of On Anger, he writes, “You only need to see the symptoms of those seized by anger to know they are insane.” He then launches into a vivid and compelling description to prove his point:
As the marks of a madman are clear—a bold and threatening expression, a scowling brow, a wild-looking face, quickened steps, restless hands, a changed complexion, quick and violent breathing—the appearance of an angry person is the same: his eyes blaze and flash, his whole face turns red with blood boiling up from deep within his heart, his lips quiver and teeth clench, his hairs bristle and stand on end, his breathing is harsh and noisy, his joints snap from writhing, he groans and bellows, his speech is broken and unclear, he claps his hands and stomps his feet, and his entire body becomes frenzied as he acts out his angry threats. It is such an ugly and horrible display that, when someone is distorted and swollen with anger, you can’t say whether this vice is more revolting or more disfiguring.3
The outcome of great anger is madness, Seneca writes, and we should avoid it to maintain our sanity. Elsewhere, he points out that if a furious person’s outward expression is so terrible, what must their mind look like on the inside?
Seneca reports that some people who experience extreme anger never regain their sanity. He refers to anger as “the greatest evil,” and “one that surpasses all other vices.”4 While other vices like fear, greed, and envy merely “provoke” the mind, anger “topples” it.5 While the other vices rebel against reason, anger undermines sanity itself. While other character defects “approach gently and increase unnoticed, our minds plunge headlong into anger.”6
A HOSTILE FLAME: THE DEVASTATING EFFECTS OF ANGER
Anger is bad enough for the poor person who falls under its spell but can be even worse for those on its receiving end. Seneca invites us to consider anger’s destructive outcomes:
If you wish to view its harmful effects, no plague has cost the human race more. You’ll see massacres and poisonings, the vileness of rivals battling in court, the loss of cities, and the destruction of entire nations. You’ll see leading citizens sold into slavery at public auctions. You’ll see houses torched, the blaze overtaking city walls, causing vast regions of the country to burn with a hostile flame.7
Nor is that all. Anger causes some parents to threaten their children with death, or vice versa. It destroys households, plunges some into poverty, and encourages people to turn their friends into enemies. Anger is the worst vice, because it surpasses all others. What Seneca means by this is that in the same way that anger overturns the mind, it overpowers the other vices too. When someone is truly under the spell of extreme anger, anger reigns supreme.8
Anger arises from a mental judgment that “I’ve been harmed” or “I’ve been wronged,” and once that opinion has been fully accepted, anger seeks out revenge or retribution, as a way to “pay back” the injustice. “That it should find a place in the peaceful heart of a human being,” Seneca writes, “is at odds with our nature. For human life is founded on kindness and harmony, and is bound together into agreement and common aid not by terror, but by mutual love.”9
For Seneca, anger is the absolute worst human emotion. But why?
“The problem with anger,” Seneca writes, “is that it refuses to be controlled. It rages against truth itself, if truth seems to contradict its wrath. With shouting, frenzy, and the whole body shaking, it bears down on its targets, with abuses and curses thrown in.”10
When someone gets angry, he asks, what’s the point of flipping a table over or smashing a glass? Even stranger is how people sometimes express rage at inanimate objects. When a tool doesn’t work properly, what’s the point of throwing it to the ground and cursing at it, if it can’t even sense one’s anger?
Most people, because they’ve never really thought about it, assume that anger is a natural kind of emotion, and unavoidable in some way. Because of that, Seneca writes, some people believe that showing their anger in public is good because it shows how they are “open” and authentic, not trying to hide any part of their personality.
The Stoics, though, took an entirely different view of things. They believed that extreme anger could be avoided and never allowed to develop in the first place. Because intense anger is based on bad mental judgments, a wise person could avoid making those bad judgments through training and practice.