4. Stoicism: The Invincibility of Virtue

Most men today who discover Stoicism encounter it as a collection of practical techniques. They find guidance on managing anger, overcoming adversity, and finding calm. This is a worthy introduction. But to understand its true power, one must see Stoicism not as a set of isolated tips, but as the logical and systematic heir to a radical idea born centuries earlier in Athens. Stoicism is the practical fulfillment of a revolution started by Socrates.

The connection is not incidental; it is foundational. The Stoics, who followed Socrates by a few generations, saw themselves as his direct intellectual descendants. They took his core principles and built upon them a complete philosophical system for living. Where Socrates was a questioner, the Stoics became architects. The built a framework for living, which was designed to mirror reality. I am speaking of an inner framework, or what some called "the inner citadel". To link Socrates and Stoicism is not only to point to a historical lineage, it is to understand why Stoicism is not merely a self-help strategy, but a coherent and profound worldview. It is to show--or at least give you a taste--of how this can be a profound framework for your life.

The most important idea the Stoics inherited was the supremacy of virtue. Socrates argued, to the confusion of his contemporaries, that a man’s character--his wisdom, courage, temperance, and justice--was the only true good. Everything else--health, wealth, reputation, even life itself--was secondary. The Stoics radicalized this view. They called these conventional goals “indifferents.” This does not mean they are trivial, but that they have no power to determine a good life. A man can be flourishing even in poverty or sickness, and a wealthy man can be miserable. Happiness depends solely on the quality of one’s character.

Imagine two men facing the same calamity. It could be betrayal and loss, or a sudden financial ruin. Let's take the latter example. Let us imagine that, of these two men, the first one has built his entire identity and sense of worth upon his possessions. His ruin destroys him internally; he is consumed by shame, despair, and a feeling of worthlessness. By contrast the second man, while prudent with his finances, has cultivated the Stoic conviction that his character is his only true possession. He sees the same event as a severe external setback, but not an internal catastrophe. He responds with fortitude, integrity, and clear-headedness, focusing on what can be salvaged and rebuilt. The event is identical, but the outcomes are worlds apart. The difference lies not in the money lost, but in what each man believed was truly valuable to begin with. The Stoic argues that the second man remains "wealthy" in the only sense that matters--he retains his capacity for virtue, and thus, his ability to flourish. This is the profound, practical implication of placing virtue above all else. What do you think of this? I feel that it is hard, but true. I certainly saw the truth of it when I worked in suicide crisis intervention, and spoke often with the first kind of man.

This leads to the second, and perhaps most challenging, Socratic principle: virtue is a form of knowledge. Socrates believed that no one does wrong willingly; we only err out of ignorance. The Stoics adopted this view. They argued that the perfectly wise man, who possesses true knowledge of good and evil, would be immune to vice. Every wrong action, every moral failure, is ultimately a mistake in judgment about what is truly valuable.

To grasp this, consider a common example: anger. The Stoic does not see an outburst as a primal force that simply happens to you. Instead, it is the result of a specific, and faulty, judgment. The sequence is: (1) you judge that an injustice has been committed against you. (2) you further judge that this injustice is a genuine evil, capable of truly harming you. The anger is the emotional expression of these two judgments. The Stoic response is not to suppress the feeling, but to interrogate the reasoning. Was it truly an injustice? And even if it was, is it rational to classify another person’s poor behaviour as an evil that can damage your own virtue? What is in your control, and out of it, in this situation? Is life reducible to this event, or can you cope with unjust harms and make life good? The work here is to correct the opinion. The emotion then follows.

This second principle can be further clarified with a modern analogy that Farnsworth offers in his book The Socratic Method: the decision not to take heroin. A rational person does not see heroin as a "good" they are heroically forgoing. They recognise it as a poison that would destroy their capacity for everything else they value. The trained Stoic applies this same logic to vice—to anger, envy, dishonesty, or cowardice. They do not see these as tempting pleasures they must painfully deny themselves. Instead, they view them as a kind of moral and psychological poison. Just as you do not feel deprived by refusing heroin, the ideal Stoic does not feel deprived by refusing to act viciously. They are simply protecting their inner citadel—their virtue—which is the foundation of everything good in their life. This reframes self-discipline not as a struggle, but as an act of clear-sighted self-preservation.

The practical genius of Stoicism lies in how it systematised this insight that virtue is a form of knowledge. If suffering comes from false judgments, then the path to a good life is the rigorous correction of those judgments. Farnsworth emphasises that the Socratic Method, as adopted by the Stoics, is a form of internal dialogue. It is the habit of cross-examining your own impressions as they arise. When you feel a sting of insult, the trained mind does not react immediately. It pauses to ask: “Is this within my control? What part of this is truly about me? Am I believing something that is not necessarily true?” This moment of pause is the essence of practical wisdom, creating a space between impulse and action where choice resides.

The Stoics provided a sophisticated framework for navigating the world of “indifferents.” They acknowledged that some things are naturally “preferred.” It is rational to choose health over sickness, wealth over poverty, if virtue is not compromised. However, the moment we treat these preferred indifferents as necessary for happiness, we enslave ourselves to fortune. The virtuous man pursues them with effort but accepts the outcome with equanimity. His worth is not attached to the result.

This philosophy finds its ultimate expression in the Stoic goal of life: to live in accordance with nature. Our nature is, as Aristotle showed, that of a rational animal, and so this means living in accordance with reason and virtue. It is also a life where one’s actions are guided by a clear understanding of what is within one’s control and what is not: a life in accordance with the nature that is reality, which is in many cases beyond us. "Fate leads the willing, but drags the unwilling." Many run up against reality like a blind, stubborn fool bashing their head against a wall. Stoicism points out that there is a wall there. But also a path running around the side of it. Stoicism is not a passive resignation but an active, intelligent engagement with the world, grounded in reality rather than delusion.

Stoicism aims at freedom from unnecessary disturbance, of the kind that is generated by irrationality, by a failure to live in accordance with nature. It is common today for people to confuse that with a cold, emotionless existence. Even the dictionaries do, in their definition of the meaning of "Stoic". But the opposite is true. The goal is not to suppress emotion, but to cultivate healthy, rational emotions--what the Stoics called eupatheiai (good feelings). Instead of the destructive passion of fear, the Stoic cultivates caution. In place of the chaotic craving of lust, they foster a rational desire for connection. They seek a state of joy, a deep and stable contentment, rather than the fleeting and dependent pleasure of momentary excitement. This is not a lack of feeling, but the mastery of it. Socrates is again their paradigm: a man who could drink merrily at the party, who could joke and tease, who enjoyed friendship, who enjoyed hearty debate, and yet multiple times in the danger of battle placed himself on the front line. "I had the best opportunity to see Socrates [...] and if others had been as brave as he was, our city would not have suffered such a disgraceful defeat."

The relevance for the modern man should be clear. We live in a culture that explicitly teaches the opposite of Socratic wisdom. We are told that happiness is found in external acquisitions: status, possessions, approval. The career, or business and bank account; the house, the car, the holidays...even the ideal marriage and family; the presumed respect that comes with these things, the pride. The result is a society of anxiety, because these things are inherently fragile. Stoicism offers a profound alternative. It transfers the source of happiness from the unpredictable external world to the one thing we can truly command: our own mind and our own choices.

This is not an abstract theory. It is a practical philosophy for the challenges you face daily. The frustration of a traffic jam is a lesson in accepting what you cannot control. The bitterness of romantic rejection or a professional setback is an opportunity to examine your attachment to a “preferred indifferent.” The anxiety about the future is a call to return your focus to the present moment and the action it requires. In each case, Stoicism provides a tool for turning a potential disturbance into an exercise in character.

These tools are specific "spiritual exercises". They include the morning meditation on the challenges of the day ahead, preparing the mind to meet them with virtue. They include the evening review, examining where one succeeded or failed in living up to one’s principles. Perhaps most powerfully, they include the practice of premeditatio malorum--the deliberate contemplation of potential losses. By mentally rehearsing the loss of possessions, status, or even loved ones, not as a morbid exercise but as a reality-check, we rob future adversity of its power to surprise and devastate us. We learn to see all things as on loan from fate, not as permanent possessions. We get real, so to speak: it is natural to experience many painful or shitty things, that is "part of life", and we develop the wisdom and virtue to understand and make peace with life as it is, even before some of its pain and shittiness comes our way. This means we are not shattered or corrupted by future events, with all that comes from that, for we have trained ourselves to meet them. It means that we are not tortured now, not backed into an emotional corner, so to speak, by our fear of what might be. It means we can truly enjoy the life we have, never taking it for granted.

The endurance of these ideas across 2000 years is a testament to their truth. The core principle remains always and everywhere true: a good life is a life of virtue, and virtue is a matter of correct judgment. Stoicism is a call to the examined life, a call to build our resilience not on the shifting sands of fortune, but on the solid rock of reason and character.

For the man seeking to build a life of purpose and resilience, the path is clear. The question "How should I live?" finds its most robust and practical answer in the Socratic and Stoic tradition. It is a philosophy that does not promise ease, but rather which offers something far greater: invincibility:
 "What then should a man have in readiness in such circumstances? What else than "What is mine, and what is not mine; and what is permitted to me, and what is not permitted to me." I must die. Must I then die lamenting? I must be put in chains. Must I then also lament? I must go into exile. Does any man then hinder me from going with smiles and cheerfulness and contentment? Tell me the secret which you possess. I will not, for this is in my power. But I will put you in chains. Man, what are you talking about? Me in chains? You may fetter my leg, but my will not even Zeus himself can overpower. I will throw you into prison. My poor body, you mean. I will cut your head off. When did I ever claim that my head cannot be cut off?"

Stoicism offers the peace that comes from knowing that what truly matters can never truly be diminished by any external event. In a world of chaos, it is the ultimate foundation for a sound mind.

​The Stoic books I recommend include:
Ward Farnsworth The Practicing Stoic
Epictetus Discourses and Enchiridion
Marcus Aurelius Meditations
I treat Ward Farnsworth's The Socratic Method as essential reading for my work, and that remains true here. He recommends reading it before his book on Stoicism.