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In his writings, Aristotle discussed the concept of arête: the achievement of excellence in character. With arête one was not just competent or successful, one thrived. To achieve this thriving, Aristotle advised following the golden mean: that is, finding the virtuous middle ground between extremes – thus, true courage was somewhere between cowardice and recklessness; loyalty was somewhere between treason and zealotry; decency was somewhere between vulgarity and prudery and so forth. Other pagan philosophies, such as skepticism, cynicism, and stoicism, offered a different set of prescriptions for living the good life – or at least the best life humans could hope to achieve. Often their view was something well short of arête.
Skepticism was started by a fellow named of Pyrrho of Elis (365-270 BC), who (like the sophists of Ancient Greece) argued that there was no way to truly know what was right or wrong, good or bad, just or unjust. In the face of this, the best one could do was to seek the tranquility of uncertainty, which was done by simply following the conventions and customs of one’s society or profession. Be a good citizen, lawyer, mother, soldier, whatever, not because there was some noble truth behind these endeavors, but merely because it allows for a peaceful, orderly existence.
The original cynic was a man named Antisthenes (445 – 365 BC), who was a student of Socrates. He argued that the virtuous life was one of ascetic self-sufficency. To achieve this one must be freed from all want of material possessions, social status, power, sex, or fame. All social convention must be rejected. Unfortunately, whatever merits this approach had were largely lost when Cynicism was hijacked by Diogenes of Sinope (412–323 BC) who turned it into a form of impoverished anti-social vulgarity.
Stoicism was founded by Zeno of Citium around 300 B.C. He argued that there was a divine order to the universe and humans were morally bound to fulfill their allotted role in that order. If the universe had assigned you to be a slave, then with dignity and serenity, be a good slave. Likewise with soldiers, merchants, farmers, and politicians. The good life may not have been a happy one, but it was an honorable one where responsibilities were met and duties were done.
Epicurus of Samos started his school of philosophy around 307 BC, and, contrary to some popular misconceptions, it did not espouse a life a dissolute hedonism. Instead, he claimed that the best life was one of sustained pleasure. But pleasure was only sustainable if one avoided extremes. Any excess, whether it be in drinking, eating, sexual activity, etc. was bound to create later discomfort (hangover, indigestion, ill-health, etc.). Thus, temperance was essential to true pleasure.
Though varied, there is a deep underlying commonality to these philosophies that tends to color much of ancient paganism; that is, an inherent gloominess. Ultimately, human life is a somber affair, a banal disappointment, not even rising to the level of tragedy. The best we can do is to avoid as much discomfort as possible, be responsible citizens, fulfill our assigned duties, eschew strong emotion and desire, and bravely and calmly accept that purpose and meaning are but comforting illusions.
While there is wisdom in these philosophies, what is lacking is inspiration. They are ‘head’ and not ‘heart;’ dispassionate intellect with no motivation. This is one reason why, in the midst of the pagan ‘grayness’ of Ancient Rome, a myriad of ecstatic salvation-offering mystery cults emerged. The most enduring of which was, of course, Christianity. One reason for its success was its ability to motivate the pagan intellect by infusing it with a passionate story of sacrifice and redemption. One needn’t be a believer to appreciate the innovative achievement and the undeniable endurance of the Christian movement – still with us today while its pagan forerunners have long since faded.
There is a lesson here for those who seek something approaching Aristotle’s ideal of arête. To truly thrive in our endeavors, whether in work, family, friendship, or the multitude of mundane tasks that make up daily life, we need both good reasons for what we do and an inspiration that animates the doing. Without inspiration, reasons grow stale and lifeless. Without reason, passions become reckless and self-destructive. When humans thrive, the effort of daily life increasingly approaches a joyful ease.
