“The best revenge is not to be like your enemy.” — Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 6.6
The past several months, I’ve been focusing a lot on Marcus Aurleius’ Meditations.
It’s existence is a fascinating story. An emperor, the most powerful man in the world, would write to himself about the dangers of his imperial power. He did so as a way to ensure he remain “uncaeserfied,” that is to say, that he remain humble… uncorrupted. These writings were only meant for him. They were a private set of collected wisdom—writing done in practice towards getting better as a human being every day.
I’ve been so focused on Meditations, in fact, that I’ve been reading several different translations, which add nuances and perspectives to the same ancient Greek words I otherwise wouldn’t necessarily discover. For instance, take the following passages, all from Book 5.20:
- “In one respect man is the nearest thing to me, so far as I must do good to men and endure them.” – George Long translation (1909)
- “In a sense, people are our proper occupation. Our job is to do them good and to tolerate them.” – Gregory Hays translation (2002)
- “From one point of view, nothing is so proper as a human being, insofar as it’s my job to treat people well and tolerate them.” – Robin Waterford translation (2021)
The same passage, but three different approaches. One is stogy and academic. The other is much more lyrical and poetic. And the last is straight forward and literal. I find it valuable to look at the same thing from different angles so I can better understand the whole.
I chose this passage to highlight because it’s a common theme in Meditations that I continue to come back to repeatedly: Tolerating other people. Working in HR, this is something worth focusing on!
I’ve read Meditations at least five or six times, maybe more, and one thing that is impossible not to recognize is that Marcus Aurelius seemingly didn’t like people! He clearly straddled the line between cynicism and acceptance—between disdain for humanity and loving and doing good for them.
This theme is one of the most human tensions in Meditations, and it’s one I find a lot of grounding in. Aurelius certainly sees people as selfish, foolish, petty, ungrateful, dishonest, status-hungry, and exhausting. But he does not let that observation become contempt. His answer was not withdrawal, superiority, or misanthropy. His answer was to use philosophy to help him see people clearly, expect difficulty, refuse hatred, and keep doing good anyway.
Aurelius is a model in not letting assholes turn one into an asshole. He straddled the line between being real about human weakness without surrendering love for humanity.
He absolutely wasn’t naïve. He often begins from the assumption that people will disappoint him. But he reminds himself that human beings are social creatures, bound together by nature, reason, and duty. Therefore, the failure of others does not release him from his obligation to act with justice, patience, service, and love.
Some of the key takeaways I continue returning to are:
- People will be difficult. Love them anyway.
- People will act wrongly. Do right anyway.
- People will misunderstand you. Serve anyway.
- People may not deserve your kindness. Your character still requires it.
Philosophy, especially the Stoic version Aurelius leaned into, demands that we work with one another. People were made for one another, and everyone has a part to play in the theatre of life. Passages from Meditations that continue inspiring me to keep my cynicism about humanity at bay include the following (from the Gregory Hays translation, which is my favorite for its beautiful poetic prose):
“When you wake up in the morning tell yourself: The people I deal with today will be meddling, ungrateful, arrogant, dishonest, jealous, and surly.” — Book 2.1
This is one of my favorite passages—working with people in the context that I do. Marcus Aurelius is reminding himself that people are deeply flawed. At first, this line sounds harsh, even pessimistic. But Marcus is not indulging in contempt. He is preparing himself to meet reality without being emotionally overthrown by it. He finishes the passage by saying he has a choice not to be implicated in the ugliness of others. He understands that if he builds his peace on the assumption that everyone will be wise, fair, grateful, and emotionally mature, he will spend his life offended. The practical wisdom teaches us to not build inner stability on the belief that people will always behave well.
“Care for other human beings. Follow God.” —Book 7.31
In Meditations, “god” generally means the rational, ordered principles of the universe (that is Nature, Providence, or Logos) rather than a personal deity in the modern religious sense. For Marcus, love is not just a feeling. Love is a duty. He is not telling himself to approve of everyone, trust everyone, or enjoy everyone. He is directing himself to remain people-oriented remembering his goodwill. Love, in this sense, is not softness or naïveté. It is a disciplined refusal to let disappointment turn into disdain. Marcus knows that people will fail, hurt, misjudge, and disappoint one another. Still, he insists that our task is not to fall back into bitterness, but to keep our moral focus pointed toward the good in humanity.
“The things ordained for you—teach yourself to be at one with those. And the people who share them with you—treat them with love. With real love.” — Book 6.39
As emperor of Rome, Marcus was ordained for leadership, even though he never wanted it. He came to accept his role. I imagine him writing this as he lamented the court around him. He came to accept their role, as well. I don’t read this acceptance as abstract humanitarianism. What he’s describing is much harder than that. He’s not depicting an imagined, idealized humanity from a safe distance. He is telling himself to love the actual flawed people placed in his life. For us, this means the difficult coworker, the defensive employee, the insecure leader, the impatient client, the person who misunderstands us, and the person who disappoints us. Philosophical (Stoic) love is not sentimental affection for perfect people. It is a commitment to meet imperfect people where they are and do so with truth, firmness, and goodwill.
“While you’re alive and able—be good.” —Book 4.17
Can this antidote to cynicism be so simple? I think it can be if we allow it to be. The question is not whether other people are worthy of our goodness. The question is whether we are still capable of being good. As long as the answer is yes, Marcus believes we have our marching orders. Other people may disappoint us. Institutions may frustrate us. The world may be unfair, irrational, or cruel. But none of that releases us from the responsibility to remain decent, useful, and humane while it is still in our power to do so.
“Some people, when they do someone a favor, are always looking for a chance to call it in. And some aren’t, but they’re still aware of it—still regard it as a debt. But others don’t even do that. They’re like a vine that produces grapes without looking for anything in return.” — Meditations, Book 5.6
Marcus also warns against using goodness to feed the ego, which is the enemy. He describes the best kind of person as someone who does good naturally, like a vine that bears grapes and asks for nothing more. The image is beautiful because of its simplicity. The vine does not demand applause for being a vine. It does not keep score. It does not resent the world for needing what it produces. It simply fulfills its nature. Marcus wants himself to do good in the same way. He doesn’t seek recognition, gratitude, or moral superiority. He does good because goodness is our fruit.
“What injures the hive injures the bee.” — Meditations, Book 6.54
Ultimately, Marcus viewed humanity through a communal lens rather than an individualistic one. This is why he cannot fully become cynical. Cynicism separates the self from humanity and says, “People are awful, so I will protect myself from them.” Marcus says something deeper. He tells himself that “People are flawed, and I am part of them. My good is tied to the common good.” That does not mean he is naïve or allows himself to be mistreated. It means refusing to let the failures of others turn us against humanity itself. For Marcus, virtue is inseparable from how we treat the human community to which we belong.
Meditations is filled with thousands of such quotes written by a man to himself. He never meant for anyone else to view them, but lucky are we in posterity for having the musings of the rare Philosopher King to help us keep our own cynicism at bay.
Marcus’s greatness is not that he served humanity because people were easy to serve. It is that he trained himself to serve humanity while fully aware of how hard people are to serve.
His attitude has helped me tremendously this past year. I’ve often flirted with going full on cynic. I’ve been tempted to divorce myself from society and live in the woods away from any signs of life. Maybe that’s an exaggeration, but people can annoy me. They can irritate me. I cringe at much of what I see. But I always stop and ask myself: Who has done the same while observing me?
This ego check keeps me mentally tethered to humanity. While I am irritated, I try—though fail at times—to not become irritable. Said another way, I try not to let the assholes make me an asshole.
All in all Marcus Aurelius’ ancient wisdom can help us:
- Expect selfishness but not become selfish.
- Expect ingratitude but not require gratitude.
- Expect ignorance but not answer with contempt.
- Expect conflict but remember cooperation is our nature.
- Expect disappointment but keep our own soul just.
- Do good because it is what we are here to do.
For someone in leadership or HR, this is especially relevant. You can see the worst patterns in people — ego, defensiveness, dishonesty, resentment, fear, manipulation — and still refuse to become hard-hearted. Marcus shows us that we can be clear-eyed without becoming cold.
The Stoic ideal is not, “People are good, so I will love them.”
It is stronger than that:
People are difficult, wounded, ignorant, and often wrong, and I will still not abandon my duty to love, teach, serve, and do good.
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