Prosochē or not prosochē? On Stoic mindfulness
Is Stoic mindfulness a thing? If so, what is it?
“Mindfulness” has been all the rage for some time now. And it has, predictably, been criticized on both philosophical and effectiveness grounds. But I’m not concerned with either here. It’s pretty clear to me that while different philosophical traditions that use mindfulness (e.g., Buddhism) do make philosophically questionable assumptions, those assumptions are specific to each tradition, and need to be evaluated case by case. It’s also clear that although the benefits often claimed for mindfulness are likely exaggerated, the word refers to a panoply of mental techniques that are useful for modest but important purposes, such as calming oneself, paying more attention to one’s thought processes, and so forth. So, I’m going to take it as a given that mindfulness refers to a number of different techniques, that are more or less effective, and that are more or less based on certain specific philosophical and metaphysical assumptions.
What I wish to explore here, instead, is a debate within the Stoic community about our version of “mindfulness.” Specifically, whether it is, in fact, something that the ancient Stoics did, and whether it should be incorporated in modern Stoic practices. The answers, I think, are practically relevant to anyone who is either practicing Stoicism already or is curious about the impact that adopting this ethical philosophy might have on their own lives.
The debate I’m referring to concerns whether the Stoic concept of “prosochē,” usually translated as “attention” or “mindfulness” is: (a) a truly central concept in ancient Stoicism, and (b) best understood as anything like what we mean today by mindfulness. I don’t have a particular stake in this discussion, and I’ve changed my mind about it already a couple of times. Indeed, a major reason to write this essay is rather selfish: I want to clear my own fog about this topic, as I sense that it is important.
While different authors of course have slightly different takes on prosochē, the two basic positions can be summarized in this fashion:
(i) Prosochē is a central aspect of Epictetus’ philosophy, and it is useful to translate the term as “mindfulness.”
(ii) Prosochē is a minor aspect of Epictetus’ philosophy, and it is misguided to translate it as “mindfulness.”
Broadly speaking, on the side of (i) we have classic French scholar Pierre Hadot, “traditional” Stoic Chris Fisher, and author and cognitive behavioral therapist Don Robertson. On the side of (ii) we have my friend Greg Lopez, co-author with me of A Handbook for New Stoics: How to Thrive in a World Out of Your Control. If we were to go by majority opinion, or by weight of published scholarship—and with all due respect to Greg—(i) would win hands down. But this is philosophy, and appeals to popularity or to authority are both logical fallacies, so we are not going to fall for that.
Yes, prosochē is a form of mindfulness
Let’s start with the arguments put forth in defense of thesis (i). Fisher provides a good summary in his article, “Prosochē: Illuminating the Path of the Prokoptōn.” He begins by citing Epictetus:
“When you relax your attention for a while, do not fancy you will recover it whenever you please; but remember this, that because of your fault of today your affairs must necessarily be in a worse condition in future occasions.” (Discourses IV.12.1)
“Attention” in the quote above is rendered in the original Greek as prosochē. Epictetus mentions the concept in other places as well:
“Very little is needed for everything to be upset and ruined, only a slight lapse in reason. It’s much easier for a mariner to wreck his ship than it is for him to keep it sailing safely; all he has to do is head a little more upwind and disaster is instantaneous. In fact, he does not have to do anything: a momentary loss of attention will produce the same result.” (Discourses IV, 3.4–5)
Prosochē, then, claims Fisher, is crucial for the practice of the three disciplines of Epictetus: desire and aversion (meant to train us to redirect our desires toward that which is under our control), action (to guide us when dealing with other people), and assent (to improve our judgments). Notice that Greg and I built our entire book around the three disciplines (and, for that matter, I organized my previous book, How to Be a Stoic, around them also). So we don’t disagree with Fisher that the three topoi, as they are often called, are crucial to the study and practice of Stoicism. Or at least, Epictetus’ innovative version of Stoicism.
Fisher in turn was inspired by classicist Pierre Hadot, arguably the man who put Stoicism back onto the modern map of philosophies of life, particularly with three books, Philosophy as a Way of Life, The Inner Citadel, and What is Ancient Philosophy? Here are a couple of choice quotes from Hadot, concerning prosochē:
“A fundamental attitude of continuous attention, which means constant tension and consciousness, as well as vigilance exercised at every moment.” (What is Ancient Philosophy?, p. 138)
And:
“Self-control… fundamentally being attentive to oneself… unrelaxing vigilance.” (Philosophy as a Way of Life, p. 59)
Fisher also mentions Don Robertson, who has written an essay in defense of position (i), and who in his The Philosophy of Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy defines prosochē as:
“Attention to oneself which can also be translated as mindfulness or self-awareness.” (p. 152)
How does prosochē work, exactly? According to Fisher, by constantly reminding the agent to pay attention to the here and now (hic et nunc), and specifically to the following three things (Fisher, p. 3):
Present representations—proper discernment of the impressions which press themselves on our psyche.
Present impulses—the desires and aversions which define our moral will (prohairesis).
Present actions—the present acts inspired by one’s moral will.
But it is precisely at this point in Fisher’s essay (which is worth reading in its entirety) that trouble begins. He goes on to write (p. 3): “Vigilant focus on the present moment, often referred to as mindfulness, is most frequently associated with Buddhism in contemporary times. This is due primarily to the popularization of Eastern mindfulness practices in the West during later part of the twentieth century. However, as Donald Robertson suggests, the Buddhist concept of mindfulness ‘bears comparison to certain European philosophical concepts.’”
No, prosochē is not really a form of mindfulness
Enter my friend Greg, who is not just a practicing Stoic, but a practicing Buddhist as well. And he is familiar with both the Stoic and the Buddhist literature. He wrote an essay for Modern Stoicism entitled “Sati & Prosoche: Buddhist vs. Stoic ‘Mindfulness’ Compared,” where he defended thesis (ii).
Greg’s criticism of (i) is two-pronged: on the one hand, he claims that Stoic mindfulness, whatever it is, has little in common with Buddhist mindfulness (also, whatever it is, since there is quite a bit of disagreement on that too!). On the other hand, he suggests that the evidence in favor of a central role of prosochē in Epictetean philosophy, never mind in Stoicism in general, is pretty thin.
Let’s start with what mindfulness means, in and out of Buddhism. Greg points out that the currently popular conception of mindfulness comes “from Jon Kabat-Zinn, the researcher behind Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR). He defines mindfulness as ‘paying attention in a particular way; on purpose, in the present moment, and non-judgmentally.’”
