From Labors to Lessons: Teaching Stoicism Through the Myth of Heracles

“One man, driven to madness, slew his wife and children. Craving atonement for his deeds, he went on to fulfill twelve arduous labors, for which he gained immortality, fame, and honor. Another man started his life as a slave to one of Nero’s henchmen. Eventually freed, but then exiled, he fled to Greece where he started a philosophical school. He died poor and disabled, yet his epitaph claimed he was “the favorite of heaven”” (Ellwanger, 1913, 55).

While the connection between these men is not immediately apparent, ancient philosophers, like Epictetus, have often relied on myths to shape philosophical discourse and convey ideals. Stories surrounding the mythic figure of Heracles, the son of Zeus and a Theban queen, Alcmene, have had an impact on Stoic thought. Heracles (Hercules in Roman mythology) holds a prominent position in the lineage of Stoicism from its inception. Connections to Heracles are found in notable Stoics from Zeno to Epictetus. For example, Diogenes Laertius wrote that Zeno of Citium, the founder of Stoicism, after being shipwrecked in Athens, went to a bookseller. The bookseller was reading the second book of Xenophon’s Memorabilia, which featured Socrates recounting the famous allegory referred to as Heracles’s Choice. Zeno asked where he could find such men when, as fate would have it, Crates, a Cynic philosopher, passed by. The bookseller told Zeno to follow him, and so began Zeno’s journey to creating the syncretic Stoic system.

Heracles’s Twelve Labors and Epictetus’s Three Disciplines

The Twelve Labors is the most significant myth about Heracles, and the one that Epictetus uses to impart Stoic lessons. In this tale, it was Hera, Zeus’s wife, who, in a sense, set Heracles on a hero’s journey. Hera, jealous of the prodigy of her husband’s affair with the beautiful and wise Alcmene, induced in Heracles a temporary insanity that caused him to kill his family. After he came to, he was struck with the horror of what he had done and turned to the Oracle of Delphi for guidance and atonement. The Oracle, directed by Hera, instructed him to serve his cousin, a weak, local king, named Eurystheus. Over a period of twelve years, Eurystheus gave him twelve seemingly impossible labors to complete.

Heracles, despite their difficulty, successfully completed these tasks. Some of the more famous ones included skinning the Nemean lion, slaying a deadly hydra, kidnapping Cerberus, and cleaning the Augean stables in a day. By performing these deeds, he not only rid the world of various evils that were plaguing humanity, but also gained the redemption he sought.

Epictetus, unlike Heracles, was no epic hero, but he was a popular Stoic teacher. In his teachings, he maintained that,

There are three areas of study in which someone who wants to be virtuous and good must be trained: that which relates to desires and aversions, so that he may neither fail to get what he desires, nor fall into what he wants to avoid; that which relates to our motives to act or not to act, and, in general, appropriate behaviour, so that he may act in an orderly manner and with good reason, rather than carelessly; and thirdly, that which relates to the avoidance of error and hasty judgement, and, in general, whatever relates to assent.
Discourses 3.2.1-2

This passage succinctly captures what is often referred to as Epictetus’s three disciplines, and these disciplines align with the Stoic system of physics, ethics, and logic (Hadot, 1998). Epictetus’s teachings generally take on a protreptic form. They serve to instruct his students on how to adopt the Stoic way of life, and Heracles’s Twelve Labors provided him a compelling, shared narrative in which to drive home lessons regarding the Stoic tripartite system.

Physics and the Discipline of Desire

In Discourses 1.16 titled “On Providence,” Epictetus suggests that Heracles only became Heracles, via the obstacles he faced and overcame. Without these tests of character, in the form of the lion, hydra, and so forth, he would have never become who he was. If he had chosen a different path, say that of vice, and sought forgetfulness, pleasure, and tranquility instead of redemption, pain, and adversity, he would have never “become a Heracles” (Discourses 1.6.33).

Desire relates to physics. With a proper understanding of nature and our place in it, we can begin to train ourselves regarding what we ought to desire and what we ought to eschew. Ultimately, if we learn this discipline well, we can align our will with that of Providence. Doing so entails that each of us will fulfill our assigned roles as well as possible, along with fully accepting events outside of our control.

Epictetus believed in a rational, ordered, providential universe. Some Stoics referred to this as Logos, others as God. Since this is the case, everything happens for the best, even if it is not apparent to us. Aligned with Stoic orthodoxy in physics, Epictetus suggests that Providence has assigned each of us a certain role to play. This point is well illustrated in his drama (Enchiridion XVII) and campaign (Discourses 3.24.31) metaphors, and playing well whatever role fate has assigned us is part of our duty as rational human beings. Following Heracles’s example, this also means that we shouldn’t complain, blame others, or engage in self-pity regarding our assigned role.

Heracles’s labors were not only feats of strength and stamina, but also tests of character. Each labor was a manifestation of Providence. While many seemed arbitrary and punishing, they served a greater purpose. They were instrumental in Heracles’s development as a hero, moral exemplar, and sage, and Heracles’s acceptance of his labors mirrors the Stoic attitude of embracing fate. As Nietzsche wrote millennia later, “Amor fati.” Not only should we embrace our fate, but love it. By doing so, even the most challenging and painful experiences can contribute positively to our character development. Like an actor in a play, we were assigned a role; it is our duty to play that role as masterfully as possible.

Ethics and the Discipline of Action

In Discourses 3.26, titled “To those who are afraid of want,” Epictetus uses Heracles to impart lessons surrounding Stoic ethics. He compares Heracles with the feckless King Eurystheus. Heracles followed his orders and fulfilled his duties. Most importantly, he ruled himself, and placed good and evil firmly within his control. Eurystheus, on the other hand, was king in name only. He couldn’t rule Mycenae, because he couldn’t even rule himself. As a result, Eurystheus wasn’t free. He was essentially self-enslaved, because he couldn’t control his own desires, impulses, and beliefs.

Stoic axiology upholds three broad categories: good, bad, and indifferent. As Epictetus notes, “That some things are good, others bad, and others again indifferent; that the virtues and what partakes in the virtues are good, while things of the opposite nature are bad; and that wealth, health, and reputation are indifferent” (Discourses 2.9.15).  Virtue, then, is the only intrinsic good. According to Diogenes Laertius, the Stoics defined virtue as “a harmonious disposition, and should be chosen for its own sake, not out of fear or hope or with reference to anything external” (Lives of the Eminent Philosophers, 7.89). Virtue, therefore, is entirely up to us; it is completely within our control. The four cardinal virtues are courage, justice, temperance, and wisdom, all traits which Heracles exhibited. Bad, like good, also lies within our control, for the only thing intrinsically bad is vice in the form of character defects like cowardice, injustice, gluttony, and ignorance. All other things, even things that most people consider to be of highest value such as pleasure, wealth, and fame, and even things that most people consider to be evil, such as sickness, poverty, and ignominy, are considered indifferent. They lie outside the sphere of choice. Indifferents, also referred to as externals, are neither intrinsically good nor bad, so should neither be actively sought nor avoided.

The discipline of action, therefore, has to do with understanding this axiology, and then developing and honing our character through pursuing virtue, eschewing vice, and remaining indifferent to everything else. Since good and bad are found squarely within our choices, nothing external, whether it be in the form of injury, poverty, or even death, can harm a good person. The only evil comes from within. Moreover, it demonstrates that we shouldn’t strive for things outside our sphere of choice. It is foolish to do so. And Heracles surely didn’t. He focused on playing his assigned role and on things that were in his control. As a result, he became virtuous, and benefited humanity greatly through his labors. Fame was simply a byproduct.

Logic and the Discipline of Assent

Discourses 2.16 is titled “That we fail to practise the application of our judgements about things that are good and bad.” In this section, Epictetus emphasizes the importance of judgment, and connects it to his dichotomy of control; for when we attempt to find happiness in things outside of our sphere of choice, misery often ensues. Again, he uses Heracles as an example. He claims that if Heracles had stayed at home, comfortable and content, he would have become similar to Eurystheus who jumps into a jug in fright when he spots a fearful beast. He goes on to discuss how Heracles traveled the world purging it of its troubles. Yet, to become wise, we don’t need to skin the deadly Nemean lion or capture the marauding Erymanthian boar. Starting small, we can purge ourselves of false beliefs and judgments that give rise to bad habits, vices, and negative emotions.

Even though Stoics believed in a provident, ordered universe, they found room for choice in human judgment via assent. Assent is the power of the rational part of the human soul to accept or reject an impression. It is a voluntary process. “The discipline of assent,” according to Pierre Hadot, “consists in refusing to accept within oneself all representations which are other than objective or adequate” (1998, 101). The Stoics maintained that we constantly receive impressions from the external world, and upon receiving such impressions we must use our rationality to accurately evaluate them. Is this situation really dangerous? Will this wave sink my ship? Is wealth really good? Judgment, then, relates to this process of testing our impressions. An accurate impression corresponds with reality. It also lacks value judgments, harking back to Epictetus’s famous claim that we are not disturbed by things, but by our judgments about them (Enchiridion V). Thus, it is our job to constantly test our impressions and not add subjective evaluations to them. If something is initially thought to be good or bad, put it to the test. It may fail.

Judgment, therefore, plays a pivotal role within Stoic logic. To reason correctly, it is essential to hone our rationality and the virtue of wisdom, for it is both irrational and unwise to hold false beliefs. Epictetus maintained that errors in judgment are the primary cause of human suffering and vice. Failing to accurately test our impressions leads to all kinds of problems. For example, upon seeing a beast, we instantly recoil and flee in fear, as Eurystheus did, rather than using our rational faculties to test whether our initial impression was true, we demonstrate foolishness. Unlike Eurystheus, Heracles accurately tested his impressions. Despite facing daunting situations that would test anyone’s resolve and mental stability, his judgments were sound. Upon facing the Nemean lion, he only assented to accurate impressions and did what he needed to do. He didn’t add value judgments such as, ‘oh my, this is terrible. Look how many others have died trying to defeat this beast.’ Instead, he maintained his equanimity and exercised ingenuity. By doing so, he not only defeated the lion, but also grew strong and happy, honed the virtue of wisdom, and eventually became the embodiment of perfect reason.

Lessons in Human Flourishing

Epictetus’s three disciplines are coherently interrelated. One area doesn’t take priority; instead, they work together to form a cohesive system. The Stoics, as the famous similes of the egg and animal demonstrate, maintained their system was an organic unity. Issues in physics lead to issues in logic and ethics, and so forth. Wisdom, therefore, has to do with understanding the intertwined parts, and mastering the interrelated disciplines. Hadot calls Epictetus’s three disciplines, “the triple rule of life” (1998, 69), as they form an askesis, a way of life. The reward for adopting them and performing them well is inner harmony, eudaimonia, and even possibly sagehood.   

While Epictetus believed in an ordered and determined universe, plenty of room existed for personal agency, and he was essentially an optimist about character development. Even the worst of us can change, and if we follow the Stoic precepts, we can be well on the path to self-improvement. Rationality was a trait that humans shared with sages and the gods. If we exercise our rationality well and adhere to the Stoic system, we will flourish as human beings.

Some Stoics conceptualized Heracles as a sage. While only a few names, like those of Socrates and Heracles, are proffered as potential candidates, the sage, albeit rare, had a place in the Stoic scala naturae, the highest rung, shared only with gods, as being who possess perfect reason. While the vast majority of us will never reach this rung, the ideal of the sage is meant to be something toward which we ought to strive. Epictetus surely used Heracles as an aspirational element and as a figure to relay the tripartite Stoic system to his students. And each of us can start imitating Hercules right now. We don’t have to skin the Nemean lion or defeat the hydra. All we have to do is align our will with that of God, strengthen our virtues while simultaneously extricating any vices, and assent only to accurate impressions. Things that even mere mortals can accomplish.