How Stoics deal with jerks, narcissists, and other difficult people

Have you ever found yourself amid rush hour on public transportation, packed like sardines, only to be met with the unmistakable scent of sweat from the individual before you? Well, this situation may trigger some irritation. Especially when this person turns out to be a loudmouthed, antisocial a**hole, arguing with a friend on the phone on speaker mode. And when someone calls him out, he just blurts out some cuss words and proceeds with his behavior.

We’ve all been there, encountering nasty people in the outside world. A**holes are everywhere. They’re on the bus, on the train, on the streets, in restaurants, at work, in traffic, and in our private spheres. These ‘difficult people’ from all corners of the world and all walks of life just don’t know how to behave. Or perhaps they do know but don’t even bother doing so.

How do we deal with such people? Well, it turns out that the ancient Stoics have some answers. Dealing with difficult people is a common theme in Stoic literature. They spoke about deceptive brothers, bad fathers, people who pushed in the public baths, and those who flushed their manners (and sense of hygiene) through a public toilet. So, what can we do about loud and smelly commuters, unpleasant coworkers, or even abusive or narcissistic people we share our houses with?

In the previous video, we spoke about the choice of “being alone” and why such a choice often arises from painful past experiences with other people. This video goes deeper into dealing with these and other difficult people, including those who smell bad, through the lens of Stoic philosophy and some relevant personal experiences. After Epictetus was banished from Rome (along with other philosophers), he traveled to Nicopolis, a city in Northern Greece, where he remained for the rest of his life. In Nicopolis, he founded a philosophical school, and among his students was a young and bright man named Arrian.

Without Arrian, it’s likely that we wouldn’t be discussing the high-esteemed philosopher Epictetus today, as he wrote down a vast collection of lectures and created a pocketbook with his teacher’s most important lessons. One of these lessons features a cornerstone of Roman civilization: bathing. Public bathhouses were prevalent in the Roman Empire, and the Roman bathing culture, which was based on that of the Ancient Greeks, spread throughout the whole of the Mediterranean.

Bathing was predominantly a social practice. Romans visited the bathhouse to meet with friends and invite them to parties, and politicians dwelled there to collect support from the people. Even the superwealthy, who could afford private bathing spaces, frequented the public baths because of their social aspects. The bathhouses provided citizens a place to work out, meet people, relax, and have fun. But you probably would have guessed it: as a great variety of people visited such crowded public spaces, there wasn’t a shortage of *sholes, you know, those who splashed water on purpose, came to steal, or believed that the bathhouse was their property and behaved accordingly.

Yes, when reading Stoic texts, we can see that, in many ways, human nature hasn’t changed and that difficult people are a timeless occurrence. So, what did Epictetus suggest regarding handling the difficult people of that day? Epictetus told his students to remember the nature of their activity. We can attribute specific characteristics to every action. In the bathhouse, for example, there are things we can expect when we go there, even though we may not like them. People splashing the water, pushing others, using abusive language, shouting, intimidating, or doing a cannonball (if that was a thing back then).

Being aware of these aspects inherent to the bath, we shouldn’t be surprised when encountering them. So, what should we do, according to Epictetus? He suggests that the focal point shouldn’t just be bathing, but also keeping one’s mind calm and under control. I quote: “Thus you will more safely go about this action if you say to yourself, ‘I will now go bathe, and keep my own mind in a state conformable to nature.’ And in the same manner with regard to every other action. For thus, if any hindrance arises in bathing, you will have it ready to say, ‘It was not only to bathe that I desired, but to keep my mind in a state conformable to nature; and I will not keep it if I am bothered at things that happen.’”

Similarly, we can treat taking public transport. Of what nature is this activity? Is taking public transport always quiet, and are seats always available for everyone? Are people always lovely and friendly on the bus? Do trains always arrive on time without exception? Any commuter will probably admit that, even though these positive experiences occur, they don’t fully represent the nature of taking public transport.

Instead, there are many unpleasant aspects, such as loudmouthed, smelly, antisocial people who try to dodge fares, take too much space, and put their phones on speakers in a fully packed subway car. So, what’s the Stoic way of taking public transport? Based on Epictetus’ verse, the answer is two-fold: First, before leaving, the Stoics contemplate the nature of traveling with public transport. Second, Stoics focus on keeping their minds calm while partaking in the activity.

So, when taking the bus, expect the possibility of delay. When taking the train, expect to encounter unfriendly personnel and nasty passengers. Marcus Aurelius was considered one of the ‘good emperors.’ He was also a follower of the Stoic philosophical school. As an emperor, he had to deal with many people all day, every day, including some pretty difficult ones. Some people were rude and demanding; others were unfair and untrustworthy. Being an emperor was a hell of a job, and the responsibility was a heavy burden.

Imagine being the most influential person alive; many envy you and try to take your place, and a vast empire depends on your choices. Understandably, Marcus Aurelius sought an outlet, which (at least partly) took the form of a diary in which he wrote his reflections. He wrote about fortitude in times of need, the meaning of life, the nature of being human, and, unsurprisingly, about dealing with difficult people. From his writings, later Stoic scholars even derived a practice known as the ‘praemeditatio malorum,’ loosely translated as ‘negative visualization,’ which I’ve explored in-depth in a previous video.

But let’s look at a curious example of Marcus Aurelius’ writings, in which he urged himself not to be bothered by people’s foul body odors. He stated: “Don’t be irritated at people’s smell or bad breath. What’s the point? With that mouth, with those armpits, they’re going to produce that odor. —But they have a brain! Can’t they figure it out? Can’t they recognize the problem? So you have a brain as well. Good for you. Then use your logic to awaken his. Show him. Make him realize it. If he’ll listen, then you’ll have solved the problem. Without anger.”

The underlying thought about this approach is that we ultimately cannot control other people’s behavior. Marcus Aurelius realized that even as an emperor, he didn’t have complete power over his subjects. As we probably have experienced with the people around us, they have their own brains, will, and freedom of action. If something bothers us about them, we can only point it out, stating the issue clearly. But is that a guarantee that they’ll listen? Nope.

Chances are that they don’t care a bit about what we say. Some people stink and absolutely don’t give a crap about it. Unless you can force them to take a bath and put on deodorant, their hygiene is not in your power. And thus, as the Stoics would say, it’s not worth worrying about. By the way, if you’re interested in more of my ramblings inspired by Stoic philosophy, these books containing my collected works might interest you. They’re available in paperback and ebook format.

When people exhibit behavior we don’t like, we often put these behaviors under a magnifying glass. An example almost everyone can relate to is the way we see our parents. Especially when we grow older, we tend to focus on the bad characteristics of our parents while overlooking the good ones. Yes, some parents made terrible choices, others can’t take criticism, and others are nosy. These are facets that drive us apart from these people. We can’t disregard them; they persist in the background whenever we communicate with them.

These characteristics are what make these people difficult. And unfortunately, there often isn’t much we can do about them because only they can decide to change. But Epictetus urged us not to give up on these people just yet. The Enchiridion shares a lesson rooted in tolerance, showing that all things, including people, have more sides to them, apart from their bad characteristics. Epictetus spoke to a pupil who struggled with a brother who dealt unfairly, either with him or others. So he gave him the following suggestion: “Everything has two handles, one you can bear it with and one you can’t. If your brother is unfair, and you try to grasp the situation by the handle of his unfairness, you’re using the handle that won’t work. Grasp the situation by the other handle, that he’s your brother and the two of you were reared together, and you can carry it well.”

In many cases, from personal experience, changing perspectives goes a long way. Sometimes, mainly when I’m alone in my thoughts, I catch my mind magnifying people’s bad sides, turning them into villains out to wreak havoc on their surroundings. The “handle,” as Epictetus called it, becomes more significant than the person it’s attached to. So, what helps is simply focusing on the other side of the person, as there’s much more to someone than being a ‘jerk,’ a ‘liar,’ an ‘idiot,’ or a ‘drama queen.’ There might be complementary aspects that could still support a bond, other handles to carry it with.

However, the situation is so bad sometimes that we cannot carry it even by the handles we deem acceptable: some people are just too darn toxic to be around. If that’s the case, keep watching. Imagine sharing your home with someone who started a fire that produces smoke. As long as the fire is manageable and the smoke tolerable, you don’t see a reason to leave. But what will you do when the smoke becomes unbearable? Will you stay inside or get out?

Let me share something personal, something I’ve struggled with for a long time. I haven’t spoken to my father for more than five years now. We used to be very close, but in the spring of 2018, I cut off contact, which wasn’t without reason: it was an accumulation of experiences, some of which are insane when I recall them. My father portrays the criteria of Narcissistic Personality Disorder listed by the DSM-5, although he never got officially diagnosed because he doesn’t believe he has a problem, as opposed to the world around him, of course.

Regardless of what label belongs to him, his complete disregard for personal boundaries, manipulation, pathological lying, self-aggrandizement, obsession with vengeance, and path of self-destruction (not to mention destroying other people’s lives) were too large for my capacity to tolerate. I had to escape. I had to leave. The idea that my father is still my father and, therefore, I should still have him in my life lost more and more of its credibility when incidents were piling up. And I wasn’t the only victim. For years, I contemplated the words of Epictetus: “Are you naturally entitled, then, to a good father? No, only to a father.”

And while that’s true, I also must recognize that there are limits to what one should bear. At some point, enough is enough. The vast collection of recorded lectures by Epictetus called Discourses presents a simile about smoke in a house, which goes like this: “Has someone made a smoke in the house? If he has made a moderate amount of smoke, I shall stay; if too much, I go outside.”

The simile is generally explained as an argument that supports suicide, saying that when life becomes too much to bear, it’s okay to leave. However, when we look at the passages preceding the simile, it seems that Epictetus refers to ‘difficult people’ as they tell a story about someone not wanting to dine at someone’s house because he cannot stand his boasting. Thus, Epictetus concluded: “Only do nothing as one burdened, or afflicted, or thinking that he is in a wretched plight; for no one forces you to this.”

Here, he seemed to emphasize our ability to choose. When dealing with difficult people, or full-blown narcissists for that matter, is there a possibility to leave? If yes, we can walk through that door and never look back at any time. When people have hurt us, we might entertain fantasies of revenge. An eye-for-an-eye seems fair. If someone damaged us or did injustice to us, aren’t we justified to give them a piece of their own medicine?

My dealings with my father evoked similar sentiments in me. For years, I’ve thought about revenge, about how I’d settle the score. And I’d certainly not use the same methods as him. My idea of revenge was ‘success.’ As a son, I was never good enough. I was always at fault, perpetually deficient. So I figured that my best revenge would be to show him, to present to him that I’ve attained more success than he ever had. Although this form of revenge was constructive and not primarily aimed at harming someone, it was still revenge; it was still fueled by anger.

So I sacrificed a part of my happiness to get back at him, which, in retrospect, was quite absurd. Not only did I keep my hurt awake, but I also wasted my energy pursuing something ultimately out of control, which was getting a reaction from my father. My desired reaction from him was a mixture of awe, recognition, regret, acceptance, and maybe, just maybe, an apology. But I realized he’ll probably never give me these things, no matter how much I accomplish.

Epictetus presented a different outlook on the futility of revenge. In essence, he saw revenge as unnecessary and an act of harm to oneself. If we seek revenge because of an injury – something someone has done to us – let’s first consider Epictetus’ suggestion to think about what injury is. What is injury? When someone betrays you, are you injured? When someone chops off your hand, are you injured? By conventional standards, you would likely consider such events to be injuries.

But Epictetus stated that actual injury entails a lack of morality in one’s actions. Therefore, if someone lies to you or steals from you, that person has injured himself, as he damaged his virtue, which is the true and only good according to the Stoics. Epictetus stated: “For if the good lies in moral purpose, and the evil likewise in moral purpose, see if what you are saying does not come to something like this, ‘Well, what then? Since so-and-so has injured himself by doing me some wrong, shall I not injure myself by doing him some wrong?’”

Revenge is sweet, so they say, and while that is true in some cases, the sweetness is often short-lived. Whether or not ‘virtue’ is the only good is food for discussion. But, in my opinion, Epictetus had a point when saying that by injuring the man who had hurt me, I would hurt myself. It’s a different way of saying: “Never stoop down to their level.” It’s not worth it. Moreover, the intended injury may not even occur, as the suffering we hope to inflict ultimately depends on how they react to our actions – it’s not in our control.

So, this is how Stoics deal with difficult people, including those who give off a bad smell. How do you deal with difficult people? Which Stoic suggestion do you like the most? Please let us know in the comments. Thank you for watching.