Epictetus’ Art of Winning in All Circumstances (Stoicism)

When we’re in a competition of some sort, we generally uphold a binary vision of the possible outcome: we either win or we lose. Most people who participate do not want to lose; they compete with a desire to win. And when they indeed win, they’re likely to be happy and satisfied. But when they lose, chances are high that they’re sad and disappointed.

In a similar fashion, we approach life. The Stoic philosopher Epictetus repeatedly reminded his students that we put ourselves in an unreliable position through desire and aversion toward things not in our control. Because by doing so, we let our happiness depend on things we don’t have power over, which are most likely external forces such as other people or the weather.

In terms of winning and losing, we find ourselves in unreliable positions if we desire to win a competition in which the outcome depends on factors outside our power, according to Epictetus. Again, if we win, we’re happy; if we lose, we’re sad; but the outcome is not in our control.

Regarding sports competitions, our training (the discipline and effort we put into it) and performance at the competition are up to us. But we don’t control our opponents and the elements of luck and unexpectedness that are always part of the equation. Hence, no matter how well we prepare ourselves and how well we perform, there’s always a chance of losing.

The problem is: people generally hate losing. Losing, to many, is painful; it’s an experience of degradation, a diminishment of the ego. So, can’t we just put ourselves in circumstances where we always win? Or even better: is it possible to win in all circumstances? According to Epictetus, it is.

If we adopt the right mindset and attitude, we always win, even when we lose. This video reflects and elaborates on Epictetus' philosophy and why, if you want to lose, you always win. If you enjoyed Stoicism for Inner Peace, this new book is for you: Stoicism for Inner Strength, which contains my collected works on resilience and strength in the face of adversity. You’ll find a link in the description.

In one of his lectures, Epictetus told about a musician who was able to play fearlessly in the privacy of his home. But when he played in front of an audience, he trembled, and his face grew pale. According to Epictetus, his fear wasn’t because of a lack of skills but because he desired something that was not up to him: he wanted applause, praise, and approval from the audience.

Because he wanted something not up to him, there was a chance he wouldn’t get what he desired, which would’ve led to disappointment. As Epictetus clarified in the Enchiridion: “he who fails of the object of his desires is disappointed, and he who incurs the object of his aversion is wretched.”

The Stoic philosopher criticized the musician not just for desiring something outside of his power but also because of his ignorance of what he desired. According to the Stoic view, the musician desired something that has no value because it’s not his, so he wanted to win something unimportant and unreliable.

His desire for the audience’s praise allowed him to lose twice: first, by the anticipatory anxiety that his desire caused in the build-up to the performance and, second, by not getting what he wanted and feeling defeated because of that. What people think is beyond our control. Some would argue that it’s not even our business.

In the case of the musician, the audience’s response depends on various factors, like personal taste, prejudice, people’s moods, or how the location of the performance is set up, aside from the performance itself. The performance itself was the only thing that the musician had power over.

But as soon as he shifted his desire to something not up to him, his anxiety accumulated because of the great insecurity of desiring something that was ultimately not up to him. When we desire something outside of our power, we’ll never be sure if we’ll get the desired outcome regardless of our actions: there’s always an element of uncertainty that bothers many.

Often, in an attempt to control the future, we think it through many times, explore countless possibilities, and try to find solutions for all aspects that could go wrong. But doing so only increases our anxiety as we try to control something that hasn’t arrived yet – and, therefore, cannot be controlled.

Again, according to the Stoics, the root of this miserable state of fear and trembling lies in the desire for something not up to us. Therefore, wishing for praise from others implies the possibility of not getting it. Likewise, desiring to win, which depends on outside factors, presupposes the possibility of defeat.

So, how can we set up a situation where we never lose and always get what we want? Is that even possible? According to Epictetus, it is. Zeno of Citium, the founder of Stoicism, wasn’t afraid when he’d meet Antigonus, king of Macedonia. As Epictetus told his students: other people didn’t have power over what Zeno valued highly.

But the things others did have control over, Zeno didn’t value in the slightest. However, the prospect of meeting Zeno frightened Antigonus because he was concerned with making a good impression on him, something he didn’t have power over. Making a good impression on Zeno was beyond the king’s power, as it ultimately depended on Zeno and not on the king.

Following the example of the king and the philosopher, Epictetus explained the folly of trying to impress someone with a set of questions, and I quote: “Do I care to please you? What do I gain thereby? For do you know the standards according to which man is judged by man? Have you been concerned to know what a good man is, and what an evil man, and how each becomes what he is?”

End quote. Hence, Zeno didn’t care about what the king thought about him. He was confident about who he was and what he stood for, which was, for a part, only focusing on things that were up to him. Because he didn’t care about impressing the king, he had already won because he couldn’t lose.

Maybe the king would like him, maybe not. Either way, it was satisfactory to him; no outcome in the external world could defeat him. On the other hand, no one could touch the things he could lose, such as his virtue, moral choice, and attitude, which made him invincible.

Epictetus emphasized the risk of losing when the outcome is not in our power. He stated: “You never have to lose, as long as you stay out of competitions in which you can’t control the outcome.” End quote. We can interpret Epictetus’ words literally but also in a broader sense.

Competition is an activity of striving to win by defeating or establishing supremacy over others. But regardless of the activity, a competition only becomes a competition if we make it so. If we’d relinquish the aversion toward losing and the desire toward winning, then the competing ends, and we’re left with action alone.

In such a situation, we participate in the activity but stay out of the competition, at least on an internal level. Sure, we can still win or lose outwardly, but inwardly, which is what counts for the Stoics; it’s up to us to decide how we position ourselves toward winning and losing.

But what position should we take then if we always want to win? Let’s consider one of Epictetus’ key statements: “Demand not that events should happen as you wish; but wish them to happen as they do happen, and you will go on well.” End quote.

So, what if we actually want to lose? What if we completely and utterly embrace our defeat if it happens? When the competition we’re in could result in either winning or losing, outwardly, that is, then two things could happen. First, we win the competition, and thus, we win outwardly, in the eyes of others, and get praise and recognition.

Second, we lose the competition, and therefore, we lose outwardly, in the eyes of others, don’t get honor and glory, and might even get ridiculed. But as we’re not competing inwardly and don’t desire to win the tournament but wish events to happen as they happen, we’ve won inwardly in both instances.

Thus, if we want to lose, we always win. Or put differently: if we want things to happen as they do and, therefore, want to lose as much as winning, we simply cannot lose: either outcome means a victory because either is what we wished for. Losing becomes winning if it’s what we want.

Similarly, adversity ceases to be adversity if we wish for it. Likewise, if Sisyphus finds joy in pushing a rock uphill, then his punishment stops being a punishment. Even though the attitude of not caring about winning or losing seems useless and defeatist, it contains power in a practical sense.

For example, when we enter a competition, we can focus on what we control, which is our performance, regardless of the outcome. If we win, that’s great; if we lose, we’ve had an excellent opportunity to practice. So, both outcomes are welcome. This way, we remove the pressure of wanting to win and focus entirely on the performance.

Also, the embrace of losing or, more specifically, ‘failure’ is part of the so-called growth mindset, as it’s an opportunity for improvement and learning. But there’s another way in which the embrace of failure could benefit us. Epictetus’ stories about the musician and Zeno of Citium have a common theme: fear.

The musician feared performing in front of an audience, and the Macedonian king feared not impressing the Stoic philosopher. Both instances were induced by desire. Hence, Epictetus asked himself, when encountering an anxious individual: what does this person want? There’s always something we want or try to avoid.

In terms of winning and losing, there’s always a way in which we try to ‘win’ and avoid ‘losing.’ Let’s take, for example, the Macedonian king who feared to speak with Zeno. What did he want? He wanted to make a good impression. So, according to Epictetus’ logic, if the king had removed that desire, then his anxiety would have subsided.

Imagine you’re afraid to talk to someone you’re romantically interested in. What do you want? Probably, you want that person to like you; you want approval and get closer to that person. But this desire is why the anxiety arises when talking to that person and not to, for example, your dog.

So, what’s the worst thing that can happen? Rejection, in some form or another. And the idea of being rejected by that person makes us anxious. But what if we could flip the script? What if defeat, rather than victory, becomes our objective? Could it be that in actively seeking failure, we transform it into something positive?

Psychiatrist and holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl made an exercise out of this paradox called ‘paradoxical intention.’ With paradoxical intention, the goal is to fail. Frankl noticed that if we fear something, for example, stuttering in a conversation, and aim to achieve what we fear, then the fear relinquishes.

Doing so removes the aversion to what we fear and replaces it by welcoming it. Instead of fearing to lose, we want to lose. If we wish for what we previously feared, what reason is left to be anxious? Ironically, if the fear of stuttering subsides, then the stuttering itself is less likely to happen.

Thus, according to this logic, the Macedonian king could ease his fear by wanting what he fears; to leave a terrible impression on Zeno. Doing so generates a win-win situation: he either leaves a terrible impression and, thus, gets what he aims for, or he fails at what he aims for by leaving a good impression which, ironically, is what he wanted in the first place.

From a Stoic viewpoint, losing itself isn’t the problem. It’s our attitude towards it. If we despise losing, the mere chance of it happening will cause us to suffer. But if we don’t care about losing and even welcome it, it won’t cause us harm, as we get what we wish for. And so, even defeat becomes a victory.

Thank you for watching.