Philosophy Post #8: The Limits of Stoicism: Why This Ancient Philosophy Isn’t the Whole Answer
Stoicism has gained a modern following for good reason—it offers clarity, peace, and strength in a chaotic world. But like any philosophical system, Stoicism has its limits. It’s not a flawless guide to life, and if we’re honest, there are important questions it struggles to answer. In this post, I want to highlight some of those limitations—not to reject Stoicism, but to invite a more nuanced engagement with it.
First, the zeroth issue. (Why a zeroth issue? Because it seems like an idiosyncratic way of doing things, and because it is just as scientific to start your numbering from zero, as opposed to one.) The zeroth issue is that Stoicism is not based in Science. While its emphasis on internal control and personal virtue is admirable, but in some ways, it sidelines the question of whether any of its practices are based in Science. With that out of the way, let us look at the other issues, in turn.
The first issue is emotional suppression vs. expression. While Stoicism doesn’t tell us to suppress emotion outright, it does often lean toward minimising its role in our lives. This can be a strength in moments of crisis—but over time, it may lead to emotional distance or disconnection. Human relationships thrive on emotional resonance, on vulnerability, on being moved. If we always strive to be unmoved, do we risk losing something essential—like deep joy, empathy, or grief that connects us to others?
Second, Stoicism can come across as too individualistic. Its emphasis on internal control and personal virtue is admirable, but in some ways, it sidelines the structural and systemic dimensions of human life. Not everything in life is just a matter of attitude. Injustices like poverty, racism, or exploitation can’t be conquered by mental composure alone. A Stoic might say, “Accept what you can’t change”—but sometimes, we must try to change what seems unchangeable. There’s a danger that Stoicism can be used as an excuse for complacency in the face of injustice.
Third, there’s the question of value and meaning. Stoicism tells us to live in accordance with nature and to cultivate virtue—but it doesn’t give us a very rich account of what makes life meaningful in a more poetic or existential sense. It leaves little room for imagination, creativity, or spiritual longing. For someone who is looking for a philosophy that touches on transcendence or beauty—or who wants to embrace life with more intensity—Stoicism can feel dry, or even a bit austere.
Fourth, Stoicism often lacks a sense of community or shared practice. Unlike traditions like Buddhism, which offer rituals, sanghas (communities), and structured meditations, Stoicism is mostly a personal discipline. This might work for some—but many people benefit from collective reflection, emotional support, and a shared journey. A purely inward practice can sometimes be isolating.
Finally, there’s the problem of passivity vs. agency. The Stoic advice to accept what you cannot control can be empowering—but if taken too far, it risks becoming a form of quietism. In some situations, a Stoic might refrain from taking a necessary risk or fighting for a better outcome, simply because the result lies outside their control. Yet much of human progress depends on people acting despite uncertainty—often irrationally, even passionately—rather than always weighing their serenity against potential loss.
In conclusion, Stoicism has real value—but it is not a complete philosophy. It offers tools for resilience, but not necessarily for intimacy, activism, or transcendence. Its strengths are undeniable—but so are its silences. For those of us seeking a fuller, richer human life, Stoicism can be one voice among many—but it should not be the only one we listen to.
And now there are other approaches available - not just different ones, but, if I may be so bold as to say it. better ones.