The Trichotomy of Control, or, How to Lower Your Stress Level.
This Dilbert comic provides me with a good opportunity to write about what William Irvine, in A Guide to the Good Life: The Ancient Art of Stoic Joy, calls the dichotomy of control. Asok’s new goal is manageable, being highly unlikely, but it’s also out of his control. The Stoics would suggest that if he wants to avoid disappointment he would do better to desire something within his control. (Hey, there’s a whole shelf of books at B&N with titles like [Insert pop culture phenomenon] and Philosophy, so I can surely introduce a bit on Stoic philosophy with a Dilbert strip.)
Here’s Irvine:
Epictetus’ Handbook opens, somewhat famously, with the following assertion: “Some things are up to us and some are not up to us.” He offers our opinions, impulses, desires, and aversions as examples of things that are up to us, and our possessions and reputation as examples of things that aren’t. From this assertion it follows that we are faced with a choice in the desires we form: We can want things that are up to us, or we can want things that are not up to us.
Clearly if we want a peaceful life we should desire those things that are up to us and not worry about those things which are not up to us. Irvine disputes whether some of the things Epictetus says are within our control are actually up to us. Impulses and desires, for example, usually catch us unawares, though whether we act on them is usually up to us. He also says that it isn’t clear what Epictetus means by something not being up to us. It could mean that we have either no control or incomplete control. Better, says Irvine, to speak of a trichotomy of control:
- Things over which we have complete control.
- Example: The goals we set for ourselves. The values we form.
- Things over which we have no control at all.
- Example: Whether the sun will rise tomorrow.
- Things over which we have some but not complete control.
- Example: Whether we win while playing tennis.
We should definitely concern ourselves with things in category one. It is the most important category, but it is also fairly well understood. A good deal of stress, however, comes from misunderstanding categories two and three. For example, the past is something over which we have no control at all, yet “crying over spilled milk” is one of the most common ways we raise our stress level. We can and must learn from the past. One of the failures of the perpetually preoccupied, says Seneca, is that they never take the time to reflect on their past because they never disentangle themselves from this present moment. But we must no more worry over the past than we should worry over whether the sun will rise tomorrow.
The key to dealing with things in category three is the way in which we order our desires. Irvine uses the example of winning a tennis match. (Weddle, if you’re reading this, no smart alleck comments from you.) Though we have some influence, the outcome of a tennis match is not entirely within our control. The key then to managing our emotional reaction to the outcome is to internalize our desires. If our desire is merely to win then if we lose we will be disappointed. If, on the other hand, our desire is to play our best game then we may be satisfied whether or not we win. In short, if we want to manage our reactions to those things that are not entirely within our control then we must manage those things that are within our control, namely, our desires. Desire what you can control and not what you cannot control.

Don’t know about this set of advices. Wish I had time to pick through my thoughts about this — or, better, to hunt down what’s been said by people whose thoughts are more worth picking through.
Anyway, briefly off top of the head, it bothers me that desire here seems to be such a slight thing. Happiness, ‘a peaceful life,’ is somehow a given, and desire simply a function understood by its relation to the given thing. I don’t say this is nonsense, but it does seem to me that there’s another way of looking at desire, probably at least as important. Desire isn’t just a function, it’s also an aspect of human nature that tells us about ourselves & the world — isn’t it? Don’t know whether I’m liable to confusing terminologies here, but I want to say that desire is a kind of knowledge. In this sense, it’s perfectly proper to desire that the sun should come up in the morning. Not because you can find contentment by desiring what’s simple & cyclical or consistent with your biology or whatever, but because the sun coming up — the earth revolving & the sun being what it is in connection with the earth — is a peculiar species of good. And getting down into that good, knowing it deeply, is a richness of our own nature & part in Nature that desire makes possible to us. In a related way, perfectly proper to desire — in spite of all my awareness that no immediately obvious fulfillment is ever going to come my way — that I’d marry someone as beautiful as Shania Twain or Naomi Campbell, live in a Neuschwanstein or a Taliesin on cliffs overlooking the Pacific, enjoy the regard of world leaders as your peers, and so on as long as your list might run. (Heck, tack intergalactic travel on there — why not.) Not as a kind of dreaming appropriate to the young, with the practical benefit that one sets out in life with drive & enough hopefulness to surmount the usual disappointments down the line, but as an aspect of knowing who we are who marry and build houses or kingdoms or try to fly, what it is we do when we pursue marriage & property & danger, and what loss and death are — for instances. In this alternative sense, the idea isn’t that desire’s to be constrained by reality, but rather that it’s to be expanded as far as you have capacity to expand it — reality being there, expansive & elusive, to be grasped & grown into.
paul bowman
April 19, 2009 at 6:55 pm