Anger was one of the passions the Stoics studied most carefully. Marcus Aurelius returns to it throughout the Meditations, reminding himself that the best response to provocation is not retaliation but understanding. Epictetus teaches in the Discourses that anger is a choice — a judgment that someone has wronged us — and that we can revoke that judgment. Their writings offer a surprisingly modern approach to anger management.
This page explores Stoic philosophical perspectives on anger. If anger is significantly affecting your relationships or daily life, consider speaking with a mental health professional.
The Misconception
The common assumption is that Stoics don’t get angry — that they have somehow transcended the emotion entirely. Read the Meditations and you will see how wrong this is. Marcus Aurelius is visibly angry in entry after entry. He calls people meddling, ungrateful, arrogant, dishonest. He describes colleagues who obstruct and provoke. What makes him a Stoic is not that he avoids anger, but that he catches himself in it. The Meditations are a record of a man who felt provoked daily and chose, again and again, to examine the judgment behind the provocation rather than act on it.
Epictetus takes a different angle. For him, anger is not a character flaw to be ashamed of but a diagnostic signal. If you are angry, it means you have accepted an impression without examining it — specifically, the impression that someone has wronged you in a way that matters. The Stoic practice is not to suppress the flash of irritation (that may be involuntary) but to pause before it becomes a decision. The pause is everything.
What the Stoics Said
When you wake up in the morning, tell yourself: The people I deal with today will be meddling, ungrateful, arrogant, dishonest, jealous, and surly. They are like this because they can’t tell good from evil. But I have seen the beauty of good, and the ugliness of evil, and have recognized that the wrongdoer has a nature related to my own—not of the same blood or birth, but the same mind, and possessing a share of the divine. And so none of them can hurt me. No one can implicate me in ugliness. Nor can I feel angry at my relative, or hate him. We were born to work together like feet, hands, and eyes, like the two rows of teeth, upper and lower. To obstruct each other is unnatural. To feel anger at someone, to turn your back on him: these are obstructions.
Meditations 2.1
This is Marcus Aurelius preparing himself each morning for the people who will provoke him. Notice that he doesn’t pretend those people won’t be difficult. He acknowledges their faults plainly — meddling, ungrateful, arrogant. Then he reminds himself that they act this way because they cannot tell good from evil, and that he shares the same human nature. The anger dissolves not through denial but through understanding.
Remember, it is not enough to be hit or insulted to be harmed, you must believe that you are being harmed. If someone succeeds in provoking you, realize that your mind is complicit in the provocation. Whichis whyit is essential that wenot respond impulsively to impressions; take a moment before reacting, and you will find it is easier to maintain control.
Enchiridion 20.1
This is the key passage on this page. Epictetus makes a claim that sounds counterintuitive: being hit or insulted is not the same as being harmed. The harm, he argues, comes from your own mind — from the belief that you have been diminished. His practical instruction is simple: don’t respond impulsively. Take a moment. In that moment, the gap between provocation and reaction becomes a space where you can choose.
The best revenge is not to be like that.
Meditations 6.6
Six words. Possibly the most quoted line from the Meditations, and for good reason. Marcus is not advising passivity. He is saying that the best response to cruelty is not counter-cruelty but refusal to become cruel yourself. The revenge is in remaining who you are.
- My relationship to them. That we came into the world for the sake of one another. Or from another point of view, I came into it to be their guardian—as the ram is of the flock, and the bull of the herd.Start from this: if not atoms, then Nature—directing everything. In that case, lower things for the sake of higher ones, and higher ones for one another.
- What they’re like eating, in bed, etc. How driven they are by their beliefs. How proud they are of what they do.
- That if they’re right to do this, then you have no right to complain. And if they aren’t, then they do it involuntarily, out of ignorance. Because all souls are prevented from treating others as they deserve, just as they are kept from truth: unwillingly. Which is why they resent being called unjust, or arrogant, or greedy—any suggestion that they aren’t good neighbors.
- That you’ve made enough mistakes yourself. You’re just like them.
Even if there are some you’ve avoided, you have the potential.
Even if cowardice has kept you from them. Or fear of what people would say. Or some equally bad reason.
- That you don’t know for sure it is a mistake. A lot of things are means to some other end. You have to know an awful lot before you can judge other people’s actions with real understanding.
- When you lose your temper, or even feel irritated: that human life is very short. Before long all of us will be laid out side by side.
- That it’s not what they do that bothers us: that’s a problem for their minds, not ours. It’s our own misperceptions. Discard them. Be willing to give up thinking of this as a catastrophe … and your anger is gone. How do you do that? By recognizing that you’ve suffered no disgrace. Unless disgrace is the only thing that can hurt you, you’re doomed to commit innumerable offenses—to become a thief, or heaven only knows what else.
- How much more damage anger and grief do than the things that cause them.
- That kindness is invincible, provided it’s sincere—not ironic or an act. What can even the most vicious person do if you keep treating him with kindness and gently set him straight—if you get the chance—correcting him cheerfully at the exact moment that he’s trying to do you harm. “No, no, my friend. That isn’t what we’re here for. It isn’t me who’s harmed by that. It’s you.” And show him, gently and without pointing fingers, that it’s so. That bees don’t behave like this—or any other animals with a sense of community. Don’t do it sardonically or meanly, but affectionately—with no hatred in your heart. And not ex cathedra or to impress third parties, but speaking directly. Even if there are other people around.
Keep these nine points in mind, like gifts from the nine Muses, and start becoming a human being. Now and for the rest of your life.
And along with not getting angry at others, try not to pander either. Both are forms of selfishness; both of them will do you harm. When you start to lose your temper, remember: There’s nothing manly about rage.
It’s courtesy and kindness that define a human being—and a man. That’s who possesses strength and nerves and guts, not the angry whiners. To react like that brings you closer to impassivity—and so to strength. Pain is the opposite of strength, and so is anger. Both are things we suffer from, and yield to.
… and one more thought, from Apollo:
- That to expect bad people not to injure others is crazy. It’s to ask the impossible. And to let them behave like that to other people but expect them to exempt you is arrogant—the act of a tyrant.
Meditations 11.18
This is Marcus Aurelius at his most systematic. He lists nine arguments against anger, one after another, like a philosopher building a case. They range from empathy (“they do it involuntarily, out of ignorance”) to humility (“you’ve made enough mistakes yourself”) to mortality (“human life is very short”). The tenth, from Apollo, is perhaps the most piercing: to expect bad people not to do bad things is insanity. Read the whole passage slowly — it repays it.
Philosophers say that people are all guided by a single standard. When they assent to a thing, it is because they feel it must be true, when they dissent, it is because they feel something isn’t true, and when they suspend judgement, it is because they feel that the thing is unclear. [2] Similarly, they say that in the case of impulse people feel that its object must be to their advantage, and that it is impossible to consider any one thing advantageous and desire something different, or consider one thing right and have an impulse to do something else.
If all this is true, then what grounds do we have for being angry with anyone? [3] We use labels like ‘thief’ and ‘robber’ in connection with them, but what do these words mean? They merely signify that people are confused about what is good and what is bad. So should we be angry with them, or should we pity them instead? [4] Show them where they go wrong and you will find that they’ll reform. But unless they see it, they are stuck with nothing better than their usual opinion as their practical guide.
Discourses 1.18.1
Epictetus is making a philosophical argument that leads to a practical conclusion. Everyone acts according to what they believe is right or advantageous. Thieves and wrongdoers are not evil in the way we imagine — they are confused about what is good and what is bad. If this is true, then anger at them is as misplaced as anger at someone who has made an arithmetic mistake. The appropriate response is not rage but correction, or, failing that, pity.
There are some quietly temperamental people who coldly and calmly act the same way as people wholly carried away by anger. Their vice should be avoided too as it is much worse than being boiling mad; people of the latter sort soon get their satisfaction, whereas the former hold on to their anger like patients with a low- grade fever.
Fragments 12.12
Epictetus makes a surprising claim here: cold, calculated anger is worse than explosive rage. The person who erupts gets it out quickly and moves on. The person who holds a grudge quietly, nursing resentment like a low-grade fever, does more damage — to themselves and to everyone around them. This is a warning about the danger of suppressed anger, which is ironic given the popular misconception that Stoicism advocates exactly that.
Anger in the face is unnatural. † … † or in the end is put out for good, so that it can’t be rekindled. Try to conclude its unnaturalness from that. (If even the consciousness of acting badly has gone, why go on living?)
Meditations 7.24
This passage is fragmentary — the “† … †” marks indicate text that was lost or damaged in the manuscript. What survives is Marcus observing that the facial expression of anger is unnatural, that it eventually burns itself out, and that this should tell us something about its nature. The parenthetical question — if you’ve lost even the ability to recognise bad behaviour, why go on living? — is characteristically blunt.
Whenever you set about attacking someone with violent threats, remember to give them fair warning, because you are not a savage animal. And if you refrain from savage behaviour, in the end you will have nothing to regret or explain.
Fragments 25.25
Consequently, there is bound to be frustration when you exert yourself. You desire what is not in your control: fine, but be prepared to be refused, to be frustrated, to come up empty-handed. [16] If, on the other hand, we read books entitled On Impulse not just out of idle curiosity, but in order to exercise impulse correctly; books entitled On Desire and On Aversion so as not to fail to get what we desire or fall victim to what we would rather avoid; and books entitled On Moral Obligation in order to honour our relationships and never do anything that clashes or conflicts with this principle; [17] then we wouldn’t get frustrated and grow impatient with our reading. Instead we would be satisfied to act accordingly. And rather than reckon, as we are used to doing, [18] ‘How many lines I read, or wrote, today,’ we would pass in review how ‘I applied impulse today the way the philosophers recommend, how I desisted from desire, and practised aversion only on matters that are under my control. I wasn’t flustered by A or angered by B; I was patient, restrained and cooperative.’ That way we will be able to thank God for things that we truly should be grateful for.
Discourses 4.4.15
‘But difficult and disagreeable things happen in life.’ Well, aren’t difficulties found at Olympia? Don’t you get hot? And crowded? Isn’t bathing a problem? Don’t you get soaked through in your seats when it rains? Don’t you finally get sick of the noise, the shouting and the other irritations? [27] I can only suppose that you weigh all those negatives against the worth of the show, and choose, in the end, to be patient and put up with it all. [28] Furthermore, you have inner strengths that enable you to bear up with difficulties of every kind. You have been given fortitude, courage and patience. [29] Why should I worry about what happens if I am armed with the virtue of fortitude? Nothing can trouble or upset me, or even seem annoying. Instead of meeting misfortune with groans and tears, I will call upon the faculty especially provided to deal with it.
Discourses 1.6.26
All of us are working on the same project. Some consciously, with understanding; some without knowing it. (I think this is what Heraclitus meant when he said that “those who sleep are also hard at work”—that they too collaborate in what happens.) Some of us work in one way, and some in others. And those who complain and try to obstruct and thwart things—they help as much as anyone. The world needs them as well.
So make up your mind who you’ll choose to work with. The force that directs all things will make good use of you regardless—will put you on its payroll and set you to work. But make sure it’s not the job Chrysippus speaks of: the bad line in the play, put there for laughs.
Meditations 6.42
Constantly run down the list of those who felt intense anger at something: the most famous, the most unfortunate, the most hated, the most whatever. And ask: Where is all that now? Smoke, dust, legend … or not even a legend. Think of all the examples: Fabius Catullinus in the country, Lusius Lupus in the orchard, Stertinius at Baiae, Tiberius on Capri, Velius Rufus … obsession and arrogance.
And how trivial the things we want so passionately are. And how much more philosophical it would be to take what we’re given and show uprightness, self-control, obedience to God, without making a production of it. There’s nothing more insufferable than people who boast about their own humility.
Meditations 12.27
Putting It Together
The Stoic position on anger is more radical than it first appears. Most modern therapeutic frameworks treat anger as a valid emotion that needs to be expressed or channelled. The Stoics went further: they argued that anger is, at its core, a mistake. Not a feeling to be managed but a judgment to be corrected.
The argument works like this. When someone insults you, the insult itself is a series of sounds. What makes it painful is your judgment that the insult matters, that you have been diminished, that the other person should not have done this. Remove those judgments and the anger has nothing to feed on. Epictetus is characteristically blunt about this: you are not harmed by the insult but by your belief that you are harmed. Marcus Aurelius reaches the same conclusion more gently, reminding himself that the person who provoked him is acting from ignorance, not malice, and that responding with anger makes two people worse off instead of one.
This is where honest disagreement with the Stoics is worth acknowledging. The modern view that anger can be a useful signal — that it alerts you to genuine injustice, boundary violations, or mistreatment — has merit. There are situations where not feeling angry would itself be a problem. The Stoics were not unaware of this. Marcus Aurelius does not tell himself that bad behaviour doesn’t exist. He tells himself that responding to bad behaviour with rage makes it worse. The question is never whether the other person was wrong. It is whether your anger serves any purpose beyond making you suffer.
What emerges from these passages is not a recipe for passivity but a practice of precision. Feel the flash of irritation. Notice it. Then ask: what judgment am I making? Is that judgment accurate? And even if it is — even if someone genuinely wronged me — does my anger improve the situation, or does it only degrade my own state of mind? Marcus Aurelius answers this question in six words that have echoed for nearly two thousand years: the best revenge is not to be like that.
Frequently Asked Questions
How does a Stoic handle anger?
By pausing. That single word captures most of the Stoic approach. The flash of irritation when someone provokes you may be involuntary, but the decision to act on it is not. In that gap between stimulus and response, the Stoic asks: what judgment am I making? Is it accurate? And even if it is — even if someone genuinely wronged me — does my anger improve anything?
How would a Stoic view feelings of anger?
Not as something to be ashamed of, but as a signal to investigate. Anger tells you that your mind has accepted an impression without examining it — specifically, the impression that someone has wronged you in a way that matters and that retaliation is appropriate. The Stoic response is not to deny the feeling but to trace it back to its source. Once you identify the judgment driving the anger, you can assess whether that judgment is actually true. Often it isn’t. And when it is, the question becomes whether anger is a useful response — or merely a habitual one.
What did Marcus Aurelius say about anger?
Marcus Aurelius returns to anger more than almost any other subject in the Meditations. His most sustained treatment is Meditations 11.18, where he lists nine distinct arguments against losing your temper — from empathy to humility to the brevity of life. But his most memorable line is just six words: “The best revenge is not to be like that.” What makes his writing on anger distinctive is that he clearly struggled with it himself. These are not lectures. They are a man talking himself down.
What is the root cause of anger?
Ask yourself this: when someone cuts you off in traffic, what exactly are you angry about? Not the physical event — a car changed lanes. You are angry about a story: that driver was reckless, they could have caused an accident, they should know better. The event is over in seconds. The story can last for hours. The Stoics identified this pattern two thousand years ago. The event is neutral. The anger lives in the judgment you attach to it. Change the judgment and the anger has nothing left to feed on.
What are the Stoic techniques for anger management?
Five practical techniques emerge from the texts. First, the pause: when provoked, wait before responding. Second, perspective-taking: consider the other person’s viewpoint and ask whether they acted from malice or ignorance. Third, the mortality check: you will both be dead before long, so ask whether this is worth the energy. Fourth, the empathy reframe: recognise that the person who wronged you is suffering from their own confusion about what is good. Fifth, the preparation: Marcus Aurelius began each morning by reminding himself that he would encounter difficult people, so that when he did, the difficulty was expected rather than shocking.
How to let go of intense anger?
There is a passage where Marcus Aurelius, clearly furious at the people around him, writes out a list of every reason he should not be angry. He reminds himself that they are his relatives in the deepest sense — fellow participants in human nature. That they act badly because they cannot tell good from evil. That he has made the same kinds of mistakes. That both of them will be dead soon. He works through these arguments one by one, not because any single argument is a magic cure, but because the cumulative weight of them shifts his perspective. By the end, the anger has been replaced by something closer to tired compassion. That process — not suppression but systematic re-examination — is how the Stoics let go.
Curated by Stoic Sage. Passages from Gregory Hays’s translation of the Meditations and Robert Dobbin’s translations of Epictetus. AI-assisted explanations reviewed for accuracy.