In an anxious world obsessed with self-help and stress management, it is no surprise that the ancient philosophy of Stoicism has come roaring back. Right now, Amazon boasts over 100,000 books on Stoicism, all promising the so-coveted “secrets to happiness.” Central to this promise is eudaimonia, the Stoic concept of human flourishing achieved by mastering our emotions. Indeed, for the Stoics, eudaimonia is not about fleeting pleasures or brief moments of joy we can recall or long for. Instead, being happy is a matter of building a resilient mindset that weathers life’s ups and downs—whether it is stress at work, a messy romantic (dis)connection, or the unending demands of parent(s)/ing.

At the heart of this Stoic mindset is apatheia, but it might not be what you think. While “apathy” today implies a lack of feeling, apatheia is far more nuanced; it is about achieving an inner calm that keeps us unshaken, allowing us to rise above intense emotions and painful circumstances. The Greek root breaks down to “a-pathos”—literally, “without suffering.” It sounds pretty appealing (and pretty intuitive), right?

But as I kept reading, a question began to nag at me: Does this Stoic emotional detachment really make us happier? Or could it risk making us so calm (if that’s a thing) that we become indifferent to both ourselves and the external world, especially when an intense emotion is exactly what is needed?

At the core of Stoic philosophy lies the belief that true happiness arises from living in harmony with nature. For humans, this nature is defined by our distinctive capacity for rational thought. Thus, if genuine happiness means aligning ourselves with nature, achieving this state requires us humans to honor our rational faculties. Consequently, when we allow intense emotions to overwhelm us, we stray from this rational foundation, diminishing our happiness. This is where apatheia becomes essential—a state of emotional steadiness that protects us from overwhelming passions, helping us maintain our equilibrium and foster true well-being.

Against this backdrop, Stoicism undeniably provides a powerful toolkit for managing life’s stresses, especially in an increasingly chaotic world. However, it is also crucial to recognize that an excessive focus on emotional detachment can lead us to tolerate injustices that demand our attention and action rather than passively accepting them in pursuit of tranquility. When our lives revolve solely around enduring challenges, we might actually end up tolerating circumstances we shouldn’t, from remaining in a (very) toxic relationship to accepting a grossly exploitative workplace (if not both). This tendency toward passivity has already drawn considerable critique, with some dubbing the resurgence of Stoicism as “McMindfulness.”

In a culture shaped by capitalist and corporate values, individuals are increasingly encouraged to “manage” their emotions and reconnect with their Zen-and-spiritual selves, to the extent that they uncritically ignore the wrongs of (ultra) productivity imposed upon them. Instead of questioning toxic and dehumanising work cultures or advocating for change, we are thus often advised to cope quietly, meditate, probably go to that extra yoga class on Monday, and simply power through.

If this already sounds (a bit) concerning, it is important to note that a fully Stoic immersion extends well beyond the personal sphere or a chill/lo-Fi mix looping in the background as your boss looks on. Being Stoic is certainly valuable for coping with the uncontrollable, and meditation tutorials can be genuinely helpful. Yet, an overemphasis on emotional detachment risks desensitizing us to the pressing issues facing our world—issues we are ALL a part of and that demand our active, engaged participation.

Stoics painted anger as an irrational (thus unnatural) passion that disrupts inner peace. But, sometimes, anger is the most reasonable and humane response to a broken system. Rage has fuelled social movements, driven essential reforms, and sparked revolutions from which we benefit daily—none of which would have been possible if everyone had stayed too calm to care. Even today, emotions like discontent and frustration can (and should) serve as powerful motivators, driving us to confront shared issues such as climate change, systemic inequalities embedded in our patriarchal society, and the persistent need to take a firm stand against racism.

Stoicism teaches us that emotional resilience is a valuable gift, but that does not mean it should be our only guiding principle. In fact, I think the Stoics may have missed a little something in depicting human nature as primarily rational. We must remember that, as human beings, we are not purely rational creatures; rationality is only one facet of who we are. We are also intuitive and emotional. Sometimes, following our gut and embodied sensations leads to better decisions than relying solely on logical thought processing. As said, if we focus too rigidly on serene disengagement, we risk becoming emotionally disconnected from ourselves and the world—two (deeply entangled) realms that demand our passion, our empathy, and, at times, a spark of fire.