To React or Not to React—That Is the Question

A Strategic Stoic Perspective on Action and Reaction

Read any modern popular interpretations of Stoicism, and you will quickly encounter the advice “don’t react.” To be fair, most characterize this as “don’t react emotionally” and “don’t react impulsively,” which are both wise and classically Stoic—on the surface.

When you are about to react, remind yourself: ‘Is this within my power?’ If not, do not concern yourself with it.—Epictetus, Enchiridion 1

Delay is the antidote to impulse.—Epictetus, Discourses 2.18

Do not give your assent hastily to appearances; first, say to yourself, ‘Let me see what you are and what you represent.’— Epictetus, Discourses 2.10

Anger, if not restrained, is frequently more hurtful to us than the injury that provokes it.—Seneca, On Anger, 3.42

The problem comes in when these ideas are interpreted, as they often are, as “do not react quickly” and “do not react re-actively” or “do not react instinctively.” We can clearly see where this extension comes from; we are literally told “delay” by Epictetus, and other classic Stoics seem to agree—on the surface. The problem with these oversimplified statements is we should ask, what is “quickly?” What is “too quick,” and how do you know? It’s easy to say, “count to 10” and “take a breath,” but is it practical? Is it always in your best interest to delay? Further, what if your initial instincts were correct? Should you never react to them? Or should you just never act too quickly? And then again, what is “too quickly”?

Consider…

• Your child walked into traffic with oncoming cars. Do you pause, take a breath, and count to 10, or do you instinctively react and run to save your child?

• You look in your driver’s side mirror and see a man walking toward your parked car; you look up and see another man watching you intently from a few cars away. Do you floor it and pull away from both of them, or do you breathe, count to 10, and see if the man from behind passes you by?

• A man stands in front of you menacingly; he’s leaning in, insulting you, and his posture suggests an imminent attack (1-2 seconds away). Do you react first and defend yourself while there is time and before you take the first strike, or do you breathe, count to 10… well, to 2, because that’s as far as you got before you went unconscious?

If you read this and think, “those are extremes” and “that’s not what Stoicism is talking about,” stop and think deeper. Fact of life: you perform as you train. You are what you repeatedly do.

We don’t rise to the level of our expectations, we fall to the level of our training.—Archilochus (Greek poet, 7th century BCE)

Excellence is an art won by training and habituation… We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act but a habit.—Will Durant, The Story of Philosophy, summarizing Aristotle.

The point being, if you train to always so-called stoically “take a breath” and “count to 10” and “walk away until you can think clearer,” then you will always perform with delay, including in critical situations. You perform as you train. Like it or not, there are often situations in life that call for immediate action, and often those situations are critical or even life-threatening. If you claim the above examples and the need for swiftness of action do not apply to the Stoic ideal (i.e., that’s not what Stoicism is talking about), then you have both created a logical contradiction and exposed a fatal flaw in Stoicism.

Premise 1: Always delay judgment for clarity; always delay action, never act impulsively or on first instinct.

Premise 2: Unless the situation is life-threatening, critical, or immediately dangerous.

Conclusion: Judge all situations immediately and without delay to triage them into critical and non-critical. Act immediately for critical situations; delay stoically for non-critical ones.

Problem: How do you adhere to Premise 1 and also obey the conclusion? You can’t. By definition, you must always judge immediately, if only to triage into critical and non-critical. Judgment is action, and that action must be immediate if we are to sort our reactions properly, thus logically contradicting the premise that leads to the conclusion. Aristotle would not be pleased.

No matter how you cut it, immediate reaction in the form of judgment (at least) is always needed, even if only to judge critical and non-critical situations. This does not even need to be life-threatening. It may simply be a matter of a moment of opportunity that, once gone, will never return. Do you always delay and always miss opportunities of the moment? Or do you immediately judge to triage into at least three buckets: 1) critical—> act immediately; 2) moment of opportunity—> think quick and act quick; and 3) non-critical, non-opportune—> delay for clarity.

Do you now say Stoicism only lives in case 3? It would be a feeble and flawed system if that’s where it needed to live, only where life is easy and affords time.

Fortunately, we have not found a flaw in Stoicism. The ancient Stoics knew this very well. They were not slow-witted monks. Marcus Aurelius was a commander-in-chief of Roman legions. Epictetus was enslaved, abused, and lived among soldiers and emperors. Seneca advised Nero, whose court was blood-soaked and treacherous.

We have instead exposed a flaw in the modern interpretations of Stoicism, which have reduced the discipline to vague aphorisms like “always pause,” “never react,” or “be calm no matter what.” These are nothing more than therapeutic distortions of Stoicism.

This is where Strategic Stoicism lives and thrives—at the heart of this apparent contradiction. Strategic Stoicism exposes the deeper Stoic principles beneath the oversimplified maxims like “pause and don’t react impulsively.” Stoicism does not command, “always delay action” or “always delay judgment.” It commands us to act virtuously and judge rightly. Virtuously and rightly does not mean slowly. It may mean preemptively, immediately, or decisively—or it may mean with deliberate delay. What matters is that right judgment itself must be immediate, or the opportunity to choose rightly and virtuously may be lost. That is true Stoicism, the philosophy of kings and slaves alike: not to always move with delay, but to always move with appropriate timing, which may be delayed or swift, as the situation and virtue demand. Speed is not the enemy—unexamined panic is. “Always delay” becomes a dogma that collapses in combat, conflict, or even basic leadership.

The true stoic knows we do as we train to do. To judge virtuously in the moment, the Stoic must train in advance—not just in thought, but in practice. We are not creatures of theory alone. When the situation arrives, there is no time to learn virtue. There is only time to reveal it.

The soul should stand ready, when needed, to act in accord with reason alone.— Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.55

For how can a man delay who has nothing to fear?—Epictetus, Discourses 1.2

Strategic Stoicism adopts a mindset of tactical triage. Every situation must be assessed, even if in a blink, and sorted:

1. Critical—Act immediately, with pre-trained resolve. Delay is failure.

2. Ephemeral opportunity—seize or lose. Think fast, act with clarity.

3. Non-critical—Delay for deeper judgment. Wait, observe, restrain.

This is not a contradiction. It’s a hierarchy of assent based on trained discernment. This is not an abandonment of Stoic discipline. It is the deep refinement of it, past the pop-culture superficial nonsense that has hijacked Stoicism. This is φρόνησις (phronēsis)—practical wisdom trained not only to endure hardship but to discern when endurance is foolish and action is required.

A practical real-life example that has literally saved my life: I have trained in martial arts for over 40 years. Going back to the earliest days, a drill we used to practice was as follows. We stand in front of a heavy bag, relaxed, arms down, eyes closed. Our partner stands behind the bag. Randomly, our partner reaches around the bag and slaps our face (hard). Our job is to instantly react with a punch to the opponent’s face (into the bag, where the assailant’s face would be). We practice this drill thousands of times, over and over, until reaction is instantaneous instinct.

The training just described is designed to take away the shock of being hit in the face and to replace it with a brutal, swift, and unerring counterattack. Do not think; act immediately. That is the lesson. Obviously this is not a technique for the ring; it is the trained response to a sucker punch. This is right action in context where danger and risk of further injury are very high. We are simulating a situation where the die is cast, action is demanded, and it is demanded immediately. We are training to act correctly for that situation so we do not delay; we do not think, we act.

While that was a simple and easily understood physical threat example, it can easily be extrapolated to every other domain: physical, mental, emotional, threats, or moments of opportunity. We perform as we train. We do not rise to the level of our expectations; we fall to the level of our training. Stoicism never said to wholesale abandon swift and immediate action or reaction. It says to train for right action, train to triage action immediately, and train for the timing of actions so you know when to delay and when to act.

Much of what is called Stoicism today is little more than therapeutic pacifism dressed in classical robes. It mistakes passivity for wisdom. But the Stoics were not passive. They were warriors, emperors, slaves, generals, and statesmen—men of the world. They did not teach inactivity; they taught righteous activity, and some righteous activity is swift, fierce, and reactive—not always, not even often, but occasionally necessary.

Don’t waste time debating what a good man is. Be one.—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 10.16

That is not a call to withdraw. It is a call to advance without confusion. When the time to act comes, the Stoic does not pause to think—we have already done the thinking. Our mind has been forged in advance.

The wise man does instantly what the fool does eventually.—Seneca, Letters 76

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