Theodorus the Atheist (c. 340 - c. 250 B.C.) was an ancient Cyrenaic philosopher who studied under Aristippus the Younger, and later learned from Anniceris, branching off from the orthodox strain and creating a new school of Theodoreans with a somewhat eclectic doctrine. There is much to gain by studying Theodorus’ innovations and applying his teaching to our own lives, due to the admirable qualities he cultivated on the basis of Cyrenaic philosophy. Although the following principles signal something of a departure from his predecessors, we ought increase the scope of our interest to cautiously adopt attenuated Theodorean values, without abandoning the fundamentals of Aristippus the Elder, in our quest towards defining a New Cyrenaicism of individual self-sufficiency, best equipped for navigating the real world.
Theodorean Modifications:
The New Telos:
Theodorus reinterpreted the ethical ends of Cyrenaic philosophy, and in the place of pleasure (hedonē) and pain (ponos), substituted instead the emotional states of joy (kharis/charis) and grief (lupē) as the supreme good and evil. This development signifies an attempt to identify a more robust telos, likely in response to the growing popularity of Epicureanism, transferring the focus from predominantly physical sensations towards a more abiding state of positive mental enjoyment. Epicurus also, when speaking of the kinetic emotion of pleasure, referred to this condition as charā, or joy, although his usual wont is to define the goal in terms of its limits in the removal of mental disturbance, referring to ataraxia, a more static state of tranquility. This option is of course foreign to the Cyrenaics, who can only admit to feelings which result from some level of physical activity causing perception. Nevertheless, Theodorus considers pleasure and pain, presumably intending those that are bodily, as intermediate to these states of joy and grief.
As avowed hedonists, we cannot follow Theodorus this far if his reclassification is taken at face value, which usually means interpretating the intermediates Stoically as “indifferent” — however, I suggest that we instead understand this differentiation between particular pleasures or pains, and the ethical telos of joy, as indicating roughly the same observation the Hellenic contemporary Epicurus (341- 270 B.C.) makes in his letter to Menoeceus:
And since pleasure is the first good and natural to us, for this very reason we do not choose every pleasure, but sometimes we pass over many pleasures, when greater discomfort accrues to us as the result of them: and similarly we think many pains better than pleasures, since a greater pleasure comes to us when we have endured pains for a long time. Every pleasure then because of its natural kinship to us is good, yet not every pleasure is to be chosen: even as every pain also is an evil, yet not all are always of a nature to be avoided. Yet by a scale of comparison and by the consideration of advantages and disadvantages we must form our judgment on all these matters. For the good on certain occasions we treat as bad, and conversely the bad as good.
Here, we might also make sense of a relevant passage in Laërtius’ doxography on the Cyrenaics: “Hence, although pleasure is in itself desirable, yet they hold that the things which are productive of certain pleasures are often of a painful nature, the very opposite of pleasure; so that to accumulate the pleasures which are productive of happiness appears to them a most irksome business.” By distinguishing between pleasures themselves, and the pleasant state of mind called “joy”, Theodorus can more easily excerise discretion amongst particular sources of pleasure, some of which are to be pursued while some are to be avoided, having reference not primarily to the character of the pleasure itself, but assessing its value according to the influence on his cheerful eudaimonia.
Diogenes Laërtius tells us that Epicurus was influenced by Theodorus, and although he makes this connection primarily in regards to his doctrine on the gods, it is eminently plausible that his influence went further than that. Epicurus borrowed more than is commonly recognised from the Cyrenaics, including the much-lauded Cradle Argument, and based on multiple similarities it is clear that the ideas of Anniceris provide something of a bridge between Cyrenaic and Epicurean hedonism. It would not be surprising to discover further points of influence from Theodorus than have hitherto been granted, especially considering both men attended the court of Lysimachus while Theodorus was the ambassador for Ptolemy I, who later also became interested in the philosophy of the Garden. Permitting this speculation, we may note a further connection in this regard when it comes to the Theodorean virtues.
The New Virtues:
Theodorus identifies the virtues of practical wisdom (phronesis) and justice (dikaiosunē) as goods which bring about our joy, while their opposites, foolishness and injustice, are evils which lead to grief. While the exhortation of phronesis, often translated as “prudence”, is easy enough to understand, the emphasis placed on justice presents more difficulties for interpretation, especially in regards to Theodorus’ insistence that, upon occasion, acts such as theft and adultery are permissible. In order to offer a possible solution, I’ll introduce another plausible connection to Epicurean philosophy, taken from the same letter:
Of all this the beginning and the greatest good is prudence. Wherefore prudence is a more precious thing even than philosophy: for from prudence are sprung all the other virtues, and it teaches us that it is not possible to live pleasantly without living prudently and honorably and justly, nor, again, to live a life of prudence, honor, and justice without living pleasantly. For the virtues are by nature bound up with the pleasant life, and the pleasant life is inseparable from them. For indeed who, think you, is a better man than he who holds reverent opinions concerning the gods, and is at all times free from fear of death, and has reasoned out the end ordained by nature? (Epicurus, Letter to Menoeceus).
Prudence and justice, so highly praised by Epicurus as inseparable from the pleasant life, are precisely those virtues identified by Theodorus. We may also note the remaining criteria, for as regards the opinions concerning the gods, we have good reason to suspect Epicurus learned these from Theodorus, according to Diogenes Laërtius. Furthermore, if anyone can be said to display full confidence in the belief that “death is nothing to us”, it is the very same man. Preserved from antiquity are numerous anecdotes illustrating Theodorus’ courage in the face of deadly threats from powerful figures, and one taken from Cicero’s account will suffice: “when Lysimachus threatened to crucify him, [Theodorus] bade him keep those menaces for his courtiers: ‘To Theodorus it makes no difference whether he rot in the air or underground.’” Of course, this analysis is certainly speculative, but I would argue it is both plausible and illuminating to consider that Theodorus intends his use and understanding of these terms in much the same way as Epicurus does, given their temporal, geographical, and ideological proximity.
If this much is admitted, we can deal fairly easily with Theodorus’ conception of justice, following the same understanding that Epicurus offers. Principle Doctrine 31 tells us that, “The justice which arises from nature is a pledge of mutual advantage to restrain men from harming one another and save them from being harmed.” This contextual social-contract notion is much easier to reconcile with Theodorus’ attitude towards theft and adultery, given the right circumstances, since not only can we easily imagine contexts within which prudent judgment would recommend ignoring certain laws or norms, we are also dealing with a concretised understanding of what justice really consists of, rather than strictly adhering to some Platonic absolute. This interpretation also intersects neatly with other feature of Theodorean philosophy, which we will turn to now.
The New Self-Sufficiency:
Theodorus’ philosophy proceeds from precious few elementary principles, and his confident polemical approach also indicates a skeptical attitude towards casuistry — yet the wise person must make prudential and righteous judgements upon some grounds, in order to achieve his sought-after joyous end. Here we come to the true expression of Theodorus’ self-sufficiency, wherein philosophical wisdom comes together with the realities of a specific situation, and the individual must make their own judgement. This further explains the following account from the doxography, which we have already touched upon: “He allowed that a wise man might steal, and commit adultery and sacrilege, at proper seasons: for that none of these actions were disgraceful by nature, if one only put out of sight the common opinion about them, which owes its existence to the consent of fools. And he said that the wise man would indulge his passions openly, without any regard to circumstances.” Against the interpretation that Theodorus was “indifferent” to passions and pleasures, the doxography suggests instead that prudence advises the wise how best to indulge these desires, according to the occasion that presents itself, even against standard social conventions ordering the relations of the common population. Hence, although this latter Cyrenaic places more emphasis on the virtues than his predecessors, and they are not strictly instrumental, they have much the same relationship to the good life as they do for Epicurus, as inseparable partial-constituents of a wise and joyous character.
Theodorus also expands upon the illusive civic position of Aristippus and proclaims that the whole World is his country. We also see him argue in favour of pursuing relations with courtesans, and explain that the proper use of beauty is to be enjoyed, in every sense of that term. On this account Theodorus claims that the foolish multitude cause their own grief — they are ignorant regarding how, when, and even if to indulge their desires. Instead, ordinary people base their beliefs on general consensus, lacking trust in their own judgement, missing the virtues of prudence and justice, and thus failing to achieve any lasting happiness. The Theodorean pupil, on the other hand, is perceptive and sensitive to all relevant factors, skilled in handling diverse situations, adaptable to circumstances, and able to indulge his will freely as a result.
Theodorus’ autarchy also resulted in controversial views toward friendship, which he asserts does not exist among the wise themselves, the foolish themselves, or between these groups. The wise are self-sufficient (autarkis), and thus do not require friends. The so-called “friendship” of the foolish, on the other hand, is based on need or use, and when this departs, so too does the friendship — such an empty relationship is not even truly deserving of the name. This attitude signifies a radical departure, not only from orthodox Cyrenaicism, but particularly from the doctrines of Anniceris. This self-aggrandising attitude finds even greater expression in the behaviour which earned Theodorus his iconic appellation.
The New God:
Contrary to Theodorus’ title as “ho atheos”, it’s unlikely, based on the testimony remaining, that Theodorus positively denied the existence of the Gods in the modern sense of the term, though no doubt he severely undermined the popular opinion, and was likely sufficiently skeptical to earn the epithet. Due to the comments of Diogenes relating the content of Epicurus’ theology to that of Theodorus, and the observation from Plutarch that Theodorus “the godless” only seems to imply that, whatever the gods may be, they are not imperishable, we may suspect a more nuanced position. We also have another humorous anecdote related by Diogenes Laërtius which could indicate some level of belief:
Mithras, the king's minister, standing by [said], “It seems that you can ignore not only gods but kings as well,” Theodorus replied, “How can you say that I ignore the gods when I regard you as hateful to the gods?”
More relevant to our purposes here, however, and what inspired the title of this post, is the interesting symmetry regarding the two titles which designate Theodorus in our sources. Although he is commonly referred to as “the Atheist”, or “the Godless”, he is also known by another name, allegedly resulting from this exchange with Stilpo of Megara:
He appears to have been called θεός (god) in consequence of the following argument addressed to him by Stilpo. “Are you, Theodorus, what you declare yourself to be?” To this he assented, and Stilpo continued, “And do you say you are god?” To this he agreed. “Then it follows that you are god.” Theodorus accepted this, and Stilpo said with a smile, “But, you rascal, at this rate you would allow yourself to be a jackdaw and ten thousand other things.”
In a case of apparent auto-proclamation, Theodorus declared himself to actually be a god, though this clearly should not be taken literally. In an earlier post I have collected the anecdotes which relate Theodorus’ comparison of himself to Greek heroes, and this seems to be a further instance of self-aggrandisement from the unusually pugnacious Cyrenaic, perhaps a further expression of autarchy and joyful self-assurance, no doubt with an overflowing sense of superiority not unlike the classic Grecian virtue of Pride.
Conclusion:
When it comes to what we should make of the foregoing, I’d recommend exercising caution in approaching the innovations of Theodorus. For all his boisterousness and intrigue as a provocative character, I find it incredibly unlikely that this man of Cyrene actually found the kind of joy most of us would wish to possess. With that said, there are elements of Theodorus’ confident expression, self-assurance, and intellectual modifications which can serve as an inspiration for the modern Cyrenaic, particularly in regards to increasing the emphasis on achieving abiding happiness while pursuing particular pleasurable experiences. Overall, I certainly would not recommend adopting Theodorus’ egotistical, aggressive, and frankly insolent approach, not to mention his outright rejection of friendship — in all this we find an excess of dialectical sophisms which undermine the achievement and appreciation of pleasurable experiences — but, as always, we may pick the flowers while not eating of the fruit, and for this purpose, Theodorus offers an engaging viewing experience.
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