Not All Inner Citadels Are Good Places

The image of a person having an "inner citadel" of the mind, which can be drawn upon as a resource and refuge, has proven particularly attractive to Stoics, so much so that Pierre Hadot took that catch-phrase as a title for his book, The Inner Citadel: The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius.

Marcus talks about this at several points.  The citadel or fortress image comes up in this passage:

Remember that when it withdraws into itself and finds contentment there, the mind is invulnerable. It does nothing against its will, even if its resistance is irrational. And if its judgment is deliberate and grounded in logic . . . ? The mind without passions is a fortress. No place is more secure. Once we take refuge there we are safe forever. Not to see this is ignorance. To see it and not seek safety means misery. - Meditations, 8.48

Another passage dealing with the same idea frames this in terms of an internal refuge:

People try to get away from it all—to the country, to the beach, to the mountains. You always wish that you could too. Which is idiotic: you can get away from it anytime you like. By going within. 

Nowhere you can go is more peaceful—more free of interruptions—than your own soul. Especially if you have other things to rely on. An instant’s recollection and there it is: complete tranquillity. And by tranquillity I mean a kind of harmony. - Meditations 4.3

Epictetus himself uses a similar fortress image in book 4 of his Discourses:

In this way, also, those who occupy a strong city mock the besiegers; "What trouble these men are now taking for nothing: our wall is secure, we have food for a very long time, and all other resources." These are the things which make a city strong and impregnable: but nothing else than his opinions makes a man's soul impregnable. For what wall is so strong, or what body is so hard, or what possession is so safe, or what honour so free from assault? - 4.6

While this is an excellent metaphor, when it is relied upon uncritically, the notion of an inner citadel or get-away place can lead to problems.  Notice the proviso in the first passage.  The ordinary person's mind is not going to have such a fortress available.  The mind needs to have undergone considerable development, through ongoing study, understanding, and practice of Stoic philosophy. 

In his long chapter on freedom in book 4 of his Discourses, Epictetus writes:

How then is a citadel demolished? Not by the sword, not by fire, but by opinion. For if we abolish the citadel which is in the city, can we abolish also that of fever, and that of beautiful women? Can we, in a word, abolish the citadel which is in us and cast out the tyrants within us, whom we have dally over us, sometimes the same tyrants, at other times different tyrants? But with this we must begin, and with this we must demolish the citadel and eject the tyrants, by giving up the body, the parts of it, the faculties of it, the possessions, the reputation, magisterial offices, honors, children, brothers, friends, by considering all these things as belonging to others. - 4.1

The very process of using Stoic philosophy to recognize how badly off one is initially, and then to make progress towards freedom, virtue, and living in accordance with nature, involves identifying tyrants already within us, and the citadels within which they reside and rule.  In order to have the newer, peaceful inner citadel at our disposal, we will have to wage campaigns and sieges against the fortifications of enemies already established within us.

Notice that, as the passage continues, after those other citadels have been neutralized, their traces still remain inside our minds, and for quite a while, a person might remain warily on guard against them.  Epictetus points out:

And if tyrants have been ejected from us, why do I still shut in the citadel by a wall of circumvallation, at least on my account; for if it still stands, what does it do to me? Why do I still eject guards? For where do I perceive them? Against others they have their fasces, and their spears, and their swords. But I have never been hindered in my will, nor compelled when I did not will. And how is this possible? I have placed my movements toward action in obedience to God. 

Clearly what we have in this image of the inner citadel as employed in Stoic philosophy is something considerably more complex and ambiguous than the notion of an inner retreat, walled off from the world.  There's a good bit more to say about this, of course, and I'll likely expand upon these initial reflections later on in the Medium site, where my longer-form essays are hosted.