Amor Fati

There is a trinity of Latin phrases that have become highly commercialized within the sliver of pop culture landscape allotted to Stoicism:

1. Premeditatio Malorum (the premeditation of evils)

2. Memento Mori (remember your death) and

3. Amor Fati (love of fate)

Over these next three weeks, I’m going to dive into each of these individually.

I will start, today, with Amor Fati – and with what might be a bombshell for some of you…

Amor Fati isn’t a “Stoicism thing”

It may shock you to learn that the phrase “Amor Fati” (an instruction to “love thy fate”) is not just not Greek, but also not Roman and not part of the Ancient Stoic canon.

While contemporary thinkers have found shadows of the idea in the writing of Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius, neither of these men ever told anyone to “love their fate.”

Instead, the phrase is derived from the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche (yes, the moustachioed heart-throb of Nihilists the world over) :

Then, smoking gun #1:

And #2:

This phrase was derived from no other text but Nietzsche’s, ever.

When people sell t-shirts that say “Amor Fati” in some cheap Greek-looking font, they’re aligning a German Nihilist’s writing with an Ancient Greek philosophy and they’re using the Latin language to do it.

It’s a total mess.

Commoditization, commercialization, and misattribution notwithstanding, is it “Stoic” to love thy fate?

Perhaps the strongest evidence that Amor Fati is, at the very least, compatible with Stoicism (since we now know it’s not from Stoicism), comes from the calamus of Marcus Aurelius in Meditations 4.3:

It is, at least, clear here that Marcus believed in acceptance of fate – and how big a jump is it from acceptance to preference… and then to love?

There’s some artistic literary license being taken, but I’d say it’s a pretty short jump.

So “Amor Fati” does seem to be in alignment with Stoic philosophy — even if not derived from it.

But is it Stoically useful?

The reason this Latin “Nietzsche-ism” has never sat well with me is, yes, partly because of how commercial it has become (like a Che Guevera t-shirt or that bumper sticker of Calvin peeing on things) but mostly because it isn’t helpful without a lot of context.

“Amor Fati” always seems to be issued as shallow advice – like a serious directive issued with no instructions or strategy.

It’s like…

“Go make your fortune” – well, okay, but how do I do that?

“Stop being so sad” – well, okay, but I’m sad… how do I stop being sad?

“It is what it is” – yeah, of course it is, but how do I cope with the fact that it is what it is?

“Love thy fate” – okay, that sounds good! But how do I do that, exactly?

It’s like a bit of quippy pseudo-motivation that doesn’t do anything to advise you on how to make it actionable and move forward.

And, eventually, anything that sounds useful but doesn’t give any actual instruction, can become a tool of abuse to be used against those facing challenging times by individuals who probably haven’t faced many challenges in their own lives and who lack sympathy or empathy.

And if you think that’s a bit too hyperbolic or over the top, I’ve heard (and read) hundreds of real-life (and online) comments that are just like that — ones said (and written) by people who very clearly do not understand what Stoicism is but profess to be Stoics.

It might be in alignment with Stoicism for one to love their fate – in fact, I’m comfortable saying it is – but it’s not enough to simply speak truisms and then get on with your day.

We’ve got to understand what we’re saying, why we’re saying it, and what saying it truly implies.

What should Amor Fati mean to a Stoic?

Things that happen, once they happen, cannot be made to have happened differently.

Things that are about to happen, or will happen in due course, can be influenced by those who don’t lose themselves in depressive lament.

When we say Amor Fati, we are, first, reminding ourselves that things which have already come to pass cannot be made to not have come to pass.

That history is now written and cannot be unwritten.

Second, we are prompting ourselves to appreciate that, while it has placed limitations on what we can choose in the present, our history has left us with choices we can make.

Lastly, we are coming to grips with the very dangerous threat that depressive lamenting of the past poses to our making of good decisions in the present.

If we lose ourselves to depressive lamentation, we cap our metaphorical pen and forget to take an active role in authoring what happens next.

“Amor Fati,” then, is less about loving our fate and more about reminding ourselves of agency in the present.

We don’t necessarily love what fate has brought to us so much as we love that what has been brought to us presents us with the opportunity to make well-reasoned choices and that it reminds us of our agency… that we get to choose how we continue.

If we’re going to use this Nietzsche-ism as part of our Stoic practice, then I think it needs to be a lot more prescriptive.

Hopefully, now, it is.

Thanks for reading,
Tanner