I stumbled across an interesting passage from Nietzsche the other day:
“Trust in your feelings!” But feelings comprise nothing final, original; feelings are based upon the judgments and valuations which are transmitted to us in the shape of feelings (inclinations, dislikes).
Daybreak
Nietzsche is a complicated philosopher. It’s from a middle period work of his. But it is striking how nicely this fits with the Stoic account of emotions.
Today there’s a lot of discussion of feelings. But the idea here is that our judgments: what we believe about the world comes first. Often people justify themselves by saying “that’s just how I feel.” They hoard their own feelings, act out, and insist that no one else tell them how it is. Perhaps we do the same.
The Stoic view is that it’s not just how you feel that matters, it’s how you think.
And as Nietzsche suggests these “feelings” are grounded in “judgments and valuations.” Not only that, our thoughts are not our own. They are filled with the musings, conventions, and patterns of others:
The inspiration which springs from a feeling is the grandchild of a judgment—often an erroneous judgment!—and certainly not one's own judgment!
Our emotions are learned. They are the product of culture, not ourselves alone. That is what Nietzsche means here.
Why does this matter?
The Stoics insist on taking accountability for our thinking. It is what is up to us, after all.
They insist we see the world and ourselves as it is. In a sense, it doesn’t matter whether our judgments come from others or not.
Just because an assumption derives from tradition or popularity doesn’t make it true. Even so, that doesn’t mean the opposite is true. Often the normal, usual, and popular is correct.
We alone are responsible for how we think and yet our reason derives from Nature, not ourselves. We reflect with the language of our peers and ancestors. Thinking is at once social and individual.
Of course, coming to the truth is a difficult task. But we must do the best we can and get as close as we can. At the very best, we can acknowledge when we do not have it.
As Nietzsche challenges us in another work:
Your love of “reality,” for example—oh, that is a primeval “love.” Every feeling and sensation contains a piece of this old love; and some fantasy, some prejudice, some unreason, some ignorance, some fear, and ever so much else has contributed to it and worked on it. That mountain there! That cloud there! What is “real” in that? Subtract the phantasm and every human contribution from it, my sober friends!
The Gay Science