Enchiridion 50 — Hold to Your Principles as Laws

Whatever principles are set before you, hold fast to them as laws, as though you would be committing an impiety if you transgressed them. And pay no attention to whatever anyone may say about you, for this is no longer anything of yours.

This brief chapter delivers a teaching about commitment and consistency — about the firmness with which we should hold the principles we have determined to be right. Epictetus instructs that whatever principles are "set before you" (protithetai — proposed, laid down, established as one's own through reflection) should be held "as laws" (hōs nomois). This is a strong demand. We tend to treat our principles as preferences or aspirations — things we'll follow when convenient, bend when pressured, abandon when difficult. Epictetus insists instead that genuine principles must have the binding force of law, not the optional quality of inclinations.

The intensifier is striking: hold to them "as though you would be committing an impiety" (hōs asebēsōn) if you transgressed them. Asebeia is impiety — a religious offense, a violation of the sacred. Epictetus invests one's reasoned principles with a quasi-sacred authority: to break them should feel not like a minor lapse but like a transgression against something holy. This is how seriously the philosophical life takes its own commitments. The principles one has determined, through reason, to be true and right are not casual guidelines; they are the binding law of one's life, and to violate them is a kind of sacrilege against one's own integrity.

The second half of the chapter applies the dichotomy of control to the social cost of holding firm: "pay no attention to whatever anyone may say about you, for this is no longer anything of yours" (touto gar ouk et' esti son). Once you have committed to your principles as binding law, the opinions others form about you — their approval or disapproval, praise or criticism — are simply not your concern, because they are external, not in your power, and "no longer anything of yours." The two halves connect: holding firmly to your principles will inevitably draw the judgment of others (as chapter 22 warned), and the temptation will be to soften your commitment to avoid disapproval. Epictetus forecloses this by reminding you that others' opinions belong to the column of things not up to you. Your task is to hold your principles as law; what others say about your doing so is their business, not yours. The firm commitment and the indifference to opinion together constitute the integrity of a life governed by reasoned principle rather than by social pressure or passing convenience.

The teaching to hold one's principles as binding laws, with quasi-sacred authority, resonates with the contemplative traditions' understanding of spiritual commitment as a binding vow or rule rather than a casual preference. The monastic vow, the religious precept, the binding commitment to a way of life — across traditions, the serious pursuit of the spiritual life involves treating one's chosen principles not as optional inclinations but as obligations with the force of sacred law. The investment of one's commitments with the authority of the holy, such that their transgression would be a kind of impiety, parallels the gravity with which the contemplative traditions regard their vows and precepts.

The framing of principle-breaking as a kind of impiety reflects the connection, found across traditions, between integrity and the sacred. To violate one's own deepest principles is understood not merely as a practical error but as a betrayal of something holy — a transgression against the divine order, against one's true nature, or against the sacred trust of one's own conscience. The Stoic sense that one's reasoned principles partake of the divine logos, and so command a reverent obedience, parallels the religious traditions' grounding of moral obligation in the sacred.

The counsel to disregard others' opinions of oneself, since these are "no longer anything of yours," echoes the universal contemplative teaching that the approval and disapproval of others lie outside the self and should not govern one's commitment to the right. The freedom from the "worldly winds" of praise and blame in the Buddhist tradition, the Gospel's call to fear God rather than human judgment, and the broad wisdom-tradition insistence that conscience and principle must hold authority over public opinion all converge on Epictetus's point: that the firm commitment to one's principles, combined with indifference to what others say about that commitment, constitutes the integrity of a life governed by what is genuinely one's own rather than by the external pressures that are not.

The principles you have determined, through reflection, to be right should be held not as preferences to follow when convenient but as binding laws — with such authority that to break them would feel like a transgression against something sacred. This is the difference between having values and living by them. Most people treat their principles as aspirations, bending or abandoning them under pressure, difficulty, or the desire for approval. Epictetus calls for something far firmer: principles held as the binding law of one's life, whose violation is a kind of betrayal of one's own integrity.

And once you have committed to your principles this firmly, the opinions others form about you cease to be your concern. Holding firm to your values will inevitably draw judgment — and the temptation will be to soften your commitment to avoid disapproval. But what others say about you is external, not in your power, and "no longer anything of yours." Your task is to hold your principles as law; how others react to that is their business, not yours. The firm commitment and the indifference to others' opinions together form the integrity of a life governed by reasoned principle rather than by social pressure or passing convenience. Decide what is right, hold it as binding, and let the world's commentary remain the world's.

This chapter speaks directly to the challenge of living with integrity in a world of constant social pressure and the temptation to compromise our values for approval or convenience. Epictetus's instruction to hold one's principles "as laws" rather than as flexible preferences is a corrective to the modern tendency to treat values as aspirations we'll honor when it's easy — and quietly abandon when it's costly, inconvenient, or socially risky. The demand is for genuine commitment: principles that actually bind our conduct, not just decorate our self-image.

The practical wisdom lies in the recognition that values mean little until they're treated as non-negotiable in practice. This connects to the modern understanding that clear, firmly held commitments — what we might call having a settled "bottom line" decided in advance — make us far more resistant to the in-the-moment pressures and rationalizations that erode good intentions. When you've decided in advance that a principle is binding, you don't have to relitigate it under pressure; the decision is already made. A practical application is to identify the principles you genuinely consider non-negotiable and to commit to them with this kind of binding firmness, rather than leaving them open to constant renegotiation whenever they become inconvenient. The second half of the chapter — disregarding what others say about you — is the necessary complement: holding firm to your principles will draw criticism, and the discipline is to recognize that others' opinions of your integrity are not your concern, but theirs. In an age of intense social pressure to conform and constant public commentary on our choices, the combination Epictetus prescribes — firm commitment to reasoned principle, paired with indifference to others' verdicts on that commitment — is both rare and the very substance of a life of integrity.