By Sofia Morgade

Magdalena Hoffmann, what did “a good life” mean in ancient ethics?

The concept of virtue is central to ancient ethics. According to Aristotle (384–322 BC), living well means developing both one's character and intellectual abilities to a state of excellence through the practice of virtuous conduct. What I find most appealing about this view is that a good life is an active one. It does not simply come to us – we are not passive consumers of our own existence. To live well is to take responsibility for one's own ethical well-being.

Can you give a specific example of a virtuous action?

To act virtuously means exercising a virtue with particular skill in a given situation. If I am courageous, for instance, this shows in my ability to manage fear well enough to speak out when I witness injustice. Crucially, that courage must come from genuine motivation – not, say, from a desire to present myself in a favourable light.

Why does ancient ethics, and Stoicism in particular, continue to fascinate us today?

Partly because it places such emphasis on the question of the good life – and does so with striking optimism. The idea that we can consciously shape our inner lives through specific exercises, in order to achieve a state of flourishing, holds real appeal. Stoic exercises offer a counterbalance to our restless, overloaded minds. They invite us to examine whether our image of the world, and the importance we assign to various things, is truly warranted. That kind of scrutiny can bring a certain inner freedom.

A well-known example is a distinction drawn by Epictetus (c. 50–138 AD): we should separate what lies within our sphere of influence from what lies beyond our control. If someone insults us, it is within our power to decide whether we let it upset us. This promises resilience and self-mastery – a degree of imperviousness to external circumstances. And yet Stoicism is not always applied for the right purposes.

What do you mean by that?

The distinction Epictetus draws is sometimes used to individualise what are in fact systemic or structural problems, as if we need only look to our own sphere of influence. But this is not what Stoicism actually teaches, and it fosters a narrative that lets us off the hook too easily when it comes to our responsibility towards others. Poverty or exploitative working conditions are problems of a far larger scale. We do not do justice to those affected by simply recommending a different inner attitude.

How does this differ from modern conceptions of the good life?

Ancient ethical theories all hold that the good life is a form of deep well-being – not happiness in today's sense of euphoric joy, but a sense of fulfilment rooted in the realisation of human potential. In antiquity, happiness and morality were closely bound together. That connection is far less prominent in many contemporary ethical theories, which tend to focus on evaluating actions rather than assessing moral character.

Do you think people today live virtuously? Or did people in antiquity do a better job of it?

It is difficult to compare, because one's attitude is tied to one's motivation, and motivation is not easily observed from the outside. That said, I would argue that many people today are simply not drawn to this kind of excellence of character. For them, happiness is a concept that does not necessarily involve morality at all. Ultimately, though, how virtuous we currently are is a question that can only be answered through an interdisciplinary lens.

In your lecture trilogy, you address not only living well but also ageing well and dying well. Many people tend to associate ageing with something negative …

Even in antiquity, attitudes towards old age were marked by ambivalence: experience and wisdom on one side, resentment and burden on the other. But there are many positive dimensions to ageing. The philosophy of life stages holds that each phase – childhood, youth, adulthood, old age – has its own distinct value. Old age, in particular, is associated with experience, serenity, sounder judgement, and a clearer sense of what truly matters.

How does one age well?

In my view, ageing well means turning one's experiences into insight – ideally into something approaching wisdom. It also means finding the courage to let go of things that once weighed you down or to which you attached too much importance; that process can bring genuine inner peace. And it means becoming more attuned to your existing relationships with peers and with younger generations alike. There is a great deal that can be brought to light in this way.

The fear of death is widespread. How might one alleviate it?

Many people are forming an ever stronger idea of what it means to die well. Reflecting on what a good death means for you personally is valuable, though it carries the risk of arriving at a very fixed notion of what dying well must look like, and then putting yourself under pressure to conform to it. Even so, it helps to keep one's own mortality in view. Doing so can make us more fully present in the here and now, and encourage us to tend to our inner lives – so that when the day comes, we are at peace with ourselves and free from regret.

This interview was first published in German in the magazine Cogito.