Stoicism and Buddhism: What a Roman Emperor and an Indian Prince Actually Agree On

I've been practising Stoicism for over a decade and studying Buddhism for nearly as long. And the question I get asked most — more than "how do I meditate?" or "where do I start with Marcus Aurelius?" — is some version of this:

Are they basically the same thing?

Short answer: no. Longer answer: the overlaps are real, sometimes uncannily so, and exploring where these two traditions agree and disagree has sharpened my understanding of both. So here's what I've found — not as a scholar, but as someone who's tried to live with both of these frameworks and noticed where they help, where they clash, and where one picks up what the other drops.

They Start in the Same Place

Both Stoicism and Buddhism begin with a brutally honest observation: life involves suffering, and most of that suffering is self-generated.

The Buddhists call it dukkha. The first Noble Truth. Existence is pervaded by unsatisfactoriness — not because the world is terrible, but because we cling to things that won't last and resist things we can't avoid.

The Stoics arrive at something remarkably similar through a different door. Epictetus opens his Handbook with the claim that suffering comes from wanting things to be other than they are. Not from the things themselves — from our judgments about them.

Same diagnosis. Different language. And if you've ever lain awake at 3am turning a conversation over in your head — replaying it, rewriting it, getting angry all over again at someone who's been asleep for hours — you've lived the truth both traditions are pointing at. The event ended. Your mind didn't let it.

Where They Genuinely Overlap

There are a handful of places where the parallels are hard to ignore.

Impermanence. Both traditions insist that everything changes. Buddhists call it anicca and make it a foundational teaching. Stoics express it differently — Marcus Aurelius constantly reminds himself that empires crumble, bodies decay, fame evaporates. "Soon you will have forgotten everything," he writes. "And soon everything will have forgotten you." The practical takeaway is the same in both cases: clinging to things that are inherently temporary is a recipe for misery.

Inner freedom over external circumstance. Neither tradition tells you to fix the world before you fix your mind. Both say: start inside. The Stoic version is the dichotomy of control. The Buddhist version is the emphasis on mental training through meditation and right view. The external situation is secondary to how you relate to it.

Virtue as the foundation. Stoics organise their entire ethics around four virtues: wisdom, courage, justice, temperance. Buddhists have the Eightfold Path — right speech, right action, right livelihood, and so on. The frameworks differ, but the underlying conviction is the same: how you behave matters more than what happens to you.

Present-moment attention. Marcus Aurelius: "Never let the future disturb you." Buddhist mindfulness: stay with what's happening now. Both traditions noticed that most of our suffering is manufactured by a mind that has wandered into the past or the future and forgotten where it actually is.

I sat with Donald Robertson — psychotherapist and author of How to Think Like a Roman Emperor — and we talked at length about this overlap. His observation was that Stoic prosoche (attention) and Buddhist sati (mindfulness) are doing something functionally similar, even if the theoretical context is completely different.

Where They Seriously Diverge

The similarities are real. But treating Stoicism and Buddhism as interchangeable — which happens a lot online — misses some fundamental disagreements.

The self. This is the big one. Stoicism is built on a robust sense of self. You are a rational agent. Your hegemonikon — your ruling faculty — is the citadel. Marcus Aurelius talks about retreating into the fortress of the mind. The whole system depends on a "you" who can choose, reason, and act.

Buddhism says there is no fixed self. Anatta — no-self — is one of the three marks of existence. What you think of as "you" is a process, not a thing. Meditate deeply enough and the sense of a solid, separate self starts to dissolve. This isn't a failure of meditation. It's the point.

I'll be honest — this is the tension I find most productive to sit with. Because both perspectives are useful, and I'm not sure they're as incompatible as they first appear. But that's a longer conversation.

How they handle emotions. Stoicism is often compared to Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, and for good reason. The Stoic approach is to examine your judgments — is this actually bad, or am I telling myself it's bad? — and restructure the thinking that produces the emotional reaction. It's interventionist. You engage with the thought.

Buddhism, particularly in the Vipassana and Zen traditions, takes a different approach. Don't argue with the thought. Don't try to change it. Observe it. Watch it arise. Watch it pass. The emphasis isn't on correcting wrong thinking but on developing a different relationship to thinking altogether — more like Acceptance and Commitment Therapy than CBT.

I've found both approaches useful at different times. The Stoic method works well when I'm spiralling on a specific thought — she shouldn't have said that, this isn't fair — and I need to challenge the judgment directly. The Buddhist method works better when the problem isn't a specific thought but a general agitation, a restlessness that doesn't have a clear cause. Sometimes you need to argue with the mind. Sometimes you need to stop arguing and just watch.

Engagement vs. liberation. Stoicism is a philosophy of engagement. Get up. Serve the common good. Do your work. Fulfil your role as a citizen, a parent, a friend. The Stoic sage lives in the world and contributes to it.

Buddhism — at least in its original formulation — aims at something more radical: liberation from the cycle of rebirth (samsara) altogether. The goal isn't to thrive within the game. It's to see through the game entirely.

This is a genuine philosophical difference, not just a difference of emphasis. And it matters practically. When I'm struggling with motivation or purpose, Stoicism gives me more to work with. When I'm struggling with grasping — with wanting things too much, needing outcomes too desperately — Buddhism's framework of release is more helpful.

The role of the divine. Stoicism has a pantheistic streak. The Stoics believed in a rational, providential universe — the logos — of which we are all fragments. This gives Stoicism a built-in sense of meaning: you belong to something larger, and your role within it matters.

Buddhism's relationship with the divine is more complicated and varies enormously between traditions. But the core practice doesn't depend on God, gods, or a providential universe. It depends on your own attention and your own effort.

Did They Actually Influence Each Other?

This is where things get historically interesting, if inconclusive.

After Alexander the Great's conquests, Greek and Indian cultures mixed in what are now Afghanistan and Pakistan. The Indo-Greek kingdoms produced fascinating crossovers — Greco-Buddhist art, Greek coins with Buddhist imagery. Menander I, an Indo-Greek king around 150 BCE, apparently converted to Buddhism. His philosophical dialogues with the monk Nagasena are recorded in the Milindapanha, one of the great philosophical texts you've probably never heard of.

Could Stoic and Buddhist ideas have cross-pollinated through these encounters? Possibly. Pyrrho, the founder of Greek Scepticism, travelled to India with Alexander and came back with ideas that look suspiciously Buddhist. But Pyrrho was a Sceptic, not a Stoic, and the direct Stoicism-Buddhism pipeline remains unproven.

Most scholars think the similarities come from convergent evolution — two intelligent traditions, working independently on the same human problems, arriving at overlapping solutions. Which is, in some ways, more interesting than direct influence. It suggests these insights aren't culturally contingent. They're responses to something universal about being human. So Which One Should You Practise?

This is the question everyone asks, and I think it's the wrong one. It's like asking whether you should train your legs or your arms. Both. Obviously.

But if you want a more honest answer: start with whichever one addresses your actual problem.

If your issue is that you know what you should do but can't make yourself do it — if there's a gap between your values and your behaviour — Stoicism gives you sharper tools. The dichotomy of control, evening reflection, the discipline of assent. These are practical, behavioural, and they work fast.

If your issue is that your mind won't stop — if you're caught in anxiety loops, if you're grasping at outcomes, if you feel a fundamental restlessness that no amount of productivity can fix — Buddhist meditation practices might address the root more directly.

I use both. Not as a theoretical synthesis, but practically. I do a Stoic morning routine. I meditate in a style closer to Buddhist vipassana. I use Stoic reframing when I'm angry. I use Buddhist observation when I'm anxious. I don't think this makes me eclectic or unfocused. I think it makes me someone who noticed that different tools work for different problems.

An Exercise to Try

Here's something that sits at the intersection of both traditions. It takes five minutes.

Sit somewhere quiet. Close your eyes. Bring to mind something you're currently worried about — a conversation you're dreading, a decision you're avoiding, an outcome you're anxious about.

First, the Stoic pass: ask yourself, is any part of this within my control? Separate the parts that are yours (your effort, your preparation, your attitude) from the parts that aren't (their response, the outcome, other people's opinions). Notice how the worry changes shape when you do this.

Then, the Buddhist pass: let go of the analysis. Just observe the worry as a sensation. Where do you feel it in your body? Is it in your chest? Your stomach? Your jaw? Don't try to fix it or argue with it. Just watch it. Notice that it moves. It changes. It's not solid.

Two different operations on the same material. One clarifies your thinking. The other loosens your grip on thinking itself.

Try both. See which one you needed today.

If you want a structured way to build these practices into your week, the 7-Day Stoic Challenge walks you through one exercise per day — audio-based, no fluff. And if you're already practising and want to go deeper, the Stoic Vault gives you a new weekly exercise, personal coaching, and a quiet community of people doing the same work.