From Lone Wolf to Connected Thinker: Einzelgänger’s Journey Through Stoicism

An interview with the YouTube philosopher

Einzelgänger is the pseudonym of a multidisciplinary thinker and content creator deeply engaged with philosophy and psychology. Known for his thought-provoking YouTube channel, he explores diverse ideas ranging from Stoic ethics and Buddhist teachings to Taoist wisdom and cinematic analysis. With a passion for open-minded inquiry and a love of wisdom in its broadest sense, Einzelgänger’s work inspires, entertains, and encourages reflection on life’s profound questions. His journey through ideas remains ever-evolving and unbound by convention.

His latest work is philosophic fiction The Urge; Fall of a Stoic. (2024)

Einzelgänger, with 2.3 million subscribers, your YouTube channel has captivated a large audience by exploring philosophical concepts and making them relevant to everyday life.

In my twenties, I developed a taste for topics concerning the ‘meaning of life’ as I became deeply interested in religion. Having been raised without a religion, I felt something was missing in my life: guidance, being part of something greater, and having my existential questions answered.

In my late twenties, I enrolled in a Master’s program in religious studies at my local university. It was life-changing. I was very interested in the wisdom found in spiritual traditions and how it could help people in their daily lives. For example, how could being a Muslim or Christian help with depression? How can Buddhism help anxiety? Are monastics happier than average? During that time, I also encountered Stoic philosophy, which opened the door to philosophy in general.

I wasn’t an expert when I began creating, but I felt the drive to do it anyway. I already had experience editing videos and writing academically (and doing research) and for magazines, so making video essays came naturally. For me, creating is learning. It’s a way of processing things.

"Einzelgänger”, "lone wolf" in English, fits the theme of your videos, which often explore ideas related to solitude, independence, and introspection.

When I started Einzelgänger, I was in a rebellious phase. After several personal tragedies, I turned my back on the world and decided to rely as much on myself as possible. I swore off intimate relationships and spent my time mostly in solitude. The hermit became my ideal archetype, a model to aspire to, which is pretty “non-mainstream.” This period granted me lots of introspection. It helped me calm down after a tumultuous youth and adolescence. The Einzelgänger, the “lone wolf,” became my proud identity: the solitary who doesn’t need anyone, walking his authentic path.

Eventually, I discovered that human connection is valuable to me. Friendship, family, and even intimacy just make me happy. But so does solitude. Hence, I’ve been trying to balance social connection and solitude. I’m still learning, though.

So, Einzelgänger has a different meaning now. It's less about embracing radical autonomy and solitude and more about an independent journey through ideas, unfettered to a particular school of thought.

Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius emphasized the importance of accepting what we cannot control. In an age where technology and social media constantly give us the illusion of control, how can we navigate the tension between external control and internal freedom?

Technology has increased the individual’s overall influence on (and exposure to) the external world. We can communicate with people from all corners of the planet, broadcast ourselves online, and travel to faraway places quickly. The line between what we can and can’t control seems to have faded. But it’s still there. The external world’s fundamental nature remains unchanged: it’s still beyond our control.

While technology doesn’t grant us more control, it does amplify our urge to control. Compared to, let’s say, a hundred years ago, we’re bombarded with information about the external world. There’s much more visibility and accessibility, yet no fundamental change in actual control over it. YouTube, Instagram, TikTok, television, and our smartphone feeds give us an endless stream of stuff to worry about while denying the godly power to intervene.

Epictetus described things we can’t control as weak, restricted, and dependent on factors outside of ourselves. But if he were alive now, he might add that they’re intrusive and pushy, constantly inviting us to engage. Take “rage bait,” for example. Those who fall for it face a nonstop stream of upsetting information, coupled with the painful realization of their powerlessness to do something about it. Sure, they can yell in a comment section, but that doesn’t solve anything. On the contrary, these issues eventually control them with a painful grip. It’s a masochistic practice, a form of self-torment.

I’d say practicing detachment helps protect us from technology’s intrusiveness. Limiting exposure, ignoring unnecessary information, and resisting the urge to engage with stuff we can’t do much about goes a long way. The media is beyond our control; we only control how we respond to it. But, as we’re bombarded with information and invitations to engage, I believe it’s not enough just to stand there and accept. It’s better to avoid. Aren’t there better things to focus on than the foul talk and spectacle spread by technology and social media?

You often speak about the idea of self-mastery and the importance of introspection. How do you distinguish healthy self-reflection from overthinking that leads to anxiety?

Introspection and self-reflection can quickly turn into thinking that arouses ‘problematic’ emotions, such as anger and fear. For example, if I indulge in dreadful false truths about myself, I walk around in a fantasy world that makes me miserable. If I lament about the past, perhaps hoping this will change what’s already gone (which isn’t possible), I get stuck there and cultivate resentment and regret. If I worry too much about the future and overanalyze everything, I become anxious. These modes of thinking are often aimless, repetitive, and filled with self-generated content, such as fantasies, exaggerations, and cognitive distortions. They’re largely fabrications of the mind—reflections nonetheless—but are they useful?

However, suppose my self-reflection has a goal, for example, finding out what went wrong in a past relationship or why exactly I screwed up my job. My thoughts are reasonable and grounded in objectivity. In that case, my thinking practice becomes a vessel for (positive) gaining self-knowledge and (positive) change.

Tell me about The Urge: Fall of a Stoic.

The novel The Urge: Fall of a Stoic is set in ancient Nicopolis (Greece), where Epictetus lived and taught philosophy. The main character, Titus Laelius, experiences many misfortunes in a short period: he loses most of his wealth, his wife betrays him, his reputation is destroyed, and he’s separated from his children. His good friend, Arrian of Nicomedia, recommends that he attend Epictetus’ lectures. Unfortunately, tragedy continues to strike. Epictetus’ lectures grant little solace as his anger clouds his judgment. Losing faith in Stoic teachings, he encounters a mysterious philosopher who introduces him to an elusive force called the “Urge,” challenging what the Stoics teach.

The title suggests an exploration of Stoicism's limitations. What did writing this book teach you about the gap between Stoic theory and practice, and how did it shape your view of Stoicism?

The book reflects a struggle that, I believe, arises when committing to a (philosophical) system that aims to curb human passions. The ancient Stoic philosophers taught freeing ourselves from passions such as anger, fear, envy, and greed. They saw such emotions as disturbances that conflict with reason, which makes them harmful: they obstruct one’s pursuit of virtue. So, ideally, a Stoic frees himself from the passions, which brings about the inner calmness sought by Stoic practitioners.

However, an argument against this approach is that Stoics negate something inherently human. Although irrational and disturbing, aren’t passions part of who we are? The Stoics claim that our ability to reason makes us human and argue that we should aim to live rationally, a privilege not granted to animals. But even though we are uniquely rational compared to other living beings on Earth, does that mean we should submit to reason entirely? Aren’t we both irrational and rational? Aren’t we inclined to both emotional balance and madness?

I’ve learned that Stoicism as a system is valuable, and the Stoic views on thinking, emotion, transience, virtue, and control make lots of sense. But there are, of course, other ways to approach this out-of-control universe. Through its characters, my novel challenges the Stoic negation of the passions and the credibility of ethics and morals. Undoubtedly, a philosophical system (like Stoicism) leading us to happier, more virtuous lives is alluring. But doesn’t such a system obscure an inner force seeking expression (the “Urge”), no matter how irrational? It’s up to the reader to decide.

Do you have a favorite quote that you use?

If you wish your children, and your wife, and your friends to live forever, you are stupid; for you wish to be in control of things which you cannot, you wish for things that belong to others to be your own.

Epictetus, Enchiridion, chapter 14

I like this quote because it shows Epictetus’ bluntness. It goes directly to the source, and it’s highly relatable. It’s a beautiful reminder that we will be separated from everyone we’re attached to, and we can do nothing to prevent it from happening. It also shows Epictetus’ perspective on ownership: if something isn’t entirely in your power, it’s not yours. Your body, family, house, car—they are all borrowed. I also find it amusing that Epictetus calls those who cling to illusions of control “stupid.”

Suppose you were able to give a talk or workshop at the original location of Plato’s Academy, in Athens.

Of course, that would be a great honor and opportunity. However, I’m pretty comfortable in my anonymity, which I’d give up when doing so. So, it’s something to ponder.

What question would you like to leave us to think about?

If curbing our passions leads to a happier, more virtuous life, does it also mean denying an essential part of our humanity?