The world is a pretty miserable place, all told. Many people live in squalid conditions, struggling to survive in the face of starvation, disease, or military strife.

Even those who enjoy a modicum of comfort find little satisfaction in the endless accumulation of trinkets. Looming over all of us is an ecological catastrophe, which our dysfunctional political institutions lack the will or the wherewithal to tackle.

What is the appropriate response to such a situation?

The Ancient Greeks had an answer. Their drama emphasised that fate was cruel and tragedy unavoidable. You cannot avoid misfortune – your choice in its face was how valiantly to deal with it. This way of thinking reaches its zenith in Stoicism, the greatest intellectual movement of the period.

At first blush, it is hard to see what Stoicism may have to teach us about happiness. We tend to use the word stoic to refer to someone who is grimly unemotional. But the Stoics were indeed concerned with happiness – they simply disagreed with what constitutes being happy. For the Stoics, true happiness was only possible by controlling ‘disruptive’ emotions which prevent us from calmly seeing reality as it truly is. To achieve this, we must foster a range of intellectual and moral virtues – a process involving rigorous training.

Indeed, the Stoics claimed virtue is not merely necessary for happiness – as most Greek thinkers agreed – but also sufficient for it. Many Hellenistic philosophers drew the rather extreme conclusion that external goods were entirely irrelevant to happiness. Epicurus, for instance, allegedly claimed the sage could find happiness in any situation even while being tortured. What mattered – especially for the Stoics – was a person’s virtue.

The properly Stoic course of action is to attend to those aspects of our life we can affect, rather than engaging in grandiose projects of resistance that may be more about vanity than virtue.

But if virtue is sufficient for happiness, then what incentive do we have for opposing gross inequality or political oppression? The sage could surely find the internal resources to be happy even in a dictatorship. It’s notable that two of the most significant Stoic thinkers, Marcus Aurelius and Epictetus, represented the polar opposites of Roman society: Marcus Aurelius was one of the greatest emperors, while Epictetus was a freed slave.

The issue of slavery is a particularly pointed one. Philosopher Julia Annas, a modern admirer of the Stoics, suggests the Stoics, who are clearly impeccable in so many other respects, appear to have a blind spot when it comes to slavery. She also argues we have a similar blind spot regarding the hyper-exploitation of the developing world.

Annas concludes we will always be ‘imperfectly’ virtuous because we are often powerless to make change as individuals. The properly Stoic course of action is to attend to those aspects of our life we can affect, rather than engaging in grandiose projects of resistance that may be more about vanity than virtue.

The abolition of slavery would have never occurred had the abolitionists been overcome by fear of change. Real change requires us to think the unthinkable.

Herein lies the greatest danger of Stoicism as an ethical view – a tendency towards ‘quietism’ in the face of intolerable injustice. Perhaps the point at which Stoicism has nothing useful to say about an ethical issue is the point at which ethics must become political philosophy. In other words, it is the point at which we reach the limits of individual action and must deliberate and act collectively about the kind of society we want.

This kind of collective action seems to require the ability for us to hope for a better world, which German philosopher Ernst Bloch thought was located in the universal human propensity for daydreaming – imagining reality to be other than it actually is.

Bringing this imagination into being requires us to embrace certain risks, recognising, as philosopher Axel Whitehead wrote, “the great advances of Civilisation are processes which all but wreck the societies in which they occur”. The abolition of slavery would have never occurred had the abolitionists been overcome by fear of change. Real change requires us to think the unthinkable.

This kind of hope is much more than wishful thinking – the sort peddled by positive-thinking gurus. It is prepared to stare reality starkly in the face and still be prepared to imagine a better world. It goes without saying, such hope requires courage. It also comes accompanied with a degree of anger that the world is not as it should be.

We are familiar with the destructive consequences of rage – no matter how righteous its inspiration. Yet to fail to be angry at injustice indicates a failure of compassion.

The consequences of rage

Anger represents a uniquely problematic case for Stoicism. It seems to be the polar opposite of the calm acceptance of how things are. The Stoic Seneca famously counselled against anger because he believed it always arose from infantile frustration at the conflict between our desires and the facts.

This Stoic position has much merit. We are familiar with the destructive consequences of rage – no matter how righteous its inspiration. Yet to fail to be angry at injustice indicates a failure of compassion. As Aristotle suggests, someone who “endures beings insulted and … puts up with insults to one’s friends” is morally defective.

This then is the paradox: ethics seems to demand both the angry rejection of reality and calm acceptance of the facts. How is such a conflicted set of attitudes compatible with happiness? Calm acceptance can quickly degenerate into either despair or wishful thinking, but anger brings costs of its own.

You might point to those rare examples – Gandhi or Nelson Mandela perhaps – who somehow seem to transcend this dilemma: resisting oppression without anger. But surely the point is they are rare. It is the hallmark of systematically oppressive societies that it is virtually impossible for most people to resist or endure them without substantial cost to their own wellbeing. And even in the case of Gandhi and Mandela, political success came at substantial personal cost.

Our task then is to create communities in which ordinarily decent individuals can flourish. In order to create them, we require the peculiar combination of courage and anger necessary for hope. Perhaps then we might dream of happiness.

“Real men don’t hit women,” declared Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull in 2015, before announcing a significant domestic violence funding package.

This slogan was also routinely utilised by former Prime Minister Tony Abbott and is a long-standing feature of prevention and education campaigns around the world.

The message is one many people support. On the face of it, it serves the dual purpose of shaming domestic violence perpetrators and reinforcing the masculinity of non-violent men.

It’s interesting this message is most often delivered by stereotypically successful men such as politicians, sports stars and celebrities. In this way, men and boys are encouraged to see refraining from bashing women as another masculine accomplishment that deserves recognition and acclaim.

We are assured we can be “real men” and enjoy all the perks of masculinity without needing to resort to violence against women. Apparently, not hitting women makes our masculinity even more ‘real’.

On closer inspection, it seems peculiar to celebrate men and boys for not engaging in obviously illegal and harmful behaviour. What is it about violence against women that prompts us to proclaim the masculinity of men who eschew it?

Sexism is so pervasive in our society it becomes invisible, like the air we breathe. It produces the conditions in which domestic violence takes place and then seeps into the solutions we propose for domestic violence. It would be inappropriate to tell white supremacists they can still be ‘racially pure’ without racial violence. “Real whites don’t hit blacks” might ostensibly be an anti-violence message but it hinges on the very notion of racial purity causing the violence.

In the same way, “real men don’t hit women” only makes sense within the culture of sexism that drives violence against women. Male anxiety about being a “real man” is at the very core of physical and sexual violence.

Men who identify strongly with traditional, stereotypical notions of masculinity are most at risk of perpetrating domestic violence. Boys raised in a culture of masculine entitlement can grow into men who feel disrespected and turn to violence when they don’t receive the status and deference they expect from their partner.

Messages about “real men” are not part of the solution to domestic violence. They are part of the problem. Every Australian man grows up being told “real men don’t hit women”. We are taught “real men” are naturally strong and aggressive, but women are too weak and defenceless to make legitimate targets.

Instead, we are encouraged to direct our violence against each other, usually through sport (or physical combat after a few beers). Manfully protecting women is another way of proving our masculinity to others.

“Real men don’t hit women” suggests violence against women is wrong because it is cowardly. It supports the stereotypical view of women as too weak to defend themselves. In fact, women regularly strike back against domestic violence. As a domestic violence worker said during a research interview recently, “Not all of our DV victims are the meek, quiet woman who doesn’t speak up for herself, you know”.

Women who exercise their right to defend themselves against male violence are often stigmatised. They defy sexist expectations that “real women” are too weak to protect themselves and need a “real man” to rescue them.

We won’t stop violence against women by promoting gender stereotypes. The man least likely to hit or abuse a woman is someone who doesn’t care if he’s a “real man” or not. He’s found fulfilling relationships that don’t depend on other people’s assessments of his masculinity.

The good news is these are exactly the relationships men are looking for. No boy grows up hoping to turn into a violent partner or abusive father. Boys and men want to be part of strong relationships, healthy families and happy communities.

Violence corrodes relationships and leaves men alienated, confused and dependent on empty macho displays for a momentary sense of self-esteem. That’s the cost of worrying constantly about being a “real man”. Leaving that anxiety behind opens up a raft of opportunities for boys and men to engage with the people we care about on the basis of mutual respect.

Male violence is an obstacle to the kinds of lives men want to lead. This is the message we should be taking to men and boys.

If you or someone you know is affected by sexual assault or domestic violence, call 1800RESPECT on 1800 737 732. In an emergency, call 000.