Lesson 86 • Hill Climbing
This is not a test of purity but of perseverance.
But how many ethical choices can we make in a single day when it comes to where our money and time goes, especially when it seems like everything is tied up in greed, politics, and ideals?
S.M. Campbell
Every step carries with it a moral tax. If the road itself is immoral, your neurotic thought-spiral will be proportionate to your comfort doing evil — which is the kind of conclusion that drove the Underground Man to inaction1, and it’s precisely the kind of thinking stoics avoid.
The pursuit of perfection, of making all the right choices, can become a burden too heavy to bear, and one that invariably interferes with your ability to do any good whatsoever.
Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.
— Marcus Aurelius
The challenge is in balancing your principles with pragmatism. The constant mental calculus of modern ethical living drives us to suffer more in imagination than in reality. The pressure to disengage from flawed systems can feel overwhelming, especially when those same systems provide the tools we rely on to support our families and pursue our passions. There’s a limit to how much any individual can shoulder before exhaustion sets in.
Just last week I wrote about boycotting Meta. Since then, the Supreme Court ruled that TikTok could be banned, in response to which TikTok shut down its servers - and then just fourteen hours later (after the President’s meme coin — $TRUMP — made many billions of dollars) was restored with a thanks to the incoming president. Gross.
I am likely not returning to TikTok - but how many thousands of followers can I afford to forfeit? Where is the line when the harm to myself is greater than the societal good I do through neglect, or the virtue-stoking from being holier-than-thou?
This is exhausting.
A long excerpt from S.M. Campbell, worth your time:
My family is trying, we really are. We buy a full cow from a local farm. We go to the farmer’s market or a local farm for veggies as often as we can. We tried sourcing ethically made clothing for our kids (good luck with that by the way). We check ingredients and research food, and even grow our own vegetables when we can. We don’t support anti-LGBTQ+ businesses when we know about it. We give to charities. I don’t use ANY AI in my writing, art, or promotional material. We try to cut out red dye. We use home remedies from a local apothecary as often as possible. We’re trying to teach our children about consumerism and how quickly it can suck you in. I vote consistently for progressive values and equality. I have a list of authors I won’t read because of the stances they take. I already cut out Twitter. I write inclusive, LGBTQ+ friendly, anti-toxic masculinity, anti-establishment, anti-corruption, sexually explorative, punk books and dark romances.
But it’s draining: financially, mentally, and emotionally. I’ve got two kids under 7, and am watching the American middle-class die while wondering how to stay even in the bottom tier of it. Both my wife and I work full-time jobs AND have artistic side hustles to try and fill creative holes in our lives and bring in some extra $ as inflation marches on. We’re up late, up early, and busting our butts on social media—all while trying to limit screen time in front of our children and maintain a healthy relationship with each other.
And now I’m being told to stick the middle finger to Meta and find an ethical app to promote my books because Meta is the Wild West of false information, bigotry, and misogyny.
I’d love to, I really would—but I can’t.
Hill climbing
To understand how hill climbing works, think of an ant trying to find high ground. The ant is constrained by its forward-facing eyes: It can’t just look around and find the highest peak in its vicinity.
Instead, the ant can poll its many legs and determine which leg is resting on the highest ground — that is, which step it can take to most steeply ascend the gradient it’s adjacent to. It climbs one step in that direction and repeats the process: now which of my legs is on the highest ground?
— Cory Doctorow, “Hope, Not Optimism”
The fight for ethical integrity isn’t won in a single sweeping decision; it’s a series of small, deliberate choices made over time. It’s about doing what we can, when we can, and acknowledging that meaningful change is often slow and messy. In the same way, we can approach our ethical choices with patience and pragmatism, knowing that forward movement, no matter how incremental, is still movement.
There’s a certain peace in accepting that we can’t always make perfect choices, only deliberate ones. Stoicism teaches us to focus on what is within our control—our actions, our intentions, our values—while letting go of the impossible weight of fixing the world overnight. For those juggling careers, families, and creative pursuits, ethical living isn’t about a binary choice between virtue and failure; it’s about persistence in the face of complexity. The effort itself is a form of integrity.
By prioritizing what matters most—our families, our well-being, and our ability to create—we gain the resilience to continue making better choices over time. The small steps we take today, even if imperfect, add up to a meaningful trajectory. This is not an excuse for complacency but a recognition that sustainability, in ethical living as in life, requires pacing ourselves. As Seneca said, “It is not that we have a short time to live, but that we waste a lot of it” fretting.
This is not a test of purity but of perseverance. Choosing to remain on platforms like Meta while exploring alternatives is not a failure; it’s a strategy. As Doctorow sez, progress is made by adapting to the terrain, climbing the hill one step at a time. We do what we can, when we can, and that is enough.
Furbelow
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The “underground man” is the narrator of Fyodor Dostoevsky’s Notes from Underground, who becomes obsessed with the consequences of any possible action that he chooses, instead, to do nothing.
This is extremely well-said and poignant. Heavy stuff for a steep hill