The Squid Game of Virtue: What Stoicism Says About Survival at Any Cost
Episode #376
Each game strips away the veneer of civilization, exposing what lies beneath—fear, desire, ambition, and the will to survive. But true strength is not found in surviving by any means necessary. It is found in choosing virtue, even when the price is death.
Recently, I’ve been watching Squid Game, catching up on the later seasons. While it’s been out for a while, the brutality and moral tension still hit hard. And like any good overthinker—and Stoic—I started asking the deeper questions: What does this show reveal about human nature? And what would the Stoics have to say about it?
If you haven’t seen Squid Game, I’ll warn you now: spoilers ahead. But the premise is simple, and disturbing. Financially desperate individuals—those with massive debts, the homeless, the abandoned—are lured into a series of deadly games. These are childhood games twisted into fatal trials, and for each person who dies, money is added to the winner’s prize. A sick trade of blood for fortune.
At first, the contestants don’t know death is on the line. Once they do, they’re given a chance to vote and leave. Some do. But many choose to return. Why? Because they saw the prize money, and with it, a glimpse of hope. A way out of shame, debt, despair. And that’s where the moral decay begins.
Swept by the Current
The Stoics often warned against being swept along by the current of life—by externals like wealth, fear, shame, or pain. But that’s exactly what happens in Squid Game. These people aren’t thinking clearly. They’re not choosing with reason. They’re being driven—by debt, addiction, bad luck, and the shame of poverty.
Once inside, the brutality starts. It’s hard to watch. Even though it’s fiction, it gnaws at your sense of decency. But that’s the point: the show reveals what happens when people trade dignity for desperation.
The Stoics would call the game itself deeply unethical. It’s coercive, violent, and appeals to the darkest parts of our nature. But here’s the thing—they wouldn’t stop there.
Because Stoicism doesn’t just critique the system. It challenges you. And your response to that system.
The Real Test is Within
There’s a scene in Season 2 that says it all. A mother and son, together in the games. The son is maybe 30. The mother, in her 60s. One of the rounds requires teams of three. People scramble to form groups.
As the countdown begins, two strangers grab the son and drag him toward their team. He fights them off—at first. But as they near the door, they let him go. And he runs through with them.
He leaves his mother behind.
And in that moment, the Stoic would say, his soul died.
On Family, Gratitude, and Moral Failure
From a Stoic perspective, this son failed on multiple levels:
Duty to Family – There is a virtue in honoring those who loved you first. Parents, especially those who raise you, are owed a form of moral debt: love, gratitude, justice. That bond is sacred.
Moral Courage – He abandoned virtue for survival. He didn’t just panic—he chose to flee. And while the pressure was extreme, that is exactly what Stoicism prepares us for: virtue under fire.
Character Revealed – As Epictetus put it: “Circumstances don’t shape a man, they reveal him.” The game didn’t create this man’s betrayal. It revealed what he valued more—life over love, safety over sacrifice.
And worst of all?
He survived. His mother survived too. But the cost wasn’t death. It was honor. And to the Stoics, that’s worse.
The Man Who Lives Without Honor…
…is already dead.
The Stoics would tell us that it is better to die with virtue than to live in disgrace. If you preserve your soul at the cost of your body, you die whole. But if you preserve your body at the cost of your soul, you’re already rotting.
Let me be clear: Squid Game is fiction. But the philosophical questions it raises are very real.
Does extreme desperation excuse moral failure? Does fear give us permission to betray our values?
To the Stoic, the answer is a resounding no.
Because we are not beasts. The thing that makes us human—the very thing that elevates us above instinct—is reason. Logos. It is reason that allows us to choose integrity, even when the cost is our own life.
Final Reflections
Each trial in life—big or small—is also a moment of truth. Every argument, every temptation, every brush with despair, is a chance to ask:
Who am I when it matters most?
We will all fail at times. We will act out of fear or anger. But when those moments come, the Stoic calls us back—not to shame, but to the standard.
Because the man who clings to life without honor is already dead.
But the man who dies with integrity lives eternally in the memory of reason.
Watch Squid Game, if you can stomach it. But don’t just watch the blood and drama. Watch the soul beneath it. And ask yourself:
Would I trade virtue for survival?
And if I did… would I survive at all?
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Brandon
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