Seneca, On Peace of Mind 3.7

“A soldier is not merely one who stands in the ranks and defends the right or the left wing of the army, but he also who guards the gates—a service which, though less dangerous, is no sinecure—who keeps watch, and takes charge of the arsenal: though all these are bloodless duties, yet they count as military service.”

I may be tempted to think that my particular contribution to any shared effort must be the most essential, the one that everyone else will depend on the most. It all comes from my vanity, from the mistaken assumption that I can only become more when others become less.

Instead of being content with having done my part of the good, I wish my good to be seen as being the greatest part. It is really fame that I then seek, not virtue.

There can be no such posturing in Stoicism, where a sense of the unity of Nature can only lead us also to a sense of the unity of mankind. Each piece is essential and necessary, for the whole proceeds from all of the parts, and all of the parts receive the benefits from the whole. Absolutely no one needs to be better or worse, as long as they have chosen to do their best in their own place.

I have always admired a certain unspoken rule among most veterans, that however much they may reminisce about their past struggles, they will avoid boasting and bragging about their heroism.

They understand that the whole battle, the whole campaign, and the whole war itself were something they did together, the men who cooked the meals and dug the ditches as much as the men who fixed their bayonets and charged the guns.

You will still find the loud ones, of course, who insist on telling their tales, and the others will usually sit in silent shame while gritting their teeth, embarrassed that one of their own is only thinking of himself. I have always found inspiration in that sort of noble solidarity.

I was always confused when a sports team claimed victory after a close match, and all the credit for winning the game was given to the fellow who managed the most impressive play, or the fellow who scored the last winning point with only seconds to spare.

Yet was not every point earned, or every point for the opponent denied, or every inch of ground held equally important? The game would have been lost without the first score as much as without the last, and the mundane work was just as critical as the spectacular.

Perhaps those who deserve credit are precisely those who do not insist upon it, because they do not insist upon themselves. The unknown soldier can possess glory as much as the decorated hero. 

Written in 6/2011