TEXT: James B. Stockdale, The Stoic Warrior's Triad

James B. Stockdale, The Stoic Warrior's Triad: Tranquility, Fearlessness, and Freedom

A lecture to the student body of The Marine Amphibious Warfare School,
Quantico, Virginia
Tuesday, 18 April 1995

I feel at home here. I've flown combat with Marines in their own air
planes-VMF212 out of Kaneohe. I was Wing commander of the carrier
Oriskany on its 1965 cruise. One of our Fighter Squadrons was transitioning
from F8 Crusaders to F4s. The gap was filled by the Marine F8 squadron.
The skipper was Lieutenant Colonel Chuck Ludden, the Executive Officer
was Major Ed Rutty, former Blue Angel. And my wingman in the squadron
was a First Lieutenant named Duane Wills (later a Lieutenant General and
head of Marine Corps Aviation). I spent 7 years in prison with my shipmate
Marine Captain Harley Chapman, who was shot down two months after I was.
So I'm in familiar territory, and damned glad to have spent 37 years in the
Naval Service with the likes of guys like you.

Now, that said, I've got to choose my words well and get to the point if we
are to get anything out of this morning. We're going to take some big steps
right away. What kind of a racket is this military officership? Let's go right
to the old master, Clausewitz. He said: "War is an act of violence to compel
the enemy to do your will." Your will, not his will. We are in the business of
breaking people's wills. That's all there is to war; once you have done that,
the war is over.

And what is the most important weapon in breaking people's wills? This
may surprise you, but I am convinced that holding the moral high ground is
more important than firepower. For Clausewitz, war was not an activity
governed by scientific laws, but a clash of wills, of moral forces. He wrote:
"It is not the loss in men, horses, or guns, but in order, courage, confidence,
cohesion and plan which come into consideration whether the engagement
can still be continued; it is principally the moral forces which decide here."
Moral forces! Conviction! Mind games!

I had the wisdom of Clausewitz' stand on moral integrity demonstrated to
me throughout a losing war as I sat on the sidelines in a Hanoi prison. To take a
nation to war on the basis of any provocation that bears the smell of fraud is to
risk losing national leadership's commitment when the going gets tough. When
our soldiers' bodies start coming home in high numbers, and reverses in the
field are discouraging, a guilty conscience in a top leader can become the
Achilles heel of a whole country. Men of shame who know our road to war was
not cricket. are seldom those we can count on to hold fast, stay the course.

As some of you know, I led all three air actions in the Tonkin Gulf affair in
the first week of August 1964. Moral corners were cut in Washington in our
top leaders' interpretation of the events of August 4th at sea in order to get the
Tonkin Gulf Resolution through Congress in a hurry. I was not only the sole
eyewitness to all events, and leader of the American forces to boot; I was
cognizant of classified message traffic pertaining thereto. I knew for sure that
our moral forces were squandered for short-range goals; others in the know at
least suspected as much.

Mind games are important, and you have to play them honestly and seriously
in this business. Clausewitz' battlefield enemy Napoleon not only agreed with
his adversary, he made the same point of ethics in even more vivid terms.
Napoleon said: "In war, the moral is to the physical as three is to one."

I'm going to concentrate on a major mind game today: Stoicism. Its seeds
were planted in fourth century (B.C.) Athens, as a backlash against Plato's
preoccupation with inuring everybody to the perfect society. Diogenes of
Sinope, a friend of both Aristotle and Alexander the Great, (they all knew
each other and all died within a two-year period), struck out on his campaign,
not to conquer the East as did Alexander, not to stamp out ignorance as did
Aristotle, but to do something about man s condition as a cowed citizen of a
city state, without anything to believe in that could defuse the inner fears
and desires which continually obsessed him. Man had to take command of
his inner self,  control himself. The Stoic goal was not the good society, but
the good man!

And a lot of movements sprang up, mainly in the East, after the premature
crumbling of Alexander the Great's empire in Asia after his early death;
dozens of cults designed to improve men 's souls organized themselves and
headed West from Athens-among others Epicureans, of course the Stoics,
and finally, almost bringing up the rear, the Christians.

To get my message today, you have only to have a general understanding of
the message of one man: the Stoic philosopher Epictetus, the outstanding
pagan moralist of the Roman Empire. I'll do my best to give you that understanding
in a couple of 50-minute talks with a break in between. And for the
remaining time, mainly through questions and answers, we'll discuss the
worthiness ofwhat I'll call Epictetus's "Code of Conduct" to be part ofus as
warriors. Code of Conduct? You thought Stoicism was a whole philosophy
with a certain cosmology, a unique logic, a physics, a theory of knowledge,
and all the rest? If so, you are right, it has all the accoutrements of a philosophy;
it's just that Old Man Epictetus ignored everything about it except what
it had to say about personal conduct, how the good man should think, and
behave. "What do I care," Epictetus asked, "whether all existing things are
composed of atoms, or of indivisibles, or of fire and earth? Is it not enough to
learn the true nature of the good and the evil?"

The first principle of Stoicism is to live in harmony with nature--human
nature and physical nature. My geneticist friend at Harvard, E. 0. Wilson,
tells me that the difference between men and animals is not reason, but human
nature. Human nature is mostly genetically driven passions, passions designed
to give us the capacity to survive and reproduce. It was David Hume
who said, "Reason not only is but ought to be the slave of passions." Physical
nature, the other half, is the physical universe and all its interactions. To the
Stoic, physical nature is God's body. Have a look at yourself and see where
you fit into the natural scheme of things. And play the part well.

Epictetus was impatient with unmanliness and loose living. He had a
sarcasm that stripped affection bare. He had a fiery earnestness, which robbed
his rude strokes of their cruelty. His message: " A man must think hard and
live simply to do well."

I met old Epictetus back in graduate school in 1962. It was my great luck;
in fact, it was a fluke that put us together. My favorite (philosophy) professor
gave me one of Epictetus's books as a farewell present as I left to go back to
sea. He had never mentioned him in class. Phil Rhinelander just thought
Epictetus and I would make a good pair, and he was certainly right. I had
never heard of Epictetus; in fact, today his name recognition is in about the
third tier of philosophers. But his mind is first tier .

Everything I know about Epictetus I've developed myself over the years.
It's been a one-on-one relationship. He's been in combat with me, leg irons
with me, spent month-long stretches in blindfolds with me, has been in the
ropes with me, has taught me that my true business is maintaining control
over my moral purpose, in fact that my moral purpose is who I am. He taught
me that I am totally responsible for everything I do and say; and that it is I
who decides on and controls my own destruction and own deliverance. Not
even God will intercede if He sees me throwing my life away. He wants me to
be autonomous. He put me in charge of me. "It matters not how straight the
gate, how charged with punishment the scroll. I am the master of my fate, I
am the captain of my soul."

Don't be disturbed about my occasional references to the way the Stoics
see God. He's the closest thing to the Christian God there is, according to
Paul Tillich, a renowned Protestant theologian. Epictetus had heard of Christians,
but he never knew any, nor were the Christians and the Stoics in competition
in his lifetime. It was not until the latter part of the second century A.D.
that a coherent Christian creed was beginning to emerge. Before that, nobody
could state a cause for Christianity that would be intelligible to the pagan
intellectual. The Stoics practiced a monotheistic religion from which Christianity
borrowed much-the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of man
were well-established Stoic concepts before Christ was born; the Holy Ghost
was a Stoic idea before Christ was born.

A quick thumbnail sketch of Epictetus's life goes like this: He was born
to a Greek-speaking slave woman in a little town in Asia Minor, up in the hills
behind Ephesus about a hundred miles. At the time he was born, 50 A.D., that
part of the world was a Roman colony with garrisoned troops. His mother's
town, Hieopolos, was then and still is renowned for its natural hot springs and
baths, and I think of it as probably an R and R spot for Roman troops. (I've
visited there, of course. ) Born to a slave, Epictetus was automatically a slave;
he had a tough life. Crippled by a cruel master, he had a bad leg just like
mine--Ieft leg at the knee. When he was about 15, he was chained up and
carried away in a slave caravan bound for Rome. He was bought at auction by
a former slave, a "freedman" named Epaphroditus, secretary to the Emperor
of Rome, the young (27-year-old) squirt Nero. Nero was bad and getting
worse by the time young Epictetus moved into the Roman "White House." By
the time Nero was 30, he had killed his half brother, his first wife, second
wife, and mother. And he was letting the Empire run itself. The Roman
Senate declared him a public enemy, and Epaphroditus was at Nero's side as
the army was breaking down the door to arrest the Emperor. Nero tried'to cut
his own throat, muffed it, and Epaphroditus finished the job. Epaphroditus
forever thereafter lived under a cloud, and Epictetus just took to the streets of
Rome. A high-minded, intelligent, Greek-speaking, young man, he started
attending philosophy lectures given in the public parks. And in those days in
Rome, "philosophy" was synonymous with Stoicism.

The turning point in his life was his adoption by Musonius Rufus, the very
best teacher of philosophy in first-century Rome. Though Epictetus was still
technically a slave, Rufus, an Etruscan knight, took him as a student. Rufus
was as fluent in Greek as he was in Latin, and he and Epictetus got on well.
In one passage, Epictetus tells of his tutor's mastery of seminar instruction:
"Rufus spoke in such a way that each of us, as we sat there, fancied someone
had gone to him and told him of our faults; so effective was his grasp of what
men actually do and think. So vividly did he set before each man's eyes his
particular weakness."

Epictetus's tutelage ran on for at least 10 years, and then Rufus launched
him on a career as a bonafide philosopher of Rome. Epictetus, like all philosophers
in Rome, was exiled by Emperor Domitian in the year 89 A.R, and
he picked out a little town of Nicopolis (where I've also been), on the Adriatic
coast of Greece, as a place to found a school. My favorite authorities set the
date of his death at 138 A.D., at age 88. I've come across nothing about his
"retirement," so I think of him as starting his school in about 90 A. D. at age
40, and teaching there for another 40 or 50 years. This little book like the one
I got from my professor in 1962 is called The Enchiridion, meaning in Greek
"ready at hand." It is only selected excerpts from eight volumes of Epictetus's
lectures and conversations given, we think, in the year 108 A.D. He was
talking to basically rich, young men from formidable families, mostly from
Athens and Rome. It was the Socrates scene allover again, 500 years later the
same students, same age, mid-20s, the same type of dialogue.

Epictetus, a bachelor until his very late years when he took a wife his age
to help him care for an infant he rescued from death by "exposure," was a
"natural," extraordinarily gifted teacher. He was gregarious-never missed
the Olympic games which were conducted only about 50 miles from his
school. He talks about the Olympics of those years in Enchiridion [29]:

"In every affair, consider what precedes and what follows, and then
undertake it. Otherwise you will begin with spirit, indeed, careless of
the consequences, and when these are developed, you will shamefully
desist. I would conquer at the Olympic Games. But consider what
precedes and what follows, and then, if it be for your advantage, engage
in the affair. You must conform to rules, submit to a diet, refrain from
dainties; exercise your body, whether you choose it or not, at a stated
hour, in heat and cold; you must drink no cold water, and sometimes no
wine. In a word, you must give yourself up to your trainer as to a physician.
Then, in the combat, you may be thrown into a ditch, dislocate
your arm, turn your ankle, swallow an abundance of dust, receive stripes
[for negligence], and after all, lose the victory. When you have reckoned
up all this, if your inclination still holds, set about the combat."

The religious possibilities of Stoicism were developed further by Epictetus
than by any of his Stoic predecessors over the previous 400 years. But his
manner of speaking was not that of a prissy moralist. He often phrased his
pithy remarks in the athletic metaphor: "Difficulties are what show men's
character. Therefore when a difficult crisis meets you, remember that you are
as the raw youth, with whom God-the-trainer is wrestling." And in a prayer to
God, he uses the military metaphor: "If Thou sendest me to a place where
men have no means of living in accordance with nature, I shall depart this life,
not in disobedience to Thee, but as though Thou were sounding for me the
recall." The Stoics accepted suicide, under certain conditions.

And he was funny. Funny, even as he played the part of shock psychologist!
He asks and answers the question: What do you do for friends as you ascend the
ladder of intellectual sophistication? Do you hang in with your old pals, or
concentrate on intellectual peers? "If you do not drink with old friends as you
used to drink with them, you cannot be loved by them as much. So choose
whether you want to be a boozer and likeable to them, or sober and not likeable."
Then he makes it clear that in his mind, satisfaction and self-respect are
best served by escalating friendships apace with your education. "But if that
does not please you, turn about the whole of you, to the opposite; become one
of the addicts to unnatural vice, one of the adulterers, and act in corresponding
fashion. Yes, and jump up and shout your applause to the dancer!"

To the painfully shy and reticent student:

"As the good chorus singers do not render solos, but sing perfectly
well with a number of other voices, so some men cannot walk around by
themselves. Man, if you are anybody, both walk around by yourself, and
talk to yourself, and don't hide yourself in the chorus. Let yourself be
laughed at sometimes, look about you, shake yourself up, so as to at
least find out who you actually are!"

Now neither these eight volumes of Epictetus "lectures," hallway talk, and
private conversations, nor their "executive summary," The Enchiridion, were
compiled by Epictetus. He couldn't have cared less about being in print.
They were taken down in some kind of frantic shorthand by a 23-year-old
student, a remarkable man, Flavius Arrianus, usually known as just Arrian.
He was an aristocratic Greek born in a Black Sea province of Asia Minor.
You can't help but imagine what it took for him to improvise this shorthand
and follow the old man around and take down all that material. After getting
a load of Epictetus and his "living" speech, he must have said something like:
"Wow, we've got to get this guy down on papyrus!" In his dedication ofhis
final manuscript to a friend, he writes: "Whatever I heard him say, I used to
write down, word for word, as best I could, endeavouring to preserve it as a
memorial, for my own future use, of his way of thinking and the frankness of
his speech. Let those who read these words be assured of this: that when
Epictetus spoke them, the hearer could not help but feel exactly what
Epictetus wanted him to feel."

That is the mark of a good teacher!

Arrian was a writer throughout his life. His last and largest book was his
definitive text on Alexander the Great's expedition to the east: The Anabasis
of Alexander. Some time after his death, four of his eight volumes of
Epictetus disappeared. During the Middle Ages the four remaining were
bound under the title Epictetus's Discourses. As I said, The Enchiridion was
tidbits from all eight volumes, so you'll find things in The Enchiridion that are
not in Discourses .

History gives us snapshots of Arrian 's other activities in his illustrious
career. After leaving Epictetus's school, and a then as a successful Roman
army officer, we find him lecturing in Athens in about 120 A.D., and there
meeting Roman Emperor Hadrian, who was about to start a five-year tour of
the Empire following his investiture in 117 A.D. Epictetus figured into two
fallouts of Arrian 's presence in Athens in the years following. Hadrian, in 130
A.D., appointed Arrian consul for a year, followed by six years as governor of
the large province of Cappadocia in Asia Minor. Arrian introduced Epictetus
to Emperor Hadrian and they became lifetime friends. Secondly, when Arrian
vacated his lectureship in Athens for politics, he was relieved by a Q. Janius
Rusticus, who later became the tutor to the young Marcus Aurelius. Later,
in his book Meditations, a book on Stoicism, Emperor Marcus Aurelius
acknowledged his debt to Epictetus for the wisdom he gained from studying
his eight volumes as a youth. (Rusticus had some copies Arrian left him and
gave one to his student, young Aurelius. )

So this slave boy who became a schoolmaster, gained fame as a respected
scholar in the highest circles of the only superpower of the ancient world. And
those were important years in world history. They are the years the English
historian Edward Gibbon was talking about in the famous statement in his book,
The History of the Decline and F all of the Roman Empire: "If a man were
called upon to fix the period in the history of the world during which the condition
of the human race was most happy and prosperous, he would without
hesitation name that which elapsed from the accession of Nerva to the death of
Marcus Aurelius." That comes to a period of 84 years, from 96 A.D. to 180
A.D. "Their united reigns are possibly the only period in history in which the
happiness of a great people was the sole object of government."

The eminent old philosopher Will Durant, in the volume named "Caesar
and Christ" in his History of Civilization series, calls the five emperors spanning
the era that Gibbon admired, "the philosopher kings." All were Stoics or
had strong Stoic sympathies: Nerva pardoned exiled Stoics of the Domitian
reign. Trajan had a Stoic tutor in his quarters. Hadrian was Epictetus's close
friend. Antonius Pius, a "product of the Stoic school," insisted that in Roman
law courts, Stoic legal principles be followed, i.e. that (I) in all cases of
doubt, judgments be resolved in favor of the accused, and (2) a man should be
held innocent until proven guilty. And the last of the philosopher kings,
Marcus Aurelius, probably the finest of all Roman Emperors, secretly wrote
his Stoic Meditations by candlelight in his tent perched on one or another of
the mountainsides of Germany, where for the last 12 years of his life he was in
the field as Commanding General of the Roman armies, continually engaged
in defending the northern frontiers of the Empire against tribal attacks.

The Roman Stoic was more a man of action than contemplation, but listen
to the paragraph of old soldier Aurelius on how to die: "Pass this little space
of time--your lifetime--comfortably, with nature, and end thy journey in
contentment, like the ripe olive that falls, praising the earth that gave birth to
it, and thanking the tree that made it grow."

On the question of afterlife, Marcus Aurelius took up and emphasized the
teaching of Epictetus. They alone, among Stoics, were very careful in what
they said about death. There was no proof of afterlife, and rather than possibly
mislead people, they refrained from the more ample language of their
predecessors. Matthew Arnold described Marcus Aurelius as "perhaps, the
most beautiful figure in history."

The five Stoic philosopher kings were the sort of men you would want to
have as Marine Corps Commandants. A few notes from my history books:
The second of the five, Trajan, was Commanding General of the Roman army
in Cologne when he was notified that Emperor Galba had died, and that his
number was up. He was Emperor for 19 years, and throughout, habitually
wore his army uniform. Tall and robust, he was wont to march on foot with
his troops and ford, with full kit, the hundreds of rivers they crossed.

Let me tell you about that five-year trip his successor, Emperor/General
Hadrian, took after meeting Arrian in Athens. Accompanied by experts,
architects, builders, and engineers, he had left Rome in 121 A.D. to inspect
defenses in Germany. He lived the life ofhis soldiers, eating their fare, never
using a vehicle, walking with full military equipment 20 miles at a time. The
Roman army was never in better condition than in his reign. He traveled the
Rhine to its mouth, sailed to Britain, ordered the building of a wall from
Solway Firth to the mouth of the Tyne "to divide the barbarians [Scots] from
the Romans [in England]"-"Hadrian's Wall." Back to Gaul, then to Spain,
then down into Northwest Africa where he led some garrisoned Roman
Legions against Moors who had been raiding the Roman towns of Mauretania.
That finished, he boarded one of his Mediterranean warships and went to
Ephesus, went up and inspected the ports of the Black Sea, back down to
Rhodes, and still curious at 50, stopped in Sicily and climbed Mt. Etna to see
the sunrise from a perch 11,000 feet above his Mediterranean Sea.

------

The time interval between my finishing graduate school and becoming a
prisoner was almost exactly three years, September 1962 to September 1965.
That was a very eventful period in my life. I started a war (led the first-ever
American bombing raid on North Vietnam), led good men in about 150 aerial
combat missions in flak, and throughout three 7-month cruises to Vietnam I
had not only the Enchiridion, but the Discourses on my bedside table on each
of the three aircraft carriers I flew from. And I read them.

On the 9th of September 1965, I flew right into a flak trap, at tree-top level,
500 knots, in a little A-4 airplane--cockpit walls not even three feet apart which
I couldn't steer after it was on fire, control system shot out. After
ejection I had about 30 seconds to make my last statement in freedom before I
landed on the main street of that little village right ahead. And so help me, I
whispered to myself: "Five years down there at least. I'm leaving the world
of technology and entering the world of Epicetus."

I want to step off the chronology escalator for just a minute and explain
what memories of the Enchiridion and Discourses I did have "ready at hand"
when I ejected from that plane. What I had in hand was the understanding
that the Stoic, particularly the disciple of Epictetus who developed this
accounting, always keeps separate files in his mind for: (a) those things which
are "up to him" and (b) those things which are "not up to him;" or another
way of saying it, (a) those things which are "within his power" and (b) those
things which are "beyond his power; " or still another way of saying it: (a)
those things which are within the grasp of "his will, his free will," and (b )
those things which are beyond it. Among the relatively few things that are
"up to me, within my power," within my will, are my opinions, my aims, my
aversions, my own grief, my own joy, my moral purpose or will, my attitude
toward what is going on, my own good, and my own evil. Please note: All
these things, as are all things of real importance to the Stoic, are matters that
apply principally to your "inner self;" where you live.

Now I'm talking like a preacher here for a bit. Please understand that I'm
not trying to sell anything; it's just the most efficient way to explain it. Stoicism
is one of those things that, when described analytically, sounds horrible
to some modem people. Stoic scholars agree that to describe it effectively,
the teacher must "become, for the time being at least," a Stoic.
For instance, to give you a better feel for why "your own good and your
own evil" are on the list, I want to quote Alexander Solzhenitsyn from his
book Gulag Archipelago, when he talks about that point in prison when he
gets his act together, realizes his residual powers, and starts what I know as
"ascending," riding the updrafts of occasional euphoria as you realize you are
getting to know yourself and the world for the first time.

"It was only when I lay there on the rotting prison straw that I sensed
within myself the first stirrings of good. Gradually it was disclosed to me
that the line separating good and evil passes not between states nor between
social classes nor between political parties, but right through every
human heart, through all human hearts. And that is why I turn back to the
years of my imprisonment and say, sometimes to the astonishment of
those about me, bless you, prison, for having been a part of my life."

I understand that. He learned, as I and many others have learned, that
good and evil are not just abstractions that you kick around and give lectures
about, and attribute to this person and that. The only good or evil that mean
anything are right in your own heart: within your will, within your power,
where it's up to you. What the Stoics say is: "You take care of that, and
you 'II have your hands full."

What is not up to you? Beyond your power? Not subject to your will in
the last instance? For starters, let's take "your station in life." As I glide
down toward that little town on my short parachute ride, I'm just about to
learn how negligible is my control over my station in life. It's not at all up to
me. Of course I'm going right now from being the Wing Commander, in
charge of a thousand people (pilots, crewmen, maintenance men), responsible
for nearly a hundred airplanes, and beneficiary of goodness knows all sorts of
symbolic status and goodwill, to being an object of contempt. "Criminal," I'll
be known as. But that's not half the revelation that is the realization of your
ownfragility, that you can be reduced by the natural elements, or men, to a
helpless, sobbing wreck-unable to control even your own bowels-in a
matter of minutes. And more than that even, you're going to face fragilities
you never before let yourself believe could be true. Like after mere minutes,
in a flurry of action while being knocked down and then sat up to be bound
with tourniquet-tight ropes, with care, by a professional, hands cuffed behind,
jack-knifed forward, head pushed down between your ankles held secure in
lugs attached to a heavy iron bar, that with the onrush of anxiety, knowing
your upper-body blood circulation has been stopped, and feeling the evergrowing
pain and the ever-closing-in of claustrophobia as the man standing on
your back gives your head one last shove down with his heel and you start to
gasp and vomit, that you can be made to blurt out answers, probably correct
answers, to questions about anything they know you know. I'm not going to
pull you through that explanation again. I'll just call it "taking the ropes."

No, "station in life" can be changed from that of a dignified and competent
gentleman of culture to that of a panic-stricken, sobbing, self -loathing wreck,
maybe a permanent wreck if you have no will, in less than an hour. So what?
So after you work a lifetime to get yourself all set up, and then delude yourself
into thinking that YOU have some kind of ownership claim on your station
in life, you're riding for a fall. You're asking for disappointment. To avoid
that, stop kidding yourself, just do the best you can on a common-sense basis
to make your station in life what you want it to be, but never get hooked on it.
Make sure in your heart of hearts, in your inner self, that you treat your station
in life with indifference. Not with contempt, only with indifference.

And so on to a long list of things which some unreflective people assume
they're assured of controlling to the last instance-your reputation, for example.
Do what you will, it's at least as fickle as your station in life. Others
decide what your reputation is. Try to make it as good as possible, but again,
don't get hooked on it. In your heart, when you get out the key and open up
that old roll-top desk where you really keep your stuff, don't let "reputation"
get mixed up with what's within your moral purpose, what's within the power
of your will, in other words, what's up to you. Make sure it's in the bottom
drawer, filed under "matters of indifference." And so too with your health,
your wealth, your pleasure, your pain, your fame, your disrepute, your life,
and your death. They are all externals, all outside your control in the last
instance, all outside the power of where you really live. And where you really
live is confined to the regime of your moral purpose, confined to matters that
can be projected by your acts ofwill-like desires, aims, aversions, judgments,
attitudes, and of course, your good and your evil. For a Stoic, the
moral purpose, the will, is the only repository of things of absolute value.
Whether they are projected wisely or foolishly, for good or for evil, is up to
you. When his will is set on the right course, a man becomes good; when it's
on a foul course, he becomes evil. With the right course comes good luck and
happiness, and with the foul course, bad luck and misery.

To a Stoic, bad luck is your fault; you've become addicted to externals.
Epictetus: "What are tragedies, but the portrayal in tragic verse of the sufferings
of men who have admired things external?" Not even God will intercede
in your decisions. Epictetus:

"God gives you attributes, like magnanimity, courage, and endurance, to
enable you to bear whatever happens. These are given free of all restraint,
compulsion, or hindrance; He has put the whole matter under your control
without reserving even for Himself any power to prevent or hinder."

As I have said, your deliverance and your destruction are 100 percent up
to you.

I know the difficulties of gulping all this down right away. You keep
thinking of practical problems. Everybody has to play the game of life. You
can't just walk around saying: "1 don't care about my health, or wealth, or my
reputation, or whether I'm sent to prison or not." Epictetus was a great
teacher because he could draw a word picture that cleared up the way to look
at what he was talking about.

In this case, Epictetus said everybody should play the game of life-that
the best play it with "skill, form, speed and grace." But like most games, you
play it with a ball. Your team devotes all its energies to getting the ball across
the line. But after the game, what do you do with the ball? Nobody much
cares. It's not worth anything. The competition, the game, was the thing.
You play the game with care, making sure you are never making the external a
part of yourself, but merely lavishing your skill in regard to it. The ball was
just "used" to make the game possible, so just roll it under the porch and
forget it, let it wait for the next game. Most important of all, just don't covet
it, don't seek it, don't set your heart on it. It is this latter route that makes
externals dangerous, makes them the route to slavery. First you covet or abhor
"things," and then along comes he who can confer or remove them. I q~ote
Enchiridion (The Little Book) 14: " A man's master is he who is able to confer
or remove whatever that man seeks or shuns. Whoever then would be free, let
him wish nothing, let him decline nothing, which depends on others, else he
must necessarily become a slave." Discourses 1/121: "Who is your master?
He who has authority over any of the things upon which you have set your
heart." These last quotations constitute the real core of what a person needs
in order to understand the POW situation.

So I took those core thoughts into prison. I also remembered a lot of
attitude-shaping remarks from the Enchiridion on how not to kid yourself into
thinking that you can somehow stand aloof, be an "observer of the passing
scene," aloof from the prisoner underground organization. Enchiridion 17 :

"Remember that you are an actor in a drama of such sort as the Author
chooses: if short, then in a short one; if long, then in a long one. If it be
His pleasure that you should enact a poor man, or a cripple, or a ruler, or
a private citizen, see that you act it well. For this is yolii" business, to act
well the given part. But to choose it belongs to Another."

The capital A's on Author and Another are Stoic code markings for "another
name for God." Our minds are part of the Divine Mind of God; it is like a
flame, and individual consciousnesses are sparks in it. Conversely, we are
fragments of God; each one of us has within us a part of Him. We're part of
God and he's part of us.

Another attitude-shaping remark: When in tight straits, you should stifle
what's in you of that Student Body President personality, of give-and-take,
openness, being responsive, offering counter-options rather than outright
refusal to go along. We called people who acted l,ke student body presidents
"players" in prison, and tried to prevent them from digging their own graves.
Enchiridion 28: "If a person had delivered up your body to some passer-by,
you would certainly be angry. And do you feel no shame in delivering up your
own mind to any reviler?"

All that, over those three years (between graduate school and being shot
down), I had put away for the future. Right now, and I'm back on chronology,
it's very quiet in a parachute, and I can hear the rifle shots down below and
can match them up with bullet rips occurring in the parachute canopy above
me. Then 1 can hear the noontime shouting and see the fists waving in the
town as my chute hooks a tree but deposits me on a main street in good shape.
With two quick-release fastener flips, I'm free of the chute, and immediately
gang-tackled by the 10 or 15 town roughnecks I had seen in my peripheral
vision, pounding up the street from my right. It felt to me like the quarterback
sack of the century. I don't want to make a big thing of this, nor indicate that
I was surprised at my reception, but by the time the tackling and pummeling
and twisting and wrenching were over, and it lasted for three or more minutes
before the guy in the pith helmet got there to blow his whistle, I had a very
badly broken leg that I felt sure would be with me for life. And that hunch
turned out to be right. And I'll have to say that I felt only minor relief when I
hazily recalled crippled Epictetus's admonition in Enchiridion 9: "Lameness
is an impediment to the leg, but not to the will; and say this to yourself with
regard to everything that happens. For you will find it to be an impediment to
something else, but not truly to yourself"

As an insider, I knew that whole setup on POWs: that the North Vietnamese
already held about 30 prisoners in that early September 1965, probably up
in Hanoi; that I was the only Wing Commander, Navy or Air Force, to survive
an ejection; and that I would be their senior, their Commanding Officer, and
would remain so, very likely, throughout this war, which I felt sure would last
at least five years. And here I was starting off crippled and flat on my back.

Well, Epictetus turned out to be right. After a crude operation just to get
my knee locked and splayed leg under me, I was on crutches within a couple
of months. And the crooked leg, healing itself, was strong enough to hold me
up without crutches in a few more. I took command (clandestinely, of course)
of the by-then 75 pilots---due to grow to 466 over the 7Y2 years--determined
"to play well the given part."

------

I'll drop the prison chronology right there, and concentrate on bringing to
light as many more interesting wrinkles of Epictetus and his Stoicism as time
will allow.

I would like to say straight off that I have read through and studied the
Discourses, at least 10 times, to say nothing of my many excursions into the
Enchiridion, and I have never found a single inconsistency in Epictetus's code
of tenets. It is a put-together package, free of contradictions. The old boy
mayor may not appeal to you, but if he turns you off, don't blame it on
incoherence; Epictetus has no problem with logic.

I think more needs to be said about good and evil. After all, the Stoic is
indifferent to everything but good and evil. In Stoic thought, our good and our
evil come from the same locus. "Vice and virtue reside in the will alone."
"The essence of good and evil lies in an attitude of the will." Solzhenitsyn
locates it in the heart, and Epictetus would buy that, or will, or moral purpose,
or character, or soul, he's not a nitpicker about things like that. What he
bears down on is that your good and your evil are the essence of you. You are
moral purpose. You are rational will. You are not hair, you are not skin, you
are moral purpose-get that beautiful, and you will be beautiful.

That was revealed to Solzhenitsyn when he felt within himself the first
stirrings of good. And in that chapter, the old Russian elaborated other truths
about good and evil. Not only does the line separating them not pass between
political or cultural or ethnic groupings, but right through every human heart,
through all human hearts, he adds that for any individual over the years, this
separation line within the heart shifts, oscillates somewhat. That even in
hearts overwhelmed by evil, one small bridgehead to good is retained. And
even in the best of all hearts, there remains an un-uprooted small comer of
evil. There is some good and some evil in all ofus, and that's Stoic doctrine.
light as many more interesting wrinkles of Epictetus and his Stoicism as time
will allow.

In that same chapter, Solzhenitsyn comments: "If only there were evil people
somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to
separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing
good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being, and who is willing
to destroy a piece of his own heart?"

I just want you to know that I connect with that. In a crucible like a torture
prison, you reflect, you silently study what makes those about you tick. Once
I had taken the measure of my torture guard, watched his eyes as he worked,
watched him move,felt him move as he stood on my slumped-over back and
cinched up the ropes pulling my shoulders together, I came to know that there
was good in him. That was ironic because when he first came in with the new
commissar when torture was instigated after I got there, I had nicknamed him
"Pigeye" because of the total vacancy of the stare of the one eye he presented
as he peeked through cell door peepholes. He was my age, balding and wiry,
quick, lithe and strong, like an athletic trainer. He was totally emotionless,
thus his emotionless eyes. He had almost no English-language capability, just
motions and grunts. Under orders, he put me through the ropes 15 times over
the years, and rebroke my bad leg once, I feel sure inadvertently. It was a
court martial scene and he was having to give me the ropes before a board of
North Vietnamese officers. The officers sat at a long table before Pigeye and
me, and behind us was a semi-circle of soldiers bearing rifles with fixed
bayonets at a kind of "dangle" position, the bayonet pointing at the cement
floor ahead of them. This was in the "knobby" torture room of "New Guy
Village" at Hoa Lo prison in August 1967-so-called because the walls had
been crudely speckled with blobs of cement the size of an ice cream scoop in
a "soundproofing" attempt. I could tell Pigeye was nervous because of these
officers whom I had never seen before, and I don't think he had, and he
pressed me flat over my bad leg instead of the good one he had always put the
tension on before. The healing knee cartilage gave way with a loud "pop,"
and the officers looked at each other and then got up and left. I couldn't get
off that floor and onto my feet for nearly two months.

In all those years, we probably had no more than 24 hours, one-on-one
together. But neither ofus ever broke the code of an unvaryingly strict "line
of duty" relationship. He never tricked me, always played it straight, and I
begged no mercy. I admired that in him, and I could tell he did in me. And
when people say: "He was a torturer, didn't you hate him?" I say, like
Solzehnitsyn, to the astonishment of,those about me, "No, he was a good
soldier, never overstepped his line of duty."

By that time, I had learned that fear and guilt are the real pincers that break
men 's wills. I would chant under my breath as I was marched to interrogation,
knowing that I must refuse to comply, and take the ropes: "Your eyes
must show no fear; they must show no guilt." The North Vietnamese had
learned never to take a prisoner "downtown"-to the payoff for what our
whole treatment regime was about-public propaganda exploitation-unless
he was truly intimidated, unless they were sure he felt fear. Their threats had
no meaning unless you felt fear. They had suffered the political damage of
several, including myself, who had acted up, spoken up, and blurted out the
truth to the hand-picked audience of foreigners at the press conference. Book
IV of Discourses: "When a man who has set his will neither on dying nor
upon living at any cost, comes into the presence of the tyrant, what is there to
prevent him from being without fear? Nothing."

Fear is an emotion, and controlling your emotions can be empowering.

I think I have mentioned all the things that the Stoics thought were truly
"in our power," within the realm of our moral purpose, under the control of
our free will, save one category. It requires a little different thinking, so I've
saved it for last. I have introduced it already, in part. The Stoics believed that
all human emotions are acts of will. You're happy because you want to be
happy, you're drained or sad when you want to be sad, and fear is not something
that danger forces on you. When you find yourself afraid, it's time to
realize that you decided, wanted, willed that you fear. As I said above, without
your having fear, nobody can meaningfully threaten you. In Discourses,
there is a dialogue something like this, and it was like old home week to me:

"When questioned, I had to give him our escape plans; he threatened
me with death; I was compelled, I had no choice. ...That's not right;
you had a choice and you made it. It may have been justified, I won't
judge that for now. But be honest with yourself. Don't say you had to
do anything just because you are threatened with death. You simply
decided it was better to comply. Itwas your will that compelled you.
Refuse to want to fear and you start acquiring a constancy of character
that makes it impossible for another to do you wrong. Threats have no
effect unless you fear ."

Epictetus says: "Will you then realize that this epitome of all the ills that
befall man, of his ignoble spirit, of his cowardice, is not death, but rather his
fear of death?"

As I said, learning to take charge of your emotions is empowering. When
you get there, Enchiridion 30 applies: "No one can hann you without your
permission." And by "harm" Epictetus means, as Stoics always mean, hanning
your inner self, your self-respect, and your obligation to be faithful. He
can break your ann or your leg, but not to worry. They'll heal.

What are some of the guidelines to identifying the good and the evil in
Stoic thought?

Well, first, Stoicism goes back to the idea that nature is God's body, and
that it doesn't do to try to improve on it. In fact, God and Nature are two
aspects of the same thing. God's Soul is the Mind of the universe, and Nature
is his body. Just as the Mind is the active, and Nature is the passive, so our
minds are active and our bodies passive. Mind over matter; it all happens in
your head, so don't worry about your body. The perfect man models himself
on this operation of the universe. Nothing is ever lost. All remains in the care
of Providence. Just as the universe, in which the Mind of God is imminent
and indwelling and moves in a manner self-sufficient and self-ruling, so the
good man is independent, autonomous, a law unto himself and a follower of
the eternal guidance of duty and conscience.

This is called the coherence of Stoicism, and Cicero used this as the basis
of his founding of Natural Law and International Law. "True law is right
reason in agreement with nature."

The Stoics were good citizens. In politics the Stoic would love his country
and hold himself ready to die at any time to avert its disgrace or his own. But
a man's conscience was to be higher than any law. A man has a right to be
responsible, self-ruling, autonomous.

So on good and evil, where does that leave us? Nothing that is natural can
be evil. Death cannot be evil. Disease cannot be evil. Natural disasters
cannot be evil. Nothing inevitable can be evil. The universe as a whole is
perfect, and everything in it has a place in the overall design. Inevitability is
produced by the workings of this mechanism. Events do not happen by
chance, they arrive by appointment. There is a cause for everything, and
"chance" is simply a name for undiscovered causes.

Neither good nor evil can be abstractions. Epictetus said: "Where do I
look for the good and the evil? Within me, in that which is my own." But for
that which is another's never employ the words "good" or "evil," or anything
of the sort. Goods and evils can never be things others do to you, or for you.

Why not make health or life be good? Because man deserves the good, and
it's better that he not "deserve" anything he does not control; otherwise, he will
go after what is not his, and this is the start of crime, wars, you name it.

Another thing. You do not control God. You must not refer to Him as
"good" or "evil." Why not? If you pin these mundane terms o~ Him, reciting
"God is good," people may become tempted, when things God controls run
counter to what they're trying to do--weather being unfavorable for farmers
or the wind being from the wrong direction for sailors-to start calling Him
evil, too. And that's impious. Remember, says Epictetus: "Piety must be
preserved. Unless piety and self-interest be conjoined, piety cannot be maintained
in any man."

Now [let me close with] some other things that follow from the assumptions
of Stoicism that you might not have thought of. The Stoics say that the
invincible man is he who cannot be dismayed by any happening outside of his
span of control, outside his will, his moral purpose. Does this sound irresponsible
to you? Here you have a man who pays no attention as the world blows
up around him, so long as he had no part in causing it.

The answer to that depends on whether or not you believe in collective
guilt. The Stoics do not. Here is what The Encyclopedia of Philosophy says
about collective guilt:

"If guilt, in the proper sense, turns on deliberate wrongdoing, it seems
that no one can be guilty for the act of another person-there can be no
shared or collective or universal guilt. Guilt is incurred by the free
choice of the individual. ...But many have questioned this. Among them
are some sociologists who misrepresent in this way the dependence of
the individual on society. But the main location of the idea of collective
guilt is religion-many forms of doctrines of original sin and universal
sin regard guilt as a pervasive state of mankind as a whole."

Speaking for myself, I think of collective guilt as a manipulative tool. It
reminds me of the communist "criticism/self-criticism" technique. Manyof
the precepts of the Stoics depend on an abhorrence of the concept of collective
guilt.

The Stoics believe that every man bears the exclusive responsibility himself for
his own good and his own evil--and that leads to their further conclusion
that it is impossible to imagine a moral order in which one person does
the wrong, and another; the innocent, suffers. Now add all that to Epictetus's
firm belief that we are all born with an innate conception of good and evil,
and what is noble and what is shameful, what is becoming and unbecoming,
what is fitting and inappropriate, what is right to do and what is wrong, and
further, remembering that all Stoic talk refers to the inner man, what is going
on "way down in here." It follows that the perpetrator of evil pays the full
price for his misdeed in suffering the injury of knowing that he has destroyed
the good man with him. Man has "moral sense," and he reaps the benefits
and pays the price for this inheritance.

This self-knowledge that you have betrayed yourself, destroyed yourself,
is the very worst harm that can befall a Stoic. Epictetus says:

."No one comes to his fall because of another's deed."
."No one is evil without loss or damage."
."No man can do wrong with impunity."

I call this whole personal guilt package that Epictetus relied upon, "the
reliability of the retribution of the guilty conscience." As I sometimes say,
"There can be no such thing as a 'victim; you can only be a 'victim ' of
yourself." Remember:

.Controlling your emotions can be empowering.
.Your inner self is what you make it.
.Refuse to want to fear, and you start acquiring a constancy of character
that makes it impossible for another to do you wrong.

Somebody asked Epictetus: "What is the fruit of all these doctrines?" He
answered with three sharp words: "Tranquility, Fearlessness, and Freedom."

Thank you.