Any Attempt to Act Is Better Than Inaction
Fear and Anxiety: Our Constant Companions
Fear and anxiety are inseparable parts of our lives. The ancient Greeks spoke of phobos, panic, and terror. The Stoics believed that feeling fear is normal, but you must not let it control you. But how do we master our fears? Where do they come from? What can we do to counter them?
Here are excerpts from Ryan Holiday’s book “Courage”—on how to combine bravery, compassion, and composure; how courage is far from recklessness; and why caution and care are not opposites of courage, but its complements.
Fear
What forces hold back courage? Why is something so valuable so rare? What keeps us from doing what we can and should do? What is the source of cowardice? Fear. Phobos. You can’t defeat an enemy you don’t understand, and fear in all its forms—from terror to apathy and hatred—is the enemy of courage. We all battle fear. That’s why we need to study it, get to know it, and understand its causes and signs.
Logic Conquers Fear
The great Athenian statesman Pericles once found his army in turmoil: the soldiers had heard thunder and took it as a bad omen. This may seem silly, but imagine living in a time when no one knew what thunder was or what caused it.
Pericles couldn’t fully explain it scientifically, but he tried. He took two large stones, gathered the soldiers, and struck the stones together. Bang! Bang! Bang! He explained that thunder happens the same way—just from clouds colliding.
There was another incident. During a plague in Athens, Pericles was heading to war with his fleet. Suddenly, an eclipse occurred, and the soldiers panicked, thinking it was a bad sign. Pericles handled the situation not with a brilliant speech, but with simple logic. He covered the helmsman’s head with his cloak and said, “The only difference between this and the eclipse is that the cause of the darkness is bigger than my cloak.”
Life is still unpredictable. There’s so much we don’t know. Of course, it’s easy to get anxious. Of course, we act under the influence of our fears and doubts. The only way forward is to attack that fear—logically, clearly, empathetically. Courage is the ability to do this, as Pericles told the Athenians when the losses from plague and war kept mounting. People need to be calm and rational. He explained that you must deal with what’s in front of you, learn what in life is pleasant and what is terrible, and then face what must happen with resolve.
Tell yourself: it’s just money. It’s just a bad article. It’s just a meeting where people yelled at each other. Is that really worth fearing? Break down the situation. Look at the facts realistically. Investigate. Only then can you truly see.
This Is the Enemy
At the root of most of our fears is the worry about what others will think of us. It paralyzes us. It distorts us. It twists the very fabric of our reality—making us act so irrationally and cowardly that it’s hard to describe.
English literary critic Cyril Connolly once joked, “Many people are kept from suicide by the fear of what the neighbors will say.” We care deeply about what others think; we fear them even when we’re far away and can’t hear them.
The paradox is that almost everything new, impressive, and right was done in spite of loud objections from the established order. Many things we now like were looked down upon when they first appeared, and now people pretend that was never the case. We often lack the skill or desire to see that objections are just obstacles to overcome.
When Frank Serpico exposed corruption in the New York police in 1970, another honest officer congratulated him. “But why didn’t you support me,” Serpico asked, “why didn’t you speak up when I needed help?” “What?” the other replied. “And become an outcast like you?”
You can’t let fear control you. No one has ever done anything meaningful without annoying other people. No change has ever happened without causing doubt. No movement has ever existed without being laughed at. No new venture has ever been loudly predicted to fail. And never, ever should the average opinion of faceless, unknowable strangers be valued above our own considered judgment.
What If?
We don’t know what we’re afraid of. At least, not exactly.
Fear looms, but somewhere far in the future. Or it sits in our gut, twisting and churning, but vaguely and without definition. We’re afraid something bad might happen. Afraid something won’t work out. Afraid of the consequences. Afraid of what people might think.
But what, where, when, how, who? We can’t answer these questions because we haven’t actually examined them. We haven’t actually defined what’s bothering us. Our fears aren’t specific—they’re shadows, illusions, reflections we picked up somewhere or only glimpsed.
Well, it’s time to end that. Here. Now.
“Keep in mind exile, torture, war, disease, shipwreck…” wrote Seneca. “Let everything that is part of the human lot be before your eyes.”
Not in the form of fear, but in the form of familiarity. How likely are these events? What could cause them? How ready are we to handle them? For Seneca, the most painful blows are the unexpected ones. So by anticipating what might happen, defining it, and fighting it, we make the event both less frightening and less dangerous.
General Douglas MacArthur described all failures in war and life with two words: “Too late.” Too late to prepare, too late to understand the enemy’s intentions, too late to protect allies, too late to share information, too late to help those in need. Too late to do something specific: to count the enemy, as Grant did, or to prepare for the enemy’s arrival, as in Napoleon’s phrase.
Does this sound a bit grim? Maybe. But it’s better to be a prepared pessimist than the opposite. Aristotle said that optimists are the most vulnerable, because when the outcome doesn’t match their expectations, they run away.
Expect the worst to get the best. When fear is defined, it can be defeated. When the negative aspect is formulated, it can be compared to the positive. When you count the wolves, there are fewer of them. Mountains turn out to be molehills, monsters just people.
Courage
Courage is managing fear and overcoming it. It’s the decision—in a moment of danger or day after day—to take responsibility, to declare your will to act, to take charge of the situation, yourself, and your fate, when everyone else has already given up. We can curse the darkness, or we can light a candle. We can wait for someone to come save us, or we can get up and handle it ourselves.
Love Thy Neighbor
“I’m proud that I decided from the very beginning,” wrote Varlam Shalamov about his gulag experience, “that I would never be a foreman if my will could lead to another person’s death, if my will had to serve the authorities by oppressing other prisoners like myself. My physical and spiritual strength turned out to be greater than I thought in this great trial, and I’m proud that I never betrayed anyone, never sent anyone to their death or to a longer sentence, never wrote a denunciation.”
The freedom of the modern world, the freedom of your success, is not the freedom to stop caring. It’s not a license for indifference. Yes, you’re busy. Yes, most of the world’s evil isn’t your fault. But you can’t close your ears when you hear cries for help.
Anne Frank’s neighbor, Miep Gies, risked her life for months to bring food to the Jewish family hiding in the attic. We know how that story ended—someone betrayed them—but we should focus on the people who bravely tried to prevent it. As Gies explained, we must have the courage to help, even if the fight is hopeless.
“Any attempt to act is better than inaction,” she reflected many years later. “An attempt may fail, but inaction inevitably leads to failure.”
We must try. Because if not us, then who? We can’t just mourn the darkness of the world we live in.
We must seek the light. We must be the light. For our closest neighbors. For each other.
Courage Is Not Recklessness
One courageous person can be a majority. That’s inspiring. But it’s also dangerous.
What if that person is wrong? What if he’s an egomaniac? What if his cause is unjust? That’s how despots and bloody regimes arise. That’s how religious sects become doomsday cults. One person can easily lead themselves—and others—to the edge of the abyss.
It’s important to understand that courage as a virtue must be combined with the equally important virtue of moderation.
Absolute fearlessness is a recipe for disaster. Marcus Aurelius strove to be moderate:
“Never in a hurry or at a loss, not confused or downcast, without a forced smile or, on the other hand, without anger or suspicion.”
A leader who, like a teenager, picks fights will eventually find himself outmatched, defeated—and perhaps having lost more than just his pride. And who knows whom he might drag into his recklessness, and who will pay for his arrogance?
There’s a legend about a Spartan warrior who showed almost superhuman bravery in the war against Thebes. But after the battle, he was fined for fighting without armor and thus needlessly risking his life.
Courage isn’t about proving you’re tougher. It’s not empty bravado. It doesn’t mean refusing to wear a motorcycle helmet because you think you’re invincible. Courage involves risk, but only necessary risk. Carefully considered risk.
Our role model is not the hothead, but the cool-headed person. Dignity under pressure, for some reason, turns out to be calm under pressure. Caution and care are not opposites of courage, but its complements.
Make sure you combine them.
We often have reasons to regret impulsiveness and recklessness.
But courage?
Never.
Stand Up and Leave
Goebbels called refugees and emigrants from Europe “corpses on vacation.” Just bodies that ran away, someone else’s problem, people who would soon die somewhere else.
Courage, risk, perseverance, and determination? Maybe they’re not the most educated, maybe not the richest, maybe some left behind mistakes and failures—but by definition, immigrants demonstrate a virtue we admire. Tired? Uncomplaining? They are tireless warriors. They are descendants of pioneers and explorers. Where would we be without this kind of courage?
Who wouldn’t want such people to be part of their economy and culture? Who can’t learn something useful from them in our calmer, safer lives?
Of course, emigration isn’t the only way to stand up and leave. Sometimes it’s the courage to quit a dead-end job. Sometimes it’s a project we’ve invested our lives and savings in. Leaving a political party. Deciding to divorce after a long, unhappy marriage.
We did everything we could. We fought. We struggled bravely and persistently. It didn’t work out.
Some people make excuses when things go badly. Some turn circumstances into a reason for despair. Some think that a lack of opportunity is a problem that will solve itself. Others get up and do something. Which type are you?
Leaving is scary. The end of anything can feel like a kind of death. Newness means uncertainty and insecurity. It’s risky. It’s painful. It requires making tough decisions. No one can promise you the next attempt will be better. But it’s clear that doing the same thing over and over, in the same place and the same way, is not just madness, but ultimately a form of cowardice.
We know what it takes to make the leap ourselves, so we should admire it when we see others do it. Let it inspire us—no situation is hopeless, we will never be without the will to act. We can always gather our courage and move forward.