There is a humorous scene in the 1969 film Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid that you may be familiar with. Paul Newman’s character (Butch), when confronted by a rebellious member of his gang who wishes to displace him as leader, is challenged to a knife fight.
There is a tendency in conflict situations for inaction to take precedence over action. In his chapter The Suspension of Action in War (III.16), Clausewitz explains why this is so. Three determinants, he says, “function as inherent counterweights” to the impulse for positive action.
During a recent panel discussion at the World Economic Forum on Green Energy, former American Secretary of State John Kerry made the following rather disconcerting statement:
Some people think that as they become wealthier and more successful, their lives will resemble that of an idle aristocrat. They believe they will finally reach a point of perfect comfort. The reality is very different. With more success come more work, and more responsibilities, not less. You will have to develop a whole new set of skills to adapt to these changed circumstances. But you can do it.
When we focus on what is insignificant, we are likely to neglect what is most crucial. He who fixates on the irrelevant escrescence overlooks the significance of the larger structure. It is with good reason that this admonition is of old date:
The student of classical antiquity’s literary monuments may find himself perplexed by the relative paucity of its surviving examples. How could it be, we may wonder, that such a large corpus of celebrated works slipped, nearly unnoticed in the passage of centuries, into oblivion? Why is it that so many writings held in universally high regard exist today only in fragmentary or mutilated form? How could these tragedies of indifference and neglect have been permitted? By what processes are classics “lost”? These are worthy and difficult questions. They can be answered; but the answers are unsettling, and carry implications very modern in their relevance.
Quintus Fulvius Flaccus was a commander and politician of the Roman Republic who ascended to the consulship in 179 B.C. There is an interesting story about him found in the ancient historians, which we will relate here.
What are the traits and qualities that enable a man to survive in extreme adversity? How do different factors increase or decrease a man’s odds? And what lessons can be drawn from the experiences of others? We weigh the competing variables, and try to arrive at some conclusions.
A beautiful feature of proverbs and aphorisms is their flexibility of interpretation. Different readers can find in them varying interpretations based on their own experiences and perceptions. Some proverbs admit only a narrow degree of interpretive variance; others draw their power from ambiguity, and allow for a broad range of possible meanings.
The fifth century Gallo-Roman writer Sidonius Apollinaris, in a letter to his friend Heronius, mentions hearing during his travels the congratulatory shout of “Thalassio” in the streets, theaters, and marketplaces. An editor’s footnote to the text explains that the exclamation was a standard Roman expression of good wishes to a newlywed couple.
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