Thought

Dealing With Grief, And Providing Comfort

Quintus Curtius Thought , , ,

Cicero believed that there were four “disorders” of the soul:  delight, lust, distress, and fear (Tusc. Disp. IV.12-15).  He believed that all of these disorders were the products of either some judgment, or some belief.  In other words, we ourselves create the conditions for these disorders, by our own flawed judgments or erroneous beliefs.  And if we can correct these deficiencies, we can cure ourselves of the disorder.  It is a pretty theory.  But I am not convinced of its rectitude.

Are these emotional “disorders” truly the products of personal judgment or belief?  Or are some of them involuntary reflexes to our ingrained personality traits?  It is not easy to say, but Cicero is correct in urging us to take charge of our own emotional states.  If we cannot control ourselves, then no one can.  So it is better to follow Cicero and his Stoic path, even if it be not quite right, since they empower us with more control over our own destinies.

Sense-perception is the starting point of all emotional states.  We should be neither insensible, nor oversensitive.  To be the former is to be an unreasoning brute; the latter, a delicate flower wounded by the wind.  Occupying some middle ground strikes the right balance between these two extremes.  For when the distress of grief hits us, it is the middle ground that proves itself to be the most stable, and the most able to withstand the emotional tremors rocking us like a ship in the waves.

 

One of the reasons for excessive displays of grief is guilt.  We believe that, if we torment ourselves in overwrought expressions of grief, we can somehow repay a secret debt.  Displaying the intensity of our grief will placate the gods.  The flagellant who punishes himself seeks to drive out some inner demon; and the wailing mourner with hands to the sky believes that her shrieks will find heavenly satisfaction in direct proportion to their intensity.

And how may grief be assuaged?  In what manner may one give relief from the misery of anguish, whether it be in ourselves or in others?  Dolor can be dealt with in these ways:

1.  Removing it completely

2.  Softening it

3.  Stopping it from extending

4.  Diverting it with replacement emotions

Of these four options, the first seems the most unrealistic.  Emotions are not completely voluntary; they cannot normally be turned on and shut off like a valve in a pipe.  The second option, that of softening, is a better option; and this consists of speaking comforting words to the grief-stricken, whether it be ourselves or another.

Words of softening provide solace to the bereaved, and should always be forward-looking and positive.  For those afflicted by grief, an excursion into the past affords no relief.  The past is the repository of sorrows, the store-house of pain.  This is because grief and memory reinforce each other, and agitate each others’ glowing coals into new intensities.  Also to be avoided are attempts to make rational arguments to the bereaved.  It is a mistake to try to argue with the grief-stricken, and to try to show by one proof or another that it is folly to be overwhelmed by lamentation.  The heart is not a mechanical contrivance, to be wound up or unplugged on command.

The third option, that of preventing the extension of grief, follows from the softening of grief.  Grief’s waves, properly endured with time, will diminish in frequency and amplitude.

The fourth option, that of diversion, seems to be the best and most practical.  For it is not enough to tell ourselves or someone else “do not grieve.”  The more we try not to think about something, the more we think of it.  The mind is like a dog with a bone in its jaws:  try to pull the bone out of its mouth, and he clamps down that much harder.

Alleviation from grief comes with productive diversion.  The fixation on sadness must be replaced by another activity.  In this way the mind finds itself another “bone” to clamp down on.  The old bone of grief is released, and replaced with the new, positive, forward-looking activity.  And this is why the focus of a new hobby, a new job, or a new activity is so beneficial for those who are waylaid by dejection.

One interesting observation Cicero makes is that grief is a form of envy.  That is, we resent the sudden void left by the departure of something precious, and envy those who have what we now suddenly lack.  Perhaps this is true.  But I have also heard grief described elsewhere as rage turned inward.  We feel rage at our loss and deflect this rage back upon ourselves.  Either way, grief is linked to envy or rage; perhaps both of these emotions play a part.  Envy and rage are burning fires, which will consume the bearer unless properly quenched.

No matter how the cure is effected, grief must be controlled and contained.  There is nothing so loathsome as one who refuses to release himself from the grip of sorrow.  The sympathy of others quickly can evolve into contempt.  As Cicero says,

Quid autem est non miserius solum, sed foedius etiam et deformius quam aegritudine quis adflictus, debilitatus, iacens? [Tusc. Disp. IV.35]

Which means, “What is not only more miserable, but also more terrible and grotesque, than he who is debilitated and afflicted with distress?”

The quote above I have taken from his book Tusculan Disputations, a dialogue which discusses various Stoic philosophical problems.  You can find the book by clicking here.

Read More:  Cicero’s Four Cardinal Virtues

 

Good Facts Are Not Enough: The Material Requirements Of Victory

Quintus Curtius Thought ,

victory

By trade, I am a practicing attorney and a partner in a law firm.  In my fifteen year legal career, I have tried a large number of criminal cases in federal and state courts.  I have also litigated an equally large number of complex business and consumer bankruptcy matters in federal bankruptcy courts.  This background, combined with my previous career as an military officer, has taught me a few things about conflict and its management.

Conflict has a trajectory.  It begins, simmers, crescendos, and then approaches a climax.

It is one thing to read about a subject in a book.  One can read about the theories of Sun Tsu, Jomini, Clausewitz, or any number of military theorists.  And this is a productive use of time, worthy of time and effort.  One can also read about jury trials, or see movies about them, however imaginary or misleading many of them are.

And so many of them are laughably misleading.

But it is quite another matter actually to be in the hot-seat.  To handle a jury trial alone, from start to finish–from voir dire until the final verdict–is not something that can be imparted by the written word.  Writing is incapable of expressing the emotions, the stress, the exhilaration, the anger, and the eruption of intensity that comes with this experience.  There is nothing else like it.

There are law school graduates.  There are people with diplomas on their walls.  There are people who spend their legal careers safely ensconced in some corporate or government office, afraid to get their hands dirty.  There are those with opinions about everything, without having done anything.

And then there are the few who actually fight it out in the real world.  The few who are actually capable of doing what trial attorneys do.  Those who have actual clients, actual businesses, and actual victories.

In an earlier post, I discussed some aspects of conflict.

One aspect in particular deserves additional mention:  the need for material support.  Or, we could call it logistical support.  I was thinking about this today in my office.

This is what I have seen time and time again:  good facts are not enough.  If you wish to be successful in the arena of conflict, you need the tools to do the job.  In the legal world, these tools are generally twofold:  (1) the financial resources to litigate the case successfully; and (2) having a client who is supportive, responsive, and engaged in the battle.

If either of these tools is lacking, victory is in doubt.

Let us discuss the financial issue.  With money, a litigant can hire experts, can fight every motion, and can wear down the other side with discovery.  Money makes a difference.  Money sends a strong message to the opponent.  Money is an asset, just as surely as gasoline and food is an asset to a mechanized army.

Would OJ Simpson ever have been acquitted if he had been indigent, and been forced to use a public defender?

ten1

People don’t like to deal with this reality.  But it is there.  Even if you have a good set of facts, or a good case, you need to get that truth out there.  Financial resources are a great asset.  Anyone who thinks otherwise simply has never been in the playing field.

But you also need a cooperative, engaged, and supportive client.  If you client is “dropping his pack”, not answering your calls, being sullen and uninterested, then your job is measurably more difficult.  You cannot drag an unwilling mule to the fight.  Your client has to want to win.  If it is a bankruptcy litigated matter–say, a Chapter 11 reorganization–your client has to want to reorganize.

He must have the willpower, and the tenacity, to see things through to conclusion.

If you turn around, and no one is following you, then victory is in doubt.

One of the most frustrating things in my career is a situation where you see that a client has great facts, but is either unwilling or unable to carry those facts through to a successful conclusion.

But this is the way things are.  This is part of the moral dimension of conflict.  For a successful outcome to happen in a conflict, many different moving parts must come together in the right way.  And you can only control so many of those moving parts.  We cannot manage all aspects of conflict.

Good facts are the raw material to begin with.  But it’s still a long way from there to the finish line.

Read More:  On Conflict

Cicero’s Four Cardinal Virtues

Quintus Curtius Thought , ,

knocker

According to Cicero, the sources of moral righteousness are four in number (De Officiis I.15):

1.  The perception and intelligent development of truth (In perspicientia veri sollertiaque versatur);

2.  The preservation of civil society, with the faithful rendering to everyone what he is properly owed (In hominum societate tuenda tribuendoque suum cuique et rerum contractarum fide);

3.  The greatness and power of a noble and unconquerable spirit (In animi excelsi atque invicti magnitudine ac robore);

4.  In the order and moderation of things which consist of temperance and self-control (In omnium, quae fiunt quaeque dicuntur, ordine et modo, in quo inest modestia et temperantia).

What is moral and good, according to Cicero, has to spring from one or more of these sources.  They can be connected with each other, depending on the situation.  The first of these sources, as listed above, revolves around the search for truth.  The remaining three relate to our conduct within organized society.

And this is where Cicero makes an important point.  The search for truth is a morally righteous thing.

Truth is not primarily an intellectual pursuit; it is a moral one.  It is an impulse that arises from the deepest core of our moral being.

 

To learn more about Cicero’s views on conduct, self-improvement, and ethics, check out my translations of his timeless classics On Duties and Stoic Paradoxes.

 

Why Avoiding Time-Wasters Is Important

Quintus Curtius Thought , ,
fools1

Whether you are in business for yourself, or you are an employee, you will be beset by time-wasters.  Of the many people in the world, a good proportion fall into this category.  Time-wasters drain your energy, contribute no value to your life, and upset your serenity.  They are everywhere.  To get the most out of your life, it’s not enough to take positive action to do good things.  You also need to take action to avoid negative things.  Avoiding something bad is just as productive as doing something good.  We often forget this fact.  We devote a great deal of attention to the one, and hardly any attention to the other.

Continue reading →

On Conflict

Quintus Curtius History, Thought , ,

conflict

What is the nature and purpose of conflict, and how may it be dealt with?  These are questions that have been considered by many through the centuries.  And rightly so, as conflict–in which I include war as well as any other clash of wills–is at the core of existence.  Whether we speak of Nature or the metaphysical realm, the clash of two opposites is at the heart of the eternal dialectic.  To understand this, and to cope with its implications, is one of our primary duties.

The goal of conflict is for one side to make the other side change its mind:  that is, for one side to impose its will on another.  As two or more opponents clash, what Clausewitz called “friction” is produced.  He defined friction as the force which makes “even the seemingly easy, difficult.”  And this statement captures one of the essential principles of conflict.  In the heat of conflict (whether it be a trial in a courtroom, a contest of wills between people, or warfare), even the simplest things become very difficult.  Conflict feels like trying to run in a dream.  Action becomes slow, plodding, and uncertain.

I have particularly noticed this in two settings.  One setting was in the operation of military forces in the pursuit of some goal.  Military operations never evolve as planned.  Communications will go down.  Radios or signals intelligence will be flawed.  Logistics will be impeded.  Unexpected disasters will happen.

Another setting in which I’ve noticed the operation of friction is in the trial of a legal case in a courtroom.  Small problems become magnified into big problems.  Witnesses will not perform as expected.  Juries or judges will do or say unanticipated things.  Evidence you want to introduce will be denied, or will have a different effect than that desired.

This is the distorting lens of conflict in action.  Conflict magnifies things, making the insignificant, significant. We can try to control some of these elements, but complete control is not possible.  The better way is to learn to use “friction” to our advantage.  We must embrace fluidity, friction, disorder, violence, and uncertainty, knowing that they are inescapable.

The human dimension is found in the operation of moral forces.  Conflict is a human activity, and so we must take account of the behavior of humans.  Wills will fail; exhaustion will set in; passion will cloud judgment; boldness will accelerate the tempo of operations; and frustration will slow down operations.  We must know ourselves, as well as the opposing will.  The purpose of collecting intelligence in conflict is to better manage the moral dimension of conflict.

In conflict, our primary purpose is to know what we wish to accomplish.  Strategy is this knowledge.  You would be surprised how often this matter is overlooked.  Not knowing what one is wanting to do is the beginning of failure.  If you do not know what you are doing, friction will decide for you.

There are two main styles of conflict:  attrition and maneuver.  In attrition conflict, we wish to wear down our opponent by the expenditure of some resource (money, materiel, or lives).  In maneuver conflict, we wish to win by a judicious use of our power, achieving ends in the most efficient way.  Both methods have their uses.  The decision to employ one style over another will depend on the circumstances.

In general, maneuver is useful for parties at a disadvantage in strength.  The Boers in the Boer War, Hannibal in Italy during the Second Punic War, Nathaniel Greene in the American Revolutionary War, Lettow-Vorbeck’s campaign in East Africa in the First World War, the irregular warfare practiced by Michael Collins and the IRA in Ireland in the early 1920s, the North Vietnamese Army during the Vietnam War, the German Army in Italy in 1943-1944, are all examples of employment of maneuver.  Many other historical examples can be found of attrition, such as the US military in the Second World War.

The failure to adapt strategy to means and ends is the beginning of failure.  Trying to do something beyond one’s means is the beginning of failure.  Since conflict is difficult and expensive, we must match means to ends.  Winning by maneuver should be the preferred option, as it involves less time and expense than attrition.

There are many examples in history of leaders trying to do things beyond their means, of allowing their ambition to exceed their ability, or of not matching their strategy with their resources.  This is the beginning of failure.

As stated earlier, conflict magnifies everything.  Small problems become big problems.  The best way to manage the job of leadership and command and control in conflict is not to micro-manage everything.  Over-management slows down the tempo of operations.  We must let subordinates, comrades, or employees use their own initiative to solve problems on their own.

All preparation for conflict must take these things into account.  We must train in an environment of uncertainty, fluidity, and hardship.  Adolf Von Schell’s classic treatise Battle Leadership was written after long experience on Germany’s eastern front in the First World War.  He recommended that training be done at night, in the worst conditions, so that men would get used to the disorder and chaos of real-world operations.  We must imitate this advice.

We can try to “manage” friction.  We can try to “shape the battlefield.”  But these efforts always come up a little bit short.  In the prologue to Sun-Tzu’s treatise Art of War, the author describes how he imposes discipline on a group of concubines that he intends to train as a military unit.  The method used is fear.  This is an example of trying to control friction. It can work, in some small ways.  But not in every way, and not comprehensively.

Micro-management impedes this effort.  When someone has to verify everything before doing anything, the pace of operations slows.  Leaders should tell subordinates what they want done, but necessarily how to do things.  Goals should be specified, not means.  The man on the ground should then employ his own training and initiative to get the job done correctly.  The problem with this, of course, is the fact that in real conflict, people often don’t take the initiative.

The use of “mission orders” also presupposes a high level of training and initiative for subordinates.  In practice, this is not often the case.  It isn’t easy to find people with good training or sufficient initiative.  But this is why training, initiative, and vigorous leadership is so important.  They speed up operations, increasing tempo and fluidity.  By swarming a clumsy opponent with a high tempo of operations, we can induce a general collapse of his will.  This is the essence of maneuver.  The opponent is “outcycled” in that his rate of decision-making is overwhelmed by the rate of decision-making of his adversary.

Successful management of conflict comes from an appreciation of these principles.  We must accept the reality of the “magnifying” effect of conflict.  We must accept uncertainty, friction, and the moral problems of conflict.  They can never be eliminated.  It almost seems that there is a Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle for conflict:  as we try to control one factor, other factors will remain unknown.  We must place our faith in the principle of maneuver conflict:  the use of decentralized “mission orders” that specify ends, and not pedantic micromanagement.

We must focus on training and preparation, in order to minimize the effects of uncertainty and friction.  And we must be responsive to changing facts and conditions immediately.  In this way, a speedy tempo of operations can be produced.  This firestorm of activity can permit us to impose our will, and cause the opposing force to “change its mind.”

For this is the goal of conflict:  to get the other side to change its mind.

 

On Detractors

Quintus Curtius Thought , ,

rome2

The poet Naevius noted that “mortal man is forced to endure many evils.”  (Pati necesse est multa mortalem mala, as quoted in St. Jerome’s Epistulae, LX.14).  Few would dispute this sentence.  One of these evils is the attack of the detractor.  Anyone who has become noted in a field of endeavor will at some point embolden detractors.  Horace tells us:

Such is the condition of kings,

That bolts of lightning strike the mountain tops.[1]

In other words, men of prominence will naturally attract invective from those wishing to cause mischief or spread calumnies.  It cannot be otherwise.  Hearing such attacks can begin to feel like an “itching in the ears” (to use the phrase of St. Jerome) for the man following his own moral purpose.  Jerome warns us that we should resist the temptation to respond to such attacks:

Cave quoque, ne aut linguam aut aures habeas prurientes, id est, ne aut ipse aliis detrahas aut alios audias detrahentes.[2]

This sentence reads:  “beware also, lest you have either an itching tongue or ears; that is, lest you detract from others or you listen to detractors.”  What Jerome means by this is that we should avoid the temptation to respond in a tit-for-tat way to our enemies.  Insults hurled can often come back to wound the hurler.  Jerome’s implication here is that mutual invective inevitably leads to mutual destruction.

fight3

By not responding to invective, we train both our enemies and ourselves:  we train our enemies that they cannot provoke us, and we train our own tongues to be silent as necessary.  Let us practice, then to moderate our words, and control our itch for retribution.

______________________________

[1] Odes II.10.11.

[2]  Epistula LII.14.

 

 

 

Author’s Note For “Pantheon”

Quintus Curtius Thought ,

[The excerpt below is the foreword to the book Pantheon: Adventures in History, Biography, and the Mind]

An author’s foreword often takes the form of an apologia.  So it is with this one.  We find ourselves compelled to renew our study of the nature of man, and the many dimensions of masculine virtue, which first began with the publication of Thirty-Seven in 2014.  The favorable reception of Thirty-Seven made it clear that new approaches to man’s ancient problems were desperately needed, and would be gratefully welcomed.  The unchanging themes of the life of man had cried out for a new voice, and a new technique, that might give them a contemporary resonance.

For too long, the study of masculine virtues had been cloaked in feeble apologetics that neither dignified nor elevated man’s struggles.  What had been needed was a return to the basic sources in history, biography, and philosophy.  The nature of adversity, the struggle for personal mastery, the vagaries of Fortune, the triumph of visionary effort, and the moral dimensions of character:  these were subjects that demanded a refurbishment, and a modern perspective, that nevertheless paid homage to ancient models.

I have found the essay to be the best vehicle for the presentation and discussion of these themes.  Finding the right balance in each essay between a merciful brevity and a tiresome length is a delicate balancing act; and the author, perched on his quivering tightrope, can only hope that his audience is not offended by his occasional deference to either extreme.  I do not pretend to impartiality.  For this I offer no apology, nor any equivocations.  The current age calls not for a bland neutrality, but for a conviction that will ignite the imagination, and kindle its fires.  My method has been to use the essay as a bacteriologist might use his microscope, or as the astronomer might employ his celestially-directed lenses.

Through the use of historical examples, the study of philosophical questions, and the examination of moral problems, our knowledge of ourselves grows measure by measure.  The scope of these questions intimidates the author as much as it does the reader; and we can only hope that the awareness of our ignorance will serve as a constant stimulus in our quest for wisdom.  Effort in seeking wisdom is never wasted, for our goal is a noble one.  We may respectfully disagree with Seneca when he warns us,

Whether reason or fortune has concealed these things,

Let what has been hidden remain hidden, always awaiting discovery;

As the Truth, unearthed, always brings misfortune to its discoverer.[1]

The essays in this volume have been selected for their treatment of the themes listed in the paragraphs above.  I have decided, in addition, to give extended treatment to the topic of Neoplatonism.  The final chapter of the book contains a detailed summary of all fifty-four treatises of Plotinus’s Enneads.  It is the product of a thorough study of the original texts, and  constitutes nearly a book within a book.  I do not need to be told how rash this effort was; but being rash, I elected to proceed.

Neoplatonism and mystical philosophy is a subject of some interest to me, as I believe that its dedicated study can bring a vastly expanded appreciation of one’s spiritual potential.  Every reader, of course, will have to decide for himself.  We can only strike forward, and make our way as best we can, swinging our machete at the bramble of vines in the inhospitable jungle of the mind.  We recall Virgil’s lines (Aeneid II.494):  Fit via vi.  The road is made with force.  So we force our way through.

With the vast range of topics covered, it is certain that there will be differences of opinion among reasonable men about the finer points of analysis on a given topic.  The translations in the text from Latin and Arabic are my own, and to me alone must be ascribed errors in interpretation, if any may be found.  The writing of a book is a solitary endeavor, and at the same time, something of a collaborative one.  Ideas are plastic:  they need to be worked, shaped, molded, and discussed, before they can take a final form.

I owe several debts of gratitude in the preparation of this book.  My friend Winston Smith devoted much effort in reviewing the final manuscript, and made many welcome suggestions.  I am also appreciative of the many readers of Thirty-Seven who contacted me personally to offer enthusiastic statements of support and encouragement.  They are legion, and are heard.  A special place in this writer’s own pantheon must be reserved for the accommodating kindness of these selfless souls.

[To see purchase details, click on the book cover above, or here]

_____________________________________

[1] Sive ista ratio sive fortuna occulit,

Latere semper patere quod latuit diu;

Saepe eruentis veritas patuit malo.  [Oedipus IV.825]

Pantheon: Adventures In History, Biography, And The Mind

Quintus Curtius Thought ,

P2820-x-4500px

My next book, Pantheon, is nearing completion.  It is expected to be released in late March or early April 2015.  Like Thirty-Seven, it will also be a collection of essays.  The themes of the book are:  redemption through suffering, the importance of masculine character, victory through perseverance, the finding of a moral purpose, and the glory of struggle.

But this is a more ambitious project than my previous effort.  A conscious effort has been made to examine sources in their original languages.  There are some efforts at historical fiction, as well as philosophical dialogues.  Most differently, I have summarized and condensed the entire text (all fifty-four treatises) of Plotinus’s Enneads.  It almost forms a book-within-a-book.  The Enneads is the foundational text of Western mysticism, and I have long felt that a basic knowledge of this subject is essential for any man seeking to journey inward, as well as outward.  Much has been written on the physical journeys required by man; we must now explore the inner journey.

More will be posted as information becomes available.