by Brett McKay
First, then, let us consider this, that it is the nature of such things to be destroyed by defect and excess, as we see in the case of strength and of health (for to gain light on things imperceptible we must use the evidence of sensible things); both excessive and defective exercise destroys the strength, and similarly drink or food which is above or below a certain amount destroys the health, while that which is proportionate both produces and increases and preserves it. So too is it, then, in the case of temperance and courage and the other virtues. For the man who flies from and fears everything and does not stand his ground against anything becomes a coward, and the man who fears nothing at all but goes to meet every danger becomes rash; and similarly the man who indulges in every pleasure and abstains from none becomes self-indulgent, while the man who shuns every pleasure, as boors do, becomes in a way insensible; temperance and courage, then, are destroyed by excess and defect, and preserved by the mean.
Virtue, then, is a state of character concerned with choice, lying in a mean, i.e. the mean relative to us, this being determined by a rational principle, and by that principle by which the man of practical wisdom would determine it. Now it is a mean between two vices, that which depends on excess and that which depends on defect; and again it is a mean because the vices respectively fall short of or exceed what is right in both passions and actions, while virtue both finds and chooses that which is intermediate. Hence in respect of its substance and the definition which states its essence virtue is a mean, with regard to what is best and right an extreme.
Hence … it is no easy task to be good. For in everything it is no easy task to find the middle, e.g., to find the middle of a circle is not for every one but for him who knows; so, too, any one can get angry—that is easy—or give or spend money; but to do this to the right person, to the right extent, at the right time, with the right motive, and in the right way, that is not for every one, nor is it easy; wherefore goodness is both rare and laudable and noble.
“First we make our habits, then our habits make us.” —John Dryden
The Force of Habit
FROM ETHICS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE, 1891
By Charles Carroll Everett
In speaking of the influence of companions, I said that a man tends to imitate the persons by whom he is surrounded; and we saw that while this tendency may work harm, it may also work much good: and that in fact the development of civilization has been largely dependent upon this tendency.
Most of all, a man tends to imitate himself. The fact that he has done a thing once, in a certain way, makes it easier for him to do it again in the same way. The oftener this is repeated, the more fixed does the habit become. At last he cannot do the thing in a different way without great effort. Finally it may become almost impossible for him to do it in a different way.
It is interesting to see the force of habit in little things. In this way one can most easily get an idea of its real power.
Notice its power in such a little matter as putting on one’s clothes, one’s coat, for instance. Almost every one in doing this always puts the same arm first into the sleeve. With some it is the right arm and with some it is the left. Probably very few, if they were asked, could tell which arm they put in first; but as soon as they undertake to do the thing, the arm which commonly goes first makes its movement; and it is only by a strong act of will that it can be made to give way to the other.
Observe, farther, how skill is acquired in any handiwork, so that at last the work goes on better when we are not thinking of it, than when we attend to what we are doing. The fingers of the skillful pianist take care of themselves, and the old ladies can read as they knit.
Notice now the good results of this tendency of habits to become fixed. In some cases, like those to which I have referred, the life of the person is, in a sense, doubled. As was just said, the old ladies knit and read or talk at the same time. So in very many things, the body that has been trained does the work while the mind is left free to busy itself as it will.
Another great advantage that springs from the fixity of habits is found in the fact that, by means of this, our lives may make real progress. What we have gained is secured to us.
Think how hard it would be if we had continually to start again from the beginning. How the soldier shrinks when he first goes into a battle; how gladly he would flee. It is said that green soldiers are sometimes placed alternately with those that have been seasoned in many a fight, that the stability of the veterans may keep the raw recruits in their place. The old soldiers have got so in the habit of marching and standing as they are told, that it has become with them a matter of course.
Consider, too, how a man who is in the habit of handling money lets it pass through his hands with hardly a thought of the possibility of keeping any of it. In such cases habit may sometimes be a better safeguard than principle that has not hardened into habit. Principle untrained may sometimes give way to a temptation which habit would withstand.
This fact applies to everything that we do, and to every relation of our lives. We can make a habit of honesty, of industry, of kindliness, of attention, of courtesy, and of whatever we will. Indeed, Aristotle, one of the wisest men of antiquity, defined virtue as a habit of rightdoing.
Consider what power we have thus over our lives. We shape them to a large extent as we choose, and then, through habit, they tend to harden into the shape that we have given them, as the plaster hardens into the shape which the artist has chosen.
The matter has, very obviously, another side. Bad habits form as readily as good ones. I am not sure that they do not form more readily than good ones, because virtues require more effort than faults. We drift into faults; but to make the best life we have to take control of it and guide it.
Indeed, a bad habit is the last thing that most of us are afraid of. We think that we are acting always from our own choice, that it is no matter what we do now, because another time, whenever we wish, we can do differently. But all the while a certain habit is forming and hardening, until at last we find ourselves almost helpless. Thus, even our tastes, our amusements, our selection of books, the tendency even of our most secret thoughts, are becoming fixed, and we are becoming permanently the persons we meant to be only for the moment.
If the artist takes such pains with the plaster that he is forming, so that it may harden into a shape of beauty, what care should we take of the habits which are to effect so strongly and permanently our bodies, our minds, and our hearts.
“In the civilian world almost nothing has lasting consequences, so you can blunder though life in a kind of daze. You never have to take inventory of the things in your possession and you never have to calculate the ways in which mundane circumstances can play out—can, in fact, kill you. As a result, you lose a sense of the importance of things, the gravity of things. Back home mundane details also have the power to destroy you, but the cause and effect are often spread so far apart that you don’t even make the connection; at Restrepo, that connection was impossible to ignore.” —Sebastian Junger, from War, a book detailing the fifteen months the author spent with a platoon of soldiers stationed at Restrepo, a remote outpost in Afghanistan
Army Field Manual 21-100, 1941
When you hear the word discipline, chances are the military is one of the first things that comes to mind. And with good reason—learning rigorous self-discipline is one of the central steps in becoming a soldier. At boot camp, recruits are drilled for weeks on everything from making their bed to cleaning their gun. This unforgiving education in discipline is of the utmost importance; when the newly-minted solider heads out into the field, a failure to pay attention to the details can mean the difference between life and death.
The following excerpts from an Army manual published in 1941 are obviously specifically directed at soldiers. But each guideline, when thoughtfully reflected upon, can be applied in some way to civilian life as well.
MILITARY DISCIPLINE
27. [Discipline] is the most
important thing in the Army. In civil life lack of discipline in a young man may result in his getting into trouble which will cause his parents and teachers regret or sorrow; it may cause a member of an athletic team to be “sent to the bench,” or cause an employee to lose his job. In the Army it is far more serious. Here lack of discipline in a soldier may not only cost him his life and the life of his comrades, but cause a military undertaking to fail and his team to be defeated. On the other hand a team of a few well-disciplined soldiers is worth many times a much larger number of undisciplined individuals who are nothing more than an armed mob. History repeatedly shows that without discipline no body of troops can hold its own against a well-directed and well-disciplined enemy.
28. In your work in the Army you may wonder why the officers and noncommissioned officers insist on perfection in what appears to be minor details. Why do rifles have to be carried at just the same angle; why do you have to keep accurately in line; why must your bed be made in a certain way; why must your uniform and equipment be in a prescribed order at all times; why must all officers be saluted with snap and precision? These things are part of your disciplinary training. Their purpose is to teach you obedience, loyalty, team play, personal pride, pride in your organization, respect for the rights of others, love of the flag, and the will to win.
CARE OF CLOTHING
56. Always remember that your uniform is more than a mere suit of clothes that is worn to cover and protect your body. It is the symbol of the honor, the tradition, and the achievements of our Army. The civilian or soldier who is careless in his dress and appearance is probably careless in everything else. You owe it to your comrades, your organization, and your Army to be neat and careful in your appearance, for officers and men of other organizations will judge your company by the impression you make.
57. By being careful of your uniform, you have many advantages over a careless soldier. Your clothing will last longer, you will be neater and better dressed, and you will make a better impression on your comrades and officers.
58. The following information will assist you in the care of your clothing:
a. Whenever you wear the uniform, either on or off duty, be sure that it is complete and that it conforms to the instructions of your post, camp, or station. Have your shirt, coat, and overcoat buttoned throughout. Keep your uniform clean, neat, and in good repair.
b. Dandruff, dust, or cigarette ashes on a uniform give a bad impression. If possible, keep a whisk broom in barracks for brushing your uniform. Promptly replace missing buttons and insignia.
c. Keep your woolen uniforms pressed. This not only improves the appearance of clothing, but actually increases its life.
d. Clothing not in use should be hung in wall lockers whenever available. If there are no wall lockers, fold your clothing carefully and put it away where it will not accumulate dust. Uniforms that have become wet or damp should not be folded until they are dry. It is also a good idea to inspect clothing before putting it away. Missing buttons and rips should be attended to as soon as you take off your clothing instead of waiting until it is again needed.
ARMS AND EQUIPMENT
Responsibility For Care
60. The arms and equipment which are issued to you are the property of the United States. They are entrusted to your care for military use during your period of service in the Army. You are responsible for them and it is your duty to see that they are properly cared for in the manner in which your officers and noncommissioned officers will instruct you. At various times you will attend inspections where your company commander, or other officers, will carefully check over your arms and equipment to see that you are taking the proper care of them and that they are clean and in condition for immediate active service. You will find that a little attention each day to the care and cleaning of your arms and equipment will save you time and effort in preparing for these inspections.
61. Your safety and comfort in the field will depend upon the manner in which you keep your arms and equipment. You must take particular care not to lose them, as you may not be able to replace them by the time you will need them most. Before dark, place everything where you can quickly find it in the dark. Remember that carelessness in the protection and condition of your arms and equipment may cost you your life or health, or that of a comrade.
MARCHES
194. One of your principal jobs in the field is marching. Battles take place at indefinite intervals, but marches occur daily. To win battles troops must arrive on the battlefield on time and in good physical condition. To accomplish this they must be able to march.
195. PREPARATIONS.—a. When you learn that your organization is to make a march the next day there are certain things you should attend to the evening before. See that your canteen is clean and filled with fresh water as there may be little time for this in the morning. Check your personal equipment and see that you have all the articles necessary for personal cleanliness, and for keeping your clothing in repair. This should include towel, soap, toothbrush, pocket comb, small mirror, needles, thread, safety pins, and spare buttons. Check up on the adjustment of your pack straps and belt. A poorly adjusted pack adds to the discomfort and fatigue of a march. You should have at least two pairs of woolen socks without holes or mends. See that your shoes or boots fit comfortably, are in good repair, and well broken in. Never start a march with a new pair of shoes or boots.
Before dark dispose of any trash or debris that may have collected in or around your tent area. This will save you time and effort in the morning, especially if your organization is to break camp before daylight. Our Army takes pride in always leaving a camp site in better condition than we found it.
196. When you fall in to start the march, do it quietly. One of the indications of a well trained organization is the absence of noise and confusion when starting a march. When you are close to the enemy it will be necessary to maintain quiet for your own protection as he will be on the alert for noises which will help him locate your position. Even when you are at a distance from the enemy, or making a practice march in peace, loud talking and shouting will disturb civilian communities or troops camped nearby who are trying to rest.
197. CONDUCT OF INDIVIDUALS.— b. You will remember that in chapter 1 it was stated that civilians will judge your organization and the Army by the conduct and appearance of its members in public. This is especially true of troops on the march. Avoid using profane or obscene language or making remarks to civilians. When you do this, you are not only proving that you are lacking in military discipline but are causing your organization to be considered as poorly trained. This is unfair to your comrades.
“In reading the lives of great men, I found that the first victory they won was over themselves … self-discipline with all of them came first.” —Harry S. Truman
My Will Has Been Stronger Than My Flesh
QUOTES FROM HARRY HOUDINI ON DISCIPLINE
Harry Houdini, “The Handcuff King,” was a magician and escape artist extraordinaire. He escaped from prison cells, bank safes, straightjackets, coffins, cans and tanks of water, and, of course, any handcuff he was challenged with. His feats were so astounding some believed he was aided by spirits from the great beyond. But the secret to Houdini’s success was not mystical, or even magical, it was simply a matter of strict discipline and strenuous practice. He built himself into the man he wanted to be, element by element.
Houdini set out to learn the secrets of every lock in the world, unable to rest until he knew how to pick them all with ease. He took up running, swimming, and biking long distances to build his body and endurance. He took classes on speech and debate to hone his skills as a charismatic showman.
In his home, he built a large sunken tub in which to practice escaping underwater and holding his breath (he got up to over four minutes). To train himself for stunts in which he would jump from bridges into frigid rivers while handcuffed and shackled, he would add ice to the water to increase his stamina. When guests came to visit,
he would work a deck of cards with his fingers or untie knots with his toes, letting his digits get a workout while he carried on an engaging conversation.
Houdini’s practice and study sessions were so all-consuming he would frequently forget to eat and bathe; his wife Bess had to remind him to change his underwear.
The quotes below clearly show how this rigorous discipline of body and mind allowed Houdini to attain supreme success.
I want to be first. I vehemently want to be first. First in my profession … For that I give all the thought, all the power, that is in me. To stand at the head of my rank: it is all I ask … so I have struggled and fought. I have done and abstained; I have tortured my body and risked my life, only for that—to have one plank on the stage where they must fall back and cry “Master!”… I am strong, as you see; strong in flesh, but my will has been stronger than my flesh. I have struggled with iron and steel, with locks and chains; I have burned, drowned, and frozen till my body has become almost insensible to pain; I have done things which rightly I could not do, because I said to myself, “You must”; and now I am old at 36. A man is only a man, and the flesh revenges itself. Yet the will is its master when the will is strong enough. Do you think that these religious martyrs—the willing martyrs—those in India, say—who torture themselves by driving hooks through their flesh and swinging suspended—do you think they suffer pain? I say “No; they do not.” I have proved it in myself. To think vehemently of a thing, of the feat, that conquers the pain—some kinds of pain. If the thought is intense enough, the pain goes—for a time. Sometimes the task before me is very hard. Not every night, but sometimes. I must fling myself down and writhe; I must strive with every piece of force I possess; I bruise and batter myself against the floor, the walls; I strain and sob and exhaust myself, and begin again, and exhaust myself again; but do I feel pain? Never. How can I feel pain? There is no place for it. All my mind is filled with a single thought—to get free! Get free! And the intoxication of that freedom, that success is sublime.
