Lack of Action: Tim O’Brien’s Failed Attempt at Courage

In his book If I Die in a Combat Zone, Tim O’Brien recounted events surrounding his experience with the war in Vietnam. He noticeably came back to one question again and again: what is courage? This paper will analyze O’Brien’s struggle with this question by first explaining the dilemma he faced as a soldier fighting in a war he felt was unjust. I will then piece together O’Brien’s ideological explanations of courage from the text, followed by his examples of both courage and cowardice. Courage, to O’Brien, was action. When these pieces are viewed together according to his own convictions and definitions, O’Brien did not have courage but was, in fact, a coward

            Tim O’Brien faced a major dilemma as he was drafted to fight in a war that he deemed unjust. This quandary was perhaps most eloquently explained during his conversation with the chaplain during his Advanced Infantry Training. He pointed out that in his heart he felt that killing was wrong. War, according to O’Brien, must only be fought if it is just. In his heart he must feel that he is fighting for goodness. This war, he told the chaplain, was not just and he felt he should not fight in it. The religious leader responded by calling out O’Brien as “very disturbed.” “You’ve read too many books,” he said, “the wrong ones, I think there’s no doubt, the wrong ones.” Then he seemed to have dropped his religious front: “But goddamn it—pardon me—but goddamn it, you’re a soldier now, and you’ll sure as hell act like one!” After a brief ideological tussle between O’Brien and the chaplain, the young soldier posed his true question: if he believes the war is wrong and he goes and kills then what is the state of his soul? Also, if he refuses to fight, he will have betrayed his country. So what can or should he do (56-61)?

O’Brien’s quandary was at once universal and a product of the particular political and cultural climate of his time. War has always been controversial. Any time human life is concerned there will always be those who question the rationale behind the actions. In this case, however, O’Brien seemed to be struggling with more than just his convictions against the war. His actions questioned the legitimacy of the political and cultural norms of the period. Since World War II, the United States was obsessed with their fear of the expanding communist Soviet regime in Eastern Europe and Asia. Communism was viewed as the antithesis of capitalism and democracy, which Americans believed were divinely inspired. Americans’ fears translated into witch hunts at home and abroad in attempts to squash the communist threat to their way of life. O’Brien grew up in this Cold War era, and the political rhetoric stated that anything which questioned the United States and its convictions was not only communist, but by connection evil. His conviction against the war seemed right in his heart. “And if right, was my apparent courage in enduring [the war as a soldier] merely a well-disguised cowardice?” (138) Was he then, by connection, evil? He felt like he was in a prison: “unwilling to escape, yet unwilling to acquiesce” to the war (39).

            In an attempt to sort out his feelings about his actions, O’Brien cited a plethora of ideological explanations for what courage is. He began with Socrates. O’Brien pointed out that Socrates was likely conflicted himself. Considering his writings, one would conclude that he would not have acquiesced, but gone about the war his own way. However, O’Brien pointed out, Socrates fought a war for Athens. There was no way that war was completely just either. Was he then a “reluctant hero” like O’Brien? These musings subsided and O’Brien got back on duty (46-47). Later O’Brien described courage as “acting wisely when fear would have a man act otherwise.” But wisdom on its own was not enough, for one must spiritually endure (136-138). He cited another possible definition in connection with action. Men act cowardly, and men act courageously. Bravery is measured according to the average action when all are taken into account (148).

            Ideologically, the United States had a slightly different definition of bravery than O’Brien. This idea was partially described by Major Callicles, One of O’Brien’s last commanding officers in Vietnam. He said it was America’s responsibility, and therefore every American’s responsibility, to show the world that someone has “guts to stand up for what’s right.” Further, “it’s going out and being tough and sharp-thinkin’ and making things happen right” (200). Culturally, courage in America was characterized by proactively fighting against what they believed was wrong. They took it upon themselves to make sure the world saw things the way they did, because their way was “right” as Major Callicles said. American culture made bravery out to be forceful, and often rather cruel and oppressive. As O’Brien said, “if a man can squirm in a meadow, he can shoot children. Neither are examples of courage.” Men must know the rightness of their actions, for this is wisdom (136, 140).

            O’Brien cited examples of courage throughout the book. Each example is defined as courageous or brave differently than the rest, further complicating his pursuit of a definitive answer. O’Brien himself first exemplified courage during his Advanced Infantry Training. The more he concluded that the war was wrong, the stronger his desire was to refuse. He went to the library and researched how other soldiers had gotten away, safely, to a place where they would not be forced to fight against their convictions. He made plans and wrote letters to his family concerning his justified desertion (52-54). O’Brien knew at this point that his heart would never tell him this war was right. He thought long and hard about what he would do after his tour to fight against the, in his opinion, unjustified war. He would go on his own “crusade” and fight against some of the men who caused so many atrocities. He determined that when other wars arose he would determine if they were just, and fight against them if they were not (93). This could be considered an internal courage, holding fast to ideas one knows are right.

            O’Brien used Captain Johansen, his commanding officer, as a prime example of bravery in the more traditional sense. “I’d rather be brave than almost anything,” he said to Tim, who responded by saying he wished he had tried harder himself. As O’Brien contemplated Johansen’s words, he came to the conclusion that “It’s the charge, the light brigade with only one man, that’s the first thing to think about when thinking about courage. People who do it are remembered as brave, win or lose. They are heroes forever” (134). True bravery, according to this example, is a desire deep within oneself to charge, as hard and as strong as they can, to fight for whatever their conviction is. This example makes no ideological qualification for bravery. It is simply the action that comes from a desire within. No one in Vietnam besides Johansen cared about bravery, and thus they did not have it. All they had was an obsession with “manliness, crudely idealized,” not bravery (134).

            Examples of cowardice starkly contrasted the examples of courage in the book. O’Brien usually referred to himself as cowardly rather than brave. After he made all his plans to run and refuse to fight in a war that he was morally opposed to, he did not. He was in Seattle on leave from training and his plans were all ready to go, but when the time came he could not bring himself to do it. He vomited and went to sleep, then burned his letters and his plans when he woke up in the morning. He did not have the courage to take a stand when it really counted. His thoughts and feelings were in the right place, but his actions never followed. “I was a coward,” he said as he recalled his return to the base. He had thought about not carrying a gun, but again he “succumbed” to the war and became a soldier none the less (68, 34).

            This example of cowardice really gives us the best understanding of O’Brien’s vision of bravery. No matter how good one’s intensions are, and no matter what he/she believes, there is no bravery in it unless there is action. Knowing the rightness of his actions confirms his bravery in his heart, and he knows it is real. But no matter the inward conviction, of which O’Brien had plenty, it means nothing in regard to bravery unless it is coupled with action.

Thus, according to his own beliefs and measures of bravery, O’Brien did not have courage. He knew in his heart what was right and what he should do, but he could not bring himself to do it. He allowed his fears to overpower his convictions. No matter how bad the fighting got on the ground, no matter how many men he saw killed, and no matter the gross injustices he witnessed, the fear of leaving and facing his family and friends with an explanation crippled his courage. The great detail he went into about his dilemma, his ideology, and the examples he witnessed of both courage and cowardice were simply observations. Tim O’Brien made these observations so thoroughly because he did not have the quality he was looking for. He was not a hero, and he said it himself, but he did understand what courage was. He, like many others before him, could not put aside his fears for the nobler good and fulfill his own definition of bravery.

Prose Styles and Du Bois’ Argument for a Better World

In his book The Souls of Black Folk, W.E.B. Du Bois employed a revolutionary style of writing. He did not follow the usual conventions of turn-of-the-century scholarly argument, but innovatively merged forms together, using this new form as a literary representation of his over arching argument. Du Bois used different prose styles that characterized the different facets of his argument. According to Du Bois African Americans needed a rounded, multifaceted experience through first, formal higher education—represented by abstract prose; second, vocational training and basic education—represented by factual history; and third the liberty to experience life—represented by personal accounts. All of these pieces of Du Bois argument pointed toward facilitating a change in black leadership and black communities.

            Du Bois began by demonstrating his remarkable ability for abstraction. These famous words set up the purpose and tone of his book: “the problem of the Twentieth Century is the problem of the color line.”[1] Blacks in America were born into this life with a symbolic veil over their eyes. They were forced to see themselves and the world not only through their own point of view, but through the point of view of white men. At no other time in history, Du Bois claimed, was an entire race forced into this “double-consciousness,” “this twoness.” Two men inhabited the body of every black man, and they struggled since Emancipation to synthesize these two into one, more perfect man, a “coworker in the kingdom of culture.”[2]

            Black communities’ struggled to gain the equality they were promised following Emancipation. During the years of Reconstruction, former slaves found themselves in an extension of the bondage they had just come from. They pleaded for liberty, and as Congress passed the Fifteenth Amendment guaranteeing them the right to vote, they thought they had found the means by which they may finally find it. For years they tried to no avail. Alas they settled on the idea that “book-learning” in higher institutions of learning would free them from their perpetual bonds of serfdom. Book learning by itself, however, did not accomplish this goal.[3] Du Bois then stated his claim that none of the above paths to liberty could accomplish its goal alone or in succession with another. Black Americans needed political action, vocational training, and higher institutional learning together to bring the entire race up onto an equal plane with the rest of society.[4]

            This portion of Du Bois’ book portrayed a number of abstract ideas. He formed these ideas after much contemplation on the subject, apparent in the form of his argument. He was able to think outside the box and form an original argument grounded in evidence, both real and ideological. Du Bois used abstract ideas again and again throughout Souls, not only to argue his point in text, but in form. His ability to create arguments based on conceptual ideas resulted from his education. After finishing a bachelor’s degree from Fisk, Du Bois studied at Harvard, where he earned another bachelor’s degree, a master’s degree, and became the first African American man to earn a Ph.D. from the acclaimed institution.[5] He himself, Du Bois argued subliminally, exemplified why black Americans needed higher education. Similar theoretical portions pervade the entirety of the text.

            Du Bois followed his abstract ideas with segments of factual history. His second essay titled “Of the Dawn of Freedom” exemplified his broad knowledge on the subject. In this essay Du Bois recounted the history of society’s question “What shall be done with the Negroes?” and how they attempted to answer it.[6] The Freedmen’s Bureau, according to Du Bois’ history, attempted to wrestle with this issue during and following the Civil War. From “contraband of war,” to “a military resource,” African Americans during the war were still seen as property or livestock. Following the war Congress struggled to designate what agency would deal with the problem of freed slaves, and how that agency would be allowed to do so. They hastily put them under the War Department in the new Bureau of Refugees, Freedmen, and Abandoned Lands. Slowly the Freedmen’s Bureau melted away. Both the public and private attempts to handle the issues of freed slaves failed. These failures placed freedmen, and all free blacks, in a state of permanent lower class status.[7]

            This second essay attempted to present facts and history of the Freedmen’s Bureau as they existed, along with the long-term effects of those events. Du Bois related these facts to show the need for basic education. Basic schooling teaches individuals how to make sense of history and patterns while fostering reading and writing skills that will help him/her function as a productive member of society. It is very difficult to vote or enter into meaningful dialogue without a basic understanding of the English language and basic histories. Du Bois argued that the African American people want to be more than just workers, and their inability to perform basic tasks within society would guarantee permanent worker status. This example of the many fact-based essays in Souls exemplifies Du Bois argument for basic education.

            To make his abstract and fact-oriented arguments more real and human, Du Bois followed them with his own personal experiences and observations of black life in America. His two essays, “Of the Meaning of Progress” and “Of the Black Belt” are powerful examples of Du Bois’ ability to relate his own experiences to others. The first of the two told the story of Du Bois’ years as a school teacher in Tennessee. He soon felt the effects of “the veil” as his inequality within the society became apparent.[8] His students had to meet in an old drafty corn shed. Often the students could not attend school due to their work responsibilities. Families were forced by their economic conditions to live in single room cabins. The people worked so hard, in so many forms of labor, and were never able to break even. When he returned a few years later his former students were either in the same condition as their parents, or dead.[9] Similarly, the families he saw when he visited Georgia in the second essay were dreadfully trapped in their situation. Debt constantly loomed over the heads of the tenant farmers no matter their efforts, and the once great economy was shriveling.[10] Both of these communities were stalled in their progression and riddled with despair.

            Du Bois’ personal memoirs effectively expressed his belief in the importance of liberty to experience life for oneself. Much of Du Bois’ understanding and conviction of the issues he argued came from his observations of the system. His basic education, in connection with his higher education, opened his eyes to the issues when he saw them. He had the freedom to gain his education and the freedom to personally see the effect society’s bigotry had on black Americans. This is where, had he chosen, Du Bois could have made his call for political action.

When an educated black populace could personally see or experience the degradation caused by the “veil,” they could combine for political action to begin to change the system. Only together could education and experience bring American blacks up as equal members of society, and Du Bois used his three prose styles to exemplify that. True employment of these three pieces together would have a lasting effect on the black community. Souls not only made an argument for the improvement of the black situation, it literally was that argument.

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[1] W.E.B. Du Bois, The Souls of Black Folk, 1902 (Simon and Schuster: NY, 2009) 3.

[2] Ibid, 7-8.

[3] Ibid, 10-11.

[4] Ibid, 13-16.

[5] Ibid, IX.

[6] Ibid, 18.

[7] Ibid, 19-40.

[8] Ibid, 65.

[9] Ibid, 62-75.

[10] Ibid, 109-131.

A Dichotomous Identity in The Narrative of Olaudah Equiano

In his autobiography The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano, or Gustavus Vassa, the African, identity was one of the author’s central themes. Intentionally or unintentionally, the author portrayed his identity as dualistic and dichotomous. This dichotomy was especially pronounced in the use of his two names and in the descriptions of Africa and England, his two homelands. Both of these examples exuded subtle clues that suggest the author’s identity as an English Christian. Vassa clarified his identity through the comparative descriptions of his native African religion and his then-current Christian religion.

            The first dichotomy Equiano portrayed in his narrative was the use of his names. The title of his book included both names by which he was known during his life. The first name listed was Olaudah Equiano, his African name. The second name he listed was Gustavus Vassa, the name he was given by his owner en route to England for the first time. This order implied the name by which he preferred his narrative to be known. Equiano chose to add the phrase “the African” to the title in an attempt to maintain a connection to his land of origin. The name Olaudah represented the folk spirit of Africa, and as an African, Equiano’s story portrayed a stronger ethos to readers.[1]

            Though the author chose to state his African name Olaudah before his given name Gustavus, he almost exclusively used the name Gustavus throughout his life. When aboard a ship to England, the author told his master that he wanted to be known as Jacob. His master refused and gave him the name Gustavus Vassa.[2] The author used the name Gustavus as he moved from owner to owner, and later after he bought his freedom and traveled as a free sailor. Likewise, when he was baptized and later became a missionary to Africa, he continued to use the name Gustavus.[3] The author would have had more clout connected to the name Gustavus than Olaudah among the white community. He may not have been able to make some of his necessary relationships or business transactions with an African folk-name like Olaudah. This tension represented the author’s inner struggle to define himself, both as an African and an Englishman without completely giving up either.

            The second dichotomy Equiano portrayed in his narrative was his sense of home. In the first chapter of his book, Equiano described in detail the society in which he grew up. Equiano portrayed his African society—many miles inland from the Bight of Benin—as very considerate and moral. They established families, made official through a ritualistic marriage ceremony. They exchanged manufactured goods and participated in commerce; they fought wars, and took slaves of their own.[4] Later in his life Equiano returned to Africa, the land of his birth, as a missionary to try and convert his brethren to Christianity. This excursion highlighted the duality of his view of home.[5]

            England became Vassa’s new homeland. He sailed to England fairly soon after his trip across the dreadful middle passage. In England he felt the strongest connections to other people since his sister was taken away from him in Africa. He was able to make friends and learn about Christianity. He was baptized and eventually learned to read, allowing him to delve deeper into the religion.[6] When Vassa was forced to sail to the Mediterranean he deeply wanted to return to his new home in England. Later, when his master betrayed him and sold him to the West Indies, his greatest desire was to return to his beloved England.[7] After Vassa obtained his freedom he returned to England again and again, working as a free sailor and earning his wages.[8] This series of events suggests that Vassa had an emotional connection to England. Despite his very positive descriptions of Africa and his trip as a missionary, Vassa’s heart always remained in England. It was this trip as a missionary that highlighted the last dualistic portrayal of the author’s identity.

            The third dualism Equiano portrayed was his religious identity. This side of his identity was different than the previous two in that his religious identity more notably changed over time. This aspect of his identity was also much easier to define. In the first chapter of his book, Equiano described the religious beliefs and practices from his homeland in Africa. His society had a ritualistic marriage tradition, after which the woman became the sole property of the man.[9] They believed in one Creator of all things, who lived in the Sun and controlled all the events of their lives. Equiano recalled no concept of eternity, but rather a form of transmigration of souls. Some souls were transmigrated to other people or objects, and the souls that did not would attend their families forever. These souls were central to religious rituals practiced there.[10]

            Vassa seemed to have completely renounced the religious aspect of his African identity after he learned of Christianity. In February 1759 Vassa was baptized and began his life as a Christian. He knew enough about the religion that he thought he would go to hell if he was not baptized, a fact that his mistress stressed repeatedly.[11] From this time forward Vassa constantly looked toward this religion in times of peril or heartbreak. When his master sold him to the West Indies he argued that his master had no right to do so, for he was a Christian.[12] Vassa spent an entire chapter describing his full conversion to the faith. He was distressed and began to pray to God for redemption. As a result he claimed to have marvelous visions while he slept which left him “resolved to win heaven, if possible.” He “kept eight out of ten commandments,” but that just was not enough.[13] He continued to work, and began bringing others into the fold. It was then that Vassa went on a mission to Africa. This event was an expression of one of the most telling points of his religious identity. He chose to leave his land of England, to which he had become most accustomed, in an attempt to convert the poor Africans who knew not of Christ. This suggested a complete renunciation of his old beliefs, and showed that he felt it would be best for all Africans to do the same. Gustavus Vassa was a Christian.

            Despite the author’s dichotomous descriptions of his own identity, subtle evidence indicated his identity as an English Christian. His identity changed over time, away from his folk-customs, society, and religion of Africa and toward his Christian, sailor, gentlemanly customs of England. He placed his African name first, yet used his given slave-name most of his life. He described the civilized culture of his Africa, yet embraced the civilized culture of England. Most of all, He renounced his spiritualistic religion of Africa for Protestant Christianity. The author exemplified his dualistic identity in his closing remarks to the Queen, “I am, your Majesty’s most dutiful and devoted Servant to command, GUSTAVUS VASSA, The Oppressed Ethiopian.”[14]

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[1] Olaudah Equiano, The Interesting Narrative of the life of Olaudah Equiano, or Gustavus Vassa, the African, 1814, in The Classic Slave Narratives, ed. Henry Louis Gates, Jr., (Penguin: NY, 2002) 15.

[2] Equiano, Interesting Narrative, 66.

[3] Equiano, Interesting Narrative, 81, 229, 230.

[4] Equiano, Interesting Narrative, 29-39.

[5] Equiano, Interesting Narrative, 228.

[6] Equiano, Interesting Narrative, 67, 81.

[7] Equiano, Interesting Narrative, 88, 98.

[8] Equiano, Interesting Narrative, 166-183.

[9] Equiano, Interesting Narrative, 32.

[10] Equiano, Interesting Narrative, 39-40.

[11] Equiano, Interesting Narrative, 81.

[12] Equiano, Interesting Narrative, 97-98.

[13] Equiano, Interesting Narrative, 191-192.

[14] Equiano, Interesting Narrative, 247.