Why I'm giving up hope

“You must never confuse faith that you will prevail in the end — which you can never afford to lose — with the discipline to confront the most brutal facts of your current reality, whatever they might be.” - James Stockdale

So, here we are. One year later and we're pretty much right back to where we started last year with Singapore's first "circuit breaker", our local parlance for a full national lockdown. A spike in local COVID-19 cases has forced us back into it. We're working at home, the kids are joining us tomorrow. The playgrounds are wrapped up in barricade tape and so are the kopitiams. It's sad to see it like this again. Two weeks ago, my wife and I were laughing together as we drove to work. We reunited with colleagues and exchanged the same joke every time. "I haven't seen you in like...a year!" "I know", the other would say, "right back at you." Awkward laugh. "Let's do lunch sometime!" Such vain hope.

Was it naive to think all this would be over in a year? To hope it would be?

Maybe. That's why I've decided to give up hope. It's time to face a more brutal reality. I'm no fortune teller, but it doesn't look like this will be over any time soon.

Let's get down to the real stuff and start learning a deeper acceptance. My grandparents had it worse. As a child during the Second World War, my grandfather was sent away from his parents in London to live on a farm in Wales while the Luftwaffe bombed London to the ground. My grandmother took cover in a metro station in Berlin while the RAF bombed Berlin to the ground. They had to get used to a pretty bleak future, no end in sight. Maybe hardening ourselves to a brutal reality will steel us against the worst.

This train of thought reminded me of a book I read last year by Massimo Pigliucci, an Italian Philosophy Professor at the City College of New York ("How to be a Stoic"). In his book about applying the ancient wisdom of Stoicism to modern times, he includes the fascinating tale of Admiral James Stockdale, shot down during the Vietnam War and made prisoner at the "Hanoi Hilton", for seven years.

He endured breatings and torture, as well as being regularly locked up in leg irons in a tiny cell with no windows. Even so, he led his fellow men in the prison and as a senior officer, was one of the primary organisers of prisoner resistance. When he was eventually released, he was in terrible physical condition. After he recovered, he was given the Medal of Honour, the highest military recognition. An interviewer asked him an interesting question: "who didn't make it out?"

He replied, "oh, that's easy, the optimists. Oh, they were the ones who said, "We're going to be out by Christmas." And Christmas would come, and Christmas would go. Then they'd say, "We're going to be out by Easter." And Easter would come, and Easter would go. And then Thanksgiving, and then it would be Christmas again. And they died of a broken heart..."

What he said next became known as the Stockdale Paradox: "This is a very important lesson. You must never confuse faith that you will prevail in the end -- which you can never afford to lose -- with the discipline to confront the most brutal facts of your current reality, whatever they might be."

Stockdale epitomises the virtues of Stoicism. He decided to play whatever part fate alloted to him to the best of his abilities. One's character is really the only thing one can control and what is valuable under all circumstances. Professor Pigliucci reminds us that "we should concern ourselves with what is under our control and handle everything else with equanimity".

This is why I've decided to cease the optimism. I will be avoiding disappointment for the timebeing by focusing on educating my children, making sure I keep up a decent exercise regimen and doing the best I can at work with what fate has alloted to me. I'm also going to give what I can to India and other countries facing far bigger challenges than ours.