The Importance of Fear

It’s March 1933 - a hopeless Great Depression relentlessly persists, a dull and tired rage infecting almost all Americans. Tens of millions anxiously huddle by their radios, eagerly anticipating President Franklin Roosevelt’s first inaugural address. Roosevelt’s landslide victory over an incumbent Herbert Hoover months prior served as proof that optimism had not been entirely defeated; there was still a feeble hope that perhaps there was a captain who could steer their battered ship of state out of rough waters, and that Roosevelt was he. 

Within the first minute of his speech, Roosevelt delivers the line that would be remembered for decades to come:

Let me assert my own firm belief: this is a good quote - I like it. It’s a clever and complete way of advocating for fearlessness, courage, and bravery in an era characterized by panic and bleak outlooks. Fear not, my constituents, I will see to it that we win. 

Inspirational oratory contributes to the trust and faith we place in our leaders, especially speeches with memorable lines in high-stakes situations. Instilling faith and confidence in a worn-out, dismal American public was the correct move for the newly-elected president. Reminding the world that nothing is as frightening as fear was admirable, and there’s a reason our classroom children are enlightened with this line almost a century later.

Whether FDR really believed it is a different discussion.

In fact, there was much to fear. Though unknown to them, political oppression, tyranny and Nazi terror loomed on the horizon, and the ongoing poverty and unemployment crisis wasn’t looking too good either.

Fearlessness is foolish. “Only a foolish optimist can deny the dark realities of the moment,” Roosevelt admitted later in the speech. The man himself led his whole presidential campaign with a degree of fear; he refused to openly publicize that he was paralyzed and wheelchair-bound. He feared the American public would view him as weak and unelectable, so he hid his disability, (a miracle compared to the intrusiveness of today’s press and media.)

Running through a battlefield with no plan, jumping into rough water without knowing how to swim, and calling that huge dude at the bar a bitch will all get you killed. Rather than live without fear - which is impossible - it would be better if we learned to choose what we fear. 

Jordan Peterson was complimented on a podcast about his fearlessness. He denied that characterization: “I just fear different things.” 

Choosing one’s fear is the reason that our soldiers fight, despite the all-too-real risk of pain, torture, dismemberment, capture, and death. It’s why our Medal of Honor heroes jump on grenades and dive into the paths of bullets.

Do they not fear those things? Or do they fear their alternatives more? More frightening to a warrior than death is dishonor - knowing that you could have saved your comrade, but didn’t have the courage. The brave among us act in the face of fear, not without it. They fear different things. 

David Goggins, proclaimed to be The Hardest Man Alive, feared his own wasted, unfulfilled potential. He feared one day he’d die, useless, fat as hell, still spraying pesticides with nothing to look forward to but Oreos and a cheesecake milkshake after work. One would reasonably fear the pain and consequences of running 100-mile races in 120-degree desert heat, doing 4000 pull-ups in 24-hours, and enduring three Hell Weeks to become a Navy SEAL. Goggins was led to accomplish such great feats because of his fear - his fear of not becoming who he could have been and who he was supposed to be.  

I had stage fright before performing my first acoustic show. I feared sounding like shit and embarrassing myself. However, more potently, I feared who I would be if I chalked it, turned around, and drove away to escape the potential discomfort. I’d rather go up there, bomb, and know with full confidence that I should never play guitar again, than never know.

The stakes are often lower than we think. Zoom out and view your life from a bird’s-eye, inspect the situation, and ask yourself does this really matter? Say I did bomb, and bothered a few people trying to enjoy their Wine Wednesdays. It wouldn’t really matter. I wasn’t destined to sing and play guitar for others. Dang, better luck next time.

You know what would matter? Knowing that I lacked the courage to make the attempt. Losing such a low-stakes battle against myself would riddle me with guilt and the cognitive dissonance of not being who I claim to be.

I fear failing to be who I say I am. I fear letting my brothers down. I fear being a burden to my friends and family. I fear uselessness and a vague, wasted existence. I fear missing out on who I could have been and dying without giving anything positive to the world. If there’s a heaven, I want to give ‘em a show. I fear boring them with the story of my life.

Roosevelt had more to say than just his signature one-liner:

In every dark hour, a conscious effort and strong support have led to victory. Frankness about what you fear and vigor in defeating those fears will lead to a well-examined, consequential life, rich with meaning and significance. Do not be unafraid, choose your fears wisely.