I was just confronted with this:
To win without risk is to triumph without glory.
-- Pierre Corneille, 'The Cid,' 1636
What absolute bollox. The person who can achieve a victory with minimal or no risk is one I respect a lot more than anybody who does not consider the risk. Not to mention somebody who thinks something is not worth doing if there is no risk! He is just an idiot who is bored and who has lost sight of the fact that there are things which are worth doing in life, and bigger things to achieve than Not Be Bored.
7 comments:
Here, here!
Methinks the problem of winning with risk is the risk of going, going, gone to glory.
I prefer the triumph without the glory if the winning can be had with little or no risk.
Risk is good. Risk can make winning feel that much better. But it only makes it feel better, it doesnt make it any better. I would rather win a battle with little or no risk than risk everything and barely make it out alive, because in the end the battle is still won.
On the other hand, a battle that involves no risk may feel a little empty. Did you actually do anything? Is the battle actually won? Is it even over?
I guess if things are gained too easily you start to question if you really earned it, if you truly deserve it. If there is risk, then you feel justified, that this victory is truly yours to have.
A distinction can be made between risking the loss of physical or mental integrity (with dysfunction, disfigurement, or death, for example) and risking the loss of time, money, and/or energy spent in personal struggle and transformation.
In the latter type of risk, risk is beneficial because even if you lose time, money, and/or energy in the pursuit of a goal or outcome, you will still have learned and grown from the experience.
A battle can seriously compromise or even destroy your integrity, but a battle pursued with your time, money, and/or energy can test you well enough to know whether you've won or lost, and whether you deserve the fruits of victory if you win.
But instead of looking for battles, realize that you have as much control of the meaning you place on any event or activity or relationship in the pursuit of an outcome as you are conscious of what it is you feel or do or seek in that pursuit.
All of this is just a long-winded way of saying that there is no problem of winning with risk if the risk can benefit you without taking away your integrity, and that triumph without glory is desirable if the winning can be had with a fair amount of risk to time, money, and/or energy, but with little or no risk to your integrity as a person.
This is a textbook example of "macho". Macho was very popular in these days (and not only!).
One of my favorite synonyms for macho is "boys will be stupid". :-)
I agree with Christos. Risk is good in the right places and for the right reasons.
And it doesnt have to be a battle, at least not a physical one.
Some of Corneille's verses, specially in The Cid, have became proverbs. But unlike La Fontaine's, not all classic proverbs are pertinent or judicious. Allow me to bore you with a long, albeit interesting bit of culture to illustrate this point.
One of the all-time greatest arab poets, Al-Mutanabbi, was a very talented and very proud man. His friendship with the Caliph stirred many harsh jealousies, and eventually he fell from grace and had to go praise glory for another employer. This new employer was not very classy. His name was Kaphur, and he was a black slave castrate who became the ruler of Egypt by treaturously assassinating his trusting master. (A stab in the back, if memory serves me right. Et tu, Kaphur?) He also was a big cowardly fake who never rode in battle himself (d'uh!), but by hiring Al-Mutanabbi's talent to hail his name, he hoped to become famous and respected. Basically, he had won without risk, but hoped to triumph with glory for centuries to come.
Now, two bits of useful trivia here :
-The name Kaphur, sounds rather like "kaffir", which is arab for infidel. An ironic monicker for a felon servant...
-The word "abed" means simultaneously servant, slave, and a black african man. As in "Abdullah", Abed-Allah, i.e. "humble obedient servant of God". This amalgam originates in the long arabic tradition of slave trading, most commonly african slaves. [And Allah having 99 names in muslim religion, you'll understand the frequency of the names starting with Abdul.] So, back to our story.
Unsurprisingly, Kaphur was a lousy, thankless employer. And a tightwad. Eventually, tired of working his talent off with no pay, Al-Mutanabbi left him secretly, at the peril of his life, and then exerted a unique vengeance. He wrote THE TRUTH about Kaphur, pouring years of pent-up bitterness in what became his most famous masterpiece, and a litterary classic. What tens of lyric poems failed to accomplish for lack of foundation, this furious tirade ensured : Kaphur's name finally became famous. In infamy. And like The Cid, many verses from that unique poem became proverbs in arab culture, mainly among the litterate.
And here lies the big problem. Deservingly dissing this deceitful black slave, with no nobility whatsoever in birth or actions, Al-Mutanabbi came out with perhaps the all-time, fiercest racist maxims of arabic tradition. The collateral damage of using strong calibre images. And these clichés are, to this day, widespread among all those who employ "coloured" domestic labourers from Africa or South-East Asia. Specially those with litterary culture! Yes, racism and slavery mentality are still a daily fact in the Middle-East, I've seen it first hand in rather dramatic circumstances. They might be employed under contract and paid today, but dark-skinned immigrants seldom receive any human consideration. Not to mention they're usually totally unaware of their most basic rights.
How nasty or dangerous are these poetic proverbs? You be the judge with these -carefully translated- samples :
"Do not buy the nigger except with his stick
For negroes are trustless, dirty sneaks."
"Who taught the black castrate any honor?
Are the White his people, or are Blacks his fathers?"
(I know, "white" seems like a very relative term. Humour the guy, he never went to Sweden...)
What happened to Al-Mutanabbi afterwards? Well, he never regained his former glory, although HE had won with risk. He worked in several courts. Finally, his pride killed him by his own hand, so to speak. (By his own tongue?) This is another ironic anecdote. He was traveling, riding in the desert with only his servant, when a group of bandits, as impressive as Ali Baba's 40 thieves, attacked them from a distance. As he started to escape the other way, his big-mouthed servant had to remember and ask : "But, master? Aren't you the one that wrote :
The horse, the night and the desert are my friends,
And so are the sword, the spear, the paper and the pen.?"
The poet looked him in the eyes, and bemoaned : "You fool! You've just killed me!" He turned around, charged the bandits alone, sword in hand, and met his fate in that furious dust cloud...
I'll have to fully agree with Eolake : sometimes you DO need to be brave, to take risks in order to win. But there are many sorts of courage, and sometimes the wisdom to avoid a fight, to find another way, is the greatest, most discreet form of bravery, because what you first defeat is your own animalistic instinct of violence. The greatest victories will probably never be told by official History, because the braggers always get all the attention. Perhaps, in the end, Al-Mutanabbi lost because he didn't have the courage to sit on his pride, and chose what was for him the easiest way out. Suicide may seem difficult, but it doesn't rhyme with bravery. Except for hara-kiri...
So, the message I'm trying to convey about "great proverbs" is this:
Words are information tools, they replace actual things with symbols so that we can manipulate them with our mind. A manipulation that forgets this fundamental origin strays very easily. Just like a pretty song can be sadly hollow. A fine talker is not always a fine thinker.
Remember this the next time you hear one on TV...
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