When the Time is Right
The Stockdale Paradox prompts Matt Turner to write about how mere optimism can ruin your life, and how you can cultivate real hope instead
Have you ever faced a particular challenge in your life as a result of circumstances spiralling out of control? Something awful that brought on a feeling of shame—something that you couldn’t face, something that you couldn’t talk about?
I once knew a man, not dissimilar to me. The other morning I caught a glimpse of him in the mirror; he’d aged somewhat, grey haired and wrinkled. His blue eyes spoke to me.
This is a true tale about a man, an ordinary man, known to some as John. It is also a true story about a United States military officer—Admiral James Stockdale. This could be your story.
Here I present a story of hope.
John was an optimist. A positive and hardworking ‘go-get-em’ kind of bloke. At times, a bit of a chancer. Some years ago, having convinced his then girlfriend that moving out of London to purchase a renovation project and start a new life in the Welsh countryside, was ‘a good idea’, John soon found himself in financial trouble. Having taken on a large mortgage, he had also under budgeted on the renovation project and borrowed to pay off creditors. Significantly more money was now going out than was coming in. John’s plan had been to gain meaningful well-paid work, a short commute from his new home. It was not to be.
Living in the countryside can be a dream; a living nightmare if you are unable to find work to pay the bills. Week after week, month after month he applied for hundreds of jobs, resulting in numerous interviews, all to no avail. Nine months went by. With thousands of pounds now on his credit card, a significant standing loan against his property, overdrawn on his current account with only £100 remaining ‘in the bank’, a month in arrears on his mortgage, and with little money coming in, John was now in serious trouble. Unopened envelopes littered the dining room table. Having ‘burnt all of his bridges’, unable to deal with the harsh reality, John could see no foreseeable way out. For John, the situation filled him with remorse and with shame. The debts were insurmountable, the writing was on the wall; he believed that he was going to lose his house, that he was about to lose everything. He had options, but he just could not see it. Blue skies were grey. One day, John got in his car and penned a goodbye note. In those dark hours, there appeared to be only one way out. In desperation he asked himself, ‘How has it come to this?’ Then, completely out of the blue, in his car, he received a phone call, an ex-colleague phoning to say, ‘Hello, my friend.’
Dear reader: Never underestimate the significance of addressing someone, anyone, as ‘my friend’. Spoken with sincerity, they can become words gift-wrapped in love.
For John, the candle of life had almost been snuffed out. These three little words, ‘Hello, my friend’, rekindled the fire within him and out of the darkness offered a glimmer of hope.
John now realised that he would have to swallow his pride, and return to London, to ‘the Smoke’, cap in hand so to speak, in order to get work. Any work. Carrying clothes to last him several days, wash kit and a sleeping bag he drove to London and parked his car near Putney Heath, South West London. By day he walked the streets of Putney and Roehampton, rubbing shoulders with and befriending locals and down and outs, in time becoming almost one with them. By night, he slept in his car. After a few days his mobile phone rang with an offer of three hours work. He took the job. A couple of days later, six hours work. From his car, John washed and shaved at the side of the road, polished his shoes, before putting on a suit and tie to then take the tube into Town for a regular twelve hour shift. He would return after work to his car to try and catch some sleep. Every week or so, John would drive back to Wales for a hot bath and several sets of clean clothing, before dashing back to London. And so it continued. After two months of this routine, he thought that he’d had enough. The hours were long, the money pitiful, and he remained living from his car. It was about this time that he was accepted for an interview as a researcher, based in Mayfair, London. Something completely different to what he had been doing. John, utterly capable, viewed this as a tremendously exciting prospect. Although successful in the interview, in the end, he did not get the job. It was not meant to be. Several books had been proffered as suggested reading to prepare for the interview. One book resonated with him Good to Great by Jim Collins, and a particular chapter entitled ‘Face the brutal facts—The Stockdale Paradox’.
During the height of the Vietnam War, Admiral James Stockdale was the highest ranking U.S military officer in the infamous Hoa Lo prisoner of war camp, dubbed by U.S servicemen as ‘The Hanoi Hilton’. Shot down in his aircraft and badly injured, Stockdale was captured and taken prisoner of war. During his imprisonment from 1965 to 1973 Stockdale was tortured over twenty times. Stockdale spent two years in heavy leg irons and four years in isolation. For eight long years, Stockdale lived without any prisoner’s rights, and without knowing if he’d live to see his family again. The prisoners of war endured miserable and brutal conditions. It is believed that of the estimated 766-778 U.S servicemen held in Vietnamese prisoner of war camps, an estimated 115 died whilst in captivity.
As senior officer, Stockdale did everything he could to create conditions that would increase the number of prisoners who would survive both mentally and physically. He introduced rules or ‘milestones’ that would help prisoners deal with torture. Unbeknown to his captors, he set up an elaborate communications system whereby fellow prisoners could secretly communicate, therefore relieving the sense of isolation whilst avoiding punishment. When he suspected that he was to be paraded in front of a video camera for Vietnamese propaganda purposes, as an example of a well-treated prisoner of war, Stockdale beat his own face with a stool and cut himself with a razor, deliberately disfiguring himself so that he would not be put on camera. He was truly admired and loved by his fellow captives. In 1976, three years after his release, Admiral James Stockdale was awarded the Medal of Honor, the United States Armed Forces’ highest award for conspicuous gallantry.
During an interview, twenty years later, Stockdale stated that he had never lost faith in the end of the story; that in the end, he would prevail and turn the horrors of what he had experienced into the defining event of his life. When asked, ‘Who didn’t make it out?’ Stockdale replied, ‘Oh, that’s easy. The optimists.’ For it was the optimists who would say, ‘We are going to be out of here by Christmas.’ And Christmas would come and Christmas would go. Then these optimists would say, ‘We will be out of here by Easter.’ And Easter would come and Easter would go. Then the same optimists would say, ‘We will be out of here by Thanksgiving.’ Very soon, it was Christmas again. The optimists died of a broken heart. Stockdale repeatedly told his fellow captives, ‘We will be out of here, when the time is right. We will be out of here, when the time is right.’
The Stockdale Paradox:
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 may be.
For John, the brutal facts were that he was in serious debt and in danger of losing his house; in fact, in grave danger of losing everything. He realised that he had to do what was necessary to rectify the problem—to swallow his pride and take any work. And to work hard. For John, as arduous and as miserable as his life, at times, appeared, he also realised that there would be no quick fix, no fairy godmother to make things better. It was going to be a long haul. It was now down to him, and him alone. And he’d better put a smile on his face and make the best of it!
There were many uncomfortable nights in SW15. On two occasions, when he was asleep in the back of his Renault Clio, an opportunist attempted to break into the car. A good night’s rest was a friend that seldom called. Awakening cold and cramped, sometimes with ice on the inside of the car windows, John would remind himself of the inspirational Admiral James Stockdale and of the Stockdale Paradox. Every morning, when contemplating another day, John would repeat outwardly to himself, ‘I will be out of here—when the time is right. I will be out of here—when the time is right.’
John slept in his car for 8 months. Working seven days a week in Central London, his finances perilous; he clung on to hope.
It was towards the end of this time that he was approached and offered a contract working for a high profile V.I.P. Someone had noticed John, his work ethic and his immaculate turnout. Little did they know of his circumstances. That very same week, he was offered a second lucrative contract. He said ‘Yes’ to both. He was soon to be a sort of ‘one man—two guvnors’ theatrical juggling act. The money soon began to come in. After several years, his debts, eventually cleared. And his girlfriend became his loving Wife.
He had endured. Had been humbled. He had grown, perhaps becoming that little bit wiser.
He had never lost faith in his own story—whilst facing the brutal facts.
My friends: Whatever life throws at you, whatever challenge presents itself, remember the example set by Admiral James Stockdale; remember also, that with patience and with humility, with courage and with hope, and, with that little bit of hard work, most of life’s difficulties will begin to resolve themselves—
‘When the time is right.’
Matt Turner is a former Security Consultant, whose interests lie in Philosophy and Theology; he enjoys collecting old books, particularly antique and vintage books relating to the countryside.