Shame and Guilt

People often mistakenly think shame and guilt are the same thing, or two parts of a cohesive whole. The truth is these are two distinctly different things. Shame is the internal feeling of badness or wrongness and can exist with no just cause. Guilt can be an internalized feeling though it is more correctly the perception, either externally or internally driven, of having done wrong. We can feel shame over our guilt, shame for things over which we bear no guilt, and we can feel guilt with no shame.

This seems obvious and simple, yet these are the most intractable emotions to overcome. Nowadays it seems our society is hell bent on ascribing guilt for nearly everything. If we dare to not accept guilt, all efforts are focused on shaming us. Unfortunately, this is a highly effective tactic. A sign you’ve been targeted by this cowardly attack often presents as a general feeling of anger with no directly apparent cause. The effect is a person who isolates from society in general, or selectively associates only with carefully vetted others. This description applies to many veterans, and is lumped in as just another sign of PTSD. Yet this particular symptom has nothing to do with war and everything to do with the “after war”.

Where shame and guilt are concerned, what happens in the macro replicates in the micro; what society deems shame- or guilt-worthy, even if consciously rejected, still impacts us individually.

As usual, there is a story. Names and some details have been changed for privacy.

Jack and Ed are both retired military, but of different generations. By happenstance, they both served in the same unit, both were infantry, and both survived several combat tours though neither came home unscathed. Both were involved in some of their own wars’ most talked about campaigns, with lots of ink expended on the impact those events had on the local civilian populations. Both remember as many dead brothers as they do those still living.

Jack came home at a time when it was necessary to change out of his uniform before the plane touched down stateside. Ed’s unit received spontaneous applause by strangers in the airport. Ed credits Jack’s generation for his reception. Jack thanks Ed for that acknowledgment and respect, and the modicum of civilian gratitude he now, belatedly, receives.

Over many cups of bad coffee in the early mornings at McDonald’s, these two retired war horses have forged a friendship and bond. They work diligently to solve the world’s myriad problems. Often, they are joined by other old warriors, gathering like a knitting circle whose medium is empty sugar packets, lids and swizzle sticks. They bemoan the attire of kids today, the lack of respect for the flag, how schools no longer teach, how there hasn’t been an original plot in a movie or TV show in decades. Dust mites and allergies are known to appear when one or the other waxes poetic about those moments in war none but those who were there could understand.

Conversations are generally boisterous, until someone says, “after the war”.  Then, the true brotherhood is most present in the quiet reverence with which they share the struggle of facing shame and guilt. It is accepted as something to be endured, one of the many prices they did not know would be theirs to pay.

Guilt over doing what had to be done, guilt over not doing more to save brothers, guilt for wanting to go back and finish the job, guilt for feeling nostalgic for even the horror, because at least in those moments things made sense. Live or die, kill or be killed. Life was reduced to this most basic equation, and somehow felt good. And that other guilt, the one that comes now for recalling as some of the best moments those that came right after an enemy contact which saw all of their brothers whole and hale. This guilt is not because they survived, it comes from the realization that if there was a thought or feeling for the other side, it was vengeful, jubilant the enemy were dead.

The feelings of shame resonate mutually as well. Shame over daring to survive when their brothers didn’t, shame over not accomplishing more after their war with the life they were given, shame for taking the lives of other humans even though they were enemy combatants, shame for not feeling guilt about that back then. The hardest struggle is the one against which they have little defense, the shame society seems hell bent on assigning them for doing what they were asked, what their country needed.

That last part is the most damning, of our society and to our soldiers. A human being can only face so much rejection and judgment before it becomes internalized. Despite conscious rejection of judgment, particularly those unrelentingly, overtly and covertly pushed upon us, seep in.

Once those feelings have taken up residence, they don’t get expressed or remembered by their specific particulars. Instead they infest, mutate, and become engorged like a parasite feeding on other doubts and negative self-perceptions. Thinking and even saying, “we are not baby killers or willing psychopathic tools of capitalism you whiny, latte-sipping beta incel. Move out of your mother’s basement, pay for your own smart phone, learn to drive, get a job, then come talk to us” does not quiet the unconscious, internal dialogue that begins, “remember that time…”.

These are usually pseudo-memories, so clouded by the guilt and shame bound to them, they’re not recalled in context but as stand-alone events. Unwarranted substance is granted to these memories that feel as real and solid as this morning’s as yet to be digested breakfast. The shame, like a brain-eating amoeba, has burrowed in, taken up residence, and grows fat.

It is not only the self-proclaimed moral jurists of society that must be guarded against. When the unintended judgment, posed as a question or genuine concern over well-being comes from a loved one, the impact is even more devastating. This is the judgment feared above all else as un-survivable; this is why these old war horses sit around and talk to each other about things they won’t tell their families. They will say it is to prevent their loved ones from losing some perceived innocence or to keep them from carrying these horrors in their heads. There may be a modicum of truth in that, but it is not the whole or only reason. The fear of shame and guilt is a staggeringly powerful driver, particularly when unacknowledged, unrecognized, and unaddressed.

In generations past, in truth up until fairly recently, one of the best inoculations against this particularly dangerous infection of the brain, was the training through which we put our troops. Calling up memories of surviving the physically and mentally intentionally brutal training could make the difference between life and death, both on the battlefield and after. Granted, the stoicism inculcated in warriors is a double-edge sword that has prevented many from reaching out when the battles for which they trained were over. Yet that same resolve to improvise, adapt, overcome and when all else fails, to simply persevere, has also enabled the survival of countless veterans of war. Now, with our kinder, gentler training, the sword has only one, blunted edge.

How will this newest generation of warriors trained with kid gloves survive the after-war battles they will face, much less the rigors of contact with the enemy? We may have modified our military training, but we have not seen the end of wars, nor have we changed societal attitudes about our warriors. We thought we had. Just ask Jack how long that lasted.

There are no easy answers here. What we can do is begin the conversations and hope they have progressed enough so when next our warriors come home, their battles will be, and stay, solely in their past. As hard as guilt is to bear, shame, particularly that which is unearned, has rightly been termed the most useless and destructive emotion we can experience. We infect our warriors with civilian definitions of shame, then are surprised when they don’t assimilate, and say they have a “Moral Injury”. The only moral injury is the one the civilian world inflicts upon them. But that is the beginning of a rant for another day.

 

 

 

Tags: Mental Health, The Warrior Mind

Category: The Warrior Mind