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IN THE 17TH AND 18TH centuries the word courage was used variously to describe a person's purpose or inclination, his thoughts or general state of mind, his wrathful feelings or confident ones. Its root meaning of "heart" placed its concern directly with the life of the mind, the quality of our thoughts and the capacity of our feelings to generate (or forbid) "random" actions, or particular, and rather well planned and implemented, deeds. One quality of mind long described by the word courage is that which is revealed by a person who confronts danger without apparent weakening or flight. Courage was thought to be fearlessness under clear peril—an exceptional state of mind allowing and producing an extraordinary form of behavior.
In our time, fearless people are not easily acknowledged, even when their actions seem to suggest it. At the very least, the absence of fear is seen by us as a problem in perception rather than existence. It is evident fear which is not to be seen. Somewhere, we know, fear lives in all of us—the courageous man, too. His very courage may be proof of just that fact—bravery serving to deny fright, courage to turn away any accusation (from within or from others) of cowardice.
We must, from the outset, examine the matter of our "cynicism" in this century. Psychoanalysis has been attacked unfairly long enough for its students to realize how difficult it is to dispose of irrational criticism. Yet we can learn something from our critics. We can study their remarks and take note of which objections come our way most frequently and insistently.