Philosophers have probably pondered the mind-body problem for millennia. The question is beguilingly simple: why, if I see a red apple, do I have a particular subjective interpretation of it rather than simply acknowledging that I see a red apple? In other words, why think more or deeper of it rather than just say “here is a red apple” and move on? The problem becomes, of course, more complex when we talk about more refined issues, such as admiring Mona Lisa or thinking of one’s lover or parents. At another level, this problem begs the other: how does a purportedly information-processing machine, as some suppose the brain to be, generate genuinely subjective, self-referential thoughts and spiritual dilemmas (the problem of Evil)? It is similar to asking, “Why doesn’t the television set love me, after all the attention I have been paying to it?”
I never thought I would find at least a partial solution to the high-minded mind-body problem at Naval Special Operations Base in San Diego, one of the homes of the SEALs (Sea, Air, Land unit members). Not of the cute, furry kind, but of the ones that pay unexpected visits to some of the nation’s adversaries. Even less likely, I never imagined that the solution would be provided by one of the best-spoken men I met, the Commodore, as he is called, that is, the man in charge of the SEALs. I had the honor of being his guest, together with 40 other civilian leaders from throughout the US, as part of the incredibly insightful Joint Civilian Orientation Conference organized by the Department of War.
The SEAL Commodore is rather short. He is also incredibly well built. In his mid-fifties, he can press bench weights I cannot imagine and run people three times his age into the ground. I know it because I “trained” with him. He participated in an improvised gym session at seven in the morning that left most of us (but not all) civilians gasping for air and his young officers begging for more.
The Commodore is also an incredibly well-spoken man. He can speak about many things other than warfare or defense. His gamut goes well beyond typical inspirational topics, such as honor, country, or sacrifice. They are all important. He, however, likes to talk about drones, technology, and the race to keep the SEALs at the edge of the future. Most impressively, he presides over and promotes one of the most intriguing military initiatives: the human performance unit.
In the perfectly appointed gym of the SEALs base, a young man, fit but not exceedingly muscular, with a short beard and a calm, inviting demeanor, tells us about a side of the SEAL experience we had no idea existed: human performance care. This is not about pumping nanobots in the young men and women of the special forces. (He answered this question in the negative at my instigation). Human performance is not even about dosing the right amount of protein or creatine. The only “supplement” I saw in that gym was Powerade, the sugary kind, which I hate.
Human performance is about shaping the minds of young military professionals to understand and act with their bodies. It is about reaching peak performance through mental control of effort, skills, and emotions.
The human performance counselor is not a SEAL or a military man. He has a degree in physical education and human performance. He combines a special kind of physical training with an even more special type of psychological counseling. This is not of the ordinary kind, which you only need when your nerves fail you. This is of the kind we all need when we want our nerves to help us be and do better. This is prospective, forward-looking counseling. It focuses on preparing professionals who may endure incredible physical and mental stresses before they encounter them. It combines common-sense psychology, a good knowledge of physiology, and an intuition for human needs.
The SEALs, as I understand it, are not trained to be killing machines. They are not taught to purge emotions. I do not even think they are taught how to saw their own wounds, Rambo style. They are taught to train hard, focus on the mission, cope with failure when and if it happens, and, most importantly, release that last ounce of energy and focus that Mother Nature locks in all of us when we need it for fight-or-flight. The only difference is that the SEALs are taught to store and release it on demand, all the time, using only their minds. The SEALs fight with their minds. I would get into details, but to tell you honestly, neither did I ask nor would I have been told how. Let our adversaries guess how this American superpower works.
- The Military as a “Civilization”: How to Make a Team from Anything
- The Mind – Body Problem Does Not Exist: What I Learned from the SEALs
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- When All Fails, Hit the Bone: What I Learned from the Military Doctors
- Found in the Fog of Combat: Confusion is in the eye of the beholder
- Do Look Down! What I learned from the Marines