You Know, You Have the Power to Hold No Opinion On Some Things

There is a peculiar pressure in modern society to have an opinion about everything.

Every political controversy. Every military operation. Every viral video. Every court decision. Every social media outrage. Within minutes of an event occurring, people are expected to declare where they stand, often before the facts themselves have fully emerged. Silence is interpreted as ignorance. Hesitation is mistaken for weakness. Reflection is confused with indecision.

The Stoic philosopher Marcus Aurelius offered a remarkably liberating alternative nearly two thousand years ago. In his Meditations, he wrote, “You always own the option of having no opinion. There is never any need to get worked up or to trouble your soul about things you can’t control. These things are not asking to be judged by you. Leave them alone.”

It is difficult to imagine advice more relevant to the age of social media.

The military has always understood something that much of modern culture has forgotten: opinions are not free. They consume time, attention, emotional energy, and cognitive bandwidth. Every unnecessary opinion occupies mental space that could otherwise be devoted to preparation, analysis, or action. Good leaders recognize that judgment is a finite resource. They spend it carefully.

This is not an argument for apathy. It is an argument for discipline.

Professional soldiers routinely encounter information they are not qualified to evaluate. Intelligence reports arrive incomplete. Tactical situations evolve by the minute. Initial battlefield reports are notoriously unreliable. During combat, officers quickly learn that certainty is often an illusion and that premature conclusions can prove deadly.

The first report is almost always wrong.

Military professionals therefore develop habits that appear strange to civilians. They ask questions before offering conclusions. They distinguish between what they know, what they think they know, and what they simply suspect. They become comfortable saying, “I don’t know yet.”

That is not intellectual weakness. It is professional maturity.

The same discipline should apply far beyond the battlefield.

Consider how many opinions the average person accumulates in a single day. One about the latest geopolitical crisis. Another about a celebrity scandal. Another about a Supreme Court ruling they have not read. Another about an economic policy they have not studied. Another about a military operation occurring thousands of miles away based upon a thirty-second video clip posted online.

None of these opinions improves the individual’s life. Most contribute nothing to society. Many merely amplify confusion.

The information environment rewards immediacy rather than accuracy. Algorithms favor engagement over understanding. The person who reacts first often receives more attention than the person who waits until the evidence is complete. Outrage spreads faster than nuance because outrage requires very little intellectual effort.

The military profession rejects this model.

A commander who reacts emotionally to incomplete intelligence places lives at risk. An intelligence analyst who fills evidentiary gaps with personal assumptions produces flawed assessments. A platoon leader who mistakes speculation for fact can maneuver an entire unit into catastrophe. Successful military organizations deliberately separate observation from interpretation because confusing the two creates operational failure.

The rest of society could benefit from adopting the same habit.

One of the most underrated leadership skills is the ability to reserve judgment.

This does not mean refusing to make decisions. Leaders are paid to make decisions. Rather, it means refusing to manufacture certainty where none exists. It means accepting ambiguity until additional information becomes available. It means recognizing that complex problems rarely yield simple answers.

Strategic leaders understand this instinctively.

General Dwight Eisenhower famously insisted upon hearing competing viewpoints before major decisions. During Operation Overlord, he encouraged disagreement among senior commanders because he understood that consensus formed too quickly often concealed unexamined assumptions. The objective was not endless debate. The objective was better judgment.

The same principle applies at every level of leadership.

Young officers sometimes feel pressure to answer every question immediately. Experienced commanders recognize that credibility often increases when they acknowledge uncertainty. Saying, “I need more information before I answer that,” inspires more confidence than confidently delivering the wrong answer.

The civilian world increasingly rewards the opposite behavior.

Commentators are expected to possess immediate expertise on subjects ranging from epidemiology to constitutional law to armored warfare. The result is predictable. Strong opinions emerge long before evidence does. Nuance disappears. Tribal loyalty replaces careful analysis. People stop asking whether something is true and begin asking whether it supports the conclusion they already wanted to reach.

This is not wisdom. It is intellectual indiscipline.

The Stoics would have recognized the pattern immediately. They believed that emotional tranquility depended largely upon distinguishing between what belonged within our control and what did not. Our judgments, our actions, and our character belong to us. The behavior of strangers on the internet does not. Neither do the daily controversies manufactured by twenty-four-hour news cycles.

Not every issue deserves residence in your mind.

Military service teaches this lesson in practical ways. A battalion commander cannot become emotionally consumed by every rumor circulating outside the wire. A Special Forces team cannot lose focus because of every political debate unfolding back home. A fighter pilot cannot afford to carry yesterday’s frustrations into today’s mission briefing.

Mission focus demands selective attention.

The same principle should guide the rest of life.

Ask yourself a simple question before forming an opinion: Am I sufficiently informed to offer one that creates value?

If the answer is no, there is remarkable freedom in remaining silent.

Silence is often portrayed as surrender. More often, it is evidence of restraint. The most experienced people in almost every profession are comfortable admitting the limits of their knowledge. They understand that confidence and competence are not the same thing.

Indeed, excessive certainty frequently signals the absence of expertise.

There is another benefit to withholding unnecessary opinions. It makes the opinions you eventually express far more valuable.

People quickly learn who speaks merely to fill silence and who speaks because they have something worth saying. The latter earns credibility over time. Their words carry greater weight precisely because they are offered sparingly and supported by evidence.

Military leaders understand the importance of this economy of language. Orders are concise because ambiguity kills. Intelligence estimates distinguish confidence levels because honesty matters. After-action reviews separate observed facts from interpretation because organizations cannot learn from comforting fiction.

The habit of disciplined judgment becomes a force multiplier.

Imagine if more public discourse followed that model. Imagine if more people responded to complex issues by saying, “I haven’t studied that enough to reach a conclusion.” Imagine if curiosity replaced certainty and questions replaced declarations.

Conversations would likely become shorter.

They would also become far more productive.

Marcus Aurelius was not encouraging ignorance. He was encouraging humility. He understood that wisdom begins with recognizing the boundaries of one’s own knowledge. Every opinion carries a cost. Some are worth paying for. Many are not.

The modern world constantly asks for your reaction. Every notification, headline, and controversy invites you to become emotionally invested in events over which you possess little influence and often even less understanding.

You are under no obligation to accept the invitation.

One of the quietest forms of strength is the ability to say, “I do not yet have an opinion.” Sometimes that is not only the wisest response.

It is often the most professional one.

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Charles served over 27 years in the US Army, which included seven combat tours in Iraq and Afghanistan with various Special Operations Forces units and two stints as an instructor at the United States Military Academy at West Point. He also completed operational tours in Egypt, the Philippines, and the Republic of Korea and earned a Doctor of Business Administration from Temple University as well as a Master of Arts in International Relations from Yale University. He is the owner of The Havok Journal, and the views expressed herein are his own and do not reflect those of the US Government or any other person or entity.

As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.