Reimagining Heroes: Thoughts on The Hero Code by Admiral McRaven (Ret.)
Navy SEAL Admiral McRaven, beginning with a childhood in the remote Bella Woods of France, where his Air Force officer father was stationed, and living without television or other conveniences, was “obsessed” with comic books. Batman and Aquaman to Spiderman and the Hulk. But in particular Superman, whom the renowned naval officer calls “my hero,” adding that there wasn’t a towel in the house of his youth that had not, at some point, been used as a cape. All this changed when, while walking in NYC one day, the young McRaven’s father noticed the boy looking up through the skyscrapers, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Man of Steel. “Son,” the father said, pointing to a Police Officer, “that’s the man who protects NYC.”
Astronauts, doctors, decorated soldiers, adventurers, sports figures, civic and political leaders, environmental visionaries: all became the young boy’s new fixation. He marveled at them, but in the back of his mind, he confides to readers, he knew he was nothing like them. They were “stronger, smarter, braver,” and had other attributes that the future admiral and leader of the U.S. Special Operations Command believed he lacked. The experiences of a 31-year career, however, taught McRaven that there is a hero, an “innate code” in all of us, that has been there since the birth of mankind. It drove human expansion out of Africa, spoke truth to power, summoned explorers, nurtured the ill and infirm and emboldened scientists and philosophers. It is these virtues he attempts to codify.
That is how The Hero Code begins, and it is enough to make your faithful writer, a former Navy SEAL with his share of setbacks and failures, shed a warrior tear. If this Admiral McRaven, this soldier of soldiers, leader of leaders, who has commanded special operations forces in battle, special operations commands through bureaucracy, been chancellor for a state university system, and spoken to the inspiration of millions; if he can have doubted himself and if I, a common man, still sometimes doubt myself, then perhaps there is hope for me.
The Code is broken into ten virtues: Courage, Humility, Sacrifice, Integrity, Compassion, Perseverance, Duty, Hope, Humor, Forgiveness. Each virtue is given a short anecdote: a soldier who served bravely in the first special operations female engagement teams; a 19-year-old black Marine who smothered a grenade with his body in Vietnam; a moon-landing astronaut who introduced himself as “having flown this and that.” They each conclude with a compact and powerful assertion: “I will always strive to be courageous, to take one step forward as I confront my fears.” “I will sacrifice a little of my time, my talent and my treasure to those in need, every day without fail.” Or, “I will use humor to comfort others and never be afraid to laugh at myself.” Together these form an ethos, similar to that used by the SEALS, which will undoubtedly strengthen a person in their struggle to live a life more fulfilling to themselves and more compassionate to others.
There are points that warrant discussion. In the anecdote for Hope, the author, at the time a full-fledged, actively serving admiral, receives a cancer prognosis that may require him to undergo surgery and prematurely end his career. McRaven is devastated. After some struggle with this, he then visits another specialist who, thanks to new procedures, tells McRaven that he will need neither surgery nor to abandon his career, and in fact needs to make no changes to his lifestyle or habits. From this doctor and in particular the doctor’s personality, the admiral is encouraged and becomes hopeful. This could imply, however, that hope is to be derived from an improvement of the situation or its predicted outcome, rather than be something that can be fought for against all odds. A different version might center a story of a patient whose prognosis and career outlook did not change, but who still managed to carve out some version of hope regardless.
Similar, but perhaps more troubling, is the anecdote for Forgiveness. In this, the admiral visits an old Afghan whose two sons were accidentally killed by U.S. troops during a spec-ops mission, and he offers the “sheep and other compensation” prescribed by the Quran along with a heartfelt apology. The old father, because “it’s what Allah would want,” accepts. While the admiral’s apology is a noble gesture it is important to remember that this old father – unless he holds some position of authority not hinted at by the book – has no alternative. “The weak can never forgive,” McRaven quotes from Gandhi in this very chapter. “Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.” But this father has no power against the American military. There is no government, court, or legal system he can appeal to; no armored trucks, artillery, or fighter jets he can rally if he decides he wants revenge. More compelling, and certainly more useful, would be to depict American soldiers, who more often have the power advantage, or even some other powerful figure, being able to forgive slights against them to avoid unnecessary conflict. This is especially true if we sincerely want the struggles and sacrifice of our troops to foster peace and stability instead of causing yet more cycles of violence.
Also worth mentioning is that while the introduction mentions scientists, civic leaders, and environmental visionaries, the example anecdotes focus on military experiences. The one exception is a cancer research doctor whose perseverance results in a Nobel Prize. This risks implying that while other examples of heroism exist, only the military or very great civilian ones are worth learning from. The word choice is also very particular: leaders and visionaries but not activists and revolutionaries. This is supported by the assertion for Integrity: “…every decision I make and every action I take will be moral, legal, and ethical.” But this clouds and ignores the fact that most progress in American society – from racial equality and suffrage to the rights of children and workers to education and safe working conditions – is the result of actions that were deemed, at the time, illegal and unethical. “One has a moral responsibility,” Dr. Martin Luther King asserted, “to disobey unjust laws.” The United States themselves are the result of a revolutionary war. With this in mind, we could include, for example, the four Black American university students who, on Feb. 1, 1960, sat in a whites-only lunch counter where they had been refused service. Their actions, though non-military, were courageous, humble, hopeful, and held to an integrity higher than that of the laws of the time. And while their actions did not earn them a Nobel Prize, they contributed to a movement that would change our nation.
Finally, there is one critical addition necessary to make any hero code truly applicable to the true every-day person: failure. Perseverance encourages us to carry on despite the odds, but sometimes we ourselves fall short. Not because of insurmountable obstacles or opposition, but because we, as humans, are weak and fallible. We are sometimes petty or selfish; we give in to exhaustion, fear or desire for temporary pleasures; we are unnecessarily mean or cruel. It is important, then, to remember, and to remind each other, and to accept being reminded, that despite these failures we are, each of us, children of God, Allah, or the universe, or whatever power each person believes animates the atoms of our matter and set into motion the stars and heavens. As such we are, even in our weakest and most shameful moments, instruments of that power and whatever may be its purpose. We could name this eleventh virtue Grace or Mercy, or simply Humanity. The anecdote could be any one of our life stories. And our assertion might be: “I will remember, even in my failures, that I am a child of the universe, born of its love; there is nothing I can do to earn or to lose that love; and I will strive to share that love with all beings everywhere I go to the utmost of my ability.” Amen.
Nestor Walters served ten years in the U.S. Navy then studied math and creative writing in college. His poems and essays have been published in Stanford Magazine, ISSUED:stories of service, The Wrath Bearing Tree, and others. His first novella, An Earth Day Eulogy, was released in 2024. You can find him at University of Maine, where he begins doctoral studies in computational earth systems in fall of 2025, or on his author website, swordcirclepen.com, where he hosts the Veteran Transfer Project, an initiative to encourage and equip veterans to use their education benefits to pursue careers in STEM.
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