Seth Barrett Tillman, Two Essays on Courage, TrashLight Press (forthcoming January 20, 2026), <https://ssrn.com/abstract=6069206>, <https://trashlightpress.com/>;
Seth
Barrett Tillman, Two Essays on Courage: What the Old Westerns Could Teach Us
About Cowardice and Courage, TrashLight
Press (forthcoming January 20, 2026), <https://ssrn.com/abstract=6069206>,
<https://trashlightpress.com/>;
and,
Seth
Barrett Tillman, Two Essays on Courage: When a Police Officer Attacks a
College or Pro-Athlete During a Game, TrashLight
Press (forthcoming January 20, 2026), <https://ssrn.com/abstract=6069206>,
<https://trashlightpress.com/>.
TrashLight
Press
Forthcoming: January 20, 2026
TWO ESSAYS ON COURAGE
PART I
What the Old Westerns Could
Teach Us About Cowardice and Courage
I have now well-passed that
milestone which marks the half-way point on life’s journey. At such a time, a
man should take stock and reflect on his experiences, what he has learned, and
what he can share. I do so now knowing full well that in the process I may make
many unfriends.
. . .
There was a common motif in the old
Western movies. Dangerous gunslingers come into town—they put fear into the
heart of the long-serving town sheriff. Perhaps he is too new at the job;
perhaps, he is just passed his prime. He hands in his badge to the mayor, and
town council, and then, he flees. His conduct is low, vile, and, most of all,
cowardly.
That said: at least, the sheriff’s
conduct reminds us of the aphorism that hypocrisy is the homage vice pays to
virtue. And, as low, vile, and cowardly as the sheriff’s conduct is, he
does something right: he has the heart to leave and to suffer the umbrage of
the townspeople. Consider what the sheriff does not do. He does not take
sick leave or vacation time—in the forlorn hope of a change of circumstances.
He does not try to convince the mayor and council that there is no
danger. He does not hang around and slow down the process for the municipal
government and decent folk to find a better man. And most importantly, he does not
continue to draw salary while refusing to endure the substantial risks his
position entails. He is man enough, at least, to realize he is a coward.
Today, if you have not personally
observed it in our dangerous streets, you can find hundreds of videos on the
internet where a crowd of police officers all witness a crime, and they do—nothing.
They effectuate no arrest. And their reports will not infrequently deny what
they have seen. And they are rewarded for doing so. They are rewarded for
doing so in cases where the crime is committed by a brother officer.
Now why do not they arrest their
brother officer? There are lots of reasons: the thin blue line; loyalties to
those who they share dangers with; the power—lawful and unlawful—enjoyed by a
criminal police officer and his supporters in the police department’s hierarchy;
the fear of acting alone or first when enforcing the law. And then there is also
qualified immunity, and states attorneys who run for election and who are
afraid of push back by public police unions. All these reasons exist. But they
are not the core reason.
The core reason is that their brother
officer is armed, and their attempting to effectuate an arrest carries genuine
risk to life and limb. Risk to their lives and to their limbs. They are
lower than the fleeing town sheriff. They will not enforce the law. They will
not quit. And they will leave dangerous armed thuggish police officers in the
community with guns to commit further crimes in their current position or after
such officers resign and find a new position in another police department. All
the while, the police officers who refuse to arrest their brother officers
continue to draw salary and bar better men than themselves from doing what the
law and justice demand. The police officers who fail to act when they witness
crimes are, to put it most simply, cowards.
Recently, in a town in the United
States, a male police sergeant was screaming at and, apparently, assaulting a
handcuffed arrestee who had already been placed in the back of a police
cruiser. A female police officer attempted to defuse the situation by tugging
the sergeant away from the arrestee. At that juncture, the sergeant put his
hands around the female officer’s neck and then threatened her. Not then, but days
later, the sergeant was put on administrative leave, and subsequently, fired,
arrested, and charged with state crimes. But here’s the problem: in addition to
the sergeant and the officer who intervened, at least four other officers were
on-hand and observed these events. And they did—nothing. At best, they
afterwards filed reports admitting to what they had seen. But at the very time
the sergeant was committing a crime against a fellow officer, and while they
were personally on-hand, they did nothing. They left a thug who had committed a
crime against a member of the public and against a fellow officer,
and right in front of them in broad daylight, armed and in possession of his
badge.
My objection to the police officers’
behavior here extends not just to the other police officers who stood by
witnessing these events. My objection also extends to the female police officer,
who was herself a victim. As soon as the sergeant had removed his hands from
her neck, her job was to effectuate the sergeant’s arrest. Then and there. She
did not do that. And that makes her behavior cowardly too. Yes, I know that
sounds harsh. But it only sounds harsh because our standards and
expectations of what to expect from the police and from our other public
officials have fallen so low. Her job before, during, and after being
assaulted was to protect the public and not to leave armed criminals free to commit
further crimes against our neighbors, against our families, and against us.
Unlike the police, we do not receive
costly training to subdue criminals.
Unlike the police, we do not carry
badges.
Unlike the police, most of us do not
carry guns.
And, unlike the police, we do not draw
salary as compensation for protecting the public.
By
contrast, the female police officer that day:
She had received such training.
She carried a badge.
She had a gun.
And that day, and for all I know every
day since, she received a salary—ostensibly—to protect and serve the public.
If she and the other police officers who
were on-hand cannot do their job, or if she and they are unwilling to do their
job (which is more likely), then each should resign—like the “virtuous” town
sheriff who ran away in the old Western movies. He, at least, had the courage
to reveal himself for the coward he was.
Perhaps, one day we can get back to
that low, vile, and, most of all, cowardly standard.
PART
II
When THE POLICE CONFRONT ATHLETES
Athletes are not above
the law. It follows that in a physical confrontation between, on the one hand a
college or pro-athlete, and, on the other hand, a police officer, the police
officer may be in the right. Alternatively, police officers are not above the
law either. When the police officer is in the wrong, the popular imagination
turns to three possibilities: [i] the cop had a bad day—and should be
disciplined and receive remedial training; [ii] the cop regularly has bad
days—and should be fired for using excessive force; or, [iii] the cop is a
bigot who is using force for improper motives and improper purposes—and never
should have been entrusted with public authority.
But that is wrong. There is another
possibility—all too real—that the public overlooks and that the authorities
have little incentive to investigate. The other possibility is that the cop is
in financial distress, and she has money on the game. Such a cop looks to take
a player “out” in order to win a bet—a bet which has been placed under someone
else’s name. Or, even worse, the cop is taking a player out to facilitate
cheating by organized crime.
A criminal police officer would much
rather be known as a bigot and so keep her job or find another police-officer job
after having been disciplined and having received remedial training, than being
prosecuted for having taken payoffs from organized crime. A police officer
involved in the latter might cheerfully admit to being “merely” a bigot. And,
it is so much easier and safer for the commanding officers and the local
prosecutor to allow the “bigot” to resign, rather than to investigate criminal
wrongdoing. After all, the mob might respond in a way somewhat unlike what you
or I might do if we were investigated.
When a police officer, without cause,
has an unexplained physical confrontation with a college or pro-athlete: the
officer’s home should be searched; she should be made to explain the source of
any funds in her bank account; and, her telephones tapped. It is that simple.
If that is not the first response by more senior police officers and her
agency’s internal investigations body when put on notice of such wrongdoing,
then just maybe they are part of the problem too.
Similarly, when the police
“inadvertently” bust down the door to the wrong address in pursuing drug crime,
one has to wonder, was it actually inadvertent? Or, were the police
facilitating the drug dealers’ getting away?
It is all too easy to look the other
way. Courage requires that we address these problems. And law and order starts
with our policing the police . . . because . . . no one is above the law.
[END]
------------
Seth Barrett Tillman, ‘Two Essays on Courage,’ New Reform Club (Jan. 13, 2026, 14:49 PM), <https://reformclub.blogspot.com/2026/01/two-essays-on-courage.html>;