thoughts about discipline

04-Jun-2025

The word “discipline” evokes a Roman image in my mind: endless rows of legionnaires brandishing their gladii and shields, marching in formation to the silent beat of a shared heart. It’s a quixotic sight—more fantastical than historical—but, to me, it captures the essence of discipline. Yet I recognize this vision represents just one possibility among countless others.

The Benedictine monk in his pre-dawn prayer, the pianist practicing scales for the umpteenth time, or even the author relentless massaging prose until perfection are all equally valid and rather common conceptions of discipline. While different in flavor, these scenes are united by their representation of discipline as the capacity to delay gratification, enduring present discomfort for future reward. This understanding, however, is incomplete.

Discipline as we know it can be split into two distinct parts: resistance and prevention.¹ The former encompasses “heroic resistance.” Think Christ in the wilderness turning away Satan’s offerings, or Marcus Aurelius steeling himself against imperial excess. We tend to romanticize this component; after all, it’s a compelling image and feeds our notions of the indomitable human will. For this reason, art often portrays this element—the dramatic moment of refusing temptation at the gate, the triumph of the soul over base desire.

However, when considered discipline in its totality rather than a facet, we are perpetually on the defensive—forever bracing against the next inevitable temptation. It assumes we possess the iron will of stoic emperors or ascetic monks when most of us do not. Because preventative discipline makes no such assumptions about our reserves of self-control, I consider it more practical for the average man.

Consider how accessible bad behaviors have become in our contemporary world. Unhealthy food arrives with a few taps on our phones, delivered by eager fast-food services. Hours vanish into internet rabbit holes as mobile apps and websites flood us with an endless stream of content detritus. We’ve even begun outsourcing “thinking” itself to modern technology. Modern amenities satiate our base desires so efficiently that productive creation suffers in comparison. Why should we exert ourselves when we can mindlessly and comfortably settle into our homes, consuming whatever digital ephemera appears before us?²

Preventative discipline begins with a few simple premises and conclusions: We are not Jesus Christ, and we are not Marcus Aurelius. We therefore cannot rely on sheer willpower to overcome every obstacle. Furthermore, since rejecting temptation is much simpler with greater distance from the temptation,³ we must architect our environments to exploit and curtail our lesser instincts. Assuming we still possess that great human desire to be a productive creator, paths forward are clear: we must thoughtfully manage the friction in our environments.

Add friction to make undesirable behaviors harder—uninstall social media apps, move your favorite snacks further away, install a 60 second timer that plays before access to your phone is granted.⁴ These modifications appear minor, yet most poor choices happen in moments of weakness when convenience overrides judgment. Bad habits flourish because we’ve engineered away every small obstacle that might give us pause. Restore these barriers deliberately—make vice require effort, consideration, and genuine intention rather than mere impulse.⁵

Conversely, reduce friction for positive behaviors. Buy the aesthetic stationary set that makes you want to work. Invest in the mechanical keyboard that transforms typing from chore to pleasure. Organize your workspace beautifully. These small environmental modifications compound over time, gently guiding behavior toward productive channels. Let these better habits form. The discipline that endures isn’t found in moments of heroic refusal but in the quiet architecture of daily life.