The truth of the matter is that you always know the right thing

Hear the words of Norman Schwarzkopf, a soldier and commander forged in the fires of battle, who declared: “The truth of the matter is that you always know the right thing to do. The hard part is doing it.” In this brief saying lies a wisdom both simple and profound, one that echoes not only in the barracks of warriors, but in the heart of every human being. For deep within, in the stillness of conscience, man nearly always knows what is just, what is honorable, what is true. Yet between knowing and doing there lies a chasm—a chasm carved by fear, pride, desire, and weakness.

The meaning of these words is that the moral path is rarely hidden. We do not wander in darkness without a compass; rather, we often turn away from the compass because its direction is difficult. To forgive an enemy, to tell the truth at great cost, to sacrifice for others—these are things the heart knows instinctively, but the flesh resists. The challenge is not ignorance of right and wrong, but the courage to align action with truth. Thus, the struggle of man is not with knowing, but with doing.

The ancients spoke often of this battle. The Apostle Paul himself cried out, “The good that I would, I do not; but the evil which I would not, that I do.” In this lament we hear the eternal struggle: the soul recognizes the light, but the will falters in the darkness. So too did Aristotle teach that weakness of will—what he called akrasia—was among the greatest obstacles to virtue. To know the good and yet fail to do it is a wound carried by every generation.

Consider the story of Abraham Lincoln, who throughout the Civil War wrestled with the issue of emancipation. He knew in his heart that slavery was a moral evil, a stain upon the nation. Yet he also knew that declaring emancipation might tear the fragile Union apart. For long months he delayed, but the truth pressed upon him until he could not resist. Finally, with trembling hand, he signed the Emancipation Proclamation. The right thing was clear, but the doing of it required immense courage, for it risked everything. His choice proves Schwarzkopf’s words: the difficulty was not knowing—it was acting.

Or reflect on Schwarzkopf himself, who as commander during the Gulf War bore the weight of life-and-death decisions. He once said that leadership was not about rank, but about doing what is right, even when it is unpopular or dangerous. He knew that soldiers under his command might perish based on his choices. In such moments, the heart knows what must be done—protect the innocent, preserve honor, fight with justice—but the execution of that knowledge demands strength greater than comfort or fear.

The lesson for us is plain yet demanding: cultivate not only the wisdom to recognize the right path, but the courage to walk it. Knowing truth is not enough; it must be lived. In daily life, this may mean admitting fault instead of hiding it, defending the weak instead of staying silent, or sacrificing ease to fulfill duty. These choices may be painful, but they are the very substance of virtue. To fail to act is to betray one’s own soul.

Therefore, O seeker, remember this: you already know the right thing to do. Do not deceive yourself by pretending ignorance when the voice of conscience speaks. Instead, strengthen your will, discipline your spirit, and dare to do what you know is right. The path may be hard, the cost may be high, but the reward is freedom of the soul and peace within. For as Schwarzkopf has taught, knowledge of truth is already within you; the true battle lies in the doing.