From Buddha to Legionnaire: A Quest for Self

I am always surprised, even a little shocked, when, during televised debates, the host introduces us to: this writer, that journalist, and yet another philosopher. As if—in matters of philosophy—the presenter had summoned Socrates, Aristotle, or Diogenes the Cynic to the panel… when in fact, the philosopher in question is simply a philosophy professor. Is he truly a philosopher? Does he possess fundamental, universal truths?… Is he even searching for them?

I am neither Greek (thank goodness), nor a philosophy professor, and yet… today, in this post, I am engaging in an exercise that draws upon this discipline, which presents itself as a questioning, an interpretation, and a reflection on the world and human existence… to which I add the existence of a legionnaire.

Once upon a time…there was a prince named Siddhartha, who lived in India in the 6th century BCE. This princely child had known nothing of misfortune until adulthood; he was surrounded only by young and healthy people, and his father had forbidden him to leave the palace grounds so that nothing unpleasant would befall him.

Four times, Siddhartha managed to venture out. He saw what he should not have seen: an old man, a sick man, a dead man, and an ascetic. He was so astonished that he questioned his faithful servant, who revealed that, regardless of their power and wealth, all beings age and are not spared from illness or death.

Revolted by this fate, he decided to overcome it and fled to join the ascetics of the forests. But he soon realized that he too would eventually grow old and die.

So, the prince sat under a tree to meditate; it was at that moment that he attained enlightenment and became “Buddha,” which means “the awakened one.”

What had he understood?

The enlightened one he had become was self-taught; he needed to accept life and seek to eliminate unhappiness through self-knowledge and profound self-transformation. It is only in the culmination of this quest that we can attain true serenity.


I love this story, as well as that of Jesus. Without great pretension, but with clear-sightedness, I embrace their philosophy.

With such an approach and this spirit of inner exploration, how could it be possible, and above all, consistent, to enlist in the French Foreign Legion?

Almost always, joining the Legion is the result of a personal, family, political, or social crisis experienced by the prospective Legionnaire.

Some were caught up in the political upheavals of their time, in the reversals of fortune. The call of adventure drives others, those unable to live within the narrow confines of so-called normal life, those whom comfortable little pleasures cannot hold, those stifled by the fog and incessant rain, the sooty skies of industrialized regions, those who cannot resist the persistent call of sunny lands.

There are also those who come for the love of arms, for the allure of combat. They have the soldier's profession in their blood and find no opportunity to practice it in their own country.

Next comes the category of petty criminals, those who have forgotten to pay child support, taxes… The Legion offers them the possibility of redemption through effort, self-sacrifice, and the dangers of combat…

Finally, there are those who come seeking oblivion. For them, the legionnaire's uniform masks a distress proudly concealed. The legionnaire's melancholy, the source of numerous outbursts, stems from a return of the past in those who thought they had forgotten it.

They all have in common that they have not chosen mediocrity. Pushing open that door to the unknown is already courageous in itself.

Faced with misfortune and bad luck, they have reacted like men, preferring adventure to the constraints of a life devoid of meaning for them. They came seeking inner freedom through the choice of rigid rules, the absence of worries, and the assurance of daily bread: “I enter into a moral and honorary contract with France, with the possibility of losing my life there; I ask only that she take care of me. This is an open-ended contract, renewable by tacit agreement until death.”

Given the conditions of this recruitment, open to certain individuals, the Legion could very quickly become burdened with suspicious, undesirable, or even dangerous elements. But it is vigilant and has given itself the means to remove the unworthy who would seek to join its ranks. For while it is a refuge and a sanctuary, it would not survive if the dregs of our societies were to gather within its ranks.

Certain writings by Raoul Follereau, far from being irrelevant, may offer elements of a possible conclusion:
“Fight poverty, social injustice, fanaticism of any kind… spend your whole life denouncing the selfishness of those who eat three meals a day and imagine that the rest of the world does the same. No one has the right or the power to be happy alone.”