There is a classic scene that you’ll see in many old World War II movies. The young untested soldier, on the eve of his first battle, admits to his experienced commander that he is afraid. The commander, a paragon of cinematic manhood, then admits to being afraid as well. The young private is always much relieved to discover that he is not the only one who is afraid, and by admitting to it, is in a better position to manage his fear.
You don’t see this scene in modern movies. Nowadays, the bad guys are so horribly bad, and the pressure we place upon our “heroes” is so extreme, there is no room for them to admit to being human and occasionally afraid. I suppose we are drawn to such super-human super heroes because our fears seem so great that we can’t imagine coping with them ourselves.
In most books about leadership, there is generally a fair amount of emphasis on the high-minded aspects of integrity and courage. What is lacking, in my view anyway, is an honest admission to the fact that most of us feel ethical confusion and fear on a fairly regular basis. By constantly focusing on how we should increase the virtues of heroism and courage, there is a tendency to put each of us, on an individual basis, in a state of being totally ashamed of the fact that we are often conflicted and afraid, and therefore not so virtuous. And once we become ashamed of that, we feel compelled to hide it from everyone else. Since everyone else has also been trained to hide their fear, it is easy for each of us to assume that we are the only ones holding this shameful emotion, and this makes our state of fearfulness even worse, for, like the young movie soldier, we are now also fearful, not just of the enemy, but of being “different” . . . we believe we are the only one who is afraid, and so now we have an added thing to fear, which is having our cowardice exposed.
So yes, I suppose I could stand up and talk about enhancing one’s courage and heroism, and make lots of money doing so. But I’m starting to realize that one of the reasons why I wrote “Principles of Applied Stupidity” was to address the structures of the things we fear, rather trying to “ramp up” our available courage. If we don't look right at the fear, we can easily imagine it to be ever so much greater than it really is.
I’m going through a number of major changes in my life right now. I’m in a position where I must take action. I know exactly what to do, and yet some days my hand is virtually frozen. This energy of doubt, hesitation, fear, anxiety, questioning of my judgement, my aversion to taking a risk, and having to pick one of several imperfect options, . . . i.e., this cowardice . . . is part of what makes me a human being, and I have to accept its existence in order to be able to look at it and find the best way to overcome it.
I often find people who are in management/leadership situations, or who are just in a moment of pondering their next step in life, where they seem to be in a state of frozen frustration. Now many times, there is no obvious solution, and we need to sit down and figure out what it is we need to do. But many times, that constant seeking for a better or even perfect solution is really just a form of denial. Once the best option (or the least objectionable option, or just a workable option) is determined, there is an even harder job, which is overcoming the fear of infinite unknown negative consequences that exists in everyone, as that fear, not lack of courage or money or resources, is perhaps the biggest barrier to improving the situation. Beyond a certain point, it’s not a question of making the plan better or being any braver. A big part of leadership (individual or organizational) is accepting the existence of fear in all of us, and calmly calculating methods of facing and overcoming it, rather than shaming it and hoping it will scurry away in the face of a perfect plan.
© Justin Locke
