Wrestling with Courage and Cowardice in the Online World

First published on December 11, 2019

There's a problem with having a set of beliefs that propel you further and further into growth, further and further towards your potential. They take you into uncomfortable places. That's ok, in fact it's necessary: growth is uncomfortable.

But I don't like discomfort. I like comfort and safety. Especially on the dark days, when the chaos of life sneaks in.

But if you believe, as I do, that living your life by Steven Pressfield's rule of thumb is the route to fulfillment and meaning - that is, by living by the rule that wherever you feel the most Resistance, that thing is most important for your soul's evolution - then things get uncomfortable. That's the rule that led to this practice, and that's the rule that has led to me wrestling in countless sessions with my coach over the last year with whether it is important for me to have my head above the parapet more when it comes to politics. I don't have an answer, but I know I'm scared about it.

Humiliation is one of the deepest human fears (along with death); ostracising from the group often involves humiliation and - more - for our ancestors, it led to death. And the social media world is a world of shaming (although not LinkedIn, which is probably why I write these pieces here and not on Facebook).

But, I feel the Resistance, and we know what the Rule of Thumb says. And, do I owe it to the people I know to share my perspectives? Do I owe it to the world to think out loud in honour of the pursuit of truth? And, if I admire people who do put their heads above the parapets and speak the truth with great courage, like Jordan Peterson or Douglas Murray, then doesn't that make speaking the truth with great courage the kind of person I want to be?

So I was relieved and felt a greater sense of peace when I read James Lindsay and Peter Boghossian's recent book: How to Have Impossible Conversations. Lindsay and Boghossian became famous through their role in the Grievance Studies scandal, showing how fundamentally flawed much of the "academia" behind identity politics really is. But in this book they take a lifetime's experience of trying to have conversations with people who disagree with them, add to it the best research and ideas from diverse fields like hostage negotiation and moral psychology, and offer a concise and powerful set of techniques. This starts with basics, and ends with ninja-level stuff to help you identify how to intervene with ideologues. The world would be a much better place if everyone read that book.

The reason I was relieved is that it turned out the way I have been behaving fits with their suggestions of best practice. First, don't do it online. Second, and fundamentally, don't try to deliver your message. Almost ever. Instead, listen and assume good intentions (and much more). These are things that I understand, they form a big part of my forthcoming book, The Power to Choose, and a big part of what I do as a coach. Now I may have been doing it out of cowardice before, but at least now I am doing it partly also because it's the best way to change hearts and minds.

So where does that leave me? Well, today it left me posting something on Facebook, stepping above the parapet and risking myself. I channeled energies I had unlocked in myself through a deep personal development experience with Rebel Wisdom, which I went through recently.

When reflecting on complexity recently I considered something I learned from Carolyn Coughlin: in complex situations, don't aim for a destination because you can't possibly know what is right. Instead, understand the direction you want to move things.

So my post on Facebook, in the build up to the UK general election, wasn't about how I'm voting, it was about how to tend towards connection and democracy: that feels like the right direction to me.

It doesn't feel particularly good to have posted it, to be honest; I have a twinge of fear when I think about checking to see what people have comments. And I still have doubts over whether I'm holding back out of cowardice. But it is a step, a step of courage, for me. And let's not forget that confidence is a result, not a requirement. Perhaps next year, or the year after, my confidence in entering into political conversations online will have developed so that I won't feel so much doubt about it.

And that, to be more confident and more courageous than I was yesterday... that's something.