The Miracle of Our Antifragility
I can’t remember who first recommended I listen to an interview with Nassim Nicholas Taleb, but there were so many ideas in it that helped me in my thinking that I can remember exactly where I was when I listened to it.
But it was years later, when I read Jonathan Haidt’s book, The Coddling of the American Mind (the precursor to his astounding work shifting the culture of smartphone use among young people in schools), that I was introduced to Taleb’s concept - antifragility.
In The Coddling of the American Mind, Haidt is examining what had led to the frightening spike in mental health problems among young people. One of the things he points to is the risk of over-protective parenting.
The reason this is a risk is because human beings are antifragile.
Think of it like this.
Things can be fragile, like glass. If it is struck with something hard, it breaks.
They can be sturdy, like a rock. If it is struck by something hard that doesn’t break it, it is unaffected.
Or they can be antifragile: if it is struck by something hard that doesn’t break it, it grows stronger.
This is (mostly) the story of an immune system.
Each time you catch a cold, then as long as it doesn’t kill you, you (and your immune system) are stronger next time. [I’m sure there are examples where this isn’t true, where long term viral effects degrade the strength of the immune system, but… well, you know.]
Psychologically, humans are like this in all our behaviour.
Remember, as I’ve written before, courage comes first, confidence comes after. After you’ve done it and it didn’t kill you, you are stronger.
Remember, as I’ve written before, that ‘who am I to do this?’ can be a valid question before you’ve done the thing; after you’ve done the thing, it’s ridiculous to ask that. You’ve done the thing. It didn’t kill you. You are bigger and stronger. You have grown.
I’ve thought about this often in my work with clients, and particularly since my daughter Leah was born.
The temptation to try to protect her from everything.
And, thanks to the concept of antifragility, the awareness that letting her fall, fail, flail safely is what will make her stronger when she is out on her own.
And, in the end, she will be out on her own. That’s what I want for her. The alternatives don’t bear thinking about.
This is part of the power of coaching.
If we guide, supervise, manage and instruct, we limit the possibility of growth for the people we support.
If we coach, invite, encourage and allow them to take their own action, to fall where they fall, to learn. Then we invite their antifragility into action.
Amongst the complexities of a human are the various coping mechanisms for if things go too far. We can be stretched so far that we snap.
But mostly - mostly - in a very cautious society, we can afford for our children to adventure a little more. Knowing that each time they adventure, they go down into the belly of the beast and return with the fruits of their journey, bigger and stronger every time.
Mostly - mostly - in a fear-filled society, we as adults can afford to take more risks to create change for ourselves, change that we want. We can step off the precipice, swing on the trapeze, and trust that we will catch the next one and return with the fruits of our journey, bigger and stronger every time.
Never forget this miracle of antifragility.
That whatever doesn’t shatter you will make you stronger.
But, too, remember that you can break. You need some recovery. Too many blows, too fast, can feel high risk.
But under it.
Under it is this miracle of antifragility.
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PS Read my latest long-read article in the Leading With Honour series, here: The Transformational Practice of Telling the Truth (Leading With Honour II)
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This is the latest in a series of articles written using the 12-Minute Method: write for twelve minutes, proof read once with tiny edits and then post online.
Buy the 12-Minute Method series of books, written 12 minutes a week over three years, here.