Finding Hope

<p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EhZcM3cpDU0/YHc7Ys8GJ0I/AAAAAAABTI0/BkumzpDD4Dcx0NhfG70FApUKvXiPoqFuACLcBGAsYHQ/s1024/Friedrich%2BJustin%2BBertuch%2B-%2BA%2Bdepiction%2Bof%2Ba%2Bphoenix.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="809" data-original-width="1024" height="506" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EhZcM3cpDU0/YHc7Ys8GJ0I/AAAAAAABTI0/BkumzpDD4Dcx0NhfG70FApUKvXiPoqFuACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h506/Friedrich%2BJustin%2BBertuch%2B-%2BA%2Bdepiction%2Bof%2Ba%2Bphoenix.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><em style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phoenix_(mythology)#/media/File:Phoenix-Fabelwesen.jpg">A depiction of a phoenix</a></em><span style="text-align: left;"> by Friedrich Johann Justin Bertuch, 1806 (public domain - Wikimedia Commons, </span><a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/" style="text-align: left;">CC BY-SA 3.0</a><span style="text-align: left;">)</span></span></td></tr></tbody></table></p><div class="captioned-image-container" data-pm-context="[]"><figure><figcaption class="image-caption"><br /></figcaption></figure></div><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>“Afflictions sent by Providence melt the constancy of the noble minded but confirm the obduracy of the vile. The same furnace that hardens clay liquefies gold.”</strong> </em></strong></em></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— Charles Caleb Colton, c. 1820</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br />I just returned from a week in Phoenix. Some time away in the land of perpetual sun gave me an opportunity to reflect, amid early morning walks in the desert.</p><p>Yet it wasn’t until my return yesterday that I found the red thread for the week.</p><p>Arriving home last night, I realized that today is April 14. A day that always affects my mood.</p><p>As a student of history, I’m acutely aware of events of the past. And April 14 marks two solemn occasions less than fifty years apart: the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, who was shot on the evening of April 14, 1865 at Ford’s Theater, and the sinking of the <em>Titanic</em>, which struck an iceberg in the North Atlantic at 11:40 pm on April 14, 1912.</p><p>Every year, I reflect on the events that led up to and resulted from each of these two tragedies, feeling a sense of sadness and loss, but also contentment and hope in their aftermaths.</p><p>How is it possible that the tragic death of one of America’s greatest presidents and of more than 1,500 souls could be something to evoke any kind of positivity?</p><p>In short, there is hope and positivity in nearly everything, <strong><a href="https://www.timelesstimely.com/p/look-for-the-helpers">if you are willing to look for it</a></strong>.</p><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"> </pre></div><h2>The Chickens Knew</h2><p>In <em>On the Banks of Plum Creek</em>, the fourth book in Laura Ingalls Wilder’s <em>Little House on the Prairie</em> series, the family was beset by a plague of grasshoppers. As they fell from the sky, the grasshoppers enveloped everything on the ground, and began eating their way through trees and wheat fields.</p><p>Yet there was a glimmer of hope: the chickens, who normally were used to chasing grasshoppers around the yard and not catching them. But in the deluge, they simple stretched out their necks and consumed insect after insect.</p><p>Laura’s mother managed to see the silver lining in the cloud of grasshoppers:</p><blockquote><p>“Well, we won’t have to buy feed for the hens,” said Ma. “There’s no great loss without some gain.”</p></blockquote><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>“The disaster takes care of everything.”</strong> </em></strong></em></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— Maurice Blanchot, 1980</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /><br /></div><h2>Two Tragedies, One Lesson</h2><p>Similarly, with President Lincoln’s assassination, his fame and accomplishments only grew stronger in death. That he was able to sign the Emancipation Proclamation, get Congress to sign legislation outlining the 13th Amendment, and give such powerful and timeless speeches—the <a href="https://millercenter.org/the-presidency/presidential-speeches/november-19-1863-gettysburg-address">Gettysburg Address</a>, his <a href="https://millercenter.org/the-presidency/presidential-speeches/december-1-1862-second-annual-message">Second Annual Message to Congress</a>, and his <a href="https://millercenter.org/the-presidency/presidential-speeches/march-4-1865-second-inaugural-address">Second Inaugural Address</a>—all in the span of four short years, make his towering achievements all the more impressive.</p><p>His death shocked the nation, but out of his was born greater attention to the timeless virtues he helped us consider.</p><p>With the <em>Titanic</em>, we witnessed the terrible result of man’s vanity—the audacity to fly in the face of nature (“God himself could not sink this ship,” Captain Edward J. Smith brazenly declared.)—when greeted with the reality of an iceberg and a poor design.</p><p>In the aftermath of the 1,500 deaths in the frigid ocean that night, hearings uncovered a sad fact: that the ship was designed according to all laws and regulations of the day; but those rules hadn’t kept pace with technology.</p><p>The tragedy resulted in new regulations requiring ships to carry enough lifeboats for all passengers, and engineers redesigned the watertight compartments of the Titanic's sister ship.</p><p>Each of these situations, and hundreds of others we can probably conjure up, can leave us with feelings of sorrow and hopelessness. And while it’s important to <strong><a href="https://www.timelesstimely.com/p/good-grief">acknowledge our grief</a></strong>, it’s just as important to determine how we move forward.</p><p>A leader’s job is to find the way forward and to encourage others along. To look for the glimmers of hope and resultant lessons that emerge from unfortunate events.</p><p>Like the phoenix, the mythological bird that rose from the ashes of its predecessor and gave its name to the city at the cent of the Valley of the Sun, we have an opportunity to shine brightly in the aftermath of calamity.</p><p>We just need to seek out the positive.</p><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label></div><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><p></p><h1><strong>Additional Reading</strong></h1><p>Recommended: these three previous newsletters in which some of the above topics were covered.</p><p><strong><a href="https://www.timelesstimely.com/p/renewal">Renewal</a></strong> (springtime, holidays, the Apollo moon landing, and thoughts on the pandemic)</p><p><strong><a href="https://www.timelesstimely.com/p/humility-or-futility">Humility or Futility</a></strong> (a great read on the anniversary of the sinking of the <em>Titanic</em>)</p><p><strong><a href="https://www.timelesstimely.com/p/exposing-our-imperfections">Exposing Our Imperfections</a></strong> (a look at the power and danger of vanity)</p><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"> </pre></div><p>Thanks, and I’ll see you on the internet.</p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></p><div><hr /></div><div class="captioned-image-container"><figure><br /></figure></div><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">👉 Premium Members receive an additional related essay, plus curated links and stories, and audio and book recommendations every Friday. And now, we're adding more audio content to the list! Join the club by signing up below:</span></p><div class="captioned-image-container"><figure><p style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;"><iframe frameborder="0" height="320" scrolling="no" src="https://scottmonty.substack.com/embed" style="font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; max-height: 450px; max-width: 100%;" width="480"></iframe></p></figure></div>

Finding Hope

A depiction of a phoenix  by Friedrich Johann Justin Bertuch, 1806 (public domain - Wikimedia Commons,  CC BY-SA 3.0 ) “Afflictions sent by ...

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Humility Can Seem Soft When Problems Are Hard

<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Et4xlk6TZEk/YG1d9Ay7EtI/AAAAAAABSqQ/OWVfv-JUIO4fnDX7tKo0ch8zXERPo6snQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Caravaggio%2B-%2BDavid%2Bwith%2Bthe%2BHead%2Bof%2BGoliath%252C%2B1610.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1314" data-original-width="1600" height="526" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Et4xlk6TZEk/YG1d9Ay7EtI/AAAAAAABSqQ/OWVfv-JUIO4fnDX7tKo0ch8zXERPo6snQCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h526/Caravaggio%2B-%2BDavid%2Bwith%2Bthe%2BHead%2Bof%2BGoliath%252C%2B1610.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_with_the_Head_of_Goliath_(Caravaggio,_Rome)#/media/File:David_with_the_Head_of_Goliath-Caravaggio_(1610).jpg" style="text-align: left;">David with the Head of Goliath</a><span style="text-align: left;"> by Caravaggio, 1610 (public domain - Wikipedia, <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/1.0/">CC by 1.0</a>)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div class="captioned-image-container" data-pm-context="[]"><figure><figcaption class="image-caption"><br /></figcaption></figure></div><div><hr /></div><p><strong><br /></strong></p><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><strong>“</strong><em><strong>Humility is attentive patience.</strong></em><strong>”</strong><em> </em></strong></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— Simone Weil (1940)</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br /></p><p>Humility is often considered a “soft” trait. Like kindness, vulnerability, empathy, and other non-quant skills.</p><p>But to categorize soft skills as not hard is missing the bigger picture. Such virtues are much more difficult to master, as they require not only behavioral change, but a deep understanding of oneself and, more importantly, of others.</p><p>The flip side of humility is hubris or pride. In a previous issue of <em><strong>Timeless & Timely</strong></em> (“<strong><a href="https://smonty.co/humility">Humility or Futility</a></strong>”), we acknowledged the slight difference in the definition of the terms: hubris meaning arrogance that gives offense to the gods, as the ancient Greeks believed, and pride being offensive to others.</p><p>And humility is a trait that is observed by others. It’s certainly not something about which a leader can brag. Leaders demonstrate humility in what they say and do, and in what they choose <em>not</em> to say and do.</p><p>It’s what is visible about you.</p><p>Whether it’s as CEO, head of a department, or even a first-time manager, a leader is only as good as their team. We expect that they bring a certain level of technical knowledge to the job; perhaps they’re a respected engineer, marketer, or financial wizard. But running an effective organization means tapping into the powers of others.</p><p>Every human being on this earth has a limited set of knowledge. Our brains have a limited capacity to know only so much. Humility is when we realize that.</p><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"> </pre></div><h3><br />George Washington, Most Humble and Obedient Servant</h3><p>By the time the drafters of the Constitution chose George Washington as the first president, he was an accomplished man. A military leader who had a career spanning three decades, including member of the Virginia House of Burgesses and Commander in Chief of the Continental Army.</p><p>And yet, he was still haunted by insecurity. Really, who can blame him? The leadership roles he took on were unprecedented; he was setting out an a path never trodden before. His words and deeds (including stepping down after two terms as president), show him as a leader, who despite his considerable success, was still humble.</p><p>Nancy Lemann writes:</p><blockquote><p>“One endearing thing about the father of our country was his propensity for self-effacement. Every time they drew him to a post, he would agonize and ultimately accept but essentially stand up and say, 'I just want it on the record that I do not consider myself equal to this task.’</p><p>“That was his basic position on everything. Showing that even the great have self-doubt. Maybe only the great. His professions of unworthiness continued to the end. In his farewell address to the nation after serving two terms as president he said he hoped that his many forms of incompetence would be consigned to oblivion.</p><p>“It sometimes seems a cliché to commend George Washington, but 'intellectual humility’ is associated with the capacity to maintain convictions, according to a recent scientific study, and I think it is one quality that must characterize an incorruptible man. If only because such a man is capable of admitting his mistakes. He knows he is fallible, and his self-doubt expands the potential of his mind, allowing him to understand that there are better ways than his, and that they can and must be searched for.” (“<a href="https://www.laphamsquarterly.org/scandal/exquisite-scandal">Exquisite Scandal</a>,” <em>Lapham’s Quarterly</em>)</p></blockquote><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"> </pre></div><p>That sounds similar to what we know about <strong>emotional intelligence</strong> (more on that shortly), in which a leader is self-aware.</p><p>But more than being acutely aware of their own potential, shortcomings, and emotions, humble leaders understand that there are others who know more than us, and—more importantly—know <em>differently</em> than us.</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><strong><br /></strong></p><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><strong>“</strong><em><strong>I cannot agree with those who rank modesty among the virtues. To the logician all things should be seen exactly as they are, and to underestimate one’s self is as much a departure from truth as to exaggerate one’s own powers.</strong></em><strong>”</strong><em> </em></strong></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— Arthur Conan Doyle, 1893</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br /></p><p>Admitting shortcomings or acknowledging we don’t know everything doesn't equate to being timid or modest; humble leaders can still display confidence. The difference is that when we recognize our colleagues and their contributions, we show that we see them, appreciate their talent, and value working together. And that’s at the heart of leader humility.</p><p>It gives root to our ability to work together, serving as the foundation of relationships. If I don't see you and you don't see me for who we are, then there's no relationship there.</p><p>Simply put, our dignity demands it.</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><strong><br /></strong></p><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><strong>“</strong><em><strong>Leader humility is a tendency to feel and display a deep regard for others</strong></em><strong>’</strong><em><strong> dignity.</strong></em><strong>”</strong><em> </em></strong></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— Marilyn Gist, 2020</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><h3><strong><br />D-I-G-N-I-T-Y, it’s essential and this is why</strong></h3><p>Dignity is a fundamental aspect of what it means to be human. When you disregard or even violate the dignity of others, you make them feel like nonentities.</p><p>What’s a violation of dignity? Name-calling, bullying, cutting people off, stereotyping, taking credit — anything that shows you don't appreciate someone’s unique contribution. </p><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"> </pre></div><p>Remember that tale about Alan Mulally always demurring when praised, responding instead with “It's an honor to serve”? It’s a lesson in sharing credit.</p><p>A leader who is comfortable with their position doesn't need to take credit. When you’re saddled with a boss who needs to soothe his ego constantly, it’s exhausting. And it results in a lot of taking credit and doling out blame.</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><strong><br /></strong></p><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><strong>“</strong><em><strong>The Greeks… saw that the unpardonable sin is insolence or presumption, an overweening pride of passion or reason, a failure to be mindful of the Nemesis that lies in wait for disproportionate self-assertion. Humanism, no less than religion, enjoins the virtue of humility.</strong></em><strong>”</strong><em> </em></strong></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— T.S. Elliot, 1929</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><h3><strong><br />The Harm of Hubris</strong></h3><p>Think back to <em>The Odyssey</em>, in which Odysseus and his men find themselves trapped in a cave with Polyphemus, the deranged, man-eating, sheep herding, one-eyed beast. Odysseus hatches an ingenious escape plan: they wait for the cyclops to fall asleep and then stab him in the eye with a sharpened log. Enraged and blinded, Polyphemus staggers to remove the stone he had rolled in front of the entrance of the cave, which frees Odysseus and his men.</p><p>It’s brilliant and, best of all, Odysseus, never having given the cyclops his real name, is off scot-free. But then, just out of reach of the bleeding, angry, shouting cyclops, he turns back and taunts:</p><blockquote><p><strong>“Cyclops! If any mortal asks you how<br />Your eye was mutilated and made blind,<br />Say that Odysseus, the city-saker,<br />Laertes’ son, who lives in Ithaca,<br />Destroyed your sight.”</strong></p></blockquote><p>Odysseus just couldn’t help himself. He wanted the credit. And he stupidly forgot that Polyphemus’ father was Poseidon. You don’t maim the son of the lord of the sea and take an ocean voyage without expecting some divine retribution.</p><p>This moment of hubris cost Odysseus something like ten years of his life, as Poseidon threw up countless obstacles, one after the other, between Odysseus and his wife, Penelope, back home in Ithaca. It’s a lesson that many people have heeded (and plenty of others have painfully forgotten) ever since.</p><p>History and literature are rife with examples of hubris, or excessive pride and arrogance.</p><ul><li><p>Ajax, title character of Sophocles’ play of the same name, thinks he does not need Zeus’ help due to hubris. </p></li><li><p>Oedipus thinks he can outrun his destiny.</p></li><li><p>In Mary Shelley’s <em>Frankenstein</em>, Victor Frankenstein thinks he can control life.</p></li></ul><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"> </pre></div><p>It seems that more often than not, the ego-driven, ambitious, obsessive visionaries — call them what you will — are celebrated and rewarded. And to a certain degree that’s true. For without drive, ambition, and self-confidence, it’s hard to stand out.</p><p>But there's a sense of <a href="https://amzn.to/2LdnVcQ">entitlement and control</a> that individuals like this bring to the table. And it’s damaging to everyone around them, including the entity they're trying to build.</p><p><strong>Entitlement </strong>says, “I deserve this by virtue of who I am, not what I did.” The dignity-robbing “And you don’t” follows logically.</p><p><strong>Control </strong>says “My way or the highway,” and drives away the very people who might be in the best position to help.</p><p>We can let go of our ego when we recognize that the key to success is in <em><strong>working together</strong></em>.</p><p>Alan Mulally brought this spirit of working together to Boeing and Ford. Really, it’s a business philosophy and management system:</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dUf2h4M_3aU/YG1fHA1BO6I/AAAAAAABSqY/68w8NfAIQ-MKlb5UI-kZwaMY-Soj9l5XACLcBGAsYHQ/s1280/Alan%2527s%2BWorking%2BTogether%2BManagement%2BSystem.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dUf2h4M_3aU/YG1fHA1BO6I/AAAAAAABSqY/68w8NfAIQ-MKlb5UI-kZwaMY-Soj9l5XACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h360/Alan%2527s%2BWorking%2BTogether%2BManagement%2BSystem.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>You can see the humility this takes and the dignity it bestows on the team. It grants responsibilities and demonstrates a leadership team that cares about them.</p><p>Emotional intelligence, empathy, dignity, humility: these are leadership virtues that show your care and concern for others. Simply put, it's selflessness.</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>“Humility is not thinking less of yourself; it’s thinking of yourself less.”</strong> </em></strong></em></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— C.S. Lewis, 1952</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br /></p><p>What could be more powerful and deserving of loyalty than serving others?</p><p>A soft skill, indeed. But needed more in difficult times than ever.</p><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"> </pre></div><div></div><p>Thanks, and I’ll see you on the internet.</p><p><br /></p><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><hr /><br /></div><p style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">👉 Premium Members receive an additional related essay, plus curated links and stories, and audio and book recommendations every Friday—except this Friday, we'll be hosting a special video AMA. Be sure to reserve your seat by becoming a paid subscriber:</p><div><br /></div><div class="captioned-image-container"><figure><br /></figure></div><p class="button-wrapper" data-attrs="{"url":"%%checkout_url%%","text":"Subscribe now","class":null}"><br /></p>

Humility Can Seem Soft When Problems Are Hard

  David with the Head of Goliath  by Caravaggio, 1610 (public domain - Wikipedia, CC by 1.0 ) “ Humility is attentive patience. ”   — Simone...

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