When is it safe to tell the truth?
And not?
What does the ‘not’ cost us?
What does the truth cost us?
Feeling called back to my non-fiction roots lately, I have listened to Revenge of the Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell, My Next Breath by Jeremy Renner, and Four Thousand Weeks by Oliver Burkeman. Burkeman’s book, subtitled “Time Management for Mortals,” reminded me of both The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck by Mark Manson and The Infinite Game by Simon Sinek. These three books, as well as Renner’s memoir, remind me that it’s not about manipulating schedules and timetables. It’s about choosing how and on what we will spend our precious and powerful time, energy, and resources, about what impact we intend and act to make in this finite life we are given.
Moved to listen again to Sinek’s descriptions of a Just Cause (for something [rather than against], inclusive, service-oriented, resilient, and idealistic) and how to advance it sustainably (build trusting teams, learn from worthy rivals, flex proactively and authentically, and lead with courage), and considering our current politics and systems, I feel my inner fire of purpose burn a little brighter. The past week has shown me both courage and cowardice, just cause and quick buck, and the risks and consequences of both. Wow.
A colleague once told me, “You call BS (when you see it),” and it was a high compliment. I like to think I do so diplomatically; I can also be both direct and blunt. My wellness talks this summer have centered around psychological safety–building trusting teams on which colleagues feel free to show up their whole, authentic selves. That is when we can all make our best contribution–when our diversity is sought and honored, where inclusivity and mutual respect are the intrinsic ethos more than an external mandate. When I feel safe to call BS and ask the hard questions, to challenge my peers to live into our integrity and highest stated values, I feel it in my chest and the lumbar spine. My posture is upright and I am grounded. I make eye contact and hold my shoulders square. The call to uphold our ideals outweighs any fear of reprimand or retaliation.
And yet, I can imagine how that fear can be paralyzing. How will I respond when the stakes for truth telling are high and the consequences threatening? Will I lose my job? Will I damage a relationship? Will I damage my conscience?
Today, as I think about all the competing interests at play in our systems–institutions, politics, business, economies, family dynamics–it all still boils down, for me, to core values of honesty, integrity, empathy, compassion, and respect. Playing the Infinite Game, to me, means keeping the long view in sight. It means making decisions that advance my just cause now and in the future. I must be vigilant about monitoring for when I’m making excuses, rationalizing, and justifying actions that my gut knows compromise my ethics, that pander.
Looking back, I imagine I have lost ‘opportunities’ as others would see them, when I speak directly, when I dissent. I can point to specific conversations when that may have happened. Overall the relationships I care about are intact, as far as I know. And there are probably negative dynamics I don’t know about–we can never know what everyone/anyone may be saying about us behind our backs. When I look at my life, however, I see no deficits. I believe my reputation is solid and consistent where it matters. I don’t call BS to bring people down or elevate myself. I do it when I see a threat to or violation of a core or stated value, when I see hypocrisy at play. I assume we are all here doing our best. I strive always to be kind, if direct. I hope others will call me out when my words and actions do not align with my professed values. I try to be open and honest about my ambivalence and conflicts (eg practicing concierge medicine when I know access to healthcare is at an all-time low for most people–yikes).
To live an ethical life, I must first be honest with myself–tell the raw, unsweetened truth to myself before I can hope to do it for anyone else. But the truth does not have to be brutal or mean. Kindness goes a long way to making truth bearable, and thus actionable. And what is truth even worth if we do not act on it?
Thank you, Mr. Burkeman, for prompting me to revisit Mr. Sinek’s work. I just never know when, where, or how the next epiphany or breakthrough will come, and it’s always gratifying to meet old lessons with new perspective.
How can we be more kind and truthful in our daily lives?
What if we all did both a little more consistently?
How can we make it safe for one another to tell the truth and thrive for it?
I think it’s about honesty, humility, integrity, empathy, and respect, all in mutual reciprocity. They’re big, aspirational words, I know. But what are we here to do, if not the big, aspirational stuff?
