‘I
may be wrong’ is a rule of thumb that’s probably among the least used
rules of thumb. Indeed it is probably not even considered to be a rule
of thumb.
It makes sense for people to base their decisions on what they know. After all, they can’t decide based on the unknown. That’s if they are pushed to a decision. If not, it makes sense to postpone or suspend a decision, especially if there’s a sense that there could be factors that ought to be taken into account.
We can take a long time to reach ‘conviction’ but we can also go with ‘gut.’ We do both, given contexts, and no one can be faulted. The problem arises or rather can have enhanced and even dangerous consequences when decisions have the potential to impact many. One may trip over one’s delusions, one might trip a couple of others in the process, but one can cause monumental devastation and dispossession too. It’s about power.
It is incumbent on the powerful, positioned as they are to impact many rather than a few, to exercise utmost caution when making decisions. Such individuals, if they are too arrogant to think ‘I may be wrong,’ are err regardless can unleash untold misery.
It comes down to conviction, even convictions of ‘the greater good.’
So consider a leader who truly believes that he has no personal agenda and is absolutely unconcerned about the political future of the party he belongs to. Suppose he believes that his every act is prompted by absolute conviction that the outcome would benefit the entire population or in the very least the vast majority. In his mind he is a man of the people, a true representative of people’s interest, mandated to represent and to decree for the betterment of the people etc.
If there be such an individual and he believes that he is 100% in concert with ‘people’s interest’ there can be few who could be as dangerous. Of course it can be worse. Donald Trump, for example, has said that his morality is above all laws, domestic or international. He believes that ‘[his] morality, [his] mind is the only thing that can stop [him].’
But even if it’s something less grand, if the idea of being driven by people’s interest has taken hold to the point that it is the core belief, any opposition from any quarter or any kind would be immediately seen as ‘anti-people.’ Simultaneously such a leader, again in the name of the people and people’s interests, would have no qualms about quelling such dissent.
In such a scenario ‘other people’ cease to count. ‘Other people’ as in the objectors, that is. That’s where fascism begins. It comes without announcing itself, it comes without an introduction or name card. It has already taken root.
Fascist roots grow into enormous trees very fast. Its fertiliser is a simple formula: ‘I am right, therefore you must be wrong; I am for the people, therefore you must be against the people; I stand for progress, therefore you must stand for stagnation or worse.’
Those who think this way will not suffer criticism. Worse, they will not be self-critical. They see no reason to question themselves because they are convinced that they are right. And when things go sour, it’s someone else who is to blame. It could start, for example, with political opponents. Then the blame is shifted to officials. Eventually, the people.
Sometimes it is not really the arrogance (not courage) of convictions. It is fear. The powerful fear nothing more than to be seen as weak. Acknowledgment of error, in their book, amounts to a flaw. When flawlessness is assumed, even a single hairline fracture is seen as a chasm of gigantic proportions. When one sees one’s flaws in such dimensions it is inevitable to believe that others see them in similar proportions. That should not be allowed to happen. That’s the thinking, typically.
There’s just yes and no. Nothing between. Black or white, no other colours, no shades even. If honour claims are called to question, the fear is that one has been found guilty of being dishonourable. Nothing less than impeccable would do. But then one doesn’t have to be impeccable. All that matters is to convince oneself that one is impeccable. So even error is not seen as such.
It’s for all these reasons that over the centuries people have come to understand that humility more than anything else is the true signature of greatness. No braggadocio. No false claims. No strutting. Do what needs to be done without fanfare. Take praise in one’s stride and take seriously any criticism that may come one’s way.
Maybe we ought to practice saying the following: ‘Yes, you are right; I may be wrong.’ Makes it easy to actually say it when the occasion arises.
It makes sense for people to base their decisions on what they know. After all, they can’t decide based on the unknown. That’s if they are pushed to a decision. If not, it makes sense to postpone or suspend a decision, especially if there’s a sense that there could be factors that ought to be taken into account.
We can take a long time to reach ‘conviction’ but we can also go with ‘gut.’ We do both, given contexts, and no one can be faulted. The problem arises or rather can have enhanced and even dangerous consequences when decisions have the potential to impact many. One may trip over one’s delusions, one might trip a couple of others in the process, but one can cause monumental devastation and dispossession too. It’s about power.
It is incumbent on the powerful, positioned as they are to impact many rather than a few, to exercise utmost caution when making decisions. Such individuals, if they are too arrogant to think ‘I may be wrong,’ are err regardless can unleash untold misery.
It comes down to conviction, even convictions of ‘the greater good.’
So consider a leader who truly believes that he has no personal agenda and is absolutely unconcerned about the political future of the party he belongs to. Suppose he believes that his every act is prompted by absolute conviction that the outcome would benefit the entire population or in the very least the vast majority. In his mind he is a man of the people, a true representative of people’s interest, mandated to represent and to decree for the betterment of the people etc.
If there be such an individual and he believes that he is 100% in concert with ‘people’s interest’ there can be few who could be as dangerous. Of course it can be worse. Donald Trump, for example, has said that his morality is above all laws, domestic or international. He believes that ‘[his] morality, [his] mind is the only thing that can stop [him].’
But even if it’s something less grand, if the idea of being driven by people’s interest has taken hold to the point that it is the core belief, any opposition from any quarter or any kind would be immediately seen as ‘anti-people.’ Simultaneously such a leader, again in the name of the people and people’s interests, would have no qualms about quelling such dissent.
In such a scenario ‘other people’ cease to count. ‘Other people’ as in the objectors, that is. That’s where fascism begins. It comes without announcing itself, it comes without an introduction or name card. It has already taken root.
Fascist roots grow into enormous trees very fast. Its fertiliser is a simple formula: ‘I am right, therefore you must be wrong; I am for the people, therefore you must be against the people; I stand for progress, therefore you must stand for stagnation or worse.’
Those who think this way will not suffer criticism. Worse, they will not be self-critical. They see no reason to question themselves because they are convinced that they are right. And when things go sour, it’s someone else who is to blame. It could start, for example, with political opponents. Then the blame is shifted to officials. Eventually, the people.
Sometimes it is not really the arrogance (not courage) of convictions. It is fear. The powerful fear nothing more than to be seen as weak. Acknowledgment of error, in their book, amounts to a flaw. When flawlessness is assumed, even a single hairline fracture is seen as a chasm of gigantic proportions. When one sees one’s flaws in such dimensions it is inevitable to believe that others see them in similar proportions. That should not be allowed to happen. That’s the thinking, typically.
There’s just yes and no. Nothing between. Black or white, no other colours, no shades even. If honour claims are called to question, the fear is that one has been found guilty of being dishonourable. Nothing less than impeccable would do. But then one doesn’t have to be impeccable. All that matters is to convince oneself that one is impeccable. So even error is not seen as such.
It’s for all these reasons that over the centuries people have come to understand that humility more than anything else is the true signature of greatness. No braggadocio. No false claims. No strutting. Do what needs to be done without fanfare. Take praise in one’s stride and take seriously any criticism that may come one’s way.
Maybe we ought to practice saying the following: ‘Yes, you are right; I may be wrong.’ Makes it easy to actually say it when the occasion arises.
[This article was published in the Daily News under the weekly column title 'The Recurrent Thursday']
Malinda Seneviratne is a freelance writer. malindadocs@gmail.com
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