‘Often wrong but never in doubt’

During the 2020 Olympics (which were held in 2021 because, well, COVID), seemingly everyone had an opinion about U.S. gymnast Simone Biles.

And not because of her athletic feats and achievements.

If you recall, Biles withdrew from the Olympics, citing mental health reasons.

And people cared... like... A LOT.

I saw people accuse Biles of quitting on her team and country.

I saw people call her weak, soft, and someone who buckles under pressure.

I saw people lament that she was setting the example that its OK to quit when things get hard, and that people who supported Biles’ decision were glorifying quitting.

All this about one of the most decorated and successful athletes ever.

I also saw — in more than one instance — people invoke former U.S. President Teddy Roosevelt’s famous “Man in the Arena” speech.

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena ...” you can read the rest

The vast majority of us will never know the athletic achievements of an athlete like Simone Biles, nor will we experience the pressure she faces. Without that background, to dissect and critique the competition decisions she makes seems wildly misguided, considering the only people with a true grasp of the situation are Biles herself, her family, her coaches, and her teammates.

Which is why I ask the question: If someone — anyone — removes themselves from the “arena” in their life and says it’s for mental health reasons, why is our first and only response not “I hope they're OK?”

To have an opinion beyond that, without being in the arena yourself with that person, seems flawed.

A guest on my podcast, Matthew Barzun, discussed the famous “Man in the Arena” speech as well, and he brought up a fascinating point: that while it sounds and feels good and dramatic, the speech itself actually presents us a false duality of choice.

You either stick around and fight it out, or you quit and sit it out.

And those are simply not the only two paths. Listen to the interview to hear Matthew's deeper explanation.

Matthew also wrote in his book, “The Power of Giving Away Power,” that we so often adopt “a heavy voice that tries to convince yourself and others that you have it all figured out — that ‘often wrong but never in doubt’ tone of voice that is meant to sound certain and win arguments but sounds more than a little controlling.”

It’s a symptom of the way many of us were taught to communicate: Tell others what you know, and tell them what to do with that information.

The emphasis is on being “right” rather than seeking to understand, and as a result, most of us are still communicating through this one-directional communication lesson we learned as children.

That’s not saying people are childish; but rather, that we never moved beyond the very one-directional approach to communicating that we learned in our formative years.

Just watch how this plays out the next time you’re in a meeting.

Make note of how often certainty shows up instead of curiosity.

Pay attention to how many truly curious questions are asked.

The way most of us were taught to communicate was incomplete, and it’s affecting our ability to relate to each other and solve big problems in ways that bring others along rather than force solutions down people’s throats or make sweeping judgments about others.

That’s what most confused me about the Simone Biles situation in 2021. There was so much self-assuredness being tossed about, and for what gain? For what reason? For what end?

If we ourselves have never been in that arena, why do we feel so much pressure to argue a viewpoint or opinion that is so terribly ill-informed?

“Often wrong but never in doubt.”

My ask would be that, instead, we lead with empathy, and we leave it at that.

That’;s my plan.