Confrontation, Confidence, a Will to Power, and the Question of "Why"

Well into my early adulthood, I was scared to confront people. A closely related fear was incurring someone’s disappointment. It wasn't so much that I wanted to be liked. Rather, I was generally fine with not being noticed, and I was frightened by the prospect of being disliked. And so my avoidance strategy was to be maximally agreeable, maximally apologetic, maximally polite, maximally equivocal. I thought I came off as reserved and reserved was how I felt. But people can misinterpret reticence for aloofness or even arrogance.

Many people around me expressed themselves with great confidence, and I associated that confidence both with superior knowledge and superior fortitude. To use another term, they had a superior “will” as in the “Will to Power,” Nietzsche’s vague concept that human life is a struggle to dominate, and that the winners are those possessed of greater Will. The mentality of “might makes right.”

There’s a simple two by two matrix describing performance as a combination of skill and will. I was always a very good student and in the academic arena where my performance was judged by solitary activities like taking tests and writing papers, I was able to excel by skill alone. I had no need to impose my will on anyone. This continued when I started work as a junior analyst. I was given tasks like creating spreadsheets that I could do by myself.

It was in my thirties, as I became a more senior employee, that I started to notice that some of my peers had far greater “will” than I had. They were fearless networkers, fearless risk takers, and these traits propelled many of them to start their own firms. I envied their success, but not to the point of wanting to do the same. The prospect of asking investors for money to back me in a fledgling firm seemed as precarious as walking across a tightrope a thousand feet in the air. So I stayed where I was, comfortable and successful on my own terms.

I recall one of the founders of my firm saying to the founder of another firm that “C” students ended up hiring “A” students to work for them. The comment wasn't aimed at me, but I resented it! My resentment found expression in my “A” student’s petty, pointless series of pedantic revenges. For example correcting the founder’s misuse of the word obtuse when he had meant abstruse. It didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest.

What I realized much later (as in now, as I’m writing this) was that his declaration about “A” and “C” students was his way of dealing with some slight lingering sting of not excelling at school by turning it into a virtue. For he was extremely successful at business and undoubtedly blessed with both will and skill.

I also realized that my peers who had started their own firms were hardly “Gentlemen C” students. Many had brilliant minds. They were extremely purposeful and thoughtful about their career arc, while I was satisfied/comfortable with my progress as a non-founder at work and the life/work balance of spending as much time as I could at home as a young husband (married at 23) and young father (children born when I was 25, 28, and 30).

If this sounds defensive, in part it certainly was. I would tell myself that my balanced life between work and home would have been impossible if I’d had the will to start my own firm. Both true and convenient. We fit the narrative of our life to match a soothing and often flattering self-perception.

A watershed for me was undergoing a “business psychological analysis.” Before our firm hired someone as a CEO of one of the private equity companies we owned, we had an expert evaluate the candidate’s history in the context of whether they were a good fit for the job. This included a torturous four hour interview. I decided to undergo the process myself. Plus, our expert conducted a dozen interviews about me with various people I worked closely with at the firm.

The headline was “David should speak up more; we want to know what he’s thinking.” My wife read the thirty page report and said it had been a complete waste of money, because if asked, she could have told me the exact same thing, free of charge.

I did start speaking up more, and now as I’ve grown older, the distinction between will and skill has seemed less relevant to me. Perhaps it’s because I’ve become more comfortable with what I’m good at. I maintain a vestige of conflict fear, but my desire to be candid in expressing my opinions has become the far stronger driver of my behavior.

I’ve been ending these posts with a connection to politics, and this one is no exception. Clearly, people running for office have to possess a tremendous amount of will. Political office at the higher levels carries with it a great deal of power. To seek one of these offices, a “will to power” is necessary. Without it, no candidate in our modern system could sustain their grueling campaigns.

If the allure of power is consistent among candidates, the question of why they seek power is certainly not. I’d divide the answer to why into two broad categories: either (1) to pursue a set of policies the candidate believes in or (2) because it’s the next career step to satisfy their ego or their sense of destiny.

But even a crystal clear answer to why, such as “I feel a calling to make the world a better place and here’s specifically how I want to do it” is incomplete. For there is always an element of pure satisfaction in exercising power. We are all wired that way.

In 1979, Ted Kennedy, contemplating a challenge to Jimmy Carter for the Democratic nomination for president, was interviewed by Roger Mudd of CBS who asked that all important question: “Why do you want to be president?” Kennedy flubbed the answer badly. He showed neither passion nor set forth any specific agenda. It hurt him.

I wish that the why question was pursued relentlessly, not only of prospective presidents, but also of prospective governors and senators and representatives. I recently read the NYT editorial board’s transcripts of their interviews with the two candidates for NY governor and the “why” question was absent.

If we voters had a better grasp of a candidate’s answer to“why,” it’s possible we’d make better choices.

Here’s the Ted Kennedy Clip (Hazy resolution, like his answer)