Much of the existential theory and stimulation that we receive in contemporary society is directed at encouraging us to achieve our potential. We are instructed to be proud of our achievements, to aim high and hit, to affirm ourselves.
Often, these messages come from malignant sources and are tainted with foul manipulations. The clearest example of this is advertising lingo, which encourages us to be a winner, the envy of our street, to lord our material possessions over our neighbours. This kind of stuff is toxic because it locates the sum of a man in his possessions rather than his accomplishments. I don’t want to devalue the exploits of people who authentically desire money and power because of the existential satisfaction it provides them (people like Donald Trump or Vivi Nevo), rather the superficial notion that owning something like a car can possibly make you a ‘success’. Individuals like trump have achieved a great many things—things which many might consider pointless, mindless or superficial, but they still amount to achievements. Some cat who spent his life in middle management and then bought a Ferrari is not the same.
A good example of a positive piece of advice is the Coach Carter quote that I often mention:
‘Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate, but that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that others won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine as children do, and as we let our own lights shine we unconsciously give others permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, so to do we liberate others.’
This quote has been wrongly attributed to Nelson Mandela. The original is actually from Marianne Williamson — a Christian woman — and is somewhat different to the way it appeared in Coach Carter, which I have quoted above. I won’t go into too much detail on the matter, but the Christian themed quote is, I think, useless, because it makes the reason for shining the fact that God wants you to, which to me, defeats the point. We must shine because we want to; because we want to be the best we can be; because we want to affirm ourselves and show the world our glory, not Gods. My attitude on this matter was described to me once by a genuinely lovely Christian woman as ‘the essence of sin’. Oh well.
In any case, I think there is a great deal of truth to the idea that we should try to get the most out of life and take it and ourselves to the limit whenever possible.
The problem arises when we try and enact this desire to achieve our potential. What does that actually mean? Advertising tends to underline the idea of being ‘better’ than your fellow man, but I think that rings hollow and is generally a socially toxic notion. It might also lead to neurosis if we keep chasing after something that we are not capable of, such as in the case of those of less ability. More subtly, advertising and capitalist materialist culture generally hold one standard upon which everyone is judged. There is no sense in which standards are adaptable to the individual in question. This is horrifically toxic, because it leads a great many people to feel worthless.
As a side note, this bleeds into a great many movements in educational theory, in particular the move away from constant standardised testing and ranking, the notion that education should be designed to foster the various talents of students (e.g. creativity, athleticism, horticulture, design, numeracy etc) rather than funnelling them through the narrow streams of literacy and numeracy. I have been preparing a series of articles on this topic for many years but I never seem to get round to finishing them off (a bit like that intimacy article that took about 6 years…).
Alongside the neurotic pursuit of material indicators of ‘success’, our desire to affirm ourselves and shine for all our peers to see is increasingly leading to the idolisation of perfection in our society. Athletes, geniuses, brilliant artists, saints and corporate powerhouses tend to dominate our ideas about role models. Unfortunately, this simplistic kind of perfection requires not only talent that many of us do not possess, but a degree of specialisation that is not only unsuitable for most people but also arguably unhealthy. Consider Rafael Nadal, a standout example of the modern athletic role model. He is dominant in his sport. He is modest, a gentleman of the game, and a good citizen (he has a productive charity foundation). He is also obsessive compulsive to a fault, has limited social skills, and cannot engage in many topics other than tennis or soccer. Rafa has played tennis for a minimum of five hours per day since he was ten, and was already playing several hours a day before that, it was simply coupled with soccer. As much as he is a paragon of human potential, he is a very narrow individual. Similar things can be said about history’s greatest musical prodigies, who often came across as deranged. Even more peculiar are the assorted the geniuses of history. For example, Martin Heidegger, unanimously considered one of the most influential philosophers of the 20th century, was widely regarded as a prick, and once explained to a visiting Spanish colleague: ‘oh you speak Spanish? Well you can’t really do philosophy then…’ Kant didn’t recognise his own sister when she came to visit, and sent her away to come back once he had finished an enthralling discussion he was having in his kitchen with some friends. Similarly, I am reminded of a chap we brought to a conference once who’d gained his doctorate at 22 but when seated at a table of other interested students, took out a book and started to read…
I am not trying to suggest that ultra specialised individuals like Kant or Rafael Nadal are not good people. I am certainly not trying to suggest that they are bad human beings. The notion that if someone is not ‘like the rest of us’ then they are worthy of our contempt is an idea worthy of our contempt. I have particular issues with the attitude of such individuals as Paul Johnson, who argues that because individuals like Sartre and Marx did not behave in accordance with Bourgeois mores and values during their lifetime they have no right to comment on the moral character of society. Not only is this argument cyclical and illogically conservative (if you are critiquing something then obviously you aren’t going to confirm to it in the first place), but it also suggests that individuals who are weird, abnormal, unusual, odd or otherwise different are of less value than the average. That is a disgusting proposition.
What I am trying to suggest is that while narrow perfection is admirable and something we should continue to celebrate it is not something that we should be generally encouraging anyone other than the most talented and obviously inclined individuals to aspire to. Perfection in this form is important for society because it highlights the extent of human potential and the outlying limits of our condition. It reveals the heights and brings about accomplishments that we can all take pride in. It was an enormous achievement for humanity when man first broke the 10 second barrier for the hundred metres, and it will be similarly enormous when someone first runs the two hour marathon. These achievements are just like the moon landing. We as individuals didn’t do it, but it is something everyone can be proud of. There is a similar kind of mass unconscious gratification that accompanies the production of massive works of art like the oeuvre of Mozart or Marx’s ‘Das Capital’.
The unfortunate fact is that in modern society, ‘stand-out’ perfection that is worthy of recognition, necessarily requires narrow specialisation and total dedication, which isn’t something the average or rather, ‘every’ man can aspire to. With the population explosion that has accompanied industrialisation and modern medicine and the concentration of individuals into urban centres, ‘standing out’ is nearly impossible. Sociologist Georg Simmel, writing at the advent of the modern metropolis in the late 19th century, noted that in small town communities standing out was simple because difference is easily recognisable. If you are wearing a green shirt while the nine other people in your community always wear brown, you will stick out like a sore thumb. By contrast, in the metropolis, while a nuanced individuality is made possible by the absence of strict community norms and mores, recognition of your uniqueness is much more difficult to achieve because the individual is levelled into the great mass of society. If a 9999 other people are wearing green shirts then your decision to don one in contrast to the 90 000 people wearing brown won’t get you any recognition as an individual, even if you’re shirt happens to be mustard coloured rather than leafy green. In the modern metropolis, the potential to subscribe to increasingly microcosmic subcultures, personal value systems and ethical codes, styles of dress, institutional preferences and the like mean we are free to develop a highly individualised identity, but that identity is increasingly difficult to have stand out from the identity of everyone else.
It would appear that we are in a bit of a bind. We are to encourage individuals to fulfil their potential but discourage them from perfection. We are to encourage individuals to affirm themselves — to make a unique, individual imprint on the world — but this is increasingly difficult to do.[1] Given these circumstances, what kind of standard can we erect for people to strive for? If standing out is the only way to receive acknowledgement and standing out can only be achieved by narrow perfection, which is almost impossible without neurosis, what do we have left?
What these questions point to is the need to establish a thoroughly modern conception of what it means to be a high calibre individual. That is, someone who is worthy of acknowledgement by their immediate circle and who can be safe in the knowledge that they have fulfilled their potential, but who is not necessarily ‘perfect’ or even specialised. In erecting such a standard, we maintain our appreciation of traditionally high calibre individuals — geniuses, power athletes etc — while establishing a model that everyone can strive for.
So just what is a high calibre individual? This question captivated the Greeks, but has since disappeared as a directly discussed topic. Perhaps Christianity is somewhat to blame. The Greeks — Aristotle in particular — were very concerned with ‘the virtues’. In contrast to monotheists however, the Greeks considered virtues something inherent to an individual, like character traits, rather than external mores that one aligned to. There was an acceptance among the Greeks that all individuals were different and unique, and that their virtues would thus be a mixed bag. The Christians, on the other hand, established one standard of perfection for everyone.
The Greeks considered things like a sense of humour a virtue. They were not devoted entirely to moral virtues, but rather, to a notion of high quality humans. There question regarding virtue was something along the lines of: ‘what kind of person would you like to hang around with?’ rather than ‘what is righteous?’ This is related to the Greeks’ general disinclination towards moralising (foolishness vs. sin, for example), but I will leave that for another article.
Let us re-open this discussion of what the content of the expression ‘high calibre’ is. Some things spring to mind immediately. When you hear of an attractive person, you are usually informed first that they are handsome/beautiful, and rather clever. As a bonus, they turn out to be quite fun, and have strong social skills. The old expression ‘take him home to mother’ suggests that high quality men, at least in the eyes of women, are good, honest, reliable chaps. We could label this ‘upstanding’.
I would like to add a few more things to the mix. For starters, a bit of character always helps. Almost everyone has character once you get to know them, but it’s always so refreshing to come across someone who really screams originality. Obviously this can sometimes lead to eccentrics (not that I dislike eccentrics), but that is not what I am talking about. The key thing is to have depth. There are people you come across who obviously know their values, ethics, views on things, aspirations, etc. down to a very fine detail. That is character. While being insanely loose, debauched and unconventional is also character; that sort of character isn’t something you can really work towards, nor is it necessarily all that great in the long term for you or the people you hang around with.
A more difficult question but one that certainly deserves attention is the issue of moral fibre. Just how ‘good’ is a high calibre individual, and what form does this goodness take? I think it is crucial to underline from the outset that answering this question requires a pluralist attitude to goodness, because otherwise we run the risk of establishing a standard that is not malleable to the individual in question; and of producing ‘righteous’ individuals.
There was a time when righteousness was a very agreeable character trait, but I feel that time has passed. There are few things more infuriating that someone who always looks down their noses at you because they consider you sinful, particularly when you don’t consider yourself sinful, merely different to them. Righteousness can also lead to a horrible phenomenon where people are not judged on balance, but rather on whether or not they conform to a set of formalities. For example, I have come across a great many upper class Catholics in old Eastern Europe who will consider someone the opposite of good if they don’t know traditional table manners, and don’t apologise for being five minutes early to an engagement (heaven help them if they are late). The righteous can often sideline someone because they are a little rough around the edges; even though they happen to very generous and possess a strong ethical code (consider whether The Punisher is a good guy, for example).
Any notion of virtuousness (in the moral sense) that we establish as part of our standard of high calibre must accommodate people’s varying social context, history, upbringing and the like. We must be able to assess how genuinely good someone is in the fibre of their being, rather than how well they conform to external codes that are easily bastardised and corrupted.
Considering all this, I think we can only really lay out a few general principles of virtuousness. Some things to consider might be a sensitivity to injustice, genuine concern for the wellbeing of others, a desire to do good, integrity, decency, honour (in the sense of someone’s ‘word’ — their trustworthiness), a strong degree of unwillingness to do harm to undeserving people,[2] and generosity (which can take many forms). I would like to underline that all these virtues can emerge from within the individual and can have a highly subjective nature. A guerrilla commander for example, who may engage in torture and murder, could still possess a great many good characteristics, such as sensitivity for injustice, honour and integrity. I think it crucial to focus on the good things in people rather than the bad. Our conception of a high calibre individual must be founded on aspiration, rather than negative possession. That is to say, it is about being something, rather than about not being something.
As we move towards an increasingly multi-cultural, multi-religious and global society, moral pluralism is going to become an increasingly important concept.
Alongside the things I have listed so far, I would like to add that high calibre people are, by and large, thoroughly normal. Now this is a little controversial, and needs some explanation.
Obviously I am not suggesting that abnormal people aren’t high calibre. I think I have already addressed this sufficiently. I am also not suggesting that we erect an objective standard of normal and reject people who can’t live up to it. This would probably result in the idolisation of the average, which is something I am vehemently opposed to (not to mention that the average is often very far from normal). Rather, I am trying to highlight the fact that many of the high calibre people I have met are very smooth, and the only word I can think of that describes what I am talking about is normal.
Perhaps an illustration will help me explain. Van Gough, who infamously cut off an ear and presented it to a prostitute who had scorned him, was not normal, though his artistic achievements suggests that he was doubtless high calibre. Similarly, Dostoevsky, who repeatedly gambled away his family’s livelihood, was not normal, though his literary exploits suggest that he was very high calibre.
In contrast to these individuals I offer Richard Bowman. Richard was a client of mine while I was coaching tennis in Sydney Brisbane
His kids were equally calm and normal. This is in contrast to the hyperactive and often neurotic children that frequented the club. Too much pressure from schools and/or parents meant that some kids would throw tantrums, break racquets and storm off court if they didn’t get something perfect almost instantly, which left many of the coaching staff baffled.
Again, there is a side issue here relating to education theory that I think needs addressing. Many elite schools are increasingly fond of ranking students and encouraging competition. For example, Sydney
The curious thing for me about people like Richard is that if you were asked to describe them in one word you would probably say: normal. So what does that mean? I find that normal people tend to be defined by possessing all those qualities that make spending time with them imminently tolerable. Things like generosity and attentiveness are obvious. What’s less obvious is that normal people tend not to get angry or frustrated when the lawnmower won’t start or there is a traffic jam. They’re patient. When they’re engaged in conversations they are polite and respectful even when the topic is a little controversial or someone is behaving belligerently.
I also find, and this is interesting, that they have very minimal wants. They usually dress well and practically for example, but almost never in high fashion brands and they tend to dress down whenever possible. Another example would be appreciating a good meal but being disinclined to give a damn about presentation or how many stars/hats a restaurant has.
Normal people can appreciate the little things in life.
Another oft-overlooked trait of normal people is that they have a quiet dignity and generally possess very good self-esteem (this despite not being particularly ‘special’). This has a great many side benefits. For example, they rarely get angry or react cruelly to perceived insults to their pride. They can muse on questions that are difficult or painful for them without turning disrespectful or quarrelsome. They are also very relaxed about everything.
One thing that I want to stress is that even Bowman, the example par excellence of normal, did not think that normal meant average or median. One of his most oft-repeated slogans was ‘that’s soft’. Bowman very much believed that you should try and reach your potential, and that if you were going to do something you should do it properly. At the same time, he didn’t believe in taking that principle to brain-dead lengths.
Returning to potential characteristics of high calibre individuals, I would like to consider for a moment the notion that anything can be a characteristic if it is done in an exemplary way. For example, I am always impressed by people who are well read and can contribute to discussions on a wide range of topics even though this isn’t something I would really consider fundamental to the quality of a human being. Similarly, when you meet someone who has a really wicked model train set and a meticulously hand-crafted world to run them through, it’s great, and contributes to their quality as a person.
What I am trying to get at here is that while we can come up with various lists of characteristics, it is imperative that we judge people on balance and in context. Someone need not tick all the boxes to qualify as a high calibre individual, and certainly not to qualify for our respect and admiration. This balance principle encompasses not only our high regard for perfectionists like Roger Federer or Liszt (or Prince, or Hendrix or that matter), but also the quality of individuals like dedicated community leaders and good mothers. Such a standard allows people to pursue their own talents and interests and nonetheless maintain confidence in the thought that their peers appreciate and think highly of them. Individuals are free to pursue one or more aspects of the list to a greater or lesser extent without losing a connection to what society deems worthy. They might decide to focus on athletic pursuits and become a strong hobby adventure athlete while also pursuing a solid career in high school teaching. Or they might decide to dedicate all their time to becoming damn funny. The key is to assess people on balance relative to how they have achieved their potential in the way they wanted to.
In this way, our idea of what it means to be high calibre can continue to act against ‘dial-tones’ without marginalising people with unusual or less socially instrumental talents and interests.
The discussion so far has led towards a rebirth of the very Greek (contra Christian) notion of what it means to be a ‘good person’. The virtuous person for the Greeks was someone who was ‘good’, but this referred not to their fascistic conformism to external codes of behaviour, but rather to their general quality. We need to get back to this way of thinking. We need to encourage people to be the best they can be in terms of what they think is good and what they want to be, rather than in terms of what we socially consider perfect, whether it be the traditional bourgeois professions of doctor and lawyer, the intellectual pinnacle of university professor, or the increasingly dominant capitalist ideal of a financial behemoth.
Allowing and encouraging everyone to feel like a valuable member of society, a successful person, and a ‘good’ citizen is the key to a harmonious society, not the ridiculously self perpetuating idea of allowing everyone to be rich enough to afford x, y, and z. If we all had a BMW, then some people would have Ferrari’s, and the whole filthy rat race would continue. The problem with the rat race is that even if you win, you’re still a rat. By contrast, if we all endeavour to fulfil our subjective potential, then we’re all value, exemplary super people. Anyone can take pride in that. Everyone can feel like a winner.
Perfection is not something we should go around chasing, or maybe we should, but then we mustn’t define it in a way that requires ultra specialisation. We must continue to celebrate people who do achieve wonderful things through specialisation, because such people push the boundaries of human capability and remind us of our brilliant potential. We must also develop a parallel definition of perfection that pertains to what it means to be high calibre – a quality human being. Some things to get us started could be character, humour, and a normal disposition, but there is still work to be done. I would very much like to hear people’s thoughts on the modern virtues and what they think makes a great person.
[1] There an interesting side note here for anyone who is interested in Nietzsche’s take on all this. A South American Academic has recently published an article called ‘Is Nietzsche a Perfectionist’.
[2] This is a really interesting point when you think about it in terms of anti-heroes and tribal dynamics and the validity of eye for an eye or revenge. Anti heroes like those played by Vin Diesel tend to do a lot of violence, but rarely to innocents. Tribal dynamics often lead certain groups (such as colleges) to behave in an abhorrent manner towards individuals from others colleges for no reason other than a supposed rivalry. Revenge is something that, at least in masculine centric circles, is often considered quite reasonable. If someone rapes and murders your wife, there is a sense in which you are entitled to go and fuck them up. Nietzsche Second Essay in The Genealogy of Morals and Foucault’s Discipline and Punish discuss this notion of eye for an eye at greater length and in better detail.
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