Don't Be Afraid. Be Curious.

One of the things I try to practice as a humanist is not being afraid of my fellow humans. Instead, I try to be curious about them.

Jennifer in Prague

This might sound like a small distinction, but I think it makes a tremendous difference in how we experience the world. Fear encourages us to keep our distance, make assumptions, and see other people as potential threats. Curiosity invites us to get closer, ask questions, and discover who people actually are.

I find that curiosity helps keep my fears at bay. When I encounter someone unfamiliar, I can spend my time wondering whether they are someone I should be wary of, or I can wonder who they are, what their life is like, and what I might learn from them.

I don't have to assume that everyone is safe or trustworthy. I simply don't have to assume the opposite, either.

More often than not, I've discovered that people are interesting. They have stories, experiences, interests, and perspectives that I would never have encountered otherwise. Some of those encounters have turned into friendships. Others have been brief conversations that nevertheless left me thinking about the world differently.

And some have led to extraordinary experiences that I still cherish decades later.

You never know who's standing next to you

One time, I was waiting for a tire rotation at Costco when I struck up a conversation with a man about sumo wrestling. It turned out that this man had been Muhammad Ali's bodyguard.

Think about that for a moment. I'm standing around waiting for my tires to be rotated, chatting with a stranger and I discover that he has been the bodyguard of one of the most famous athletes in the world.

You have NO idea who is standing next to you until you ask.

I love this about talking to people. Everyone has a story, and you rarely know what that story is until you take the time to find out. The person sitting beside you at a concert, waiting in line at the grocery store, or sharing a table at a restaurant might have done something extraordinary, have an unusual job, or know things you would love to learn.

Or they might simply be someone with a life very different from yours, who can help you see the world from another perspective.

You don't find these things out by making assumptions from a distance.

You find them out by being curious.

Sometimes, the kids are all right

Just this past week, I went to a heavy metal performance where the band played live accompaniment to the silent movie Faust. It was an extraordinary experience, combining music and film in a way I hadn't experienced before.

But the evening also reminded me of something else I love about going out into the world: the people I meet along the way.

The man sitting next to me turned out to be a music therapist. He works with young adults who have aged out of foster care and are now living in assisted-living or hospital settings. He was also decades younger than I am and clearly a fan of heavy metal.

I learned so much from him. Here was someone doing work I knew relatively little about, helping people whose experiences deserve far more attention. A casual conversation at a concert opened a little window into his world. I got to learn about his work, his perspective, and the role music can play in people's lives.

All because I was sitting next to a stranger at a metal show.

Outside, another young man struck up a conversation with me. He turned out to be a newly married man who had been working on a tugboat. He was preparing to head out for one last six-month stint on a yacht in Florida before settling down with his wife, having a baby, and starting a family.

Here was someone in the middle of a transition, preparing to leave behind one kind of life for another. He had adventures behind him and a whole new chapter ahead.

We talked, and I got a glimpse of his life and his plans. I walked away feeling something I hadn't necessarily expected to feel when I set out for a concert.

I felt hopeful.

The kids are all right.

Not because two conversations can tell me everything I need to know about an entire generation. They can't. But they can remind me that the world is full of young people doing interesting work, building relationships, and figuring out what kind of lives they want to lead.

We hear plenty about what's going wrong, what's frightening, and why we should be worried about the future. But sometimes all it takes is a conversation with someone you wouldn't otherwise have met to remind you that there is a lot going right, too.

Curiosity gives us opportunities to discover that for ourselves.

I wasn't always good at talking to strangers

I realize that talking to strangers is scary for a lot of people. I understand that because I was once one of those people.

When I was young, I was so shy that if a stranger approached me, even another kid my own age, I would clam up. I'd just stare at them and then walk away without saying anything.

A woman I later became friends with once thought I was snooty because I ignored her when she tried to talk to me. She had no idea that I was simply too shy to respond.

Eventually, we became friends, and I ended up being a bridesmaid at her wedding.

I think about that experience when people don't respond to me or seem uninterested in talking. I try to give them grace. If someone doesn't want to talk, it's probably not about me. They may be shy, anxious, distracted, having a terrible day, or dealing with something I know nothing about.

We can't see inside other people's heads. We don't know what they're experiencing, what they're worried about, or what makes social interaction difficult for them.

So I try not to take it personally.

And I try not to assume that someone who doesn't immediately engage with me is unfriendly, just as I hope people won't assume the worst about me.

Curiosity and compassion go together. Being curious means wanting to understand people. Being compassionate means recognizing that we won't always know what they need or what they're going through.

Of course, this doesn't mean you should force conversations on people or ignore their boundaries. Some people prefer their privacy, and that's perfectly fine. I try to pay attention to whether someone seems interested in talking and give them an easy way not to.

The goal isn't to make everyone talk to me.

The goal is to remain open to connection when the opportunity arises.

Curiosity can take you places you never imagined

Some of my most treasured memories have come from being curious and open to experiences outside my own culture.

In the mid-1980s, I was studying at a college in China when I was asked to be an extra in a movie about the Soong Sisters. We were invited to the wrap party, which took place at an amazing restaurant.

As the evening progressed, the actors and actresses began performing for one another. One of them was a professional Chinese opera singer!

They encouraged us foreigners to sing, too. My fellow students all looked at me because they knew I sang.

And what was the first song that popped into my head?

"Jingle Bells."

Why? Because a few days earlier, I had spent an afternoon with a stranger I met in a market in Shanghai who wanted to practice his English. During our conversation, he told me that "Jingle Bells" was a song everyone in China knew.

So there I was, at a dinner celebrating the end of a film production I was somehow in because I was curious and said yes, surrounded by Chinese actors and actresses, including a professional opera singer, and there I am singing "Jingle Bells."

And they loved it! They all joined in and clapped and I honestly could not have picked a better song. They were thrilled to cross a cultural barrier with us. 

That entire experience was made possible, in part, by a conversation with a stranger who wanted to practice English. He shared a little piece of cultural knowledge with me, and later I was able to use it to connect with an entirely different group of people.

I couldn't have planned that experience if I'd tried. I simply had to be open to the people I encountered and interested in what they had to share.

That's one of the wonderful things about curiosity. It creates possibilities you can't anticipate in advance.

You don't know which conversation will turn out to be memorable. You don't know which seemingly insignificant detail will become useful later. And you don't know when something you learn from one person will help you connect with someone else.

You just have to be willing to participate in the world around you.

Sometimes, you have to be willing to look foolish

Another of my favorite memories comes from a trip to Greece during Greek Easter.

My hotel manager in Athens was an Egyptian man who was a Greek Orthodox priest but wasn't allowed to practice in Greece because he wasn't Greek. So he was managing a hotel instead.

He sent me to a little church to experience the Easter celebrations.

It was an adventure.

At one point, the priest in the church started waving an incense burner at me and asking me to "Christos." I didn't know what I was supposed to do, I panicked, and I left.

When I returned to the hotel and told the manager what had happened, he laughed so hard that he could barely contain himself. He took me up to the roof, where we drank ouzo together while he teased me, jangling his keys in my face to imitate the priest waving the incense burner.

It's a memory I've cherished ever since.

I didn't understand the customs. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. I made a bit of a fool of myself, and the whole thing became a wonderful shared joke.

I could have avoided the experience altogether. I could have stayed in the hotel, done something familiar, and never had the opportunity to participate in a religious celebration that was outside my own experience.

Instead, I got a story I still enjoy telling decades later, along with a memory of a man who was generous enough to send me on an adventure and laugh with me when it didn't go quite as planned.

Curiosity doesn't require you to be an expert. It doesn't require you to understand everything or always get things right.

Sometimes it just requires you to show up, try, and be willing to laugh at yourself.

Be present. You might be witnessing something extraordinary.

One of my most remarkable cultural experiences happened in Hawaii, on the Big Island.

A friend and I ended up at a restaurant in Hilo where a kumu hula was celebrating their retirement. A kumu hula is a master teacher of hula, and this was no ordinary gathering. The event brought together other kumu hula, along with some of the finest Hawaiian musicians in the Islands.

They were performing for the retiring master.

The dancing and music were extraordinary. These were artists performing for someone they respected, within a community that understood the significance of the occasion. It was a rare opportunity to witness something special, something that money couldn't simply buy a ticket to experience. Even attending the Merrie Monarch Festival wouldn't necessarily give you that same experience.

We had stumbled into it.

My friend wanted to leave. She thought it was just a normal hula show.

It wasn't.

I tried to explain to her just how special what we had stumbled upon was. This wasn't a performance put on for tourists. We were witnessing a gathering of extraordinary artists celebrating one of their own.

She still wanted to leave.

I stayed, but her reaction made me sad. We had been given an opportunity to witness something remarkable, and she was ready to walk away because she didn't recognize what she was seeing.

I don't blame her for not knowing. How could she know if she hadn't experienced it before? But, that's precisely the point.

Sometimes we don't recognize the significance of an experience because it falls outside our own culture, interests, or frame of reference. We see something unfamiliar and assume it's ordinary, or we decide it isn't for us before we understand what we're seeing.

But what if she had paused instead? I was honestly surprised that after I told her what this was we were seeing, she still wasn't interested.  She may have been really tired. But mostly - she just wasn't curious enough to care. 

When you see something unusual- stop. Watch. Ask questions. Even if it is mundane, it isn't mundane to you. It's extraordinary. Give yourself the time to enjoy it. 

Be curious enough to learn something about another culture, another community, or another way of expressing what it means to be human.

Even if you never fully understand its significance, you can still appreciate the privilege of being there.

Be present. Be curious. Don't be so quick to leave that you miss something wonderful.

Curiosity is a humanist practice

For me, all of these experiences connect to my practice as a humanist.

Humanism is about understanding what it means to be a good human being and to live well. It asks us to use reason, science, compassion, and responsibility to make sense of ourselves and the world we inhabit.

Curiosity is part of that process.

If I want to understand people, I need to be willing to learn about them. If I want to make good decisions about how to treat someone, it helps to know who they are rather than relying on assumptions. If I want to bridge cultural divides, I need to be willing to encounter people whose lives and experiences differ from mine.

I don't have to agree with someone to be interested in them. I don't have to share their tastes, background, or worldview. Curiosity isn't agreement, and it isn't approval. It's a willingness to learn before deciding what I think.

That distinction matters because we are all prone to making assumptions. Our brains are very good at sorting people into categories, filling in missing information, and using what we already know to make quick judgments. Sometimes that ability is useful. Sometimes it gets in the way of seeing the actual person in front of us.

Curiosity gives us a reason to pause.

Instead of assuming we already know the story, we can ask a question and find out. Instead of treating unfamiliar customs as strange or irrelevant, we can ask what they mean to the people who practice them. Instead of assuming that someone who looks or sounds different from us has nothing in common with us, we can look for opportunities to connect.

We might be surprised by how much we share.

And when we encounter real differences, curiosity helps us understand them without automatically turning them into reasons to fear or reject one another.

We don't have to pretend the world is harmless. We don't have to trust everyone, abandon our judgment, or ignore warning signs. Being curious is not the same as being careless.

It's simply recognizing that not knowing something is an invitation to learn, not a reason to be afraid.

Connection helps us feel less alone

I think we underestimate how much we all crave connection.

We want to be seen, understood, and treated as individuals. We want opportunities to share the things we care about and to discover that other people are interested in our lives. We want to feel that we're part of a world populated by other human beings, not just a collection of strangers we pass without noticing.

Not every interaction needs to become a friendship. Not every stranger wants to chat. But a little openness can create opportunities for connection that wouldn't exist if we all kept to ourselves.

Think about the people I've encountered over the years: the former Muhammad Ali bodyguard at Costco, the music therapist at a heavy metal concert, the young man preparing to start a family, the stranger in Shanghai who wanted to practice English, the hotel manager in Greece who shared a laugh and a drink with me, and the Hawaiian artists whose gathering I was fortunate enough to witness.

These people came from different backgrounds, generations, professions, and cultures. I didn't know their stories until I took the time to discover them.

And every one of those encounters added something to my life.

Some taught me something new. Some gave me a glimpse into a world I wouldn't otherwise have known. Some made me laugh. Some left me feeling more hopeful about humanity.

Together, they remind me that the world is full of people with interesting lives, generous spirits, extraordinary talents, and experiences worth sharing.

We miss so much of that when we retreat into fear.

And we don't have to.

Don't be afraid. Be curious.

I know that talking to strangers can be frightening. I know that not everyone finds it easy to approach someone new, and I know that sometimes people need to keep their distance. I was that shy young person once, and I haven't forgotten what that felt like. I also know that this chattiness is unique to Americans.

But I also know what I would have missed if I had allowed my fear to keep me from engaging with the world.

I would have missed friendships, unexpected adventures, cultural experiences, fascinating conversations, and memories that have stayed with me for decades.

I would have missed opportunities to learn from people whose lives were different from mine. I would have missed the chance to discover how much we can share across differences of age, nationality, profession, and experience.

And I would have missed many of the small, wonderful moments that make life feel rich.

So my advice is simple.

Don't be afraid. Be curious.

You don't have to talk to everyone. You don't have to put yourself in unsafe situations. You don't have to become an extrovert or pretend to be someone you're not. Just try to leave a little room for the possibility that the person standing next to you might have something interesting to share.

Ask a question. Listen to the answer. Give people grace when they're shy or distracted. Pay attention when someone tells you that you're witnessing something special. Be willing to step into an unfamiliar experience, even if you don't know exactly what you're doing.

And remember that curiosity works both ways. When we approach others with genuine interest and respect, we give them an opportunity to know us, too.

We cannot know in advance which encounters will become meaningful. That's part of the adventure.

But we can choose whether we meet the unfamiliar with fear or with curiosity.

I'd rather be curious.

Because every now and then, a conversation while waiting for a tire rotation leads to a story about Muhammad Ali. A chance encounter in China leads to singing "Jingle Bells" with a roomful of delighted performers. An awkward moment in a Greek church becomes a treasured memory shared over ouzo. And an evening at a heavy metal concert leaves you feeling hopeful about the next generation.

Sometimes, curiosity even lets you witness something so culturally meaningful that you couldn't have arranged it for yourself, no matter how much money you had.

These experiences don't make me believe that every stranger is wonderful or that the world has nothing to fear. They remind me that there is so much more to the world than the things we fear.

There are people to meet, stories to hear, traditions to learn about, and connections to make. There are extraordinary experiences waiting in ordinary places, often when we least expect them.

We don't have to know everything about one another to connect. We just have to be willing to start.

Don't be afraid. Be curious. Connect with your fellow humans. It will help you feel less alone.

Sometimes You Really Do Need a Deadline

 I have been meaning to launch my own video streaming service for over two years now. I’ve had people ask me for it. I’ve wanted to do it. I knew it would be super cool. I have enough video content to make it worth while. And yet… I didn’t do it.

In my defense, I moved to another city. I had to get settled, find my way around, make new friends, and generally rebuild my life. There were other things that were more important. So the streaming service stayed on my to do list. And stayed. And stayed.

Until my current video host announced that they were changing how they do things. And suddenly… I couldn’t wait anymore. Apparently, I really did need a deadline. 

So now I am in a mild state of panic, trying to get everything moved over. And here's the funny thing: it is WAY easier than I thought it was going to be.

Mind Fear

One of the reasons I had been putting it off was that, in my head, this was a HUGE, HUMUNGOUS JOB. I didn't understand how the system worked. I didn't know what all the tabs and options meant. I didn't understand how the controls affected the layout of the site. It was a giant unknown, and giant unknown things are really good at creating fear inertia.

But now that I'm actually doing it? I'm kind of thrilled. The support people have been helpful when I have questions. I'm figuring out what the controls do. I'm watching the site take shape and I LOVE how it looks and works. And I'm now thinking: I wish I had done this two years ago. LOL.

Can We Stop Procrastinating? 

But I don't actually think the lesson here is “Stop procrastinating.” I think the lesson is: Be honest with yourself. And be compassionate with yourself.

We all procrastinate. Sometimes we procrastinate because the thing genuinely doesn't matter very much. Sometimes we procrastinate because we don't have the bandwidth. There are other things that need our attention more. And sometimes we procrastinate because we're scared. We're overwhelmed. We don't know how to do something, and our brains turn “I don't know how this works” into “This is going to be horrible.”

The cure for that kind of fear inertia is simply knowledge. Once you learn how something works, it stops being a giant scary unknown and becomes a series of manageable tasks. And sometimes those tasks are even fun.

Of course, that's not always the answer. Sometimes your body chemistry is off. Sometimes you're exhausted. Sometimes you genuinely have too much on your plate. But for a lot of us, learning more about the thing we're avoiding can make a remarkable difference.

Finally Getting It Done

Which brings me to something else I've learned about managing life. As Madonna once put it, you can't juggle all the balls you have in the air all the time. But you can remember where they fell so you can pick them up again later.

That's what I think I was doing with this project. I wasn't abandoning it. I was putting it down. And now it's time to pick it back up.

And I'm really excited about what I'm building. The new streaming service will eventually give me a dedicated web portal for my videos, and I'll also be able to create apps for phones and native apps for Roku and other TVs.

It's gonna be cool. And, after two years of procrastination, it's finally happening. I discovered that this enormous terrifying project I avoided for two years is actually kind of fun. Who knew?

You can take a look at the new streaming service here and perhaps join: https://humanistlearningsystems.vhx.tv/

Humanist Learning Systems Streaming Service

There are several free videos- and for one low monthly price you can view all my online courses that require a subscription to view. Help a girl out! Sign up and support my work. You know you want to. 

What Monarch: Legacy of Monsters Teaches Us About Trust and Cooperation

 I’ve been watching Monarch: Legacy of Monsters, the series about the mysterious organization Monarch and the giant creatures—Titans, or kaiju—that occasionally emerge to wreak havoc on humanity.

I enjoy the series. Not only is Kurt Russell and his son playing the same character over different parts of his life, the other actors and actresses are really good too. Plus - what is NOT to like about a Kaiju movie. 

But, while I’ve been watching, I keep having the same thought. It's about Humanistic Management. 

Why don’t they just work together?

Seriously. Much of the plot revolves around people who are ultimately trying to accomplish the same thing: understand the Titans, contain the threat, and keep human beings from getting killed.

Yet again and again, the people involved work at cross purposes. They withhold information. They make decisions without knowing what other groups know. They become convinced that their approach is the correct one and everyone else is making things worse.

And, of course, sometimes their certainty is spectacularly misplaced. Their solution doesn't solve the problem. It makes it worse.

Which got me thinking about something much bigger than giant monsters. 

Cooperation

Cooperation is one of humanity's most important problem-solving tools. And cooperation depends on trust.  The problem is, when people disagree, they often loose trust. 

But, disagreement isn't necessarily a problem. Disagreement can be incredibly useful.

If everyone looking at a complicated problem reaches exactly the same conclusion, that doesn't necessarily mean they've found the right answer. It might mean they're all making the same assumptions.

The reason we need diversity of opinion and information is because: 

• Different people see different things.
• Different organizations have different experiences.
• Different experts have access to different information.

If we embrace that diversity, we can make collective problem-solving dramatically better. But only if the information is shared.

Information Hoarding is the Bane of Problem Solving

This is where Monarch keeps going wrong. The different groups are rarely working with the same information. One group knows something another group doesn't. Another group has evidence that would change the first group's understanding of the situation.

But the information remains siloed. So everyone is making decisions based on an incomplete picture. And here's the really interesting part: They don't necessarily realize that their picture is incomplete.

We don't know what we don't know

This is one of the most dangerous features of complicated problems. When you don't know something, you don't necessarily know that you don't know it.

You have some information available to you. You analyze it. You come to a conclusion. And from your perspective, the conclusion may look perfectly reasonable.

Meanwhile, someone else has another piece of information that would completely change your analysis. 

But you don't know that they have it. So you don't ask. Or they don't tell you. Or you don't trust them enough to believe what they tell you.

And now you have multiple groups of intelligent, competent people making completely different decisions about the same problem.

Not because they're stupid. Not necessarily because they're malicious. But because they're working with different versions of reality.  

This is like the blind men looking at an elephant. There information is correct, just incomplete. 

Certitude makes the problem worse

There's another problem that shows up repeatedly in Monarch: certainty.

People become convinced that their solution is the right solution. And once we become convinced that we are right, something interesting happens.

• We become less curious.
• We stop asking, "What am I missing?"
• Instead, we start asking, "Why won't everyone else listen to me?"

That shift is dangerous. If I believe I'm right and you disagree with me, I can interpret your disagreement as evidence that you don't understand the problem.

If I believe you don't understand the problem, I have less reason to listen to you. And if I don't listen to you, I won't discover the information you have that I don't.

Which means I become more certain while remaining woefully uninformed. That's a terrible way to solve complicated problems. It creates a feedback loop:

Certitude → less listening → less information → incomplete understanding → bad decisions → more conflict → greater certainty that everyone else is the problem.

And suddenly everyone is working harder and accomplishing less.

The missing ingredient is trust

So why don't people simply share information?

Sometimes the answer is obvious.

• They have competing interests.
• They want money.
• They want power.
• They want credit.
• They want to protect their organization.
• They are afraid that someone else will use their information against them.
• Sometimes they don't trust the other people involved.

And this is where the fictional kaiju problem becomes a very real human problem.

A shared goal isn't always enough to produce cooperation.

Two people can sincerely want the same outcome and still fail to cooperate if they don't trust one another. I can want to solve the problem while simultaneously worrying that you'll take advantage of me.

I can believe that we should both succeed while still believing that giving you access to my information will hurt me. I can even believe that you're a good person and still not trust your organization.

So information gets withheld. Decisions get made in isolation. And everyone loses the benefit of what everyone else knows.

Trust is the infrastructure of cooperation

We sometimes think of trust as the nice thing that happens after people have successfully worked together. But I think that's backwards.

Trust is one of the things that makes successful cooperation possible in the first place.

Cooperation requires vulnerability. I have to tell you what I know. I have to admit what I don't know. I have to allow you to challenge my assumptions. I have to give you information that you might be able to use against me.

And you have to do the same.

That requires a reasonable expectation that we are going to use what we know to solve the problem rather than to exploit each other.

Without that expectation, people protect information. And once information becomes something to hoard, cooperation starts to break down.

Information is a collective resource

Here's the part that really struck me while watching the show: Sometimes the most valuable thing you can contribute to solving a problem isn't your solution. It's the information that allows everyone else to see the problem more accurately.

Imagine five groups each have 20 percent of the information needed to solve a problem. If they cooperate, they might be able to assemble a reasonably complete picture. 

But if they don't share information, you don't have five teams working on a problem. You have five teams working on five different versions of the problem.

Worse, each team probably believes it has enough information to proceed. That's where unintended consequences come from.

It's also why organizations need to be extremely careful about information silos.

A silo can look efficient. But complex problems don't respect organizational boundaries. The monster doesn't care which department is responsible for it. Neither does a pandemic. Or climate change. Or a cybersecurity attack. Or a workplace conflict. Or a dysfunctional organization.

The problem exists in the real world, whether or not our organizational structures are designed to deal with it.  This is why the movie Shin Godzilla requires them to build an interdepartmental team to deal with the problem. Getting information into and out of the silos was a nightmare.  Eliminating the silos by creating an interdisciplinary team allowed the fictional Shin Godzilla governmental team to - fix the problem. 

And yes - Shin Godzilla is a Japanese Godzilla movie and Monarch: Legacy of Monsters is one of the USA versions. And that's probably why there is interdisciplinary cooperation in the Japanese film while the American show is ... mired in cooperation and trust problems. 

How do we in the west move forward?  Given our focus on individual cowboy self reliance? Maybe looking at the Japanese model will help. 

Cooperation doesn't mean everyone agrees

I'm not arguing that everyone needs to agree on a solution. Quite the opposite.

We need disagreement. We need people who will say:

• "Wait. What if we're wrong?"
• "We're missing something."
• "Here's what my team is seeing."
• "That doesn't fit with the evidence we have."
• "I think your solution could make this worse."

That's useful. The goal isn't consensus at all costs. The goal is shared understanding.

Once everyone has access to the ALL the relevant information, then we can disagree intelligently. We can compare competing hypotheses. We can test solutions. We can change our minds.

And perhaps most importantly, we can discover that none of us had the complete answer. 

That's not failure. That's what collective intelligence looks like.

The humanist case for cooperation

This is also where I think cooperation connects deeply with humanism. Humanism asks us to take human beings seriously—to recognize both our extraordinary capabilities and our limitations. 

One of our most important limitations is that none of us can know everything.

We are individual human beings with finite attention, finite knowledge, finite experience, and finite ability to process information. That isn't a defect. It's simply part of being human.

And because we are limited individually, we have developed an extraordinary workaround: We cooperate.

We specialize. We teach one another. We share information. We compare observations. We argue. We test ideas. We correct mistakes. We build knowledge collectively.

Civilization itself is, in many ways, a giant cooperation project. But cooperation only works when people can exchange information. And information exchange requires trust.

Don't let profit destroy cooperation

This is where things get particularly complicated.

Sometimes there are genuine reasons to protect information. Businesses have intellectual property. People have privacy. Organizations have legitimate security concerns. Not every piece of information should be shared with everyone.

But there's a huge difference between protecting information for a legitimate reason and siloing information because sharing it might reduce our advantage.

If we are facing a problem that affects everyone, deliberately withholding information that could help solve that problem can create enormous costs to the real live people we share this planet with.

Sometimes protecting our short-term advantage makes the long-term problem much worse. 

The question we should ask is:

Does keeping this information to ourselves help solve the problem—or does it simply help us maintain control?

Those aren't the same thing.  A big plot point of this show is that there is a multi-national corporation using the Kaiju attacks to create a business model that they can exploit. They have government contracts, but aren't dealing honestly with the government. They are pursuing their own economic objectives. 

More importantly, they also don't share the same objectives as the other groups in the show. While they do want to stop the Kaiju from hurting people. They are also trying to figure out if they can harness the Kaiju as a military weapon and control them. 

In other words, their main objective isn't to solve the problem. They see the problem, the Kaiju, as something they should try to control. And that is why they fail.

Control is an illusion.  We can barely control ourselves. A humanist doesn't try to control. We try to solve problems in a way that benefits as many people as possible. Creating another weapon - is not on our agenda. 

What if we assumed we were missing something?

Perhaps one of the most useful habits we could develop when facing complicated problems is intellectual humility.

Not: "I'm probably wrong."

But: "I might be missing something."

That small change matters. It makes curiosity possible. It makes questions possible. It makes listening possible. And it makes cooperation possible.

Before deciding that someone else is the obstacle, ask: What do they know that I don't know?

Before dismissing another group's solution, ask: What information are they working from?

Before becoming certain that your solution is the answer, ask: What would I need to know to discover that I'm wrong?

Those questions don't guarantee that we'll solve the problem. But they dramatically increase the odds that we're actually solving the same problem.

We don't need fewer smart people. We need smarter cooperation.

The lesson I took from Monarch: Legacy of Monsters isn't that people need to stop disagreeing.

It's that we need to get better at cooperating while we disagree.

We need to share information. We need to acknowledge uncertainty. We need to make it safe for people to tell us what we don't want to hear. We need to build enough trust that people aren't constantly protecting information from one another.

And we need to recognize that being confident in our own solution doesn't mean everyone else is incompetent. They may simply be seeing something we can't see.

The biggest problem isn't always that nobody has the answer. Sometimes everybody has a piece of the answer—and nobody is sharing. So the next time you're facing a complicated problem, don't just ask:

"What's the solution?"

Ask: "Who knows something I don't know?" Then listen to them.

Because when the problem is bigger than any one person, organization, or perspective, the path forward isn't finding the person who is right.

It's creating the conditions in which all of us can be right about something—and wrong about something—and still work together to figure out what to do to solve our collective problem. 

Lessons Learned:

The next time you think to yourself, if only this other person/group/organization/whatever, would accept I'm right we could solve this problem. Stop yourself from going down that rabbit hole.

Instead, remind yourself that they are operating from information you don't have. Use your critical thinking and compassion to be humble about what you almost certainly don't know. And start asking honest questions to learn - what you don't know.

And if someone tells you, there is more to this problem. Or that the problem has nuance to it that your solution isn't taking into account, please - LISTEN! 

Freedom Begins in the Mind

Recently, I've been spending time watching the new baby black crested mangabey at the zoo where I volunteer. His name is Sullivan. He's about two months old now—still tiny, still dependent on his mother's milk, still very much a baby. 

But something fascinating is happening. He's begun picking up pieces of lettuce and bringing them to his mouth. He's not actually eating the lettuce yet. He's copying his mother.

Watching him has been a delightful reminder that humans are apes too, and we learn much the same way. Before we understand the world, before we can reason about it, we imitate. We watch others. We mimic their behaviors. We absorb the habits, beliefs, fears, and preferences of the people around us.

This ability to learn through observation is one of our species' greatest strengths. It allowed human knowledge and culture to accumulate across generations. We don't each have to rediscover fire, invent language, or figure out social rules from scratch.

But this remarkable ability comes with a cost. The same brain that allows us to learn from others also makes us susceptible to being influenced by them. And that is why freedom begins in the mind.

When we think about freedom, we often think about external things—freedom of speech, freedom of movement, freedom from oppression. These freedoms matter enormously. But there is another kind of freedom that is just as important and often overlooked:

The freedom to think for yourself.

Your Brain Is Designed to Be Influenced

Every day, our thoughts, beliefs, and behaviors are being shaped by forces around us. Advertisers compete for our attention. Social media algorithms reward outrage and conformity. Peer groups exert pressure to fit in. Political movements, cultural narratives, and even workplace dynamics all attempt to influence what we believe and how we behave.

Most of this influence is not malicious. It is simply part of being human.

We evolved to be social because, for our ancestors, belonging to the group often meant survival. Individuals who paid attention to what others were doing and copied successful behaviors had an advantage.

The baby mangabey doesn't need anyone to explain to him that lettuce is food. He watches his mother and begins practicing the behavior long before he fully understands it.

Humans do the same thing.

Children imitate language, emotional reactions, social norms, and cultural beliefs long before they are capable of critically examining them. As adults, we continue to imitate, often without realizing it. We adopt opinions from our social groups, absorb assumptions from our cultures, and unconsciously respond to rewards and punishments in our environments.

Over time, these influences can become so deeply ingrained that we mistake conditioned responses for freely chosen decisions.

Freedom Requires Self-Awareness

The question is not whether we are influenced. We all are.

The question is whether we understand those influences well enough to choose how we respond to them.

Psychological freedom begins with self-awareness.

The moment we start asking questions, we reclaim power:

• Why do I believe this?
• Who taught me to think this way?
• Is this belief based on evidence or social pressure?
• Am I acting from my values or reacting from fear?
• Does this choice reflect who I want to be?

These questions interrupt automatic responses and create space for conscious choice.

Freedom lives in that space.

This is why critical thinking is so important. It is not merely an intellectual skill. It is a form of self-defense.

A person who understands behavioral psychology, cognitive biases, and social influence becomes significantly harder to manipulate. They become less dependent on social approval and more capable of acting according to their own values.

The Five Managerial Superpowers and Mental Freedom

Many people think leadership is about influencing others. But ethical leadership begins with learning to lead ourselves.

In Mastering the Five Managerial Superpowers, I explore five essential capacities that help individuals reclaim control over their thinking and behavior:

• Self-awareness
• Compassion
• Self-control
• Understanding behavioral science
• Managing conflict constructively

These are not merely management skills.

They are freedom skills.

Self-awareness helps us recognize when emotions and social pressures are driving our decisions.

Compassion allows us to understand others without becoming captive to their approval or disapproval.

Behavioral science teaches us how habits, rewards, and environments shape behavior—both our own and that of others.

Conflict management helps us resist manipulation through fear, intimidation, and social pressure.

Together, these skills create something powerful:

Psychological independence.

The ability to think clearly, act ethically, and choose deliberately instead of simply reacting.

Reclaiming Your Mind

Watching that little mangabey has reminded me of something profound.

Copying others is not a flaw in human nature. It is one of our greatest evolutionary strengths.

But maturity requires something more than imitation. At some point, we must move beyond merely copying the behaviors and beliefs around us and begin consciously deciding which ideas deserve our loyalty.

Freedom does not mean becoming immune to influence. That would be impossible.

Freedom means becoming aware of the forces shaping us and intentionally choosing which influences align with our values.

It means learning to pause before reacting.

It means questioning narratives, examining assumptions, and choosing principles over pressure.

Because while we cannot control everything happening around us, we can learn to better control how we respond.

That is where freedom begins.

Not in governments.
Not in institutions.
Not in other people.

But in the mind.

And perhaps one of the greatest forms of freedom available to human beings is this: the ability to understand how we are shaped, and then consciously choose who we wish to become.

If you would like practical tools for developing that kind of psychological independence, Mastering the Five Managerial Superpowers explores the behavioral science, self-awareness, and leadership skills that can help you become a more intentional, ethical, and resilient human being.

Because before we can lead others well, we must first learn how to lead ourselves.