Winston Churchill’s contemporary Clement Attlee, the leader of the Official Opposition in the United Kingdom, was humble almost to a fault. In some instances, Attlee’s humility was used against him, who was described by Churchill as a “modest man, a lot for which to be modest.” Of course, Attlee was quite accomplished serving as Prime Minister following the Second World War and bringing about significant social transformation and benefits to working people. He was known to have an uncanny ability to speak and relate to all sides and institute the kind of a change without divine afflatus (or at least it seemed). Attlee did not appear to be under the torment that sometimes affects the minds of geniuses. At the same time, his modesty was used to lampoon him by suggesting that he was altogether absent. He was so unassuming even as the island nation’s leader, one of the jokes was that “an empty taxi drew up to 10 Downing Street and Attlee got out.”
There is honor, however, in the kind of modesty that characterized Attlee—the type of person who is genuinely comfortable with their own limitations but confident enough to make bold moves without being boisterous in the process. And even after achieving what he set out to do, he did not feel compelled to point out its ownership. Instead, he allowed his work to speak for itself and trusted history (as it has done) to judge him on its merits. I imagine that he occasionally spoke of his successes and failures, his hopes and fears, with someone, but apparently it was outside public discourse and earshot of anyone in the halls of Parliament. What is the value of having the resolve to stay quiet and allowing one’s actions to do the talking? To whom, if anyone, should one confide in those needs, concerns and desires that we all have that push against being modest? That said, I wonder about the relative importance and benefits of such a trait? In a time and place where social media is ubiquitous and there seems to be a premium on branding and self-promotion, can today’s court leader afford to be modest?
***
Summer had not yet arrived, but Toni was already spending more of her weekends at her beach house in preparation for the warmer months. A small four-room home nestled in the shore landscape, its exterior was painted in a soft coastal grey that sometimes blended with the backdrop of overcast skies in late August and early September. She could afford a larger house on the beachfront, but she’d tell you that it was purchased for comfort and relaxation. In practical terms, she did not want to be preoccupied with owning a large second home. Instead, she opted for a cozy refuge located about a mile off the coastline that made the beach a walkable distance without her needing to be overly concerned about the property when hurricane season arrived. The strategy worked for her – the space offered a peaceful retreat, with soft linens, airy curtains, and decor inspired by the Atlantic – seashells she collected over the years, frosted glass pieces, driftwood accents, and a large oil painting of a ship that reminded her of the same vessel she traveled on when first arriving to America.
Toni invited me to join her for breakfast to celebrate an award that I mentioned receiving from a professional organization I was affiliated with. She would not tell me what she was preparing – only that it was sure to please and that it would serve to mark the occasion. I pulled my car in and parked behind her vehicle in the driveway that extended alongside the home. As I got out of my vehicle, I drew in as much of the sea air as my lungs could take and was reminded how the surrounding property was just as inviting as the home itself. A small two-step porch greeted visitors at the end of the stone pathway. Confined as the grounds were, Toni always found space for her flower gardens of hydrangeas, purslanes, and sea thrift. The front door was ajar and so I didn’t bother ringing the bell and just knocked on the screen door while opening it to announce my arrival, “Hello. Your perpetual guest is here.”
“You know better than to ever think of yourself as a guest in this house,” Toni responded from the kitchen. “Come on in.”
She had already set the table. “Nothing short of marvelous, Toni. Thank you for doing this,” I stated while walking into the kitchen and taking in the sights and smells of her cooking laboratory.
“It was no trouble at all – no need to thank me. I’m serving leftovers from yesterday. First things first though, let’s toast the occasion,” she stated, pouring prosecco into two flute glasses. “Now I know what you’re thinking. But prosecco isn’t considered alcohol if it’s served with a full breakfast. Besides that, it’ll be noon in about an hour.”
“I don’t need anything justified so long as you approve of it,” I replied.
“You’re giving me more credit than I deserve so I wouldn’t go that far.”
We raised our glasses and she toasted, “To this recognition of your hard work and commitment and to many more accolades to come your way.”
“Thank you, Toni – I appreciate that.”
She takes a couple of sips and places her glass on the counter. “Okay, while the tea simmers, I’m going to finish getting this food prepared.”
“Can I help?” I asked.
“There’s nothing to help with so just relax.”
I stroll across the kitchen toward the French doors that lead out to the backyard. Savoring the tingling sensation of the prosecco’s delicate bubbles, I stared at the patio with the fire pit where we’d occasionally gather at dusk after a day at the beach. The flames mirroring the colors of the sunset still vivid in my mind’s eye.
“Ok, the tea’s ready. But I’ll warn you that I’m taking some liberties with it.”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“It’s a green chai served with gallo pinto.”
“Everything goes with gallo pinto so I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“I have other food for us to pick at, but I wanted to also serve this very unassuming dish.”
“I’m sensing a metaphor, Toni.”
“Haha,” she chuckled. “You’ve always been my best student.”
“But – tea first! Discussion of philosophical approaches second.”
We began sipping the tea as she served the gallo pinto. The rice and beans gave it a mild, nutty taste, but the flavor comes from the seasoning of the diced vegetables and salsa lizano.
“How is it?” Toni asked.
“Well, I don’t think you need to second guess yourself. The blend that draws on the grassy notes and spices of the chai is great. The cardamom, cloves, and black pepper gives it depth, complexity, and character but its subtle at the same time,” I stated with a grin.
“Good one – now I think you’re trying to draw an analogy. But I was asking about the gallo pinto.”
“I was – it was a poor attempt to match yours. But the gallo pinto is also good, however unassuming it may be.”
“Yes – and that’s how I want you to be. Even after reaching these new heights in your career.”
“You want me to be like gallo pinto?” I asked confused.
“Yes and no. You’re the recipient of an extraordinary honor. Enjoy the moment but in the words of Rudyard Kipling, I would like for you to be mindful so that you ‘don’t look too good, nor talk too wise.’”
I sip on the tea thinking for a moment that the warm earthiness of the chai would clear my mind so that I could more fully absorb her advice. “People are not necessarily pleased to see you succeed,” I concluded.
“Some will be. Others may not. But in either case, the world does not seek to honor anyone, but it wants to be honored even in those instances when it’s giving you the platform to be recognized. You’ll come to realize then that there’s more power in being silent.”
“I don’t feel like this applies to you though. I feel very comfortable telling you everything.”
“And you should. Don’t misunderstand what I’m suggesting. I encourage you to share the good and the bad with your tribe. And when something is known outside of that circle, particularly when it relates to some kind of achievement, don’t gloat. If it’s that remarkable, trust that others will do the talking.”
“What do you mean by ‘tribe?’” I asked.
“That’s just my way of describing the people who feel your wins and losses. They know your memories. They can be trusted to be your advocate in rooms where you were never present. Your success is their success. Your failure is their failure. And vice versa. I’m using the word ‘your’ as a collective. Before disclosing information – good or bad – about yourself with folks outside this circle (particularly if they’re not asking), ask yourself in what interest does it serve.”
“What’s the purpose?” I countered.
“Precisely.”
I took another sip of tea and concluded, “That’s going to amount to a very small number of people.”
“In some instances, it’s as small of a group as it gets.”
***
In the film, A Bronx Tale, a repeated refrain of Sonny LoSpecchio, the local mafia capo played by Chazz Palminteri, was “Nobody cares.” It’s the same advice he shares with Calogero, a young neighborhood kid who he takes under his wing. In one scene the 8-year-old laments feeling bad for Mickey Mantle because the newspaper reported that he could not stop crying after the Yankees lost Game 7 of the 1960 World Series to the Pittsburgh Pirates when Bill Mazeroski hit the game-winning home run in the bottom of the 9th inning. Sonny amused by Calogero’s concern states, “Mickey Mantle don’t care about you, so why should you care about him? Nobody cares,” questioning the affection and attachment he has for someone he does not truly know. With those words uttered, Calogero would never feel “the same way about the Yankees again.” Later, he shares the same advice with Calogero, now an adolescent, when he discusses an ongoing dispute, he has with someone in the neighborhood who continues to avoid him over a $20 debt that is owed. In saying nobody cares in this circumstance, Sonny justifies the position that external validation and the opinions of others are ultimately unimportant. More simply, it is not a valuable use of time to focus any attention on these matters.
Toni was less cynical and absolute than the boss of an organized crime syndicate. She asserted that there are people who do care, but they comprise a relatively small, core group. And if for no other reason (albeit there are others), this is why it is important to go quietly about your business. Moreover, she emphasized the idea of remaining confident when you are down, and humble when you are up. Self-important fools force their recognition upon others in either instance. To recognize that you are not fundamentally better than anyone else, and, at the same time, intelligent enough to know that you are different from everyone else is indicative of the kind of confidence that comes from considerable experience and marked growth. The most accomplished of warriors may very well be among the most silent because their successes (among other things) are not proclaimed by them. At best, their achievements (among other things) are only shared with a select group of close friends and family. The steps and strategies they take are never announced before they materialize into anything of substance and when they do, they remain modest, giving credit to others who aided them in the process. Along the way, the sobbing, groaning, sighing, reveling, toasting, and feasting are known by only the very few who suffered and rejoiced as though it were their own failure and success.
Except for the parties who are involved or otherwise impacted, the facts of one’s life are deeply personal and unique and generally of little interest to others. That said, Toni would submit that goals and ambitions, struggles and conflicts, financial status, old grudges, family affairs, philanthropic acts, fears and insecurities, and personal rituals and practices constitute a range of matters that should be limited to one’s inner circle or when necessary, discussed with professionals who are paid to provide guidance and assistance and are bound by ethical rules of confidentiality. Although social media has largely made baring these aspects of life for all the world to see the norm, the reality (harsh as it may be) is that at worst, nobody really cares, and at best, the vast majority of acquaintances and social media “friends” do not. Their interest in the life one is voluntarily sharing for public view and comment has less to do with genuine concern and more to do with superficial comparisons. More importantly, the drawbacks of engaging in the shallow depths of what Marlon Brando once referred to as the “sea of donuts” are far weightier than taking a more reserved stance. Indeed, one may eventually drown tangled in the discussion threads and the hours on end of scrolling with the lack of productivity that ensues.
Truth be told, modesty requires a strong mindset because it requires being at peace with oneself, which can only come from experience that transmutes into wisdom. It is not without any downside as was the case with Attlee, but it importantly ensures one’s effectiveness and motivation are not diluted with distractions that serve no purpose and avoids the unnecessary judgments and assumptions of others that are perpetuated more widely by a self-aggrandizing disposition. Being modest in this context does not mean telling no one about life’s occurrences and endeavors, but it does necessitate differentiating “your people” from “other people” – another process that takes considerable time and exposure. Until a determination is made about who constitutes “yours”, the best way to acknowledge your success (among other things) is to keep it to yourself.
And those are just some of my musings on management.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Giuseppe M. Fazari has been musing about management concepts and practices throughout his career as an administrator, consultant, and academic. Contact him at fazarigm@icloud.com.
