Kindness is invincible

Mostly Useful / № 10

Happy Sunday!

A personal note before I dive in. When you receive this, I will be camping with my son, Cyrus, for his 8th birthday. It is a family tradition where I take the birthday kid out for an overnight trip with me. However, the tradition is actually supposed to be for their 7th birthday. Last year, we couldn’t make reservations anywhere. I’m sure you can guess why.

Cyrus is the middle and that comes with very unique challenges for him, especially because his siblings are much louder than him! He quieter about what he thinks and feels unless it is really, really important to him. Last year was devastating for him in many ways, as it was for all of us, but I could tell he was deeply hurting because he kept asking throughout the year, “dad, when can we go camping for my birthday?” Cy carried a more profound sadness this past year than others in our family. Though he understood the situation everyone was facing, he was unfairly unable to experience something he had been waiting over a year for with no idea of when (or if) we would ever be able to go. All of us have felt unfairness, disappointment, and uncertainty this past year. Perhaps you have felt the sorrow of loss, too. I am crying as I write this because although there is a sense of hope and life blossoming inside, I am so heartbroken for my son and everyone who has felt the weight of this year. Though we have a long road ahead, I’m grateful for the small things. As we are starting to resume life and as our world heals, we can heal, too. I hope you are healing, and I hope this weekend will be healing for my (not so) little boy.

Happy birthday, Cy guy. I love you!

I suppose this tangentially ties into my writing this week, or at least I am going to try to force it 🙂 One of the reasons I began this experiment of writing and publishing publicly was because I saw so much darkness and so little light. So many of us have so little hope, so little encouragement, that when something like the pandemic hits, what little we have is washed away in an instant. Like my son, who had done nothing to deserve what happened to him, the pandemic left many of us feeling vulnerable, afraid, and alone. Like my son, perhaps you have felt helpless. Maybe you have felt as though you were in a hole, with no way to climb out, no matter how hard you try. We are all facing hardship of varying degrees. All of us are doing our best to fight off the darkness, to stay alive, and to keep our hope.

There is a simple way to make life better for yourself and everyone around you: kindness.

Superficially speaking, kindness would appear to be a very rudimentary and obvious topic. I should already have this figure out, right? After all, as it’s been said: everything I needed to know, I learned in Kindergarten. Indeed, at a very young age, I learned that if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. So, what do you do when you do have something nice to say? Can we communicate something kind and yet still cause harm? As I suggested last week, this is a potential peril of empathy. But what about kindness? These words of Roman emperor and Stoic philosopher Marcus Aurelius, from his book Meditations, caught my attention:

“Kindness is invincible, but only when it’s sincere, with no hypocrisy or faking.

Is this true? Does kindness require sincerity to be genuine kindness?

As I reflected on this question, I was reminded of a few experiences I’ve had. Years ago, my wife, Christin, some friends, and I ventured into a local wine bar that had opened up recently. We’re not much for the wine bar scene (whiskey for me, please and thank you), but it was a new spot, and we like to support local businesses if we can, so we wandered in, only to find an empty shop, with only the owner wiping down tables and tidying up. We sat down at the bar and began asking her about her business and how things were going. She shared that she was from the east coast and had moved here (“here” is a rural town along California’s central coast) from New York City. Christin and I absolutely love where we live. We love California, and we adore the community we live in, so we’re always very positive about living here. We’re easily excited for other people experiencing the wonderful place we call home. We asked her how she was enjoying California, and without missing a beat, she replied, “I really hate it sometimes. People out here are so fake!” I was so shocked, I laughed. “What do you mean by that?” We asked, thinking she must be joking. Dead serious, she continued, “No one here says what they’re actually thinking. Californians aren’t sincere. People will say, ‘oh, it’s so good to see you, we should get together, I’ll call you!’ but then never do. Where I come from, people are more direct and clear.” I do not remember what our reply was, but I have been unable to forget her accusation.

Now, I’m not sure if this insincerity is more pervasive in California than it is elsewhere. Regardless, after hearing her comments, I began watching my fellow Californians with an outsider’s view. You know what? I think she was right. I began to notice the frequency of insincere encounters, the small talk that we make to get out of conversations. I began to see my insincerity, too! I would catch myself trying to avoid people, walking down different aisles when at the store to avoid getting into conversations I didn’t want to have. And, when I would run into someone, despite my best efforts? All smiles, laughter, and… kindness? It is clear to me that what we are doing is far from being kind.

I have only known a few east coasters, though I have been in close relationship with those few I know. In my opinion, there is no denying a vast difference in communication styles between coasts. There is a certain directness, candor, and sincerity they seem to possess. Perhaps it’s just the few that I’ve known, but I don’t think so. For example, I worked with someone from New Jersey who seemed to rub many people at our company the wrong way. I would often hear co-workers muttering about how abrasive he was. I found that funny because I could see a very kind person who preferred to communicate straightforwardly. He said the things most people were thinking; he was amiable as a person, quick to laugh, yet very truthful. I wondered, how could you be upset? Perhaps it is because we prefer to have people be insincere so as to preserve our sensitive feelings. 

Personally, I prefer the truth. 

Instead of getting hung up on my reaction to his candor, I decided not to be offended. The moment I stopped assuming he was grouchy and rude was the moment I could perceive his sincerity. His sincerity made everything he said more impactful, including his compliments. He was not quick with them, but when he gave praise, he sincerely meant it! It was as if his sincerity increased the value of all of his communication. That was something to pay attention to.

Which is better? Insincere, flowery, yet palatable communication? Or clear, direct, occasionally prickly communication?

Insincere kindness is tricky because we must rely on our ability to perceive the motives and intentions of another person. We have a hard enough time doing that for ourselves! Often, I will notice my intuition alert me to something, but I dismiss it because it might be rude or unfounded. As I get older, I have learned to trust that gut feeling. Or, at least pay attention to it. And when it goes off? Keep your guard up until you’re positive you can trust the other person. The following two stories are examples of why.

We had a pastor once who was very energetic, positive, and welcoming. We showed up to this new church, not knowing a single person. If you have ever found yourself in a social setting where you don’t know anyone, you know exactly how awkward and uncomfortable that is. This pastor came right up to us, welcomed us, and engaged in genuine conversation. We instantly felt valued, and that drew us in. As we became part of this church, I noticed this pastor would constantly share stories about how people would mistrust his self-described, “puppy-dog” happy-go-lucky energy. There was a former police officer in our congregation who was now on staff at the church. Law enforcement training teaches their officers not to trust people, especially those who seem to be trying to convince you of something. He had at first been very skeptical of this pastor and his intense energy because it couldn’t be authentic! That is, until the pastor “won him over,” which was a victory he bragged about from the pulpit far too often. In fact, he talked a lot about his sincerity and far more than I’d heard other people do. I didn’t think much of it at the time. It didn’t seem like pride to me because I trusted him. 

It turns out that the former officer had been right to mistrust him. Leadership learned that the pastor and his wife had been manipulating and abusing people in awful, predatory ways, and they were swiftly terminated. His termination reframed his entire persona. Now, his energy seemed akin to an addict running on a high while scoping out the next fix. Or, in this case, victim. His welcoming warmth now seemed predatory because he used it to make people feel safe while luring them inward. His kindness was a cover operation for his illicit and illegal activity and it kept people from being more suspicious. If people did start to wonder, he would preach from the front about how he had weathered such doubt and seen it through because he was, after all, very sincere (wink wink)! His spectacular flameout (the lawsuits are still ongoing) was a clear display of the destructive danger of insincere kindness, weaponized to manipulate unsuspecting people.

There are various ways people mask their intentions behind a veil of kindness. For the pastor, it was his welcoming persona. For others, it is a softer, gentler, passive mask. Even so, it is still destructive. For a brief period, I worked alongside a recently hired addition to the C-suite. He had been brought in to undo his predecessor’s mess and had been meeting with the other teams across the company to assess the damage and get to know us all. From my first interaction with him, I knew something was off. My gut instinct kicked in hard, and I remember it distinctly because of my strong reaction. He was too nice. I don’t know how else to describe it. He was sticky-sweet, almost dramatically kind. His over-the-top praise, soft, gentle demeanor, and easy smile were, frankly, unsettling. Perhaps because he was an executive leader within the company, his persona seemed out of place. I only know that something was off.

For example, in meetings, he would often pause and interrupt the flow of conversation to offer compliments and encouragement to the person who had just spoken. “That was just so well said, and you’ve made such an amazing point that we should all consider,” and so on, in that manner. It added nothing to the conversation, made everyone visibly uncomfortable, and all anyone could do was awkwardly accept the compliment and fall silent. I wanted to view his behavior as condescending and insincere, but I had no proof of that part from my intuition. 

I separated from the company before I could form a more informed opinion. Several years later, I ran into a former colleague, and as we were catching up, they proceeded to share the “gory details” of how the company had changed since I’d left. This kind executive had since risen to become CEO, and the culture had become toxic. He had been what I’d suspected and worse, and had masterfully used kindness to mask it. He had sabotaged and power-played many of my former colleagues, replacing them with people he could control. As a result of all the politics and deception, the lower-level employees were forced to watch their backs, and mistrust had replaced and fear what had once been a vibrant, enjoyable culture.

His insincere kindness had been a proxy for his paranoia and ambition.

His behavior in meetings now made more sense. He wasn’t taking the time to be complimentary; he was putting people on their heels, destabilizing them so that they didn’t know what to make of him or how to read him. Because he was so nice, all the bloody time, all anyone could say was, “Well, I’m not sure what happened, but he seems like such a nice guy.” Dissenting voices were dismissed because the dissent only looked like gossip. Things like “he gives me the creeps” are accurate, in hindsight, but only sound like wolf-crying at the moment. Nothing sticks in that scenario.

I have encountered many genuinely kind people, too. And sincerely kind people are also incredibly strong. It has been said that one should not mistake kindness for weakness. Perhaps you, like me, have made this mistake. It is easy to do! Kindness very often does appear to be weak, meek, and cowardly. I argue that if kindness indeed seems weak, then it is not kindness. It is a toxic, insincere mockery of kindness. Genuinely kind people do not compromise themselves to accommodate trespassers, for example. By “trespasser,” I am speaking metaphorically and am referring to those situations we all encounter where someone has purposefully or unwittingly crossed a personal line with us. In such circumstances, insincerely kind people wave it away and act as if nothing has happened and that they are perfectly fine (not a good plan, by the way, if your long-term mental health is a priority! You will speak your truth somewhere, and it will get dumped on the wrong person). Sincerely kind people speak up! We can assume people mean no harm while letting them know that they did, in fact, cause some damage.

The most unkind thing we can do is to withhold the truth.

Kindness is a necessary form of truth-telling. For us to treat each other properly, we must also be sincere. You must tell others the truth, even during small talk. You must be direct and straightforward, but you don’t have to be spiteful or abrasive to do so. You can be genuinely kind without compromising or giving anything up. People may not like what you say, but they will respect and like you more if you are clear and upfront with them.

Kindness has a dark side, too. You can use it to mask your true thoughts and feelings. You can use it as a smokescreen to confuse and destabilize people. You can manipulate people, leading them to think you are glad to see them when you would rather have avoided them permanently. When it lacks sincerity, kindness creates a passive-aggressive, uneasy and paranoid relational landscape, making it near impossible for people to navigate because there are many unknowns; you can’t know what is reliable and what is false.

Kindness presents us with myriad opportunities to make the world better. Think of the times someone has paid for your coffee or your meal, but you didn’t expect it. Those times a friend dropped off a bouquet and a note saying “just thinking of you.” Kindness is as simple as holding the door open for someone else, even though you know you’ll be three spots worse off in line than if you had let yourself in first. Kindness is complicated, too, like when you decide not to berate someone for the hurt they caused but instead choose to gently express the pain you felt because of their actions. Marcus Aurulieus had more to say on the subject. Here is the full quoted excerpt:

“Kindness is invincible, but only when it’s sincere, with no hypocrisy or faking. For what can even the most malicious person do if you keep showing kindness and, if given the chance, you gently point out where they went wrong— right as they are trying to harm you?”

Restraint during conflict is difficult precisely because it limits expression to non-volatile means! You have to find a way to communicate, and rage and irritation are off the table. What are you left with, then? 

Kindness or nothing.

Kindness given to others builds a kind of strength within us, flipping our typical understanding of power dynamics upside down. For example, if you are clashing with someone and remain calm and kind, you have disarmed them. And what can they do? It is like whispering while in a room full of shouting; everyone wants to hear what you have to say, so they lean in, listening intently. A soft adjustment reframes the conversation, swapping who is in charge. And, because you are sincere, you are not using kindness to subvert and attack your counterpart. You are simply trying to resolve the conflict satisfactorily for everyone involved, and you’re refusing to let hot tempers dictate that outcome. It is a brilliant, effective strategy. Try it out with your partner or the next time someone says something provocative and combative to you. See what genuine kindness does when people are attacking you. Authentic, sincere kindness can only make this world a better place for everyone. There will never be a law or rule or pandemic that prevents us from being kind.

Kindness, in the words of an emperor, is invincible.