We don’t know shit.
“And they began to use a pair of
mantras around the office. The first— ‘We don’t know shit’ — kept them humble
when they thought they were rolling.”
This self-deprecating admission
comes from a Washington Post article on Chicago Cubs President of Baseball
Operations, Theo Epstein, and was one of a few beyond-baseball takeaways that
stayed with me after reading it. I know good counsel when I see it, and
so even at the quarter century mark on my life in public service, I readily
bought the self-counsel Theo Epstein was selling.
In my business, hubris is the
deadliest of sins. So when I say, “We don’t know shit,” I am most
definitely including myself. And, of course, you.
I have no problem with people
having strong opinions. I like it actually. On an Island where the
apathetic are more numerous than dangerous drivers, where some elevate
disengagement to a level of Zen-like bliss, I have always had, if not a great
tolerance, a preference for the opinionated sort. I’d take them any day over a
societal zombie with no sense of what it means to be an engaged member of a
community.
But if you’re going to bloviate in
my direction, I’d appreciated it if you had a semblance of knowledge about the
subject matter at hand.
With the arrival of the internet,
everyone in my orbit seemed to use that platform to air his or her
viewpoint. Professionally, I embraced social media early on and saw it as
a great tool to pop the bubble that surrounds elected officials, to varying
degrees, on every level of government. It allowed me to engage the public
more – and more directly - and to be better informed on just about every issue
across the board. And it gave me a more direct access to divergent points
of view. All right there at my fingertips.
Suddenly, I could read the
thoughts of learned journalists throughout the world. With the click of a
mouse I could be kept better apprised of the goings-on of colleagues. And
lo and behold, revealed in an instant would be the inner-most thoughts of
anyone who cared enough about any given topic to discuss it publicly.
This is an opportunity, I remember
thinking. This is a chance to broaden my perspective and learn something
from those whose life-experiences differed from my own, who saw the world
through a completely different set of eyes. And I often did. Cool!
But here’s the deal: we don’t know
shit.
You
see, a weird thing happened when I began to utilize this tool, this vehicle, in
my search to become “better.” I didn’t just come across new information
and new perspectives, I found that I entered a world where everyone’s opinion
was actually an undeniable truth, and if you disagreed with it, you did so at your
own peril. Even if your opinion differed in merely a small and seemingly
insignificant way - you were wrong. You were bad. Perhaps you even
warranted a dreaded “label.”
What
was once merely a sharing of thoughts and opinions quickly became, “I am right
and you are wrong.” Then it got worse. It morphed into “I am right and
you are a horrible human being.” To glean usable information, I now had to sift
through gallons, lakes…. oceans of uninformed, ignorant, and insulting rants,
all couched in a self-righteous tone that served to suck the oxygen of debate
right out of the room.
It
ended all discussion, for if anyone had the temerity to see things even
slightly differently, each side acted as if the world stopped spinning on axis
because of the sheer loathsome stupidity of the other’s opinion.
But
here’s the deal: we know shit. Which is to say — despite the haughty attitude
and itchy fingers eager to affix a label, apply a generalization or place
someone, dare I say, in a basket — YOU know shit.
I recognize that your unique
experiences, history and point of view, give you a keen ability to see angles
that others don’t. I recognize that perhaps you have an academic acumen
which I cannot match, and must readily acknowledge. As well, I’m forced
to recognize my own deficiencies, which might be the result of ignorance,
“privilege,” or just plain lack of experience. And finally I’m led to the
realization that we will have a better dialogue after I concede that not only
do I know shit – you do, too.
Theo Epstein is going to the Hall
of Fame. He knows A LOT of shit, and I think you do, too. But if someone
at his level of acumen believes part of his success is being vigilant about
admitting he doesn’t know it all, shouldn’t you and I take note and grab onto that
same belief?
I have
worked my ass off in government for 25 years. I have learned at the knees
of great mentors. People who don’t share my gender, race, religion or
sexual orientation have blessed me with their wisdom and friendship and made me
a better person. I care deeply about the covenant I have with the people
I represent, and I protect it vigilantly.
I am
good at what I do. But because I want to be as good at my job as Theo
Epstein is at his, I’m going to work on the premise that I don’t know shit.
And I am going to keep working on that premise until the day I finish with this
calling and walk off the stage, and then I won’t be heard from again.