The Skill We All Need To Protect

The most frustrating thing about trying to stay fit and healthy as a busy adult is that when I take a short break from exercise (in my case, running), the re-entry is so much harder. It's like my legs forget what running is after a couple of days, so if I'm inconsistent then the pain is so much worse. 

It makes sense when you think about it. The muscles we don't use slip into atrophy quickly. Did you know that astronauts lose roughly 2% of their bone base each month when they're in space, because their bodies no longer have to fight gravity? 

There's a similar analogy in nature called thigmomorphogenesis(that's right) which basically means that plants that are protected from wind or extreme weather might grow taller, but they fall much more easily because they haven't developed the structural properties to remain planted in a storm. 

Friction, or tension, isn't always a nice feeling, but it develops a resistance in us that can be useful across the long run. 

This is as true of our minds as it is of our bodies. 

The parts of our brain that don't get regularly exercised become harder to use. I feel this acutely when one of my kids needs help with their algebra homework and I stand there unable to even understand the questions. 

But it's not just high-school maths that gets thrown out when we don't need it. Thinking itself is a skill, and like any skill it has a default setting. When we stop training it, we tend to borrow rather than build. As leaders, with so much complexity in the world and with so much to think about at any given moment, forming an opinion can feel like heavy lifting. And so we reach for the nearest one already assembled; a headline, a hot take, the loudest voice in the room, the social media guru. An unexercised mind doesn't stop having opinions, it just stops generating its own. 

Where this becomes problematic for us is that in modern life there is a marked tilt toward polarisation—perhaps you've felt it. People seem to be busier than ever, and now that there are more tools to help us work, the time we take to really sit and think deeply seems to have diminished. And along with it, our ability to engage with those outside our mental frame. 

We rely on others for our information, and if we're being honest, for our opinions too. Mark Mason describes this as leading to "the first time in history where every single demographic feels somehow violated or victimised." 

We could argue the politics or philosophy of this for days, but rather than diagnose the issue I wonder whether I could be bold enough to map out a way forward; a pathway to a more thoughtful, kinder future, perhaps?

David Brooks wrote an article in the Atlantic recently called "The People Who Will Thrive in the AI Age" in which he argued that AI will reward those who always seem to come out well in times of change: the industrious. 

Those who leverage change to their advantage but never forsake their commitment to working hard. The people who use these tools not to make life easier, but to move them forward. 

His point, which I would love to share with you, is that those who will thrive in the future will be the people who protect their relationship to mental effort. 

Brooks cites plenty of examples of groups who have used technology and, once removed, it has made them less effective, because their skills or cognitive function has diminished. I think we're all aware that this is the risk facing us in this new world. But my challenge to us isn't just about how to stay sharp in the face of AI; it's to be the kind of leaders who are committed to genuine thoughtfulness. 

And thoughtfulness is bred through a commitment to empathy and curiosity. 

I used to watch Q&A on the ABC. If you're not familiar, it was a show where expert guests would be invited to speak on a moderated panel about complex social and political issues. On the surface, it was seen as a great way of engendering healthy debate (and to be sure, that sometimes happened) but every time I watched it I left feeling like I'd been tricked. It felt as though each guest was selected to be a "cardboard cutout" of some cross-section of the public, and the goal, whilst ostensibly to debate, was actually to pick a side and fight to the death. 

I often heard, or read, responses to the show like: "Did you see *this person* DESTROY *that person*" 

I rarely, if ever, heard: "I listened to *this person* who I normally really disagree with, and they made some really interesting points that are helping me to think more deeply." 

I think the state of modern life has left us feeling like it's virtuous to "pick a team" and fight to the death. Scott Stephens and Waleed Aly, in their Quarterly Essay Uncivil Wars, described this as a form of social contempt, and claim that contempt for difference is now seen as "the moral way of doing business" (i.e. it's not enough for me to disagree with you, I must also see you as morally inferior). 

I've seen this, I've experienced it. 

In my worst moments, I have embodied it. 

But perhaps there is another way.

I wonder whether we could regain a commitment to authentic mental effort. To refuse to allow anyone, or any tool, to provide us with our opinions or our answers at first instance. Rather, we commit to sitting down with a proverbial blank page and seeing how we really feel (and I'm using that word intentionally) about things. 

My intuition is that the more thoughtful we are, the kinder the world becomes. Thoughtfulness takes more time. It might mean you don't have a quick-draw response at the family dinner table. But it will mean that you're able to articulate yourself with conviction, and perhaps be open to hearing the journey (intellectual or otherwise) of the person in front of you. 

This is the same trade the astronaut or the tree makes. Comfort now, rigidity later. A mind that's never had to bear its own weight might move quickly and easily through life, right up until the moment it's asked to hold something heavy. A hard conversation, a genuine disagreement, a decision nobody else can make for you. That's when we find out what's load-bearing. 

It's becoming increasingly clear to me that this is one of the most important tasks of leaders as we continue stepping into the future. We must first recommit ourselves to being people of depth and character—people who have a healthy relationship with mental effort. Then begins the work of creating environments where others can do the same. 

I'll leave you with Brooks' practical tips (with my own commentary added) on how to get started when there are so many options to circumvent mental effort. They're simple, practical, but move us just slightly toward a more thoughtful future. 

1.     Start with a blank page. Whether with AI or in conversation with another, before you reach for a pre-assembled answer, try mapping out your own thought process. 

2.     Ask for hints, not answers. When it comes to AI, use it for background thinking or clarification. With people, ask questions. Learn not just what they think, but why they think what they think. 

3.     Ask for thinkers, not thinking. Brooks' best suggestion (imo) for AI is to prompt it to stage a conversation between two thinkers and read what they write. When it comes to people, a wonderful way to discover their perspective is to ask who they've been influenced by, or what they've read. 

4.     Allow time (this one's mine). Knowledge comes fast, but wisdom is slower. The goal with mental effort is to allow our minds to form depth, substance, and muscle. We don't get ripped abs after one session at the gym, so allow your mind the time it needs to form well. 

If you've made it this far, you deserve a medal. 

But perhaps it's a sign that you're already committed to the hard work of staying engaged. 

Go you.