For
two decades, Charles Darwin suffered crippling anxiety whenever he so
much as imagined publishing his theory of natural selection. The quiet
naturalist agonized about how his true beliefs on speciation would
affect his standing among his Victorian peers and super pious wife: "It
is like confessing a murder," he wrote to a friend. Only when the young
scientist Alfred Russel Wallace nipped at his heels with a nearly
identical theory did Darwin set aside his work on barnacles and publish On the Origin of Species, securing his place in history with the slenderest of leads. The
greatest thinker of the 19th century came close to being remembered as a
footnote in the study of arthropods, solely because he feared
disapproval. Like us, he was designed to skirt the danger that is social
scorn. Public scorn has risks, but we greatly exaggerate them. Fear
of others' judgments is a necessary human adaptation, but it is a
clumsy and imprecise mechanism. That's why we worry so much about
risking the boss's wrath in requesting a promotion, defying dad by
forsaking the family business or breaking with our colleagues by
publishing a paradigm-shifting theory of evolution.
Every
social encounter is a subtle dance of dominance and submission. Asking
someone to clarify a remark, taking your time to answer a question,
suggesting a date—or saying no to one—require an intuitive understanding
of the dance steps. Assertiveness outlaws commit crimes in only a
fraction of the instances where a crime is possible!) So unassertiveness
is taking the lead. Chances are, even the most forward among us err on
the side of submission. (Afteveness
becomes, for many of us, the default. Implicit self-instructions like,
"when in doubt, shut up and go along," sometimes keep you, and kept your
ancestors, out of trouble. But you want to thrive, not just survive.
Today,
we have a luxury most humans never had. We can pursue more than just
survival and reproduction—we now search for meaning, contentment and
fulfillment. In theory, we know we're free agents, but when we tie
ourselves in knots about how to tell the in-laws not to overfeed the
baby or agonize about requesting a raise, we're really grappling with a
Neanderthink siren call: Sit tight and don't rock the boat.
Being
in lockstep with the family or tribe made sense for our forebears.
Human prehistory likely exposed our ancestors to only a couple hundred
people in the course of their lifetime. On some level, everyone's
opinion did matter. Timidity didn't make our ancestors happy, but it
helped them to avoid murderous conflict, especially when dealing with
strangers.
In a world with written laws and police (not to
mention the option to relocate, find another job or remarry), we needn't
be hypercautious about every social encounter. But most of us are still
saddled with this brand of Neanderthink—an overly developed concern for
how we're perceived by everyone. In fact, most people are pretty
preoccupied worrying about what you think of them. We
have less power over others' opinions than we think, so we might as well
discount them if possible. When the Nobel Prize-winning physicist
Richard Feynman was hunkered down at Los Alamos, his ailing wife,
Arlene, sent him personalized pencils inscribed, "Richard Darling, I
love you! Putsy." When she found out that he didn't use them because his
famous colleagues might laugh,
a stunned Arlene asked, "What do you care what other people think?" Her
words became his assertiveness maxim—and the title of one of his books.
Being
assertive does not mean you must always get your way or proudly flout
social norms. The golden mean of assertiveness resides between the
extremes of passivity and aggression. Straightforward communication
always beats cowering or commandeering.
Try monitoring the social
risks you avoid, and note the times when you act either passively or
angrily. Then look for the assertive alternative. Push yourself to act
assertively even if it feels alien and uncomfortable at first. For your
ancestors, conditions were often either "safe or sorry." Today, you'll
be sorry if you're too safe.
