Most of the time I am thinking and writing about how to get into a meaningful, purposeful life.
Not how to leave one.
To review, here’s my basic (iterative) formula:
- Start by doing things you enjoy whose results matter to the people you care about (including yourself)
- If you don’t have things like that, run experiments based on educated guesses about yourself
- Pay attention to which experiments you enjoy and orient your next experiments in that direction
People write to me and call me every week with questions along those lines.
I love those conversations.
So when I read Amanda Ripley’s “High Conflict” last week, it was a trip.
A major theme in her book is how people escape an activity that brings them meaning, community, and material riches.
Why would people who had meaning, community, and wealth want to escape their lives?
Danger.
The first case study was about a 1980s Chicagoland gang leader named Curtis.
Curtis climbed the ladder to the top of his own organization, ran a family business (cocaine), and reaped the wealth and fame.
He also knew he could be killed or jailed at any moment and wanted out for the sake of his family.
So one day he called up his business partner, gave him everything, and quit.
The second case study was about a 2010s political commentator named Glenn.
Glenn had a hit show on cable TV with 3 million daily viewers. He spread conspiracies, “aggresively promoted partison conflict”, and reaped the wealth and fame.
But then he changed his tune. He warned against polarization and said on national TV:
“I wish I could go back and be more uniting in my language. I think I played a role, unfortunately, in helping tear the country apart.”
Danger.
One of the central points in Ripley’s book is how hard it is to get out of the cycle of conflict, even if you’re the Conflict Entrepreneur — like Curtis and Glenn.
Not just because of the money but because of the meaning and the community.
You have a role. Everybody knows who you are and expects you to play it.
They celebrate you for playing.
And when you’re not playing… then what are you?
In Curtis’ case, maybe a year later, his cousin came over in a brand new Mercedes. He showed Curtis the trunkful of drugs and made his appeal:
“It ain’t the same without you. I need you back.”
Curtis was broke, his marriage was on the rocks, and he had moved away from all his friends and business partners to stay out of the game.
He desperately needed community.
But — heroically, in my book — he said no.
Glenn must have had a similar story.
I don’t know if it was his cousin or what the make of the car was, but Glenn must have said yes, because a few years later he was back in the game.
What made the difference?
Heroism? Cojones? Community? Permission?
Ripley writes:
“It may be tempting to punish these people for their past mistakes. But if you really want to cultivate good conflict and create lasting change, consider welcoming them instead.”
What if people from all sides of American society wrote to Glenn with messages of support, the way I would want to welcome child soldiers back from a horrendous civil war no matter what they did or what side they were on?
What if this were to happen today. Imagine an incendiary political commentator (or presidential candidate) on the side you love to hate suddenly stopped turning up the volume. They back off, make a short public statement along the lines of:
“I’ve had enough, I wish I left the game long ago, this has gotten really messed up.”
What’s the message we should send?
Ankur Shah Delight: Community and Conflict 