On Motivation

Cohen, Leah Hager. I Don't Know: In Praise of Admitting Ignorance (Except When You Shouldn't). (New York: Riverhead, 2013).

This book is available in the Odessa College LRC (if you know what that is, hi!). Please do check it out when you can.

Leah Hager Cohen's I Don't Know: In Praise of Admitting Ignorance (Except When You Shouldn't) is a fully beautiful book. It is covered by a small, sky blue rectangle, holding pages which have plenty of white space. Not only does it feature an elegant serif font, but Cohen varies how her text looks. Often she features a blockquote or an extended conversation, not allowing an overdose of similarly shaped paragraphs to dull the eyes. And then there's her content. Lots of little stories and vivid illustrations of how admitting ignorance works or doesn't work. She speaks of her brother, who is black, and how a company weaponized "I don't know anything about racism" to belittle his effort and achievements. She also talks about those for whom saying "I don't know" can only be a matter of privilege.

I can't tell you the exact relationship between admitting ignorance and motivation. I think we can all see that if someone genuinely wants to know something, they will in most cases confess they need help. This is, to be sure, not always true. I have desperately needed knowledge and had to be quiet. The price was more than stigma, as I would have been bullied and put down in perpetuity. I know this because that is how I was treated in other cases.

Cohen does have a story about motivating her students to positively say "I don't know." Instead of reading over the syllabus about how cheating will be harshly punished, she tells the story of her friend Mary, whom she claims is one of her bravest friends. Mary, who is extremely well-educated and knowledgeable, isn't afraid to say "I don't know" instead of pretending she does. Cohen says her students find this relatable; tension in the room decreases and they become invested in contributing more.

I don't know what to think at this juncture. My CV and career path say that I am very good at motivating others. People swear by being my student or working with me. I do believe that talking about rules and expectations, as well as modeling the behavior you want, creates positive, enduring motivation. Yet I'm a bit skeptical of what I'm reading. I'm not saying Cohen is wrong, as I definitely plan on trying to address the emotions in the room in a way similar to hers. I just feel like something is being left out.

To see what is being left out, consider that no less than Socrates argues anger and fear are perfectly fine motivators if the time is right. It's a passage I know well. You'll find it in Xenophon's Memorabilia, where Socrates is talking to the adopted son of Pericles, also named Pericles. This Pericles wants Athenians, who are at the moment losing the war to Sparta, to embrace their true, ancient virtue. He wants them to stop fighting with each other and being tempted by corruption. Glory and honor and sacrifice and feats of arms should follow suit.

And Socrates tells him that maybe Athenians have plenty of motivation as it is. They're scared. Can that be used to fight more effectively? Why the need for a revolution of the civic soul? By implication, many ignoble emotions can be used to get people to do the correct thing. The question is what do you want them to do. Do you know what you truly want?

I thought about this a lot during graduate school because it pairs with another concern of Xenophon's. In the Anabasis, he discusses a general who was too nice. A general who truly believed in noble bearing and did not bother with soldiers who were petty, greedy, or outright psychopaths. His army was prone to disorder. Too much looting, too much infighting, too little discipline. It never occurred to this general that sometimes discipline for discipline's sake is a first step. That you might need to experience how rules work in order to see that they work. I worried, for me personally, that I might not know how to lay down the law in tough situations.

Sometimes you need people to be a little scared. However, in our world, where everything is weaponized for the stupidest reasons, Bill Parcells stands out as perhaps the greatest football coach ever by using fear and shame against his own players. His game was cruel emotional manipulation, and it worked. Players would be so angry at him, so angry at themselves, that they'd take it out on the other team. This also meant that his team had certain established roles, roles where emotional immaturity and a willingness to debase oneself could translate into a championship-caliber team.

I think of the people I have known who will do what they want with no regard for others. To be sure, many of them think they regard others. They think they are giving plenty of something, so they must care. They worry about things which have nothing to do with them, so that must be concern too. They are content with their delusion and are closed to hearing anything.

You're not going to motivate them through buy-in. Sometimes you'll be glared at angrily, as if you are responsible for everything bad in their lives. And I've been in situations where everyone is motivated except that one person, who sees someone else reaching out as a threat.

In the face of this, I have developed a strategy. I can't reach everyone. I'm fine with that. But those I do reach need a little extra in their toolkit. They need to understand that interacting with groups is a skill. You take the time and read the room. You do things which generate an authentic response. A positive emotion which brings the class together. Or empathy, an awareness of the sufferings of others. Or skepticism about what we all knew up to this moment. And you point out that Yes, this is what I'm doing. I'd like you to see how this is working. How your peers are finding this worthwhile.

We don't just motivate individuals. We motivate groups. One skillset for doing so involves fear and a host of emotions I'd rather not encourage. But another grows from our very real want to belong.