From 600+ conversations with the world’s leading thinkers.
I cannot help but admire the insight of our Jewish sages of old who taught that every child is born with equal affinities toward goodness and evil, in Hebrew yetzer hatov and yetzer hara. This means that we are not born as a tabula rasa.
Human intelligence is, for want of a better phrase, a degree of magnitude greater than the intelligence of a Paramecium or, better, of a Chlamydomonas; but the difference is just quantitative and not qualitative.
One of the greatest myths in the lives of the people I coach is, 'I will be happy when…' as if there is some place to go to. There's only one book that ends with the phrase happily ever after, that's a fairy-tale.
There have been well-known people who actually have advocated rights for great apes – chimps and orangs and gorillas. They're our closest genetic relatives; but why should we exclude any creature that can suffer? If you hold the paw of a little rabbit or a mouse or whatever so hard that it squeaks or screams, isn't that cruel? isn't that hurting it? What right have we got to hurt animals like that? We don't have any right at all.
A particular individual trait that has piqued my interest through research is intellectual humility. Embracing the possibility of being wrong enhances the likelihood of being right—a somewhat magical paradox. This notion dovetails with the scientific ethos, where the quest isn't about proving oneself right.
Status, I believe, is intrinsic to our very being it's at the core of who we are. This quest for status isn't a novel aspect of human behaviour—it's a pursuit that predates our very existence as humans. This pursuit isn't just a facet of our lives; it essentially narrates the story of human existence.
There's a beauty in the truth which is undeniable. It's a tragedy in a way- sometimes we just need to understand what the hell we've truly lost.
We advocate for a 'feminist moonshot' approach, symbolized by the dandelion. The dandelion, a resilient flower and weed found on all continents, symbolizes our efforts. Despite its reputation as a nuisance, it's a plant I've grown to admire for its beauty, deep-rooting ability that rejuvenates the soil, and its edible qualities. Its seeds, spread by children, represent the spreading of our positive narrative towards a cleaner, healthier, more equitable world.
The arrival fallacy is this notion, this psychological trick we play on ourselves, where we repeatedly convince ourselves that happiness, contentment, and fulfilment lie just beyond whatever mountaintop we've set as our ultimate goal. You hit that target you've built up as the finish line, and sure, you get a fleeting rush of dopamine-fuelled euphoria—only to find yourself quickly eyeing a new, distant summit.
Abraham Maslow pointed out in the 1950s that flow is essentially what redeems the suffering of life. It's the psychological reward for mastery and without it, hard work can lead to burnout.
Unlearning silence doesn't mean speaking incessantly—the world is far too noisy for that. Instead, it means understanding the difference between choosing to be silent and having silence imposed upon you. It's recognizing whether silence is additive or oppressive, whether it's reflective and generative or merely detracting. It's about having agency: Do I get to choose when to be silent?
We are the only species who have taken control of their evolution. We are animals who – one day – had an idea to become better. Billions of us have worked to make ourselves better.