
It’s Christmas. The whole family is gathered for dinner.
Mike, a six-year-old, is playing with his food and making a mess. Matt, his dad, says, “Mike, be a good boy, please. Stop playing with your food.” But Mike ignores him completely and keeps making a mess.
Sarah, also six, sees her cousin Mike having fun and starts playing with her food too. Her mother, Alissa, says, “Sarah, stop.” Sarah freezes. She then apologizes to her mom and goes back to eating her food.
Why such different outcomes? Why does Matt seem to have no authority, while Alissa’s is so strong?
Well, it’s because Alissa barely uses her power.
That’s the paradox.
How much “no” do you say?
On a typical day in Mike’s house, it’s “Mike, don’t do this” and “Mike, don’t do that” all the time.
But in Sarah’s house, things are different. Of course Sarah hears a “no” here and there, but this word is used sparingly and reserved for the worst offenses only.
The result? Sarah knows that “no” means “no”. She knows that when that word is pronounced, she has crossed a line and must pull back.
Mike, on the other hand, doesn’t know where his limits are. And this is not his fault. After all, if running after the dog and playing with fire are treated with the same degree of “no-ness”, it’s no surprise that he just doesn’t respect this word of authority anymore.
In short, by using too much authority, Matt has lost power over Mike.
The opposite of Alissa, who, by using her power when strictly necessary, keeps her authority intact.
“Hold on. I bet that Sarah, like every child, must be corrected by her mother for minor offenses too. How does that work?”
Well, thanks for asking, because there’s an important detail here.
This is an order
I’ll always remember a boss I had who was a master in using his power sparingly.
We were in a business meeting, and one engineer was trying to convince him to use a certain solution. The boss listened to him attentively, and they respectfully exchanged opinions. Our boss didn’t want to take the solution, but the engineer was insisting.
After a few rounds, the boss said, “Look, Joe, I’m past the point of persuasion. We won’t adopt the solution you are proposing, and you will do XYZ instead. This is an order.”
There were around 20 people in the room and nobody blinked for a few moments. You could hear a pin drop. Complete silence.
Over a couple of years, it was the first time I had heard him say “this is an order” explicitly. And this was probably true for many people in the room, too.
That boss was not only technically impeccable, but also incredibly powerful. And now I see why.
So, coming back to your question about Sarah’s minor offenses, I’d say she would hear something like “Hey, Sarah, would you like to have someone touching your body in the same way that you’re playing with the dog’s tail? No, right? So, be a nice girl and don’t do that, OK?”
This is persuasion. If Sarah doesn’t stop, then the order must come — with full force.
“Sarah, stop. Now.”
An overarching principle
The same principle applies to all cases where there’s a power imbalance.
When someone has authority over others but resorts to force only when strictly necessary, that person becomes even more powerful and respected.
And I don’t know about you, but there is something strangely elegant to me when a powerful person acts like that.
Like when a Sumo wrestler the size of a wardrobe kindly asks a teenager to lower the volume of an annoying song he’s listening to on the subway, instead of grabbing him by the neck right away.
The truth is that the less you use the power you have, the more powerful you become.
Because authority doesn’t grow with frequent use. It grows with judicious use.
And overusing authority quietly destroys it.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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Photo credit: Lopez Robin on Unsplash
