I cribbed this from the "Art of Manliness", This is something people
can learn, especially the young that seem to think that the more noise
they make the more they are respected. Sometimes Silence is Golden.
" Never complain; never explain."
This pithy little maxim was first coined by the British politician
and prime minister Benjamin Disraeli, and adopted as a motto by many
other high-ranking Brits — from members of royalty, to navy admirals, to
fellow prime ministers Stanley Baldwin and Winston Churchill. The maxim
well encapsulates the stiff-upper lipped-ness of the Victorian age, but
the timeless wisdom it contains has made it a guiding mantra of
powerful, confident, accountability-prizing men up through the modern
day.
The “nevers” of course aren’t ironclad and don’t apply to every situation, and even when they
should apply,
they can be hard to follow through on! But understanding when, where,
and why to apply this maxim is truly a great help in becoming a more
autonomous and assertive man.
Its four words pack a lot of truth in a small space and work on a few
different levels. So let’s unpack them, starting with the meat of the
matter — “never explain” — and working backwards.
“Never explain — your friends do not need it, and your enemies will not believe you anyway.” –Elbert Hubbard
When Winston Churchill was a young cavalry
officer, he was always looking for ways to get to the front and
experience battle firsthand. With much persistence, he eventually
secured a position in the field as a personal attendant to Sir William
Lockhart, who was overseeing the British military’s campaigns in what is
now Pakistan. When Churchill first joined the general’s staff, he
“behaved and was treated as befitted my youth and subordinate station.”
But then one day he saw an opportunity to offer a bit of advice that led
to him being “taken much more into the confidential circles of the
staff” and “treated as if I were quite a grown-up.”
Churchill heard that the general and his headquarters staff had been
hurt and angry to hear that a newspaper correspondent who had been sent
home from their camp had published a very critical article about one of
their recent campaigns. The officers smarted at what they felt were
unfair charges, and the Chief of Staff had written up a thorough
rebuttal and mailed it off to the newspaper to be published. Churchill
at once spoke up and tried to convince the staff that such a move was
ultimately a bad idea, and that the piece ought to be intercepted before
it was ever printed:
“I said that it would be considered most undignified and
even improper for a high officer on the Staff of the Army in the Field
to enter into newspaper controversy about the conduct of operations with
a dismissed war-correspondent; that I was sure the Government would be
surprised, and the War Office furious; that the Army Staff were expected
to leave their defence to their superiors or to the politicians; and that no matter how good the arguments were, the mere fact of advancing them would be everywhere taken as a sign of weakness.”
In this,
as in many things,
Churchill turned out to be quite prescient and wise. Offering
explanations does indeed demonstrate weakness, for several reasons:
Explaining gives power to another.
When someone criticizes or insults you, gets offended by something you
do or say, or questions your decisions and why you’ve chosen to do
something a certain way, it’s natural to want to explain why you think
they’re wrong — especially if said party has impinged on your integrity
or honor. And some kind of response may indeed be in order.
If the person is someone you know and respect as an equal — someone you consider to be inside your
“circle of honor”
— and they have said something intelligent and interesting, you may
want to explain yourself in order to invite further discussion.
If they’re your boss or a customer, you may need to offer an explanation to hold onto your job or their business.
If they’re someone you care about — a loved one or friend — and
you’ve had a gross miscommunication, you may want to explain yourself in
an effort to preserve the relationship.
But, if the critical/offended/skeptical party is someone you
don’t know personally (like a stranger online or the public in general),
don’t care about, and/or
don’t
respect as an equal — someone who shouldn’t have any say or sway over
your choices — then taking the time to explain why they’re wrong, or why
you’ve made the decisions you have, is ill-advised.
To be concerned with what someone outside your circle of respect
thinks, is to allow yourself to be pulled down to his or her level.
Explaining yourself is essentially an
attempt to seek another’s approval. It shows you’re stung that they’ve
withdrawn that approval, and desirous of getting it back. When you show
that you care about an opinion that you, and any observers, know you
really shouldn’t, you show weakness. In losing the fight between trying
to ignore them and craving the catharsis of engagement, you demonstrate a
failure of self-control.
Further, when a chucklehead elicits a response, you validate his
importance. He’s made you do something against your better judgment.
You’ve given to him two of your most precious resources – your time and
attention. You’ve gone from the offensive to the
defensive. His
status goes up and yours goes down.
People — whether irrationally angry customers, estranged family
members, or a controlling significant other — will often demand
explanations for what you do. They’ll say you are weak if you don’t
offer one. But this is the cleverest of ploys! By targeting your pride,
they’ll get you to hand over your power.
Of course restraining yourself from responding to someone who’s
goading you on is easier said than done! As someone who’s subjected to a
constant barrage of feedback on my work, day after day, I find I am
able to successfully ignore about 98% of it. It’s when someone says
something that impinges on my honor (even when I know they’re not part
of my honor group), or when they
seem like a dude I can have a good debate with that I get in trouble.
When someone is clearly off their rocker, it’s easy to ignore them as
really out there. And when someone has something critical but
intelligent to say, engaging them can actually be interesting and
instructive. It’s the people who greatly distort who you are/what you
did/what you said, but mix together sensible sounding discourse with
nuggets of crazy, who prove the most irresistible. They
almost sound like someone you can have a reasonable discussion with; it
almost
seems like you could explain to them why they’re objectively off the
mark. But as it invariably turns out (and this is a lesson I have to
learn over and over!), if someone’s mindset/mentality is such that
they’re able to grossly misinterpret something, no amount of explanation
— no matter how thorough and well-reasoned — is going to change their
mind. Quite to the contrary — they’ll simply dig in their heels all the
more!
“Never complain; never explain” doesn’t
necessarily mean not saying anything to your doubters, complainers, and
critics, but limiting your response to a sharp rejoinder. Disraeli in
fact formulated his maxim after hearing the advice of fellow politician
Lord Lyndhurst, who said: “Never defend yourself before a popular
assembly except with and by retorting an attack.” Thus, a short, pithy
rebuttal or a humorous, yet withering sarcastic quip (Churchill was the
master of these) may be in order. Then you turn heel and don’t engage
further.
Of course, even a simple retort may draw you into an argument you
never wanted to have, which often makes complete silence the best
possible response. In fact, nothing drives someone nipping at you heels
crazier than to have their questions and demands go utterly ignored and
unacknowledged.
Explaining demonstrates a lack of confidence in your choices/creations/principles.
Have you ever been looking at a book or product on Amazon and seen that
its author or manufacturer has jumped in and responded to people’s
negative reviews? I don’t know about anyone else, but for me, even if
the negative reviewer sounds like a real ding-dong, and the rebuttal is
reasonable, well-done, and conciliatory, I still end up thinking less of
the author/company, and cringing a bit on their behalf.
Most everyone knows that authors and companies check in on their
reviews at least occasionally, but when you give people demonstrable
proof that
you’re hovering around, you confirm your insecurity and/or vanity and
thus show weakness and a lack of confidence in your work. In stepping
from the ranks of the creator, to that of the consumer, you lose status.
If you arrived at your creative vision or
set of principles for good reasons, if you said everything you wanted to
say, in the best, clearest way you knew how to say it, and endeavor
only to put out your very best work, then you can be content to let your
decisions and your work stand on its own. You have nothing else to add.
People either get what you do and are about, or they don’t.
There will always be those who twist your words, or misinterpret your
meaning, or don’t find your design sense to their liking and mistake
their subjective taste for objective truth. If you’d rather make money
than stay true to your creative vision, then by all means, try to
explain and change the minds of those unhappy with your work. Try to
hold onto all the customers you can. I don’t mean this sarcastically;
sometimes products are not vessels of your values, but merely
utilitarian, and it can make sense to be very connected to the needs of
your customers.
But, if you’d rather fail and have to try something else, than change
your ideas and principles to suit the tastes of others, then choose to
be like Jack London, who felt that the public continually misunderstood
his work, and contented himself by deciding: “The world is mostly
bone-head and nearly all boob.”
Or as the British academic Benjamin Jowett put it: “Never retract. Never explain. Get it done and let them howl!”
Explanations easily turn into excuses. Naturally,
even when you endeavor to give people your best, unforeseen problems do
sometimes arise. When you’ve objectively messed up, should you explain
to people what happened?
People do typically appreciate a little
explanation as to the what, when, and why of your blunder. But the
explanatory part of your apology should be kept short — for as Lord
Acton, yet another explanation-spurning British politician warns: “Beware of too much explaining, lest we end by too much excusing.”
You should pivot as quickly as possible to taking responsibility and
saying how you’re going to make things right. In the words of an old
proverb: “Don’t make excuses; make good.”
While “never explain” and “never complain” are two discrete parts of
the couplet, a common thread runs through them: autonomy and
accountability.
Once you understand why you should rarely
explain, you should understand why you should rarely complain. You
simply put yourself in the shoes of the party you’re seeking an
explanation from, and act accordingly.
If a person or company has failed to meet their own clearly
delineated standards, you can of course ask for an apology or file a
complaint, asking for your money back or what have you. Keep the
explanation for your unhappiness short, moving as quickly as possible
into what you’d like them to do to make it right.
If you think your feedback could help someone improve something,
offer it in a constructive way.
If you’re in a situation where a complaint will accomplish nothing, then common sense dictates that you should remain silent.
If you’re in a situation where complaining will accomplish far less
than going about trying to make the desired changes yourself,
choose action over whining.
And if you’re tempted to complain about something on the basis of
subjective taste, reconsider.
For the party you seek to complain against has a purpose and vision outside of your own needs and desires.
Take professor evaluations in college, for example. Some students
will complain that the professor “sucks” because his coursework is
challenging, while others students will praise him
because the
coursework is so challenging. The professor has a purpose and a set of
principles all his own, and while you might disagree with him, and
decide never to take another of his classes, why complain that his
priorities are not more like yours? If people complained against your
vision or work, you shouldn’t care, so why should he?
I once read an interview with Ben and Jerry —
the ice cream makers — in which they said they wished they could
forward one set of the letters they received to the senders of another
set. Because some people would write saying they wished their ice cream
had less/smaller chunks of things, while others would write saying they
wished the chunks were even bigger and more numerous. Which complainers
did Ben and Jerry listen to? Neither, of course. They stuck with their
own vision of what constituted the best kind of ice cream, and the
heavens rained down dough of both the monetary and cookie varieties.
I’ve gone out to dinner a couple of times where the experience was so
bad, I felt I couldn’t wait to get home to write a bad review of the
place online. But invariably, that feeling would dissipate, and I’ve
never written a bad review of anything in my life. Because
ultimately…who cares? Maybe my experience was atypical, or maybe some
people like the food that I thought was completely gross. The
restaurateur is doing things the way he wants to do them, and I’m
content to let the market decide whether his vision is a good one or
not.
The world doesn’t exist to meet my expectations, and if they’re not
met, I figure I can do one of two things — go somewhere else, or create
something myself more to my liking.
I never complain because I don’t think I should have to explain
myself to other people, and I don’t think other people should have to
explain themselves to me!
World War II U.S. Army officers wearing the “pinks and greens” uniform
