Transcriber: Ivy Jin Reviewer: Leonardo Silva
Power.
It's one of the mysterious social forces in all of human existence,
the exertion of our will on others.
For some, just hearing the word causes anxiety.
It pits our basic sense of human kindness
against the seduction of self-interest.
It defines and reveals how we participate in relationship.
And for some, that conditioning starts
in the earliest part of our social development.
How?
Well, playground bullying teaches us
the painful consequences of power over others,
whether we're the bully or the bullied.
Our parents give away our Halloween candy to late trick-or-treaters,
and we quickly know how unfair resource allocation decisions can be.
(Laughter)
A teacher falsely accuses us of cheating on a test,
and we feel how fickle the decisions of those in power can be,
and the terrible injustice of having the real cheater go free
without accountability.
The soccer coach puts in his own kid to kick the winning goal
instead of the most talented player,
and we feel the disempowering effects of favoritism,
and wonder, just how rare is meritocracy?
Remember being asked to captain kickball at recess and pick teams,
and later, facing the anger of our friends we didn't pick,
and learning that sometimes having power means making really hard tradeoffs?
Theses formative experiences shape our predisposition early in life,
and then accompany us right into adulthood.
For some,
these lessons teach us that power is bad
and therefore not always to be trusted.
Futurist Alvin Toffler, in his 1990 world-changing book "Powershift,"
said: "Despite the bad odor that clings to the very notion of power
because of the misuses to which it has been put,
power is neither good nor bad.
It's an inescapable aspect of every human relationship.
To a greater degre, the most of us imagine we are all the products of power."
25 years later, my firm commissioned a 10-year longitudinal study
of more than 2,700 people,
and confirmed that, indeed,
the greatest misuse of power wasn't for self-interest.
No, the most astounding finding in our study
was, despite the misconception that power is misused for personal or immoral gain,
people didn't overindulge power
nearly to the degree
that they simply chose not to use it at all.
A full 50% of the people in our studies struggled with the notion
that people ascribed more power to them
than they actually believed they had themselves.
Whether for fear of being judged or fear of making a mistake,
for some,
abandoning power just seemed easier and safer.
And the saddest waste of all that power
is that all of the good it could do to change the world goes unrealized.
But what if you are more powerful than you are powerless?
What if there are more sources of power available to you than you know,
and therefore more good you could do to change the world
than you can possibly imagine?
Instead of fearing our power,
what if we were haunted by the notion of reaching the end of our life
only to discover that all of the good we could have done
we forfeited?
Our research revealed three primary sources of power
that we each have available to us,
that if we brought to bare with greater intention and purpose,
could influence the world in profoundly important ways.
We each have power in our positions.
We have power in our network of relationships,
and we have power in our information.
Let's see how they each could help us all change the world.
The power in our positions,
the power to bring a sense of justice.
How many of you have had the word said to you: "It's not fair!"?
If you're a teacher or a leader, and goodness knows, if you're a parent,
it is one of the most common laments we hear.
And though life isn't always fair,
when injustice goes unaddressed,
research shows that a sense of unfairness sets the stage for unethical behavior
because when people feel wronged, they feel entitled to take.
But as parents and leaders and teachers, we have the opportunity -
in fact, I think we have the obligation
to restore justice for those we influence so they come to trust authority.
Susan was a new supervisor of a small sales and service rep team
at a small family-owned business.
She'd taken the position over from one of the owners' children.
Now, he only hired his friends.
He bought their loyalty by doing them favors,
and he never held them accountable.
Well, customer complaints had become so bad the owners had no choice
but to take him out of the job.
Susan knew that if she was going to turn this team around,
she'd have to re-earn their trust and restore a sense of standards.
Well, with the support of the owners,
Susan generously rewarded those on the team
who'd done more than their fair share
because they had felt it was so unfair
they got rewarded the same as those who did so little.
And in the first six months of her job,
she removed those who couldn't meet the new standards.
Susan kept her word.
She restored faith and commitment to the team,
and she restored customer loyalty as well.
Yes, she risked disappointing those employees
who'd come to expect so much for doing so little,
but that may be one of the greatest gifts she could have given them.
They had to learn, even at the expense of their jobs,
that life doesn't owe them,
that they have to contribute to earn a living.
Using our positions of power may not always win us popularity,
but they will gain us respect.
Whether you're leading thousands of people or just a few,
whether you're a teacher or a school administrator,
or you're a parent leading a family,
making the world a more just place for even a few,
it means more hope instead of cynicism.
It means more justice for those who, in turn,
will treat others more justly as well.
So, in your life,
what wrongs are waiting for you to right them?
Where can you restore a sense of justice where injustice has prevailed?
The power in our connections,
the power to help others discover the greatest versions of themselves.
Now, in our research,
people in relationship with great influencers
consistently describe them in two ways.
First, they said: "I knew I mattered to them."
Second, "They saw potential in me that I couldn't see in myself."
Now, think about the people who have had the greatest impact in your life.
I bet you would say that one, if not both, of those sentences were true.
You see,
our greatest human hunger
to be seen and known by those important to us,
it's met when we know we matter
and when we start to become the people we've always dreamed of becoming.
Jared was a very gifted school teacher
to one of the most dangerous and feared populations of student groups:
junior high schoolers.
(Laughter)
Jared knew the fragile sense of self with which they struggled.
He knew how even the popular kids were consumed in self-doubt
and desperate to fit in.
But he was a teacher everybody wanted.
On average, grades in his classes were 14% higher than the rest of the school,
despite the fact he gave more homework and harder tests.
When asked what his secret was
to motivating one of the most notoriously unmotivatable student groups,
he said:
"It's simple.
I ask for the story."
And then Jared's favorite questions to ask his students
whenever they finish a paper or a project was:
"Tell me how you did that!"
He said: "The minute they began telling me the story,
where they started, where they struggled, where they broke through,
they came alive!
They became animated.
And the more intently I listened and the more impressed I became,
the more validated they felt."
As parents and teachers,
as bosses,
we hold the stories of others in our hands,
and when we hold them lovingly,
we help others write their stories as they hope they will go.
When people invite us into their stories,
we have the chance to help them discover the greatest versions of themselves.
We legitimize and empower them,
and in so doing,
we help them believe they can become the people they've always dreamed of.
Whose story is waiting for you to validate it?
Who needs to hear those motivating and encouraging words from you?
"That was amazing!"
"Tell me, how did you do it?"
The power in our information, the power to change perspectives.
At some point or other, we have all played the game "I know a secret ..."
having some juicy piece of information that we hoarded over other people
that they didn't have.
We've also all been on the other side of that game
and felt the loneliness of being left out and shunned.
Used to be, having information made you powerful,
but these days, the instant accessibility of most information
makes hoarding it pretty pointless.
No, just having it doesn't make you powerful,
but having an insightful interpretation
of the information that others find meaningful,
that does make you powerful.
When we share information generously,
we have the power to unleash curiosity and open-mindedness.
When we trust others with important information,
we elevate their sense of responsibility.
We open them to possibilities they might have otherwise missed
because their perspective could have remained too narrow.
Every day, in public life, in our communities, in our friends,
on social media and on the news,
we face the agonizing reality
of biased and distorted information,
intended to manipulate instead of inform and help others learn.
But when we share information honestly,
we have the power to change perspectives.
Instead of more division,
trusted and verified information has the power to build bridges.
Rasheed was this small business owner
who had come to the United States when he was just a boy.
Now, he and his wife had two grown children they had raised Muslim,
and their oldest son, Ahmed, was home from college on spring break
and sharing how difficult life had become on campus for Muslim students.
You see, from one small group, there was a deep anti-Muslim sentiment,
and from a larger group,
there was a seemingly well-intended sense of support,
but that felt like a different kind of marginalization -
being treated like victims.
Well, understandably frustrated and very confused,
Ahmed vented to his father:
"Why do they think we're all radicals,
and why do they think we're just pathetic victims that need them to defend us?
Both perspectives just make them feel superior and look so ignorant."
Well, patiently,
Rasheed said to his son:
"Ahmed,
maybe they aren't the only part of the problem.
Maybe the other part of the problem
is that you've concluded that they're all ignorant.
Son, I know how horrible it feels to be distorted or labeled by anyone.
You feel invisible.
But you've taken yourself out of the conversation
by labeling them back.
How many of your anti-Muslim students have you engaged and talked to?
How many of your so-called offenders have you reached out to
and told them how you felt
and offered them suggestions for how to channel their good intentions
to show you friendship and solidarity?
Until you tell me you've had those conversations,
all I can do is have compassion for you."
Rasheed then handed his son a pile of articles he had found
about how Muslims had successfully engaged others
across religious and social and political lines.
He said: "Son,
I think there's a lot of other ways we can think about this.
See if some of these could help."
Well, it turns out one of the articles he shared with him was an article I wrote
about a Muslim TV producer
who had traveled all the way across the country to small-town Alaska
to engage others of very different social and political views,
and to his surprise, found them warm and respectful and hospitable.
When I wrote that article, I never imagined it being used
to shape the perspective of a college student so far away.
But when I learned it had been used that way,
it changed my perspective.
I now understood that information I shared
had much further reaching implications than I ever understood.
But now I would share information keeping that in mind.
As a dad of two college students,
I deeply appreciate the courage and compassion it took
for Rasheed to challenge his son's views.
But his wisdom and insight prevailed,
and it did change the way Ahmed saw things
and changed how he would return to campus after spring break.
So, whose mind is waiting for you to offer it a new question,
a new perspective?
Whose deeply entrenched views are waiting for you
to help gently dislodge them with new information,
wondering with them,
"Could there be a different way to see this?"
The power in our positions to bring justice.
The power in our connections
to help others discover the greatest versions of themselves.
The power in information to change perspectives.
Together,
they form the power to change the world.
Maybe not the whole world,
but your world.
For Susan and Jared and Rasheed,
beautiful embodiments of all three of these,
they changed their world.
What if we approached every day
believing we had the power to change the world for those around us?
What if we didn't fear our power,
assuming our voices couldn't possibly make a difference
or others wouldn't care we had to offer?
But what if, instead,
we approached every day
believing the power in our positions could restore justice
for whom life wasn't fair?
Or the power in our connections could bring together communities of students
who believed they mattered and could reach their full potential?
Or the power in our information could help change the views of our neighbors
who might come to appreciate views different than their own?
That's the world I want to sign up for and live in today,
and leave behind for our children.
If we want a world where those inclined to abuse their power do it less,
more of us have to find the courage to use ours.
You are so much more powerful than you realize.
Instead of shirking or shunning your power,
embrace it.
Resolve today to use it for great good and live a life that shows it.
And when you do,
watch.
Watch the world around you change,
for good.
Thank you.
(Applause)
(Cheers)