It’s natural and beautiful to strive to be a nice person. In a world full of cruelty and
thoughtlessness, nice people are committed to being generous, sympathetic and gentle. They
never want to cause anyone to feel defeated or to lose sleep. They will go to great lengths to
spare others tears. It sounds especially lovely. Nevertheless, it seems impossible to go through
the whole of life being nothing but kind. Sooner or later, we are all called upon to take decisions
that, even as they protect things we very much care about, will ruffle feathers, generate upset
and may lead us to be (at least for a time) violently hated in some quarters.
We might, for example, have to tell a romantic partner that,
in spite of our deep affection for them, we don’t see ourselves being together for the long term.
Or we might have to tell a child that it’s now bedtime and that there can be no more
stories. Or we might have to explain to a colleague that we don’t see them fitting
into a team and that they might be better off looking for opportunities elsewhere.
Such situations can be agony for committedly ‘nice’ people. There are great temptations to
delay the moment of truth or avoid it altogether. The ‘nice’ still deep down hope that they
might - while always smiling and agreeing - stay friends with everyone. Their distinctive
sensitivity has often have been fostered by childhoods in which the consequences of being
honest and forthright were especially difficult. They might have had a parent who flew into a rage
or threatened suicide whenever an awkward idea was laid before them - perfect preparation for an
adulthood in which there appears to be no option but to tell everyone what they want to hear.
However, being truly nice involves something ‘nicer’ still than constant agreement
and emollience. It means signalling to others what one’s value system is and sticking by it,
even at the occasional cost of public opposition. It means taking on the burden of telling others
where we stand and ruining their afternoon or month in order to save their long-term future
and our own. It means accepting that there might be choices to be made between loyalty
and sincerity and effectiveness and bonhomie. Mature people have come to terms with the
tragic need to acquire something even more important than popularity: a character.
Our book, 'On Confidence' walks us around the key issues that stop us from making more of our potential.