Certainty vs vulnerability

“We have to understand the we are representing the position of this very moment, and that that position could change if the facts change”

Malcolm Gladwell

A little over 20 years ago I read Malcolm Gladwell’s book, The Tipping Point. It had a significant impact on me and still sits on my bookshelf. I even made the point of travelling to an ISTE conference in the US in 2004 to hear Malcolm give a keynote speech. I became profoundly interested in the idea that there might be a magic moment when an idea, trend or social behaviour crosses a threshold, tips, and spreads like wildfire, and that this isn’t necessarily the result of spending months or years in strategic planning, or following the lead of governments.

I was also fascinated by his explanation of his “Law of the few”, where he describes how the success of any kind of social epidemic is heavily dependent on the involvement of people with a particular and rare set of social gifts. He describes three in particular: Connectors who are the people in a community who know large numbers of people and who are in the habit of making introductions; Mavens who are “information specialists”, or “people we rely upon to connect us with new information; and Salesmen are “persuaders”, charismatic people with powerful negotiation skills. (I have to admit that I liked the term Mavin as a descriptor for a lot of what I endeavour to contribute to our education system.)

There was one story in the book that stuck with me, and to which I’ve referred often in conversations and talks that I’ve given. It’s the story of the remarkable turnaround in crime in New York city in the 1990s, starting with a ‘clean up’ of the New York subway system. Gladwell attributes this to the city’s response to “Broken Windows Theory” – based on the observation that if a window is broken and left un-repaired, people walking by will conclude that no one cares and no one is in charge. This leads to the belief that visible signs of crime, anti-social behaviour and civil disorder create an urban environment that encourages further crime. Gladwell interpreted the response to this as addressing small offences, rather than allowing them to be ignored in favour of larger crimes. Thus, the recommended action is to strictly enforce the law on every tiny infraction, (fixing all of the broken windows) and stamping out the potential causes to prevent this happening. This is exactly what the New York Police department did – and with great effect it seemed!

The original Broken Windows theory was introduced in the early 1980s, and popularised by Gladwell in his 2000 Tipping Point book. It provides a useful way of understanding the approaches advocated by different governments and police departments over the years that focus on ‘getting tough on crime’ – including here in New Zealand. There’s something logical about the argument, it ‘makes sense’ and appeals to our desire to live on a safer and more orderly society. It must be right, we assume – after all, look at what happened in New York, right?

But what if it really isn’t as simple as that? What if the actions we take in the process of ‘getting tough on crime’ aren’t really the things that are making the difference in our community? And what if, in the process of taking a tough stance across the board, we are actually having a negative impact on certain groups of people and certain ways of working and connecting with each other?

Twenty years after his book was published, these are the realisations that Gladwell has been grappling with – which he talks about openly in his TED talk featured at the bottom of this blog. I won’t repeat all of what he says – you can watch it yourself – but make sure you stay with it long enough to catch his response to the two questions he’s asked at the end. In response to one of those questions he describes the moment that he realised how, in his story, he’d spent a lot of time focused on the fear of the white guy, but only two sentences about the three youths involved – and how they were every bit as damaged as the guy who shot them.

Gladwell goes on to reflect that, at the time of writing, he was caught in a ‘bubble’, and only seeing the problem from one perspective. His research had led him to a point where he felt confident to express, with certainty, that the Broken Windows approach was what had made the difference. Instead of being so certain about his ideas, Gladwell now recognises the importance of admitting to the uncertainty and fragility of our position – in other words, to allow ourselves to be more vulnerable in these sorts of conversations, and admit that he view we are expressing may not be certain, but simply something that is a representation of our thinking and beliefs at the time.

Gladwell’s TED talk is wonderfully juxtaposed in my thinking as I reflect on a talk I recently listened to by Carlos Moreno at the recent Aurora Institute Symposium in New Orleans (coincidentally the same place I’d listed to Malcolm Gladwell speak 20 years ago!). He spoke a lot about vulnerability and the role this plays in education leadership. In his book that I’ve just finished reading titled Finding Your Leadership Soul, Carlos explains two key areas where this vulnerability needs to be worked on…

1. Create the conditions for vulnerability for self. Moreno references “lived curriculum” as shared stories that centre life lessons and provide a framework for creating vulnerability. What four life lessons could you share that reveal your humanity and frame your lived curriculum? How can sharing your lived curriculum create vulnerability (and humility) in you?
2. Create the conditions for vulnerability for others. Moreno draws our attention to Kwenda’s (2003) “mutual vulnerability” and disrupting cultural and positional power dynamics. He challenges us to place ourselves in the position of learning alongside others (e.g., students, teachers, parents), thereby setting the conditions for authenticity and a measure of risk-taking.

What appealed to me here is the strong alignment in these two statements with the three conditions of agency that are described in our book, Agency by Design (responsibility to self, to others and to the environment you share). If you’re interested in hearing more from Carlos and his story, I recommend you listen to this podcast he’s done with Elliott Washor, one of the founders of Big Picture Schools.

The thing here is that being vulnerable isn’t as comfortable as being certain. It doesn’t always project the sort of persona we expect of leaders – particularly political leaders who have just as short time to convince us their ‘silver bullet’ solutions will work. We tend to look to leaders who present themselves as certain about the solutions they bring – and regard anything less than that as a weakness. The issue of resolving the tension then, between certainty and vulnerability is much more about being true to who we are than simply adopting a particular style or approach to our educational leadership.

Reflect on this

As educators, we often find ourselves in a position similar to Gladwell’s original stance – confident in our approaches, certain of our methods, and eager to implement solutions that appear to work. But perhaps our greatest contribution to our work as educators with our colleagues and to our students’ development lies not in our certainty, but in our willingness to model vulnerability and embrace uncertainty.

What if, instead of presenting our ideas and subject matter as a collection of absolute truths, we invited our colleagues and students into the messy, complex space of “not knowing”? This approach doesn’t diminish our expertise – rather, it transforms our classrooms into laboratories of critical thinking where students learn to:

• Question their own assumptions and biases
• Examine issues from multiple perspectives
• Understand that most significant problems don’t have simple, one-size-fits-all solutions
• Engage with complexity rather than shy away from it

By modelling vulnerability in our own learning journey, we create safe spaces for colleagues and students to exercise their citizenship muscles – to grapple with difficult questions, to change their minds when presented with new evidence, and to understand that strength often lies in admitting what we don’t know rather than clinging to what we think we do.

As we step into our staff-rooms and classrooms tomorrow, let’s challenge ourselves to be both teachers and learners, to share not just our knowledge but our uncertainties, and to show our students that the path to wisdom often begins with three powerful words: “I’m not sure.” In doing so, we might just help create a generation of citizens who are better equipped to navigate the complexities of our world – not because they have all the answers, but because they know how to ask better questions.

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