Each day began the same. I woke up and pulled the curtains open, looking across the Manhattan skyline from the 28th floor of the Marriott Marquis. Down on the street directly below my room, the lights at Junior’s Restaurant were already on, inviting me to step back in time. Just like the diners of the ’50s and ’60s, you don’t go to Junior’s only for the food. You go knowing you’ll get great music and a waitress who asks “What can I get you, honey?” while filling up your cup with strong black coffee. What I didn’t expect was that my morning ritual would so strongly resonate with the theme of the Association for the Advancement of International Education conference I was attending, one that called us to examine diversity and difference, and how our institutions and systems both encourage and inhibit these.

In his poignant essay “America Needs a Miracle,” writer Andrew Sullivan details two radically different takes on the state of American society, both of which agree on a fundamental point: the political and social crises we now face in the United States originated in the laws enacted in the 1960s, setting us on what was perhaps an inevitable trajectory. While the Civil Rights Act and Immigration & Nationality Act of 1965 have undoubtedly done great good, they also opened the floodgates. In the decades that followed, the shifts in population and protections for minorities expanded opportunities for many, creating far more diverse communities that often lacked the tools and understanding to easily adapt.

Globalism brought this to a head, amplifying differences not only in ethnicity, but also socioeconomic status. More importantly, it also replicated the tensions and conflicts we faced in other countries around the world. as cultures negatively reacted to unprecedented levels of migration and technological advances, and in turn diversity. In many cases the animosity is grounded in legitimate concerns: job losses, economic inequity and cultural misunderstandings. It’s not an issue of whether our systems were, and are, right or wrong. It’s about acknowledging that they’ve pitted us against one another, creating clans that ultimately define us: liberal and conservative, left and right, black and white, and countless other allegedly diametric opposites.

Sullivan captures this eloquently: “If humans simply cannot help their tribal instincts, then a truly multicultural democracy has a big challenge ahead of it. The emotions triggered are so primal, that conflict, rather than any form of common ground, can spiral into a grinding cold civil war. And you can’t legislate or educate this away.” Yet legislate and educate are precisely what each side has attempted, but with a blunt hammer swung with insults and blame. Through it all we forget that our issue is no longer solely a lack of diversity. It’s the failure to recognize that we all have differences, and that those differences will always exist. We should be seeking to understand these, not using our voices and positions to dominate in a vain attempt to create utopian communities and workplaces.

The opening “un-keynote” of the conference, delivered by Berkeley professor Dacher Keltner, clearly highlighted our shifting understanding of power wielded in this manner. As opposed to the traditional Machiavellian conception based in fear, coercion and force, Keltner argues that we are increasingly understanding how empathy, courage and generosity allow us to more effectively influence others and instigate change. Far from simply being a theory, this stance is grounded in research. From children in a classroom to billionaires on Wall Street, numerous behavioral studies consistently point to the universal way in which those we are most willing to respect and follow draw upon this common set of tools and, crucially, use gratitude and humility to ground themselves as their power grows.

The smiling man said his name was Jake and, in my jet-lagged mind, that was enough. I followed him out of the Incheon Airport to a minivan, threw my bag in and sank back against the seat. Following the advice of a friend, I was moving to South Korea to teach English for a year or two to pay off my student loans. Little did I know that I had just stepped into a taxi—and had taken the first step toward a completely different life.

As a fresh university graduate, with a shiny and purportedly useless degree in English, I didn’t have any definite plans for my future. Born and raised in rural Wisconsin, I expected a storybook life: remaining close to home, finding a decent job, getting married and buying a house. A semester abroad in Scotland had sparked a love of travel, but I never imagined settling overseas.

The decision to work just outside of Seoul in an English language school seemed easy. A free flight and free apartment would allow me to pay off my loans quickly, and I would get the chance to travel while also deciding on a master’s program for my return home. Sitting in the minivan with my stout new friend, I began asking about the school. “How many other foreign teachers are there?” “Are the students already proficient in English, or just beginning?”

His confusing answers took a turn for the worse when he asked me a question of his own: “Where should I go?” That’s when it dawned on me. It was almost midnight, and I was sitting in a taxi with someone who was just as clueless as I was. Neither of us had any idea of where we were going.

My thoughts racing, I remembered that the real Jake, the director of the school, had sent an email with his contact information, and the now-revealed taxi driver drove through the streets until finding an neon-illuminated internet cafe. Tracking down the email, I borrowed a phone and reached a very concerned Jake, who arranged to meet the taxi near the expressway.

Waiting on the side of the road, bag in hand, I watched the two of them talk through glazed eyes until Jake turned to me with an apologetic smile. “He says that you have to pay him a hundred dollars.” Numb and too exhausted to argue, I pulled out a crisp bill and handed it over. One hundred dollars gone in the blink of an eye. As we drove to my small apartment, I debated in my mind. Was I really that unprepared for living alone in a completely alien country? Should I just book a flight back home in the morning?

I took a risk.

A rough introduction to life in Asia soon turned into an unexpectedly enjoyable experience. Being at the front of a classroom felt natural, and rather than return home after my loans were paid off in full, I stayed and opened a school of my own with a Korean partner. I never looked back.

The risks that came after never quite felt as daunting as those first long hours in South Korea. Traveling alone around the world, moving to Thailand with no plans, turning in my resignation without a new position lined up. Every risky decision since has brought the greatest rewards, and life in Asia has fundamentally transformed that young boy from Wisconsin.

Many of those I grew up with remain in my small town. Some have moved farther afield, finding work and starting families in other states. Though I still hold memories of living that life, it’s no longer me. My road has been filled with unexpected turns, and the most rewarding experiences in my life have come from embracing them. Taking a risk in your career or life can be frightening, and you may lose something in the process. But in my experience, the risks have led to a far richer life.

We all have insecurities. Whether it’s picking apart our appearances, obsessing over misspoken words or imagining how we could have made better choices, we are all too often our own worst critics. No one is completely immune from nagging moments of self-doubt, including the most famous among us.

Daniel Radcliffe, better known to the world as Harry Potter, once expressed anxiety over his height. But in an amusingly indelicate moment of reflection, he overcame his doubt by focusing on something positive that was downright obvious to everyone else: “I used to be self-conscious about my height, but then I thought ‘$#@& that. I’m Harry Potter!” Like others, Radcliffe’s self-worth was tied to something external that could not be changed.

What he realized was a simple yet powerful concept: our shortcomings do not define us, and you can make a conscious choice to control those emotions and define yourself anew. It requires appearing confident even when you don’t feel it, creating a perception that becomes reality. David Aaker, in his excellent book Brand Leadership, argues, “To be dominant, the perception of dominance must emerge—and that requires visibility”. The principle applies not only to corporations, but also individuals.

The fear of communicating with others because of our perceived flaws “negatively impact[s]…organizational relationships and work quality/quantity, and educational success”. Personal and professional growth requires moving beyond your own perceptions and doubts, and taking risks. When it comes time to decide who gets hired, who gets promoted and who gets a raise, it will more often than not be the person who demonstrates self-assurance and composure through words and actions.

Becoming that person is not impossible.

Understand that everyone else feels the same way you do.

I was quiet and introverted when I began high school. Keeping to myself, my daily ritual consisted of going to my classes and heading directly home—no clubs, no activities, no sports. The apparent ease that others displayed as they talked, laughed and socialized was alien. Though I could carry on a conversation and had friends, I always felt that I harbored an awkwardness that somehow isolated me more than my peers.

Fast-forward twenty years. At an elegant work dinner, we invited prominent members of our community to sample our new catering service and hear about the school’s expanded vision. Glass in hand and smile locked in place, I listened in on conversations and rehearsed conversation starters. Chatting with a coworker, I smiled as she muttered how uncomfortable she felt at social events. When I pointed out that a few others and I frequently felt the same way, she shook her head incredulously. “How could you possibly feel like that?! You’re so natural when you have conversations!”

I had to laugh. Every person she viewed as being charismatic and outgoing had expressed a similar dislike toward this type of social situation. We unconsciously magnify our own perceived weaknesses and believe them to be unique, a fact clearly borne out in psychological studies in self-perception. The truth is that they are usually no more significant than anyone else’s. You can learn to be a more social, confident person.

Recognize that change is a choice — one that takes effort.

“That’s just who I am!” People often believe that you are who you are, and that combination of personality, intelligence and skills will remain relatively fixed until the day you die. That is utterly wrong. The tabula rasa model may be defunct, but so too is the claim that evolutionary biology exhaustively determines the self. We have steadily developed a better understanding of the means through which we can transform our personalities and even intelligence through repeated behaviors.

Thought, emotion, and action trigger neural activity, which can lead to a reorganization of the brain, shaping future psychosocial experience. From this perspective, we are not the passive products of neurophysiology and heredity; rather, through our behavior in the social environment, we become active agents in the construction of our own neurobiology and, ultimately, our own lives. (Neuroplasticity, Psychosocial Genomics, and the Biopsychosocial Paradigm in the 21st Century)

While positive psychology has far to go in demonstrating the extent of its effects, the American Psychological Association does provide several guidelines for changing behavior through personal and social means. Lest we venture too far into new age territory, it’s important to note that positive psychology certainly doesn’t promote the idea that good vibes are all you need. The bottom line is that transforming your perceptions in order to build greater confidence, communication and leadership skills requires dedication and time.

More importantly, you need to recognize that this process requires a level of discomfort. Just as an extensive workout feels daunting and exhausting for someone who has never exercised, transforming long-held perspectives may feel overwhelming. Yet the only way to change is by overcoming that reluctance, and simply being more social and positive. Try striking up a conversation with a stranger in public. Join Toastmasters or another public speaking organization. Each choice reinforces the skills you’re targeting, and it becomes easier over time.

As you consciously make an effort to become more confident and assertive, associate your choices with positive thoughts and cues, particularly if an experience initially feels negative. By doing so you prime your brain: training it to repeat desired behaviors. In The Upside of Irrationality Dan Ariely explains this as self-herding: our tendency to reflect back on our choices and repeat them under the assumption that they must have been reasonable—even when the emotional connotations are gone. In other words, you simply need to reorient your perspective, consciously choosing to be more positive, and your brain will naturally begin to reinterpret experiences through that lens.

Remember that you always have room for improvement.

In my role as an administrator at one international school, I continually recommended that staff members pursue a master’s degree—not solely because it would provide professional development, but because it also afforded them the opportunity to interact with their peers as learners. One teacher, who ranked among our finest, heard me say the same thing year after year, but remained reluctant. He had created a powerful self-perception, one that didn’t recognize the value of further education.

Earlier this year I received a call from that teacher, thanking me for encouraging him to join the program and describing the positive experience he was having. It simply took one decision to set him on a different path. Education never ends, and by positioning yourself as a learner, you’re not only continually developing your abilities, but also demonstrating to employers that you are self-motivated and willing to lead by example.

However, don’t pursue learning solely for the sake of advancement. Many of the skills that have led to further opportunities for me as an educator stemmed from personal interests—reading and writing, technology, and design. These form the core of your brand, the elements that distinguish you from others. Gaining knowledge is only the first step. Make connections, apply skills in new ways and always be willing to learn more. If you’re a teacher, take business classes. If you’re a salesman, learn to paint. Try new things and learn how they can relate to other fields and professions.

Most importantly, remember that you’re not the only one going through this process of personal branding, seeking to highlight your ability to lead, connect and communicate. Confidence should always be accompanied by a healthy dose of humility and the recognition that you owe others a debt of gratitude. Professional growth is not a zero-sum game. In a previous article I emphasized the importance of transparency in any modern organization. Be transparent, be honest and give credit where it’s due.

As you begin to transform your perspective, find new strengths and learn new skills, you’ll begin to realize that you’ve built a perception—a story—that represents you. Tell that story, and you’ll have a brand just as magical as Harry Potter.

“Daniel Radcliffe” by Joella Marano is licensed under CC BY 2.0

Published in The Bangkok Post

I’m an incredibly opinionated person. Whether politics, religion, psychology, education or virtually any other topic, you can be almost certain that I’ll have a view that I’m willing to defend. Debate and dialogue play a critical role in my personal and professional life, from my time as a debate coach to my interactions with friends and colleagues. Yet as I’ve gotten older, I’ve become much more aware that however much knowledge I may gain, I could always be wrong–as could we all. Watching the debate rage over the coup in my adopted home of Thailand, never have I been more reminded of our collective fallibility.

The well-known expatriate blogger Richard Barrow posted a Tweet in the fourth day after the military coup, asking “Why are so many expats political extremists on both sides of the spectrum? Can’t we just let the Thais sort out their own future?” The responses, ranging from glowing support to scathing sarcasm, ironically reflected the question itself: why do we adopt such extreme views?

As humans we naturally gravitate toward polarized positions, seeking affirmation of our own views through the rejection of others. But how is that in any way conducive to actually overcoming social and political issues? Few would argue that Thailand–and many more countries around the world–desperately need reform, changes that will benefit the majority rather than an elite few. But actually working together to bring about that transformation continually eludes us, leading to a cycle of finger-pointing.

Within the context of education, research indicates that learning is best accomplished through questioning, self-reflection and collaboration with others. A far cry from the static delivery of knowledge, passed from the authoritative teacher to students, learning demands fallibility. And just as our children learn most effectively when freed to explore and engage positively with their peers, we too as adults accomplish the most not by imposing our view upon others, but through working together with those of different background and opinions. As an administrator I had to learn firsthand that staff I supervised did not always need my direct guidance; they needed someone who would listen and question as they themselves worked out the best way to solve issues.

The cycle we have witnessed in Thailand shares little in common with modern education. It too often reflects the opposite, a battle of words and opinions in which no ground can be given and no compromise can be reached. Leaders refuse to acknowledge the legitimacy of any other views and, in the process, implicitly lay claim to the absolute truth. Their example leads to polarization, frustration and anger. The reality is that both sides have done good, and both have faults. When neither can accept that, it should come as little surprise that the military finally chose to intervene.

As a foreigner in Thailand, I don’t believe I will accomplish anything by utterly condemning either political party or the actions of the Thai military. Doing so merely fuels the root of the conflict. This is the message I took from Richard Barrow’s words–a plea to end the cycle and let real healing begin.

Do I agree with the coup? No. But neither do I believe continuing to absolutely condemn any one group or individual–whether Prayuth, Thaksin, Suthep or anyone else–will initiate any positive change. There’s nothing wrong with having an opinion, but demonizing others for not sharing it accomplishes nothing. If we truly wish to convince others to consider our perspectives, and to learn from mistakes, we must lead by example, with humility and a simple willingness to listen. Thailand will overcome its problems, and we can best support it by engaging in humble dialogue with one another, ready to listen, empathize and accept. That is true leadership.

“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” From ancient Greece and China to modern-day churches and mosques, the Golden Rule—in varied forms—has played an indelible role in human culture, serving as a foundational guideline for ethical behavior. Simple in concept, it nonetheless creates profound implications for our actions in our personal and professional lives. Yet this common principle often fails to appear in our modern schools and workplaces despite its ubiquity.

Why? Quite simply, the transformation must come from within. Before any leaders of any sort can create lasting positive change, they must first embody that change.

In 2008 Richard Boyatzis and Daniel Goleman, famed for his theory of multiple intelligences, penned an article for Harvard Business Review that explored research into mirror neurons. (See Social Intelligence and the Biology of Leadership) Discovered accidentally by neuroscientists, these cells quite literally cause us to mirror the emotions and behaviors of those around us. The implications for leadership are obvious. Leaders who expect staff to collaborate, maintain civility and act ethically must exhibit those behaviors themselves. Common sense? Surprisingly, no. Modeling expected behavior is quite often absent in the workplace, on both the individual and organizational levels, and we too often see leaders who talk a great deal but accomplish far less.

While observing the head of discipline at one school deal with a fight between students, my jaw dropped when he adopted the tactic of bullying the aggressor, the whole while asking, “How does it feel?” I can imagine the student could only wonder why it was okay for the staff member to do exactly what he was being berated for. The tactic is unfortunately not uncommon.

One need go no further than Enron to demonstrate systematic adoption of unethical behavior across an entire organization, beginning at the very top. Kenneth Lay, Jeffrey Skilling and their lieutenants not only lied, cheated and stole millions, but also fostered a workplace that encouraged employees to do the same. Lies and deceit spread from a select few through a vast network until the company simply imploded. By the time the smoke cleared, billions of dollars were lost and lives destroyed.

A growing consensus among educators and business leaders centers on the need for a new model, one that does not merely focus on vocational learning and traditional academics. Ethical considerations, intercultural dialogue and engaged activism are now recognized as central to education and business, and by extension, the future of our society. When we fail to address social issues, inequality and injustice on a personal level, we perpetuate apathy. When we take advantage of others, seeking personal gain, we contribute to the very culture of greed and excess that we seek to avoid.

If we as leaders want to make our organizations better, we must first look in the mirror.