My family and I were having a heated discussion about how to bring out the best potential (academically and work-wise) in people. My dad kept handing ultimatums to my kid sister re: her studies and academic results, as he had done with me and my brother before her. When I casually mentioned that maybe a gentler approach would bring about desired results with much less grief, he shot back with a very strong point: To do anything well, you need some element of fear.
I thought about the reasons that drove me to give my best in all that I have done to date, and they were all rooted in fear. Sure, some things I threw my heart into doing because I was genuinely interested, because I actually wanted to. But even then, there was still at least a little fear weaved through my personal desires. You can do something reasonably well on your own merits and talents, but if you let fear push you, chances are, you will do that thing better.
Many things, I did for reasons other than fear: to please my parents, to make my family proud, to prove my worth, to have a transcript that boasted a string of Higher Distinctions (ah, beautiful symmetry!), as a thank you to much-respected teachers, to get some promised reward, to be able to fit into size 8 tops, just because I loved it, you get the picture.
But even then, there was always an undercurrent of negative reason. In my case, fear did not paralyse me. It spurred me on to do more than I would have been willing to do, had I been resting on laurels of complacency.
I fear failure, and I fear mediocrity. It grew to be this way the older I got.
In primary school, I studied hard because I feared the caning I would get if I did not end up one of the top ten students of the year. Not because I coveted the promised reward of a meal at my favourite restaurant if I became one of the top three students. Not because of personal pride.
In high school, I studied hard because I feared the wrath of my father, the reduction of my already-paltry allowance, and also the possibility of being bested by a class rival. Not because I wanted to do well enough as to merit a raise in allowance.
In uni, I studied hard because I could not bear the thought of disappointing my parents, of returning home to Malaysia an overseas graduate with mediocre results.
I worked hard at my majors because they inspired me. I was in love with the courses, and in awe of my lecturers. But I worked harder than I needed to, to be honest, because I didn't want to sit back at the end of a semester and see some grade staring back at me, when I knew full well that I have the ability to ace them.
When I was doing my Honour degree, I worked like a fiend because I was terrified of not doing well enough, thereby branding myself a mere jack-of-all-trades (master of none).
Similarly, I believe I'll give my best to my work (whatever it may be) because I cannot stand the thought of being a passionless person who does only what is required of his station and no more. I want to excel and be bloody good at what I do--maybe not the best, but one of the better ones, for sure.
There are few things worse, in my opinion, than knowing that you could've done better, or could've avoided some mistake, if only you'd just tried. Made enough of an effort, before it's too late and you're left thinking "If only I...".
I do think that it's not that way for everyone. It's probably my uptight perfectionist tendencies, my paranoias and neurosis all working together.
While my views on tapping the potential from people are slightly more relaxed--I think that you should tailor your approach depending on the recipient's personality--I cannot deny the (at least partial) truth of my dad's belief. Everyone has huge potential. But not everyone's fears drive them to do achieve it.
