My back porch is one of my favorite places in the world. When I want peace and restoration without traveling hundreds of miles West to the mountains, I head to the back porch. I have long since given up the fantasy of the Teton range just above the tree line. Instead of peaks and ridges of snow, I get the lights from a few baseball fields. At night the lights can light up my backyard like the sun is still out. Which, for a former baseball player, is not all bad. If I have to listen to any noise other than crickets on my back porch, it might as well be the ping of a metal bat hitting the ball and the applause of parents as their sons and daughters race around third base to score.
Last week, though, another sound, burned through the trees. It came from a coach hitting ground balls to young boys:
“If you’re scared of the ball, get off the field!”
There went my peaceful morning. Sadly yet another coach fell prey to the temptation to use shame to motivate his players, and another group of ten year old boys have reinforced for them the idea that fear means weakness. Where do we get the idea that shame is a productive tool to stimulate strength, desire, and confidence?
Shame is a popular yet poor motivator. I think anyone who took the time to think about it would agree. But we coaches, teachers, parents, spouses, and employers continue to use it. A few of us might even mean well. Might. Here’s the thing: Those who use shame as a motivator confuse (A) the stimulation of desire with (B) behavior which produces desirable results. Those are two completely different things: One’s Desire versus Another’s Desirable Results.
For the coach who shamed his young ballplayers, he wanted them to stay in front of the ball. And after his verbal lashing, they probably did. But did any of them grow in passion for the game of baseball or in respect for their coach? Did any of them experience less fear of the rock hard object racing and bouncing at them at high speed likely to hit a rock, take a bad bounce, and pop them in the mouth, chest, or ankle?
I highly doubt it.
Shame cannot take away fear. Quite the opposite: Shame hides well below fear, often eluding our detection.
A person asked me recently,
“Is it ever okay to shame anyone for good reason?”
No.
As leaders, we do not have to shame people to encourage strength and produce results. Good leadership aims to instill courage and passion, and shame is powerless to bestow either. Yes, shaming an employee may produce desirable results in the short run, but it will kill relationship and damage their heart and inevitably production in the end.
If you use shame to motivate others, consider this for yourself: Shaming someone to accomplish an end is simply the attempt to take a shortcut without doing your own emotional and spiritual work as a leader to become the kind of man or woman others want to follow. To shame as a motivator is popular for good reason: It keeps us from our own disappointment. We get to inadvertently apply our un-grieved, unprocessed losses and insecurities on someone else. How convenient. Yet they are left to carry the carnage we created when we transferred our own shame.
To coaches who want to build young ballplayers…
To teachers who want to pass on the desire to learn…
To employers who want to create work environments where creativity, fun, and innovation happen…
To family members who long for intimacy and connection…
We all have our fears for good reason, and fear is a far different animal than cowardice. Combat soldiers without fear die fast.
When I played baseball, I was scared of the ball. That’s why I wore a glove and a cup when I played third base. It’s why I wore a helmet when I stepped into the batter’s box to stare down an 87 MPH fastball. My boyhood hero’s career ended when a pitch struck him in the eye. I’ve been hit by plenty of pitches. I smile now as I remember my buddies yelling “Don’t rub it!” as I trotted to first base wincing in pain.
Baseballs hurt. I am still scared of them, and if I had the talent, size, and good fortune, I would still play ball, and not just for the money. Pain and fear never threatened my love of the game, because fear has never been the enemy.
We take a big step when we honor fear and refrain from shaming it. But because we fear fear, it can tempt us to shame it away. Throwing shame on or toward anyone is a poor attempt to deal with fear, and it cannot instill courage.
So how do we inspire those we lead toward courage? First, we seek awareness of fear within us and the shame we may harbor beneath it. I often find people have become so accustomed to the normalcy of both impaired fear and toxic-shame that they accept and adopt them as welcomed guests despite their actual identity: malignant intruders. Fear and shame do not have to rule us, but until we know the place they hold within us, we will dance to their beat.
Only healthy, processed fear and healed shame equip any of us to lead well. As the voice through the trees reminded me, we are still badly in need of recovered and well-processed men and women to inspire courage in younger hearts. In the process, a blessing awaits leaders, too, not just the ones they lead. Leaders who do their own emotional and spiritual work get the chance to inspire, facilitate change in, and offer life to others. That’s a journey worth taking.
Will you pursue the recovery of your own heart en route to inspire others and bestow courage?
