These lessons have been bitterly earned. They were slow, burning, lessons. Taught with gnawing self-doubt, anxiety, worry, re-examination and second guessing.

I’ve slowly learned to recalibrate my sense of empathy and understanding towards all of those who undertake the great journey of birth-life-death. I’ve learned that this prisoner complex of the inner mind looking at the outer world was our common shared heritage.  That ultimately, we’re all trying to do the best we can with what we think is right.

So when I say I admire this post, you will see where it comes from. It was about everything that I aspire to achieve at this stage in my life.

Despite  that I  couldn’t shake a sense of disquiet. There was something wrong about this post at its heart. Shortly afterwards, I came across this quote:

“To have that sense of one’s intrinsic worth… is potentially to have everything…”

- Joan Didion

It clicked with that sense of disquiet.  Ryan is right that we need to overcome our need for social validation. We need to overcome the self-injury we do to ourselves by grounding our sense of self-worth extrinsically.

He is wrong however, to imply that it is easy. The battle with the self is the most challenging struggle that anyone will encounter in their lives. He makes this difficult struggle over the inner nature of ourselves – ground in a thinking feeling social brain locked in a clumsy callous body- sound like an easy easy victory. A matter of re-wiring. A process of mitigation through therapy. I think that’s wrong. How can anyone else (extrinsically) tell you what your intrinsic self-worth is? How can you let them taint that value assessment?

The truth is that this challenge is a sufficient and noble challenge for any life to achieve. However, it is a struggle that we have to take alone. Others can help us struggle, against impulse, instinct and social programming but they will never have a true understanding of that battle.

I have been reflecting on that journey for the last day. And I find myself wondering about the metaphor. I find the metaphor troubling. Troubling because it is too comforting. Life as journey wraps the experience of living in an unsatisfactory cocoon of certainty.

When we think of journeys nowadays, we experience them as they exist now, transformed by the certainties of the modern age. We have certain starting points, fixed end points, mapped roads and ready built airports. We have real-time communications with our destinations. A modern day journey is as adventurous (in the first world) as slicing bread. As a result, they are on average as uniquely unchallenging as journeys have ever been in the history of human travel.

We have banished the uncertainties that made a journey akin to life. We have not (alas) banished the uncertainties of life.

If life is a journey, then that journey must now be understood by parable. Travel has always historically been capricious and changeable. The closest parable to that journey that I can find is the Israelites wondering through the desert for forty years in search of the promised land.

A journey where you are alienated from everything left behind, the present is the hostile ever present risks of being stuck in a desert, have only the vaguest idea of where you are going, are seduced into worshipping false gods and where death heralds the entry into the promised land is a profoundly honest reflection of the true nature of life’s journey.

Those who know that all of this is possible only because of a frayed thread that holds out a brave front to the world. Those who worry constantly about the fresh fraying that might break that brave front. Those who know all the heavy cares held back by a single stitched line of bravery.  Those who want to go back make impossible changes so they might not have to put on such a brave front.

I know that feeling. I know that fraying. For you, all of you, all of us, this is a quiet prayer.

Throughout these shared moments, one constant theme I keep finding is how important context tends to be. A person experiencing a rough moment at work, going through a stressed time at home, finds that their relationship with their significant other suddenly is broken. Not because the relationship is flawed but because the significant other has just been fired, has a difficult emotional challenge at home or  cannot cope with another challenge in their lives.

And yet it is the relationship that cracks. Lives radically changed – maybe for a time even shattered – by a perfect storm of circumstance.

Such storms are never about the personality of the individuals involved. Rather, just that, this one (critical) time, no one had the energy (emotional and physical) to create one more chance, reach one more conciliation, give of one more gesture of welcome, let one more thing slide. Instead something broke in the relationship and no one tried to fix it. And unsurprisingly it stayed broken. A broken victim of circumstance and chance.

The good things we do and the bad things we do rarely come from who we are. As I experience more of people, I grow ever more reluctant to accept any explanation or attempt at human understanding rooted in personality.  What we do, how we act, comes from how we see the world around us and how we perceive our options. How we see the situation around us depends on how every situation has gone before. Every experience has its weight in forming our judgment about the situation that confronts us now.

There is, in this framework, an explanation for the person who grew up dumbest in a bright family, struggled to find their confidence, struggled to prove their ability and still struggles to find their place in the world. This manifests in socially insecure and neurotic behaviour.  This is the explanation for the stressed person, who having not slept well, argues with their family in the morning, vents this rage at work and spills that negativity into the workplace.

There are, in this framework, two cycles. A positive cycle moves everyone upwards. A good mood, a good starting point, a good sense of belief and confidence can lift everyone it encounters. When the situation is framed positively, the energy of that positivity is a well that lightens every burden it crosses. A negative cycle moves everyone downwards. A bitter mood, a word said in anger, impatience and arrogance drags down the day of everyone it encounters. A situation framed negatively casts its gloom across every path. A negative cycle is something we all avoid.

There are, in this framework, two decisive virtues. Within a system of two cycles, there must be changers. The people whose energy, warmth and intensity can change a bad cycle into good. They’re the rare people who never let a negative cycle shatter their inner strength. The rare people who absorb their negative cycles within themselves and transmute that energy into a positive approach.

In my mind, the first decisive virtue of a changer is graciousness. It is that ability to be gentle, kind, accommodating, accessible and genuinely interested in the person before you no matter how much else there is surrounding you that clamours for attention. This graciousness, this present focused attention is – in my humble view – all changing.

The second decisive virtue is compassion. It is impossible, within such a framework to avoid any outcome but compassion. We all have our own demons. Our own peculiarities. Our own weights. These shape how we act, react and see the world. We are very much mortal, constrained by our limited understanding, our emotional reactions and our imperceptible biases.

As there are good changers, there are also bad. Those who by anger, inconsistency, spite and dishonesty take the good from other’s lives in the mistaken belief that this can be added to their own. In the mistaken belief that such upward cycles are a zero sum game so that their theft can reap rich rewards.  I have seen nothing to convince me that this can be done.

We should all be aware of the importance of circumstance. The slippery nature of slopes, the downward spirals of anxiety, the upward cycles of growth. We should understand that people are being who they are, as they see themselves to be, to the best of their ability. And just maybe, we ought to cut them all a little bit of slack.

There’s nothing wrong with that attitude in this society. Its pretty much an always on 24/7 place. Restaurants don’t close till late. Shops don’t close till later. And fast food is always open. Especially since McDonalds upped the game by switching many of its outlets to operating 24/7.

In recent weeks I find myself moving towards that 24/7 approach to my own work life. I’m not so much worried by that but by the consequential result that I don’t find the rest of my life as interesting. That has me really worried.

Hong Kong isn’t the kind of place where European style work life balance gets a lot of credibility. Even though the idea’s slowly finding its way into the mainstream it’s done so in a very Hong Kong way. Work life balance here has meant that instead of working flat out for 6 or 5.5 days a week (and then partying late into the after hours) that many businesses are now moving towards a 5 day working week. The Hong Kong government was considered at the cutting edge when it started the 5 day working week a couple of years back, but slowly this has pervaded the culture here and is something that will meld with the natural rhythms of Hong Kong.

For my own part, having moved from government back into private practice just over 3 weeks ago I’ve been struggling to get to grips with my own work life balance. Part of that change is moving from the sheltered environment of the judiciary where schedules were responsive to the work load and the particular demands that an individual case placed on the judicial assistant back into the hustle of private practice. But part of it is that judicial assistants have a primarily legal analytical role and don’t have to deal with the cornucopia of administrative detail that accompanies action in the real world. Government is good when you don’t deal with the bureaucracy it creates.

The challenge I’m facing is the classic dilemma.  I don’t know how to switch off. And when I do switch off I find that I’m bored. In a sense work is – whilst not exactly exhilarating – the most significant challenge around which I build my day. I worry actually that I’m going too far and loosing my sense of proportion. Today, a public holiday in Hong Kong for the Chung Yeung festival, was a day in which I spent 3 hours working in the morning, and about an hour this afternoon doing follow up administration. And that excludes all the time that I’ve spent today planning what I’m going to do tomorrow.  I don’t mind working when there’s things to do. What I don’t get is why it has suddenly become my top priority that overrides my interest in other things.

The real difficulty is that I find my life outside of work boring. And I’m replacing that sensation of emptiness with more work, unimportant work and even turning a hobby into work. I’m  aware of this inversion, that I’m letting my work and that sense of its pressing priority upend all the other priorities in my life. And I’ve learned a lot of wise things about priority in the last few weeks – the subject perhaps of another post – that tell me that this is a priority that is not likely to lead to a good outcome in the long run.

The new compromis raises the customary four issues. Declaration one concerns the ability of the ICJ to hear a dispute submitted to it by a government that has taken power only recently through a coup d’etat. This is a nice, technical, way of raising issues of international capacity and the recognition of governments (as opposed to the recognitions of states). Highly pertinent in light of the Arab Spring and especially with recent events in Libya.

Declaration two revives a common theme. It concerns the legality of, and international responsibility for, the use of force by an international organisation between the international organisation and its member states. This is a staple issue for the Jessup, and one that both judges and competitors seem to enjoy every year. Important recent developments this year in the law of attribution make it a good time to revisit the topic.

Declaration 3 is a strange one. It concerns a mix of the prohibition against forced labour, whether such abuses can be waived by treaty, whether they are subject to adjudication in a foreign states domestic forum and whether the resulting (monetary) judgment can be enforced despite the doctrine of sovereign immunity. This is the newest part of the problem. It raises interesting issues of human rights and the interaction between domestic jurisdiction and international law. This may well  be the most challenging issue  for teams to research and at first glance seems well of the beaten track. This promises to raise interesting issues.

Declaration 4 concerns the protection of heritage sites. The most interesting characteristic of this issue is the highly ironic scenario. On the facts, it is the government which considers the site to be sacred which destroys part of the site. It’s (eventually successful) goal is to bring an end to the use of force against it (the use of force which is the subject of Declaration two). This is also a novel issue, although one that has been gaining in visibility for the last few years, due to the importance and complexity of the protection of world heritage sites and the (relatively) developed international protective framework.

This years Compromis is written in a very different style. Ordinarily Jessup compromises (what is the plural of ‘compromis’?) tend to be written in a fiction style with a linear story that is centred usually on the history of the dispute or a particular individual. This time much more descriptive prose is used to narrate the problem. Not that this has made anything any shorter – the Compromis still racks up an impressive 48 paragraphs which is longer than last year, but considerably shorter than the 70+ paragraph Case Concerning the Windscale Islands.

Good luck to all who compete this year.

A second difference between Islamic history and world history is that world history is linear and always new. Endlessly new things are ultimately irrelevant to the big picture. World history is similarly irrelevant. Islamic history on the other hand is circular. All things are repetitions of things that have happened before. This circularity is an essential way by which the story of religion is reinforced.

This pithy dismissal set off my internal radar.

Two things rankled. First, the over-simplification of world history as mere stories. Second, that this simplicity means we can’t learn anything from its stories.

There is a lot of world history from which we can learn lessons. Not all of them may be as applicable directly to a person immersed in the Islamic tradition but that doesn’t mean they’re irrelevant. Many aspects of the Islamic tradition recognise this. Our discourses are full of stories that start ‘once upon a time there was a king that…’ These stories then imbed a moral. We’re told these tales because that moral is valuable. That moral presumably can’t be taught by other sources or other tales within the Islamic tradition as well as it can be taught by a tale drawn from a broader, if generic, world history.

Their stories are eagerly accepted as more than mere stories when they agree with our views.

The second  thing that rankled was the self-entitled sense of cultural exceptionalism. Islam uniquely possess history that is learnable. The perspective that all good and valuable lessons are contained within in the Islamic tradition and there is nothing of value to be found in other traditions. This kind of thinking is not prevalent in other areas. No one would argue that all that we need to learn about mathematics in a modern society can be found in the Islamic tradition so that modern mathematical theories, methods and systems have no value.

I don’t accept that there are any cultures so poor that we cannot learn from them. If we see their values as proof of their poverty, it’s because our sight is clouded by our own prejudices.  The claim that we should simplify the history of others down to mere fireside tales whilst elevating ours to part of the cosmic harmony misses this key point.

All history has valuable lessons. That doesn’t mean that we accept its lessons uncritically. They can teach lessons which reinforce our values, worldview and beliefs.  We have to exercise wisdom to identify the history we want to re-tell. That seems infinitely preferable to drawing an exclusionary line in the sand because of Islamic exceptionalism.

If only they could be reasonable: accept that a 5 word point made with a 6 word sentence was not an abomination but ordinary. That preferring the full stop over the comma, passive voice over active, not blasphemy. It  fulfilled effectively the primary goal of language: communication.

I had little success in persuading them. One can’t persuade an ideologue.

I had to imbibe their model. The model required exorbitant precision. Don’t qualify anything; nothing is ‘most likely’, ‘ordinarily’ or ‘usually’ what happens. It either happens or it doesn’t. Unless we need to qualify something to cover our backside. In that case qualify everything.

Never use an adverb. Every noun has equal value. We have thought about the  client challenges to the same degree, and with the same clarity, as Einstein saw energy tied to mass and God envisioned all creation. Never let him feel like he got an iota less of consideration. Even if he asked for your off the cuff opinion in a conversation.

Above all else, remember that truths are simple. Complex arguments are a failure to understand that simplicity. Nothing, nothing, is complex. And don’t suggest otherwise. Even if you can hear Einstein’s psuedo-voice (I don’t know what his real voice sounded like) echoing in your ears “[e]verything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler.”

And after a while, since it was my duty to do, and not question why, I learned to do. I tried to see it in a positive light. I tried to be grateful. But you can’t be grateful by striving to be grateful.

I am confident that my hard-edged style, my crisp prose and my precise choice of words is appreciated. And my skill as a writer has grown: there is power in forging pure words. Exact words, require exact thinking, and I know that my chain of reasoning, the link bound to each previous link scrupulously is now much stronger, both in my head and on the page.

So I should, you see, be grateful.

I resent their imposition. It’s taken me a year to reclaim my style. It’s taken me a year to find my voice again. To understand that the logic and flow of my style are mine, for better or for worse. That writing like someone else, in someone else’s voice, makes writing a burden.

My instinct is to be complex. To weigh the full factors before the reader and offer a firm opinion. Not a hedged qualified quasi-truth. If the reader needs false platitudes or cubic zirconium certainty, then he should find someone else to lie to him. There are plenty of hacks out there.

Bitterly, I also learned this: you can sincerely and deeply appreciate your teachers. You can imbibe deeply from what they teach and you can recognise their essential contribution. You can look at the changes they wrought and say ‘these changes are good.’ But that will not stop you loathing them. Loathing runs deep.

This black/white division based on ideology is common. One example is the US debt ceiling debate. Republicans are stridently insistent that there should be a cut in spending. There is no scope (in their ideology) for tax increases. Democrats see revenue increases as necessary. Each party being motivated by their ideology. Republicans see tax increases and government spending as wrongs. Democrats see tax increases as a necessary part of the redistributive function of government.

Ideological people are extremely visible. They focus on ideology and assess every project quickly and efficiently through this perspective. They’re decisive. They have strong preferences. Often they express these preferences vocally.  Their ideology gives them certainty. They know what matter to them and they’re not shy about demanding that their view should be the central priority.

The opposite of being ideology driven is to be pragmatic. Pragmatism sees the world as a chaotic confluence of facts, goals, desires, ends and means. None of which ends the way anyone intended. Chaotic systems have to be redesigned and refined. There is no simple way to evaluate good and bad choices. Every project has to be assessed by its own merits. In a world where nobody knows what counts as a merit.

The problem with pragmatists is that they’re messy people who add to the complications in our life. Their focus on a problem only reveal more unknowables. These unknowables make decision making difficult. Things appear to pragmatics to be complex and they resist the simplifications required. So decisiveness yields to indecisiveness. Its hard to vocally advocate a position when you can see both sides of the issue. You cannot be certain of your views when you accept that even the best thought out plan will have identifiably bad consequences and immeasurable unknown side effects.

There are very few pragmatic people. If you think you’re a pragmatic person, then you should think twice. Most people are ideologues of some stripe. What varies is how strong an ideologue they are and how stridently.

In a straight competition, pragmatics can’t ever out-compete the ideologues. They’ll never be able to get out a message with the needed clarity, consistency and volume. They can’t adhere to a message with the necessary determination. They won’t be willing to make hard sacrifices for the sake of pure consistency. Getting a good result outweighs the compulsion of ideological orthodoxy.

If you’re truly a pragmatic, you’ll never be able to work with a strong ideologue. Their insistence on making the same choices in every situation will irritate the pragmatic beyond tolerance. The pragmatic will perceive it as stubborn irrational choices. The ideologue will see it as necessary maintenance of the core ideology.

An ideologue will never be able to work with any conflicting ideologue. Their stubborn insistence on their own choices will not cancel each other out. Insofar as there is hierarchy present to resolve the conflict, there will be work done. But it will rarely be done happily.

You need to know your ideology. You need to know the ideology of those around you. Otherwise you’ll know why when there’s a conflict.

Not all hate is created equal in this regard. What you need is the most difficult kind of hate to find. You need broad, reasonable personal hate. When you have this magic ingredient, teams join together inseparably.

Two ingredients in this recipe are the hardest to find. First the reasonable reason to hate. And secondly the personal target of the hate.

I’ll take them out of order. First of all the target has to be a person. People can hate abstract things but it’s a lot harder. To give hate a fighting chance you need to pick as the target someone close enough who has no ability to appreciate the consequences of their action, and will thus inadvertently keep stoking the flames. A member of the team is ideal. An immediate superior is useful. Or an individual in another organisation. The worst choice is an external organisation itself. If you have to pick an external organisation try and find one who’s monolithic enough to give the illusion of ever-presence.

Even if you’ve succeed in picking a nearby human, hating a person with sufficient intensity isn’t easy. We tend to be cautious, hurt, offended, sensitive, weary – and a host of other emotions besides – before we can really hate. Which is sensible because hate takes up a lot of emotional energy. People will avoid a person, build artificial barriers, make them someone elses’s problem etc before they will knuckle down to breeding hate. 

All of these avoidance tricks can be nullified by requiring the team to work together.

The next element is a reasonable basis for the hate. Reasonable people, normal people, most people – need a reason to hate. They won’t hate capriciously. They’re not conditioned to behave that way. So there needs to be a reasonable reason to hate. Usually the properly selected person will help by providing multiple reasons (one will never do). They will act sufficiently different from the group. They may chose to break the implied social contract that helps the group cohere. They may chose to ignore the other members of the group. Or they may chose to patronise and insult them on a continuing basis. All of these are sufficient, if carefully stoked, to flame up into reasonable hate.

With both elements present, hatred is now inevitable.

Sometimes though, the pot does need to be judiciously stirred before hatred catches. Don’t worry, all you need to do is wait for the first few sessions of therapeutic bitching. Individual members will vent their reasonable grievances. The other members of the team will share these wrongs with each other. Hopefully, one of the wronged individuals is an otherwise popular likable member of the team who is doing their fair share of the work. This will dramatically enhance the level of group empathy for the perceived victim and increase their dislike of the hated person who is doing these awful things to such a nice person.

This is a powder keg situation. With enough time and careful nurturing, you will have enduring passionate hatred build up. It will burst into a bright flame that will keep the other members of the team committed and hard working. They will literally give it everything to avoid being like the person they hate, who they will perceive, as lazy, stupid and difficult.

Consequently, you will get a functioning, hard working and committed team. At this point the hated target can be ditched. He has served his purpose of team building. The team is ready.