Confidence

Why is it that we glorify confidence as one of the hallmarks of a strong, resilient character, when it has proven time and time again that it fails us? When we succeed, we do not hesitate to attribute our it to our determination, our resolve, our tenacity. But when we fail, we are all too eager to sweep it under the rug, to turn a blind eye to the fact that we blatantly misled ourselves, and to forget that we shut down all the avenues of truth that were presented to us. Is this tenuous, fragile state of being self-assured and the act of being assertive actually contributing anything to help us understand a situation for what it is, as opposed to merely how we feel about it?

All too often in our culture today, our compulsion to maintain an image of confidence becomes an obstacle to reason and objectivity. Words that indicate uncertainty—might, maybe, perhaps—are conflated with unsubstantiated signs of weakness and a lack of knowledge. On the surface, one might argue that the only situation where confidence is good is when it is conjoined with lucid and rational judgment. But even with sound judgment, how can anyone be so sure? Why be sure when—in this paradoxical, hostile, and chaotic world—it’s nearly impossible to be completely sure from an objective standpoint? And even being justifiably sure on the outcome of our choices, it’s more than likely that our selfish, narrow-minded, and erratic emotional tendencies—shortcomings that are closely associated with any variation of confidence, haughtiness, or arrogance—are inevitably undoing any rational judgment we once had?

Lest we continue to conflate confidence with character, charisma with competence, bravery with bravado, and certainty with success. Above all, in an effort to whittle down and disintegrate this pretense of confidence at its roots, it should be an indication of integrity and humility—not self-deprecation and shame—to say, “I was wrong.”