Truth Performance

Telling the truth is a form of performance. Whether by not cheating on reps in your workouts, not letting yourself off the hook in your personal development, or opting to have the hard conversations in your relationships.

Honesty is always the route towards long-term performance.

The trouble is, we rarely hear or see it. When was the last time you heard an expert on a podcast answer a question with “I don’t know. I’ll have to look into it and get back to you.”

Chances are you’ll have to think pretty hard on that one. There’s something intrinsic in us to prioritise self-interest over the truth. 

No Need For a Lifeline, Jeremy

One study found that 90% of 100 people pretended to understand terminology that didn’t even exist. Baffled by the numbers, those conducting the study then ran another one where they warned half of the respondents that some terminology was entirely made up. Though this reduced the rate, it still “neither eliminated nor attenuated the positive relationship between self-perceived knowledge and overclaiming.”

We’ve spoken before on the illusory truth effect – backed by over 50 individual studies – that highlights how repeating something, even if it’s patently false, increases our likelihood of believing it.

Modernity prioritises appearance over actuality. What’s more important to you, how you’re seen or who you are?

On The Winning Side

65% of people think they’re of above-average intelligence. 

Even those in hospital for driving accidents that they themselves cause believe they’re better than average drivers.

It seems that we’d sooner paint an unrealistic picture of ourselves and our abilities than drink in the reality of ourselves. It’s a status play – and the statistics are too high to think this only applies to people with high self-esteem.

There’s a fascinating piece of work by Davidai and Gilovich who coined the “headwinds/tailwinds asymmetry.” That is to say, when things are going well we presume it’s down to our ability; when things are not, we concoct bias to explain our suboptimal outcomes.

Telling It Like It Is

Let’s peel back the accoutrement of performance and look at its bare bones: one definition is “the action or process of performing a task or function.” Unfortunately, we tend to muddy our perception through the lens of achievement, which is open to interpretation. 

How well you perform is a unique answer.

One pal seems to always be in show-stopping condition without even considering their diet, another barely needs to sleep and another manages to read and retain a new book each week. We compare ourselves into inferiority or envy, to nobody’s gain.

We will continue this train of thought until we truly accept that life has to be a balancing act. Some days we fly, others we fall.

That said, an email won’t to change human nature.

But this short read can hold a mirror up to the ridiculousness of our shared character: We expect ourselves to always be above average. When we do well we think it’s down to us (tailwind). When we do badly we focus on everything outside of ourselves (headwind).

For The Greater Good

Unwittingly or otherwise we tap into so many psychological machinations to gloss over reality. Acknowledging that is the first step. The second is to tell the truth: to yourself, about yourself and to others.

Count your reps even if it means you lose. 

Have difficult conversations with loved ones telling them how you actually feel.

Take moments to hold yourself accountable to the goals and plans you pretend are just around the corner but have yet to see progress in months, maybe years.

Just admit you don’t know the capital of Malta. 

(It’s Valetta, FYI).

Understand your privilege and be aware of your disadvantages. And give others the same courtesy. In the name of performance, if nothing else.

Why do we bring this up? To affirm the power of saying that you don’t know. 

Be open to being wrong rather than plastering over your misunderstanding. True performance isn’t in its appearance – it’s in the action.

“Poise not pose,” as Ryan Holiday says.