The wind was whipping.
Fierce and determined, it swirled from left to right above our heads as we lined up to field fly balls.
One by one, we took our place in center field. One by one, we saw the ball hit our coach’s bat and head our direction. And one by one, we watched helplessly as the wind took hold of the ball, rocketing it toward left field.
It was frustrating seeing baseball after baseball hit the outfield grass, out of our reach. So, my teammates and I got desperate.
Some of us lined up a bit further to the right. Others ran toward left field at the crack of the bat, hoping to intercept the ball in flight. Still others attempted diving catches while on the run.
It was no use. The wind thwarted us at every turn.
We were trying to control what we couldn’t understand. Why should we have expected anything other than failure?
I am an American.
I’m proud of that fact. I’m grateful to wake up each morning in the land of the free. I’m humbled to live in the home of the brave.
America has long represented the greatest of civilization. It’s stood as the West’s great superpower for generations. It’s scaled innovation. It’s sparked an entertainment ecosystem with global cultural reach.
Yet, America is fortunate to exist as a standalone country at all.
You see, this great country’s roots are tied to a civil rebellion. It originated with a Declaration of Independence, drafted and signed by representatives of 13 British colonies. A formal statement disavowing allegiance to a faraway monarch.
Britain, unsurprisingly, failed to recognize this arrangement. And it sent soldiers across the Atlantic Ocean to restore order.
The impending war seemed like a mismatch on paper. Britain employed an experienced and well-trained fighting force. The Americans employed a ragtag group of rebels, armed with crude weaponry.
And yet, the Americans knew the terrain and the art of disruption. They disappeared from battlefields like ghosts. They hid in the brush, picking off British soldiers one by one. They launched a surprise attack the morning after Christmas.
The American Revolutionary War quickly turned into an elaborate cat and mouse game. And after years of chasing, the British forces eventually walked into a catastrophic trap. A trap that cost them the war and ensured America’s independence.
These events have largely been glorified on our shores for centuries. But the heroics of the ragtag American army were eclipsed by Britain’s colossal failure. Its failure in controlling what it didn’t understand.
Perhaps if the British forces had understood their opponent, they’d have been better prepared for guerilla warfare. Perhaps they would have anticipated the trudges across rugged terrain, the sneak attacks, and the deception. Perhaps they would have gotten the outcome they were looking for.
But they didn’t. And that doomed them.
The British army made its critical error on post-colonial soil more than 200 years ago. Yet the legacy of this error persists today.
America and Britain are now longstanding allies. And their imperial eras are mostly behind them. Still, each nation maintains a testy relationship with immigrants within its respective borders.
The reasoning for this tension varies. The United States has been dealing with a longstanding surge of illegal immigration at its Mexican border. Britain has been contending with the effects of legal immigration from faraway lands it once colonized.
But the underlying threat remains the same in both countries. Namely, the threat of other cultures taking root within the high walls of their societal gardens.
The results of this tension are widespread ostracism and intense governmental policy. The othering of Hispanic and East Asian immigrants is as fierce in America as the othering of Middle Eastern and South Asian immigrants in Britain. America started building a physical wall at the Mexican border. Britain erected a metaphorical one, through its Brexit split with mainland Europe.
These are brazen attempts by American and British leaders to control what they don’t understand. To enforce compliance with their respective nations’ dominant cultures. Or even to deny the opportunity for some to comply with it.
No one is declaring victory in these endeavors. The continued gripes about broken borders and rallying cries for vigilance make that abundantly clear.
But, just as critically, no one is declaring defeat. And that’s just keeping the spiral going.
The 100 Day Plan.
It’s a hallmark of leadership.
From the corporate boardroom to the halls of government, newly minted leaders start with an action plan. A set of predetermined initiatives intended to assert control.
I’ve long maintained a leader’s mindset – and even held some volunteer leadership positions over the years. Yet, I’ve never followed the 100 Day Plan.
When I’ve taken on a new venture, I’ve placed a premium on understanding. Understanding what I’m getting into, who’s involved, and what their perspectives are.
This requires a lot of learning, and a lot of listening. It demands that I humble myself before I even think of asserting control.
It can be a frustrating process in the short term. But it pays off in spades.
For once I do finally clear my throat to speak, my commands will be neither blind nor reckless. My assertions will be grounded in context, and more likely to hit the mark.
I believe a great many of us can learn from this example. I believe that we can follow a more pragmatic path than tilting at windmills.
We can make a better attempt to understand the forces around us. And we can adapt our commands to match that understanding.
If that means reading the wind, and adapting baseball drills accordingly, so be it. If that means acknowledging the cultural realities of outsiders before attempting to box them out, let’s do it. If that means replacing our 100 Day Plans with de-facto focus groups, let’s make it happen.
Control is fragile enough as it is. Better to not shatter it entirely by pairing it with delusion.