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Making
things happen - with integrity. A weekly CyberMemo designed to keep you on task. Monday July 1, 2002 Volume IV Number 26 |
FOCUS - Aesop's Contempt
Certain phrases survive the centuries. Some of them millennia. I suppose the survival rate for a sentence or a phrase would be a function of truthfulness. If the words pack a verbal punch, and teach something universal, something that rings true, it will be repeated again and again, generation after generation. It can even develop a life of its own.
Sometimes the author’s name is forever attached to the phrase. Often, the originator is long forgotten. We say “anonymous,” or “unknown” when we attempt to give credit.
We call this sort of expression a proverb, or a truism. A wise old adage. A saying. An axiom. Then we attach an adverb, like witty. Or clever. Or penetrating. Or piercing. Or my personal favorite – pithy. What a great word. You’ve heard it – a pithy saying. That is, direct, to the point, succinct, terse… it’s a phrase that just plain nails the idea.
There is a certain familiar saying that has been ringing in the back of my mind for sometime now. It is a three word phrase that most of us know by heart. It is, in my opinion, a negative sentence that teaches a very positive lesson.
I spent some time this week attempting to uncover the source. I had a few guesses. I thought perhaps it came from Poor Richard’s Almanac, Benjamin Franklin’s collection of witticisms published in 1732 under the pen name Richard Saunders. If not, I supposed that the familiar phrase appeared, perhaps, in some Shakespearian play. It took some doing, but finally, I found it. The phrase was written in Greek (well, more accurately, spoken in Greek and then later written down) nearly three thousand years ago. It has survived the centuries in many languages, among them English. It’s the tag-line of a fable; Aesop’s Fable – “The Fox and the Lion.”
Aesop, tradition says, was a former slave who collected short stories that taught a life lesson. The stories conclude with a short sentence or a phrase that summarizes the point. He told the stories some five hundred years BC in his hometown of Thrace. Nearly seven hundred years later in the first or second century, a Greek poet named Babrius re-wrote paraphrases of the fables in a popular prose. The Romans, too, had their own version. Many of these ancient stories remain popular today.
Here is Aesop’s brief story of the Fox and the Lion –
When first the Fox saw the Lion he was terribly frightened, and ran away and hid himself in the wood. Next time however he came near the King of Beasts he stopped at a safe distance and watched him pass by. The third time they came near one another the Fox went straight up to the Lion and passed the time of day with him, asking him how his family were, and when he should have the pleasure of seeing him again; then turning his tail, he parted from the Lion without much ceremony.
Familiarity breeds contempt.
That’s the phrase that’s been ringing in my mind. “Familiarity breeds contempt.” It’s a negative truism that most of us know by heart. Find a stranger, and ask him or her to fill in the blank – “Familiarity breeds ___________” and chances are he or she will without hesitation complete the phrase “contempt.”
We all know it. People have been repeating it for thousands of years. Literally.
But Aesop’s story hardly supports the current shade of meaning - at least not on the surface. Language is dynamic, and words become associated with new subtleties as time passes. Perhaps our challenge is to explore the meaning of the word “contempt.”
But first, the story.
The fable follows a progression. We all know the hierarchy of the jungle. At the top of the food chain is the King of all Beasts, the Lion. He is not the largest living thing, that’s for certain. There is the elephant and the hippo and the rhino and the giraffe and the whale. They are, perhaps, more massive. But none of them come close to the majestic lion. His mane. His eye. His claws. But most of all, his attitude. His walk. His speed. His roar.
He is the King.
The Fox may be small. But he is wily. Clever. Crafty. Cunning. He creeps in, low to the ground, his shiny red coat gleams and bushy tail follows, he looks as though he is taking mental notes. He observes every detail.
The lion outranks the fox. It is the law of the jungle. And with his first look, according to the fable, he is intimidated, “terribly frightened,” the story says. He runs away. But on his second look, he musters courage, holds his position, and watches; observing the movement of the terrible, overgrown crowned cat. Emboldened, he realizes that the King of Beasts will not necessarily attack. On the third encounter, he takes it a step further. He approaches the mighty lion head on and engages him in conversation. In so doing, he learns that he and the king of beasts share much in common. The lion talks about his family in a friendly way, in relaxed ordinary chat. The fox even gets an invitation to come again.
Satisfied, the fox turns his tail. The frightful intimidation is now routine acquaintance. The Fox no longer considers himself to be in the presence of royalty. The Lion lost his luster. The Fox trots away, feeling as though he has been promoted several notches up the ranks of jungle hierarchy.
Familiarity breeds contempt.
* * * * * * *
In our world, contempt has a slightly different meaning. In the old fable, for the fox, contempt meant a loss of respect. It was the elimination of the significance of title. It was as much a lesson for the Lion as the Fox. The fable tells the person of status – don’t get too chummy with those of lesser rank. The mystique of your position may well dissipate – if so, then what do you have left?
The fable certainly has been utilized through the centuries as a lesson for maintaining the hierarchy of the classes. Do not cross social or economic boundaries inappropriately. Stay on your side of the tracks. Marry within your status. Because, as we all know, familiarity breeds contempt.
Contempt has a legal aspect, too. A judge can determine that you are in contempt of court and issue a citation. Impose a penalty. In this case, contempt of court involves an intentional act which inhibits the judicial process. If you hold the court in contempt, you may well be bound for prison or suffer a substantial fine.
For example, District Judge Susan Webber Wright found a sitting President to be in civil contempt of court on April 12, 1999.
In a public statement after a court proceeding was dismissed, by his own admission, it became crystal clear. He had given patently false testimony to the court. The truth would have resulted in an entirely different outcome. So the judge issued a ruling in which she said, “The court takes no pleasure whatsoever in holding him in contempt of court, there simply is no escaping the fact that he [the President] ... undermined the integrity of the judicial system.”
Few of us mortals will face contempt of court charges, but you are getting the idea.
For us, contempt goes considerably further than a simple lack of respect for social, political or economic standing. It goes beyond the courtroom. It involves scorn. Distrust. Resentment. Derision. If you feel contempt for another, you more than dislike him. You harbor an attitude of utter disgust. When the subject of your contempt comes around, you are looking for the door.
Can familiarity breed this kind of contempt?
Sometimes, yes.
* * * * * * *
Our son Kevin is recovering from knee surgery this week. He suffered an injury last year while playing a vigorous game of soccer with his friends in Switzerland. A Swiss physician took a look, called it a sprain and told him he would be just fine.
The knee continued to bother him. Just last month, nearly a year later, a local orthopedic surgeon studied the results of an M.R.I. and quickly scheduled a surgery. He’s home now, passing the time for recovery, hobbling around the house on a swollen leg. His girlfriend has encouraged his interest in the classics, so he’s engaged in some “light” reading as he recovers. His goal – to read and comprehend Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov.
The boy’s in love.
We talked about the subject of contempt and familiarity. It reminded him of a passage from Dostoevsky he just read. In a discussion with a religious woman, Lise, an older man, Zossima, a monk, explains a dark dilemma that plagued an acquaintance for years.
Zossima quotes an old friend. “I am amazed at myself; the more I love mankind in general, the less I love people in particular…”
“… I am incapable of living in the same room with anyone even for two days, this I know from experience. As soon as someone is here, close to me, his personality oppresses my self esteem and restricts my freedom. In twenty four hours, I can begin to hate even the best of men: one because he takes too long eating his dinner, another because he has a cold and keeps blowing his nose. I become the enemy of people the moment they touch me.”
Familiarity breeds contempt.
* * * * * * * *
It’s Monday morning. You are a leader.
You’ve been dealing with people for a long time. You understand the cycle. You’ve experienced it. That initial enthusiasm over a new friendship. The heady excitement of a common goal. The wild possibilities. The shared hopes and dreams. The birth of great expectations.
Time passes. You become familiar. Familiar with the territory. Familiar with the fundamental realities. Familiar with the foibles, and the quirks, and the missed deadlines and the less-than-acceptable commitments. Familiar with the cast of characters and their frailties. Dreams fade. Hopes dim. Expectations drop. Predictions turn from spectacular gains to heavy losses.
Contempt creeps in.
The whole process can cause you to put up your guard. Drive you into isolation. It can fill you with gloom. It will paint the future in the dark colors of doom.
It happens in marriages. In churches. In corporations. In education. In families. In the political arena. In the professions. Among artists and managers and musicians and writers. Familiarity breeds contempt. No wonder Aesop’s phrase is still in regular use.
Contempt is human nature. It happens. How and why can be a mystery, but I do know this: contempt is poison. It is toxic in any relationship.
While we all may feel contempt from time to time, at various levels of intensity, effective leaders must eliminate it. Root it out.
It will kill your friendship. It will destroy your marriage. It will derail your project. It will devastate your staff. It can rob you of your own health.
Familiarity should rather lead to understanding. Mutual respect. Deeper caring. Greater effectiveness. Maturity. Long term growth. More genuine affection.
But familiarity also breeds contempt.
And contempt is the sworn enemy of success.
Deal with it.
Today.
Posted in Valley Center, Calfornia
© Copyright Kenneth E. Kemp 2002
Special Thanks to my good friend David Belcher, owner of Rhino Media Group and creator of WisdomGram
LeaderFOCUS is a service of Good Stewardship Associates
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