There is a very convenient thing we do.
We turn our fears, weaknesses, and preferences into principles.
Not consciously, usually.
We just somehow arrive at the conclusion that the things we dislike/fear doing are not merely unpleasant.
They are wrong.
Selling is manipulative.
Self-promotion is cringe.
Wanting money is shallow.
Networking is fake.
Taking risks is irresponsible.
Competing is toxic.
Negotiating is greedy.
Starting a business is exploitative.
Firing someone is cruel.
Working hard is unhealthy.
Working less is lazy.
And somehow, by extraordinary coincidence, the morally correct position is always the one that requires us to do the thing we already wanted to do.
Usually nothing hard/scary.
I’ve done this too
I think everyone does.
It is much nicer to believe:
“I don’t sell because I don’t want to manipulate people.”
than:
“I hate the possibility of someone saying no to me.”
It feels better to say:
“I don’t care about status.”
than:
“I’m not sure I could win the status game anyway.”
Or:
“I would never build a business like that. It’s too commercial.”
instead of:
“I have no idea how to get strangers to pay me.”
The first explanation preserves your identity.
The second one gives you homework.
And homework sucks.
Morality is an excellent hiding place
This is what makes rationalisation so powerful.
If I say I’m scared of selling, that is a weakness I can work on.
If I say selling is morally suspect, I never have to work on it.
Problem solved.
I can stay exactly where I am and feel good about it.
Better than good, actually.
I can feel principled.
This is especially seductive when the thing you fear involves social risk.
Money.
Sex.
Status.
Conflict.
Leadership.
Rejection.
Being publicly wrong.
Asking for something.
Telling someone no.
Doing work people might judge.
These are uncomfortable areas, so we construct intellectual reasons for staying away from them.
Sometimes the reasons are even true.
Selling can be manipulative.
Businesses can exploit people.
Networking can be fake.
Competition can become toxic.
The useful trick is noticing how often our moral concern perfectly stops at the edge of our own discomfort.
Watch for suspicious coincidences
If you consistently believe that everything you’re naturally good at is virtuous and everything you struggle with is corrupt, I would inspect that belief pretty closely.
Maybe it is true.
But what a coincidence.
The introvert discovers networking is superficial.
The broke person discovers wealth is meaningless.
The person terrified of rejection discovers dating apps are beneath them.
The employee afraid of uncertainty discovers entrepreneurs are selfish.
The entrepreneur who hates structure discovers employment is slavery.
The person afraid of confrontation decides all disagreement is toxic.
The person afraid to promote themselves decides good work should speak for itself.
The person who cannot sell decides only scammers are good at sales.
You see this everywhere once you start looking for it.
And again: sometimes they’re right.
That’s what makes it tricky.
Rationalisations work best when they contain some truth.
The question I try to ask
Would I still believe this if I were good at the thing?
That question is surprisingly uncomfortable.
If I were charismatic and loved talking to strangers, would I still think networking was fake?
If I were exceptionally good at sales, would I still think selling was manipulative?
If I had made €10 million, would I still be quite so certain that pursuing money was shallow?
If rejection didn’t bother me at all, would I still consider self-promotion embarrassing?
Maybe.
But maybe not.
Another useful question:
Does this belief conveniently require me to do nothing difficult?
Because that is suspicious too.
A moral framework which repeatedly concludes that you should remain exactly inside your comfort zone deserves a little scrutiny.
You don’t have to become the opposite person
The point isn’t that every fear must be conquered.
Or that money, competition, ambition, selling, status, and risk are automatically good.
There are plenty of things you genuinely should refuse to do.
There are real ethical lines.
The point is just to separate:
I believe this is wrong
from
I really, really don’t want to do this.
Those are not the same thing.
And pretending they are can keep you stuck for years.
Sometimes you don’t hate the game.
You hate that you currently suck at it.
It’s probably a fun exercise to tally what you think are moral principles VS what you’re afraid of doing.