In a constantly changing world, we are led to believe that what nations are doing right now should be mirrored by each and every one of us.
But is that really the case?
Should we be so concerned with erecting walls and barriers, with wrapping ourselves in barbed wire? Should the mistrust we feel toward some leaders be generalized to an entire nation?
Or, to put it more simply, should we not trust anyone from the outset?
Should this be the starting point? And can relationships be deepened if there isn’t even a hint of trust?
And this is where vulnerability comes in.
When we hear the word “vulnerable,” we immediately think of a situation in which we are exposed, in which we are unsure of the outcome, in which we are uncertain of what might happen to us, and, in a way, a situation in which we take the first step.
All these points I’ve listed—and any others you might have in mind—that relate to this “vulnerability” only exist and come together when we think of an act of COURAGE.
It is not possible for someone to perform an act of bravery or courage without feeling, in some way, exposed, or uncertain about the outcome, or having a sense that they might lose something personal—even if it is just their own pride.
In this way, the people we consider courageous, capable, entrepreneurial, leaders, or even guides or role models, are certainly those who were not afraid to show their vulnerability.
Those who are very confident about the outcome of their actions are not truly courageous.
Let’s now look at what has been happening since 2022, on a larger scale, in Ukraine. It required no act of courage on the part of the Russian aggressor. He knew he wasn’t exposing any vulnerability. He believed, however, that the fear he would instill—and which he certainly did instill—on the other side was enough to deter any defensive action.
But the vulnerability that President Zelensky demonstrated in adopting a stance of fragility—yet of surrender—led an entire nation to rally around that leader and to give of themselves with great sweat, tears, and blood. Only in this way can courage truly exist. Only when we surrender our strength to the circumstances we face, and are unsure of what we might achieve, are great feats accomplished.
That is why vulnerability is fundamental for us to evolve as individuals. Only then can we grow as people. By establishing points of connection. By creating networks of knowledge. Only then can we see others in a different light, and with the understanding that we can grow through this process. Trust emerges when, in some of these acts of surrender, we are pleasantly surprised to find our efforts reciprocated.
Joy comes from trust, commitment, vulnerability, and courage. All of these things make us better people. Armor is important, of course, when we are under attack—whether on a personal level or as a nation—but it should not be the foundation for the flourishing and prosperous growth of a society that strives to be more just and equitable.
Image by Mickey Mikolauskas from Pixabay
Original text written by @xrayman in Portuguese and translated with DeepL.com (free version)
Armor has its place when we’re under attack, but if it becomes the foundation, it can harden us and prevent the very openness needed for justice and equity. A society that thrives doesn’t just defend itself; it nurtures connection, empathy, and the courage to trust one another.
That is exactly my point. But the "actors" on the actual wars aren't trustworthy enough to be trusted from the "other side". Very dark and strange times...