Be Fearless

by Jean Case

  Landing on the moon was a huge long shot. Americans were ill-equipped to even imagine such a feat. At the time the president declared his commitment, we didn’t have the materials needed to build the rockets, let alone the technology and lightweight components for a spaceship that could make it to the moon. We didn’t have the capability to reduce the size of the systems required to fit in such a cramped space, nor the advanced communications to keep track of the capsule in space. We didn’t even have the math or the physics know-how to tell us how to shoot a spaceship up there and get it back. But, as President Kennedy said, “We choose to go to the moon in this decade.” We choose. And we did.

  We don’t always appreciate how many of the things we enjoy in our lives today are a direct result of the original moonshot challenge. This includes satellite communications, global weather systems, plastics that can endure harsh environments, the miniaturization of technology (1960s computers were too large to fit on a spacecraft), and even the math formulas required for proper rocket trajectories out of and back into the atmosphere. President Kennedy doesn’t get much credit today when we pick up our iPhones and use GPS or check the weather or send an email, but these innovations owe much to his Big Bet.

  What I keep coming back to about President Kennedy’s moonshot is how audacious it was. Big Bets are the engine for countless other innovations. They can change a culture, a geography, a mind-set, and a political system. The evidence is clear: to make a better world, we have to take bigger risks and make bigger bets.

  Like most people who were alive to witness the actual moonshot, the event on July 20, 1969, has special resonance for me. It remains one of my most cherished memories. I was a little kid, and when my mom woke me from sleep to tell me the moment had arrived, I sprang out of bed and rushed to join the rest of the family in front of the glowing television set in our living room. The image on the screen was that of famed news anchor Walter Cronkite. Then it happened—a somewhat blurry black-and-white image of astronaut Neil Armstrong descending down the ladder of the lunar landing craft to place the first human foot on the moon. It felt as though our nation, and the people of the whole world, gave a collective gasp. When the American flag was planted on the surface of the moon, our family erupted in a cheer. This truly was history in the making. Even at that young age, I felt the fearlessness of the expedition.

  In the days that followed, I got an astronaut lunchbox and thermos, which I proudly displayed in the lunchroom. I wanted to be just like those brave men who had boldly gone where no one had before. The influence on pop culture and consumer products—and the inspiration they represented—was everywhere. My own lunchbox was packed with new “space food” such as Space Food Sticks and Tang—the same powdered orange juice the astronauts drank in space!

  Countless youth like myself were motivated by the realization of JFK’s bold dream. Recognizing that audacity, we saw that we could be audacious too. Imagine doing something that could so inspire young people today.

  “Remember to look up at the stars and not down at your feet.”

  —STEPHEN HAWKING

  Few modern organizations embody this idea as well as Google X (now called simply X), the self-designated “moonshot factory” opened in 2010. It’s a place of almost unlimited inventiveness, described by Derek Thompson in the Atlantic as “a think-tank panel with the instincts of an improv troupe.” But it’s much more than that.

  Leading this venture is Astro Teller, whose first name would seem to have fated his life to have something special in store. (In fact, his given name was Eric.) Add to his name a remarkable lineage—his two grandfathers were Gérard Debreu, a Nobel Prize–winning economist, and Edward Teller, known as the “father of the hydrogen bomb” for his extraordinary contributions in nuclear and molecular physics—and elite academic credentials, and you might find yourself somewhat in awe to be seated next to him at dinner, as I was at a conference when we first met. But the engaging, bearded innovator who leads X surprised me with his openness. He encourages “low deference to authority,” he told me, and while his goals may be stratospheric, his style is approachable and exuberant.

  X works by tackling projects with a simple three-point blueprint: (1) find a mammoth problem that affects millions or even billions of people; (2) propose a radical solution; (3) have a reason to believe that the technology necessary for this radical solution is possible.

  X strives to mix things up. “You’ll find an aerospace engineer working alongside a fashion designer and former military ops commanders brainstorming with laser experts,” Astro once told a TED audience. “These inventors, engineers, and makers are dreaming up technologies that we hope can make the world a wonderful place.” One of Astro’s basic principles is to create an environment of discovery that starts from people’s passions “instead of putting people in a place that already exists and making sure they don’t color outside the lines.”

  A lot of X’s business happens in secret, but among its better-known efforts is Project Loon, which works to create balloon-powered Internet for everyone. Astro calls it X’s “craziest” project, yet it was successfully deployed in Puerto Rico in 2017 after Hurricane Maria. The X method is to work on a project until it either fails or “graduates” to become an independent Google business. One of X’s graduate businesses is Waymo, which grew from Google’s self-driving car project. We’ll return to X later to explore its remarkable model of achieving greatness from failure. But suffice it to say that as Big Bets go, X is breaking the mold every day.

  • • •

  It could be said that the very founding of America was a Big Bet: the fearless idea that control could be wrested from what was then the most powerful nation in the world by a motley citizens’ army, and that this people’s rebellion could form a new nation based on principles of freedom, equality, peace, and prosperity. It would have been so easy for our founders to have continued negotiating their individual grievances with the British as just another colony looking for incremental concessions. Instead, they chose to start a revolution that would honor their convictions and invent a new form of government.

  This is the Big Bet way of thinking: it’s not just about developing a product but about opening up whole new territories for exploration. That’s why when an innovator like Elon Musk talks about SpaceX, he’ll acknowledge the company’s many incremental efforts, but he never fails to remind the world that he is on a mission to send humans to Mars—and to do so by 2030. His goal with SpaceX and Tesla is “redefining how we travel on earth and in space.” This is the essence of a Big Bet: an audacious, unifying goal by which anyone can be inspired and around which people can coalesce. And when SpaceX launched its rocket in January 2018, the first big test of Elon’s “crazy” dream was proven out. There are plenty who predict that Elon will stumble, run out of cash, or fall short of his vision, and there are many questions and understandable criticisms about his methods, his brashness, and the way he engages detractors. But, despite those valid concerns, there are lessons to be learned from the way Elon is able to fully identify and apply the lessons of failure in pursuing his vision.

  We live in a time of incredible audacity. And it’s exciting to see how much of this is coming from young people. To be sure, young people know how to be loud; they know how to be disruptive. But it’s impressive to see that they also know how to organize and promote their causes. Think of the Parkland #NeverAgain movement, which has broken through the typical trajectory that follows a gun violence tragedy—brief national outrage and then, within weeks, back to business as usual. Taking on the NRA in social media and a massive March on Washington, the student leaders who emerged after the February 14, 2018, shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida, have demanded universal background checks, raising the minimum age for gun purchases to twenty-one, and a ban on assault weapons. They’ve also vowed to oppose elected officials who receive large donations from the NRA. Their efforts could be seen when conservative Florida Governor
Rick Scott signed into law a ban on automatic weapons—a historic change that could only have been achieved by people with a Big Bet in mind.

  “I am not afraid. . . . I was born to do this.”

  —JOAN OF ARC

  Parkland isn’t the first time we’ve seen students enter the fray. Indeed, we continue to be inspired by the next generation of emerging leaders. After hosting a national competition, the Case Foundation received an entry from a young woman named Jordyn Schara, who wrote: “I am Fearless because at 14, when our government refused to take action, I created my own 501(c)(3) nonprofit to start a community service project that sets up 24/7 drug collection programs.” Jordyn’s idea came after she discovered that more than 2.1 million youth ages twelve to seventeen abuse prescription drugs. She wanted to provide a way for these drugs to be taken off the streets and disposed of in a safe, environmentally friendly way. So she set up drug collection containers at local Wisconsin police stations, distributed flyers, and gave talks to spread awareness.

  It wasn’t easy for a young girl to get the attention of the people who could help her realize her vision. When she learned that a state grant was available to help communities start drug collection programs, she asked her town’s grant writer if he would apply. He turned her down. Undeterred, she took her request to a nearby community, and although they agreed to apply for the grant, they told her they wouldn’t share the money. So fourteen-year-old Jordyn decided to apply on her own. She was stunned when she won the grant, but then she did something even more remarkable. She told the two towns that had rejected her that she was splitting the grant money with them.

  In its first four years, Jordyn’s Wisconsin Prescription Pill and Drug Disposal (WIP2D2) program collected more than 600,000 pounds of prescription drugs. Since its founding in 2008, the program has started eleven drug collection programs and helped keep more than 1.5 million pounds of drugs away from young children and teens. Jordyn was a winner of the Case Foundation’s 2012 Finding Fearless challenge and has since graduated from the University of Wisconsin–Madison, where she majored in broadcast journalism and gender and women’s studies.

  • • •

  If I told you that someone could change the world with a brownie-baking company, you might have your doubts. But then, you haven’t met the changemaker who started Greyston Bakery. Bernie Glassman was a well-known American Buddhist and social activist seeking ways to stop the cycle of poverty in his community when he opened Greyston Bakery in Yonkers, New York, in 1982 to create jobs without regard to education, prior employment, or deal breakers such as a history of incarceration, homelessness, or drug use. In thirty-six years, what started as a modest enterprise has grown into a world-class manufacturer, producing tons (literally!) of brownies and cookies annually for companies such as Ben & Jerry’s, Whole Foods, and Delta Airlines.

  To this day, Greyston uses open hiring: anyone from anywhere can walk in and put their name down on a list, and when a new position opens up, replacements are chosen according to who signed up first. As Greyston CEO and president Mike Brady says, “We don’t hire people to bake brownies, we bake brownies to hire people.” Greyston has also expanded operations to become a community leader, with major outreach programs including a workforce development program, the Greyston Community Gardens, and launched an effort to teach other companies how to incorporate open hiring into their practices. The story of Greyston Bakery reminds us that Big Bets can start in the sweetest and most unexpected ways.

  This kind of thinking is how change can happen in the United States and worldwide.

  • • •

  “If Chile can do it, you can do it!” Those were the words of Michelle Bachelet, the former president of Chile, upon receiving the National Geographic Planetary Leadership Award in Washington, DC, in June 2018. It was only the night before that, as Chairman of the National Geographic Society, I had hosted President Bachelet for dinner. Bachelet served as president of Chile from 2006 to 2010 and 2014 to 2018. Due to term limits in Chile, the terms were not consecutive. When she was elected for her second term, she won an impressive 62 percent of the vote. But it wasn’t always obvious that her life would lead her to such influence and achievement. Growing up, Bachelet was the daughter of a respected military officer in Chile. Following a coup d’état by General Augusto Pinochet in 1973, Bachelet’s father was imprisoned and tortured for working for President Salvador Allende; he died in prison after a year. Bachelet and her mother were detained, threatened, and eventually exiled. Years later, when she was finally given permission to return to her homeland, Bachelet served as a tireless activist for the return of democracy to Chile, all the while completing her studies, and eventually becoming a surgeon. This led to her role as minister of health, and later as minister of national defense, before she was elected to Chile’s highest office.

  Bachelet has compiled an impressive biography of contributions to her nation, often against great odds. But the one for which she was being feted by the National Geographic Society was also a gift to the planet. Under her presidential leadership, five new national parks were created, expanding Chile’s network of parks to cover more than 10 million acres—including a truly extraordinary effort led by Kristine Tompkins, who along with her late husband, Doug Tompkins, preserved and then handed over slightly more than a million acres of land to Chile. In March 2018, inspired by the work of National Geographic’s Pristine Seas initiative, Bachelet created nine marine reserves to protect biodiversity, increasing marine protected areas from 4.2 percent of Chile’s sea surface when she took office to 42.4 percent when she left, representing more than 540,000 square miles of protected marine life.

  When asked about her leadership, which serves as a true model for conservation, President Bachelet said, “We demonstrate that it is not necessary to be a rich country to promote an environmental agenda that makes a difference.”

  The nature of Big Bets is that they are audacious at their initiation. If you’ve ever had a bright idea you wanted to take forward but some voice inside you said, “I could never do that,” check yourself. Big, audacious ideas become a reality by taking a thousand small steps. What often seems impossible at the start becomes more plausible with each new action taken toward the goal.

  THREE

  BURST THROUGH ASSUMPTIONS

  There is a special photo on the wall at the entrance to my office that hangs there for all to see. It’s a photo of an eighty-plus-year-old Eunice Kennedy Shriver, the founder of the Special Olympics, in a pool with some of the athletes. She looks joyful. At the bottom of the photo, she inscribed these words: “Jean, I want you in the pool with me next summer!” Sadly, before the next summer came along, Eunice died.

  I never did have the chance to literally get in the pool with Eunice, but I was lucky enough to know, and build great affection for, this remarkable leader in her later years, and the Case Foundation partnered with the Special Olympics to help them expand their international presence. Eunice’s work has inspired me to reach further, to aim higher, to take risks, and to never forget about those who are most vulnerable—to see the promise and the possibilities in everyone. “Get in the pool with me” is an invitation that constantly reminds me to jump in the pool of life and make a difference.

  To understand Eunice, you need to know her story. It was a hot, humid summer day in Chicago in 1968 when Eunice convened the first Special Olympics Games. Just seven weeks earlier, her younger brother Senator Robert Kennedy had been assassinated, his loss following the tragic early deaths of three other of Eunice’s siblings, including President John Kennedy. Her mission in Chicago that day was inspired by her sister Rosemary, who had been born with an intellectual disability. As children, Eunice and Rosemary played sports together and formed a close bond. Eunice made it her mission to empower people with disabilities through sports. Beginning as a summer program called Camp Shriver in her backyard, by 1968 Eunice’s movement had expanded across the United States and into Canada.

  Eunice w
as passionately focused on a Big Bet: change the world through sports—which was what brought her to Chicago that summer. There, as the sun beat down on the thousand athletes assembled at Soldier Field, Eunice recited the Special Olympics athlete’s oath:

  Let me win, but if I cannot win

  let me be brave in the attempt.

  On the field that day, Eunice boldly announced her belief that someday 1 million individuals with intellectual disabilities would compete in these games, which seemed like an audacious goal in 1968. Who could have predicted that decades later, that number would grow to more than 5 million athletes once incorrectly labeled as incapable of thriving, who would participate in annual competitions in 170 countries around the globe?

  Eunice’s dream was to promote dignity for all, and over the years the Special Olympics mission has expanded to include a robust set of activities to change attitudes and bring resources, such as schooling, medical care, and job prospects, to the intellectually challenged across the world. It is widely recognized that opportunity and basic human rights have been transformed because of the movement started in Eunice’s backyard. What began as an effort to reach out to a few children in need forever transformed the way societies regarded those with disabilities.

  One such athlete was Loretta Claiborne, one of seven children born to a mother who was on welfare. Doctors told her mother Loretta wouldn’t live long, and recommended that she be institutionalized because of her severe intellectual disabilities. But her mother would have none of it. She took her daughter home and tirelessly advocated for her, always on the lookout for opportunities. One of them, the Special Olympics, changed Loretta’s life—and, by extension, the lives of countless others.

  Today Loretta is recognized as a world-class runner and gifted motivational speaker who happens to have an intellectual disability. She has completed twenty-six marathons (her best time is 3:03), has a fourth-degree black belt in karate, is fluent in five languages (including American Sign Language), is the recipient of two honorary doctorate degrees, was the subject of a Walt Disney movie titled The Loretta Claiborne Story, has appeared twice on Oprah, and has spoken in front of presidents and Congress on numerous occasions. “I figured if my story could change a person’s mind about another person, or especially a child’s mind about another child, then it was the right thing to do,” Loretta says.