by Tavis Smiley
As you progress through this book, you’ll note some important lessons I learned due to my ill-timed or unwise use of words. But, back in the mid-1970s, I was too caught up in pubescent adulation of Ali’s razzle-dazzle to give much thought to the damage his poetic slings and barbs might have wrought on his opponents.
I was born seven months after Ali defeated ex-con and knockout expert Sonny Liston in 1964. I was just a baby when, after the first Liston fight, Ali announced to the world that he had become a member of the Nation of Islam and had changed his name from Cassius Clay to Muhammad Ali. Years later, at the age of 11, I was too young to really comprehend the injustices or ramifications of the Vietnam War.
Yet somehow, these events were all part of the magical lore of the quick-footed boxer my father adored.
Through his stories, I learned that Ali had been exiled from boxing after refusing to fight in the war. My father’s excitement was contagious when Ali came back to the ring in 1970. Together, we celebrated his triumphs over Jerry Quarry, Oscar Bonavena, Ken Norton, and Joe Frazier in the early 1970s. My father and I were side by side when Ali defied all odds and floored the one-punch wonder George Foreman in 1974. And, of course, we had to watch when two of the best fighters of all time—Ali and Frazier—fought for the third time. To this day, the “Thrilla in Manila” fight stands as one of the greatest heavyweight bouts in boxing history.
It’s been reported that 21 years after that infamous match, Joe Frazier still bore the scars of Ali’s verbal abuse.
“Before we fought, the words hurt more than the punches,” Frazier told author Thomas Hauser for Ali’s biography, Muhammad Ali: His Life and Times.
Frazier—a hard-hitting, take-no-prisoners Philadelphia brawler born in segregated Beaufort, South Carolina—didn’t deserve the dishonor heaped on him by Ali:
“Frazier is so ugly that he should donate his face to the U.S. Bureau of Wildlife.”
“It’s gonna be a thrilla, and a chilla, and a killa, when I get the Gorilla in Manila.”
That last riff was emphasized with a tiny gorilla doll Ali sometimes carried with him that was supposed to represent Frazier. Although many whites hoped Frazier would give Ali his comeuppance, “Smokin’ Joe” did not fit the criteria of the white man’s champion. Thus Ali’s taunts were like unnecessary, below-the-belt blows. Frazier by no means deserved to be called a “gorilla” or an “Uncle Tom.”
Time seems to have given Frazier the perspective to move past the pain Ali’s words caused. “You have to throw that stick out of the window,” he told Sports Illustrated writer Matthew Syed in 2005. “Do not forget,” Frazier added, “we needed each other to produce some of the greatest fights of all time.”
The national desire to have someone finally shut him up and the millions that could be made in the process helped Ali regain his license, get back in the ring, and dominate the game. Throughout his career, Muhammad Ali used his mouth and in-your-face tactics to force his way back into boxing. I think he was also forcing himself to prove that he could overcome obstacles that no other boxer had ever had to contend with.
In a 2001 one-on-one interview for O magazine, Oprah Winfrey touched on the topic. During the interview, she reminded Ali that Black and white people considered him the underdog and had bet against him before his fight with Liston.
“Were you scared?” Winfrey asked.
“I was scared to death. Before that fight, I did so much predicting and talked so much that I had to win,” Ali answered.
It’s important to note that Ali was a strapping 22-year-old when he fought Liston. He was scared, but his boasting and swagger before and after that fight speak to the arrogance of youth or, to be more accurate, the perception of “arrogance” attached to the audacious actions of young folk.
There’s a reason young people traditionally fuel the tsunami of change in this world. Joan of Arc led French armies to several major victories before she was executed at the age of 19; journalist, publisher, and civil rights activist, Ida B. Wells-Barnett was only 25 when she began writing articles that challenged and chronicled racial injustice in the United States; Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was 26 when he was selected to lead the Montgomery Bus Boycott; Bill Gates was 19 when he founded Microsoft Corp. in 1974; Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak were 21 and 25, respectively, when they began selling the Apple-1 in 1976; Mark Zuckerberg was 19 when he launched the social networking site Facebook® in 2004.
Young people have the courage to challenge the status quo. They have the energy and natural inclination to prove something to themselves and to the world. Rebellion has always fermented on college campuses around the world because young people are willing to disrupt, offend, and bear the consequences of their convictions just to ensure that their voices are heard and their ideas and passions are respected.
Yet, as Dr. King emphasized in his “Drum Major” sermon, there’s a double-edged reality that’s implicit in youthful attempts to prove themselves. In an effort to fight for a cause, uphold an absolute right, or stand on principle, sometimes reckless arrogance fueled by a lack of experience or immaturity can hurt or offend people unnecessarily.
An Arabian proverb sums it up nicely: “Arrogance diminishes wisdom.”
In countless interviews since retiring from boxing, Ali has insisted that he was never the man at home people saw on television or in the boxing ring. The name-calling and putdowns of his opponents were only ways to promote fights, he said. Mike Marqusee, author of Redemption Song: Muhammad Ali and the Spirit of the Sixties, described Ali as a “modest man.” After observing Ali away from the public, Marqusee pondered, “Could it be that the most notorious boaster in the history of sport was, at the bottom of it all, a humble man?”
Personally, I like to think of Ali as a humble man of great conviction who, on occasion, let his youthful passion override his ability to show compassion.
Today, I can see how Ali’s verbal jabs and stinging slights could have devastated boxers like Frazier. But, as an insecure boy trying to carve a niche for himself in an awkward and seemingly unfriendly environment, Ali was “The Man.”
It took a wise and compassionate woman to pull me off a reckless path.
It’s Hard to Be Humble …
Mama quickly noticed my growing ego problem. “Tavis,” she cautioned, “you don’t have to run around trying to prove how smart and bright you are. Stop all that!”
Her warnings weren’t exactly having an immediate effect.
One day, after Mama and Dad returned from a brief weekend getaway, she passed out gifts to all my siblings but me. She asked me to stay behind as she shooed my brothers and sisters outside. We sat together at the big family kitchen table.
“I got you something,” she said, holding up a small, blond, wooden pencil holder. Under the little holes drilled in its top, I noticed a black laminated inscription:
“It’s hard to be humble when you’re as great as I am.”
Focusing on the last four words, the Ali in me exclaimed: “Yeah!”
“Read it again,” Mama responded.
I did, again and again, apparently not quite getting it.
Mama, being more direct, insisted that I read only the first part:
“It’s hard to be humble … It’s hard to be humble …”
Slowly, it dawned on me that she wasn’t exactly paying me a compliment.
“Tavis, sweetie,” she continued, “you are so lovable but you’re so not likable. You’re not likable because you’re too brash, too in people’s faces, too much of a smart aleck. You walk around posturing your greatness. You have a humility problem, baby, and we have to fix this problem right now.”
That’s when she pulled out her Bible and hit me with Proverbs 27:2:
“Let another man praise thee, and not thine own mouth; a stranger, and not thine own lips.”
“Do you know what that means?” Mama asked, not pausing for my answer. “It means you don’t want to be exalting yourself and patting yourself on th
e back. A leader doesn’t exalt himself; a true leader is exalted by the people.
“You’re not giving people any room to celebrate you, to revel in your accomplishments; you’re telling them before they ever get a chance.”
Not content with the Biblical lesson, Mama suggested an experiment:
“Tavis, for just one week, I want you to not say anything about yourself—don’t reference yourself at all. You just do what you do, without bragging about it for a whole week, and I can almost guarantee you that somebody, somewhere, is going to recognize your contribution.”
Following her directions and trying the experiment would result in my feeling much better about myself “on the inside,” Mama promised.
“Whatever feelings you get from running your mouth and bragging are going to pale to what it feels like when somebody else praises you.”
So, for the next few days, I avoided verbal beat-downs and boasting about myself. One day, after reciting the entire lineup of the Cincinnati Reds, including their current batting averages, I purposely chose not to challenge my classmates to best me, nor did I brag about what I had just done. I simply sat down.
Sure enough, a few impressed classmates complimented my “amazing” memory.
I couldn’t wait to get off the school bus, run home, and tell Mama about my experience. She smiled and cried at the same time.
“That’s what I was trying to tell you, baby. Remember that feeling for as long as you live because the more you achieve and succeed, the more you’ll discover how difficult it will be to remain humble. Always remember, before honor comes humility.”
Humility—the Flip Side of Arrogance
“I think the reason I have come as far as I have stems from insecurity … I’m sure there are lots of people in the business—even in politics—and the CEOs of enormous companies, who get there because insecurity pushes you. I sometimes think the brasher the celebrity or the artist, the more insecure they are.”
—MICHAEL BUBLÉ
Canadian crooner Michael Bublé’s disclosure struck a chord with me. Not only have I met some of those notables he describes; I, too, once shouldered the burden of insecurity—feeling less than, not good enough. The false fronts of bravado and braggadocio were used to mask those insecurities. If not for a mother’s stubborn love and a small, wooden pencil box, there’s no telling how many friends or opportunities I might have lost.
The lesson learned was one of humility. And I thank God I “got it” at an early age. You see, we live in a society where broken people desperately seek external validations to feel worthy. The whole motivation behind the “buy, buy, buy,” “gotta have, gotta have” mentality is an attempt to purchase status and stature. Young people, lacking confidence, are bamboozled into believing that the “real life” shown on many of the reality TV programs is loud, brash, obnoxious, and self-gratifying.
The media have created an inaccurate image of a successful business person as someone who is self-centered and materialistic, says John M. Thompson III, executive director of career services at Texas Christian University. As a result, Thompson suggests, many young entrepreneurs approach their careers from an arrogant, what’s-in-it-for-me perspective, when “the business world does not like arrogance.”
Arrogance, the flip side of humility, is celebrated in the media, movies, and politics. It is the spark that leads to chest-thumping, unilateral offenses, and the downfall of politicians or Wall Street types who egotistically believe they are beyond reproof. People who are decent and courteous during face-to-face encounters exhibit opposite personas in the ever-expanding world of faceless Internet communication.
In the study “Arrogance: A Formula for Failure,” Stan Silverman, dean of The University of Akron’s Summit College and co-author of the study, notes the strong connection among arrogance, poor job performance, and negativity on the job.
Silverman and his colleagues developed the Workplace Arrogance Scale (WARS) to obtain empirical data that verified or negated the alleged negative relationship between arrogance and job performance. Among other findings, the study concluded that the more arrogant a person is, the more self-centered and the less agreeable he or she is likely to be. Further, it found arrogance can have significant negative effects on an organization’s morale and profitability.
“There might be a competitive advantage in curtailing arrogant behavior in organizations and encouraging positive behaviors such as humility,” Silverman adds.
If arrogance is the disease, then humility is the cure. If we want to create a balance where our passions don’t elicit accusations of arrogance, then we must strive for abundant doses of humility. This trait silences the ego’s chatter and helps fill our lives and our world with positive, progressive, and holistic energy.
Ali once said, “A man who views the world the same at fifty as he did at twenty has wasted thirty years of his life.”
Humility seems to be the ingredient that spared Ali a wasted life. Long after he’d left the boxing world, a reporter from Soundvision, an Islamic Website, asked Ali how he balanced his “supreme confidence” with the humility he’s supposed to strive for as a Muslim.
“Allah is the Greatest. I’m just the greatest boxer,” Ali replied.
It’s mostly insecure people who boast about their status and stature. Sometimes, such self-absorption slides into the realm of narcissism.
I have long since proven to folks inside and outside my old neighborhood what I’m capable of, what God has given me. Still, certain insecurities remain, and I don’t think I’m unlike other high-profile people. There’s always that struggle within yourself to prove yourself.
To find balance, feel free to use Mama’s experiment. Before honoring yourself, try humility.
Remember, Ali’s self-proclamation didn’t make him great. Standing up for right made Ali “The Greatest.” History bore witness to the truth of his personal convictions.
After all these years, it still feels better when somebody else acknowledges me instead of me acknowledging myself. As I was working on this book, USA Today ran a story listing the top TV shows that could help viewers expand their vocabularies. Tavis Smiley on PBS was among the writer’s top five personal picks.
Having USA Today tell folks to “watch the Tavis Smiley show if you want to elevate your vocabulary” was much better than my taking out an ad to say: “Watch the Tavis Smiley show if you want to be smarter!”
Finding organic ways to boost our confidence is always good. But you can be confident without being cocky. Focusing, reaching, and praying for humility will help us achieve balance.
Nevertheless, my conviction and passions have sometimes been misconstrued. The people that label me “arrogant” have no idea how committed I am to remembering the lesson of humility. If it even appeared that I had become too full of myself, believe me, a matriarch from Kokomo, Indiana wouldn’t hesitate to call and remind me to go read the inscription on the pencil box I still have in my home.
Still, I am not perfect. So every day I recite my “humility prayer”:
“Lord, whatever you do, help me to remain humble. Don’t ever let me get to a point where I’m unnecessarily praising myself.”
The prayer gives me balance. It reminds me of a loving mother’s sage advice:
“Before honor comes humility.”
CHAPTER 2
CHEATERS
NEVER WIN
I had to whisper “Amen!”
On September 10, 2010, columnist George Will, economist Paul Krugman, ABC News political director Amy Walter, and I were waiting our turn to go on the air and discuss politics with the host of ABC’s This Week with Christiane Amanpour.
There was a lot of chatter in the Green Room that day. My attention, however, was diverted to the conversation between Amanpour and the guest who preceded us—French Finance Minister Christine Lagarde.
“You were a former CEO; do you think women have a different way of approaching business or approaching the public sphere?” A
manpour asked the finance minister.
“Yes … I think we inject less libido, less testosterone into the equation,” Lagarde responded. “It helps in the sense that we don’t necessarily project our own egos into cutting a deal, making our point across … convincing people, reducing them to a partner that has lost in the process.”
Lagarde admitted to over-generalizing. She said that there are indeed women who operate exactly like men. But, she added, “… I honestly believe that there are a majority of women in such positions that approach power, decisionmaking processes, and other people in business relationships in a slightly different manner.”
Immediately, Lagarde’s words took me back to a precarious time when my career could have ended before it even began. As a college student, I made a foolish, potentially disastrous mistake that could have put me behind bars and destroyed my public ambitions forever. It was a woman—a very powerful woman—who resisted the advice of a male subordinate who wanted to crucify me for my recklessness.
This woman of authority, who handled a delicate situation in a “slightly different manner” than a man, profoundly impacted my life. It is because of her, in part, that I rely on the instincts of women. My company was started with a brilliant woman and, to this day, women run the majority of my enterprises. The levels of professional excellence, emotional intelligence, and wisdom they bring into my universe are invaluable.
I don’t know why Amanpour seguéd from the topic of European finance to the question about women in power. To me, it was but another divine reminder—a flashback to a lesson learned about benevolence, tough love, the blessings inherent with a second chance, and, most importantly, the value of personal integrity and ethics.
And so, I just had to say “Amen!”
Cheater
The off-campus shooting of Denver Smith on September 12, 1983, rocked the worlds of students and faculty members at Indiana University in Bloomington. Denver—a football star, husband, father to a brand-new baby girl, and my kindhearted friend—was shot in the back four times by local police officers. Police spokesmen told reporters that Smith, 24 at the time, was acting “erratically and deranged.” He was scuffling with officers when they shot him in the back.