Tip-Off #150 - Big is better
"We deceive ourselves when we fancy that only weakness needs support. Strength needs it far more." - Sophie Swetchine.
We all know the "Napoleon complex"—the idea that small creatures, whether people or Pomeranians, often act as if they're much bigger, compensating for their size. At the same time, we root for the underdog, wanting those written off as small or weak to prove stronger, like David against Goliath. Call it the "David complex."
"Less is more" and "small is beautiful" are slogans of the day. Ignoring its context, St. Paul's remark, "When I am weak, then I am strong," could be an epigraph worthy of Malcolm Gladwell and, according to him, the biblical David.
With seven New York Times bestsellers and 23 million copies sold in North America, Gladwell founded Pushkin Industries to push sales further. A champion of the underdog and positive thinking, Gladwell has made a career out of questioning assumptions and leveraging conventional wisdom, presenting widely acknowledged premises as trenchant discoveries. In his chart-buster David and Goliath, he redeploys the old moral: the smaller, seemingly weaker David defeats the giant Goliath—illustrating that small can triumph over large, disadvantages can be turned into advantages, and even a little can mean a lot (proved by $11.2 million in the book's sales so far?). Being shallow runs deep. In his latest book, Gladwell tries to upstage critics with another trenchant discovery: "The reason we now avoid acknowledging the simple solutions offered by tipping points is that, in the end, the solutions aren't really that simple."
The famous story of David and Goliath raises, if not a tipping point, a question about how we think of David. Michelangelo gives an excellent example with his masterpiece, the sculpture of David. The attachment of a fig leaf (as in Victorian replicas) doesn't stop viewers from staring; true to the Renaissance ideal, the statue glorifies masculine beauty and dominance. Towering at 17 feet, the sculpture is very different from the popular image of David. Some scholars say that stems from nuances of the Hebrew word "na'ar" in the text, which can mean a youth and a man of fighting age.
Either way, David wasn't helpless. He took on Goliath because he was strong, not because he had potential. He spoke as though he expected divine intervention to save him the trouble, but divine power depended on his own ingenuity and resourcefulness. His success came by fooling the giant and exploiting an unexpected weapon, a "harmless" shepherd's sling. His triumph wasn't about leveraging frailty but about channeling strength. A skilled slinger could hurl stones at 80-100 mph.
Friedrich Nietzsche, who often courted his misconstrual, praised strength as a source of compassion, calling it the "bestowing virtue." More often than not, Nietzsche admired Jesus—"the last Christian"—who spoke of loving your neighbor as yourself. We can't give what we don't have. Real strength allows one to be compassionate from a position of power rather than weakness or need.
Excessive pride deserves a better rejoinder than humility; those who most need humility often pride themselves on having it. A former president insists he is "much more humble than you would understand."
What I interpret as Nietzsche's concept of "holy selfishness" involves overcoming false humility and pride born of resentment with a kind of pride that inspires generosity; what one possesses and accomplishes flows back to others as a gift. In contrast, a lack of pride shows selfishness; it hoards rather than gives and resents what it cannot acquire.
Sir Edmund Hillary, the first to climb Mt. Everest, said, "It is not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves," adding that he could not have made it without the Sherpa guides. Hillary's "bestowing virtue" led him to dedicate his life to constructing schools, hospitals, and infrastructure for Sherpa communities.
We all face our own Goliaths and Mount Everest within, and we may rely on more Sherpas along the way—as much as they rely on us. We belong together. Strong and beautiful, David made serious mistakes and faced guilt and despair. Yet this suggests that we, too—despite our flaws and failures—possess a strength greater than our undoing, worthy of the support it inspires. A real "David complex" would serve us well.
Notes and reading
Michelangelo carved David in secrecy until its completion in January 1504. Moving the 6-ton statue less than a mile to Florence’s center took forty men four days. Today, it remains intact, despite wars and pillage, as imposing as ever.
Madame Swetchine – Anne Sophie Soymonoff (1782-1857), a Russian noblewoman who took her husband's surname, converted to Roman Catholicism and settled in Paris. Known for her mysticism and salon, she hosted figures such as Tocqueville and Chateaubriand. Swetchine's strength lay in her captivating conversation, though her writings were limited. — The Writings of Madame Swetchine (1869, 2009), XXXIII, 63.
“When I am weak, then I am strong.” – 2 Corinthians 12:10.
David and Goliath – 1 Samuel 17. Robert Alter’s translation and commentary in The David Story (1999) is particularly helpful, 107-111. Slings – articles from JSTOR and Wikipedia.
Malcolm Gladwell – David and Goliath: Underdogs, Misfits, and the Art of Battling Giants (2013), and Revenge of the Tipping Point (2024). - These books bring to mind someone more formidably simplistic: Yuval Noah Harari (Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind, etc.).
Friedrich Nietzsche - The Portable Nietzsche (1977), editor and translator Walter Kaufmann, influential Nietzsche scholar: “Ignoring the humor, irony, and self-parody in Nietzsche's work can lead to a misunderstanding of his philosophy.” — Nietzsche: Philosopher, Psychologist, Antichrist, 4th edition with a foreword by Alexander Nehamas (2013), Part IV Synopsis: Nietzsche saw Jesus as a figure who embodied love, life-affirmation, and a rejection of resentment, which he contrasted sharply with his criticism of Paul and institutional Christianity.
Sir Edmund Hillary - online excerpt from View from the Summit: The Remarkable Memoir by the First Person to Conquer Everest (Corgi Books, 1999). The cost of this book is prohibitively high.
[After following the self-help industry, Byron Katie stands out, starting with Loving What Is (2002). She offers practical ways to accept life as it is, including mundane demands, without resorting to “positive thinking” or trading on weakness. Katie, married to poet and scholar Stephen Mitchell, has collaborated with him on works such as A Thousand Names for Joy, which blends her teachings with his interpretations of Taoist philosophy.]
About 2 + 2 = 5: https://williamgreen.substack.com/about - revised
My wife and I were speaking about David this morning and discussed a similar point: David referred to his earlier exploits--slaying the lion and the bear--to gain permission for fighting Goliath. I guess David went "from strength to strength" in his pilgrimage from private to public life.
I love Hillary's acknowledgement concerning the necessary role of the Sherpas. It makes me think of Hannah Arendt's concepts of power, strength, and violence. For her, strength is an individual attribute, and power comes from acting together in the public realm. She didn't find strength interesting, but I think your take on strength would have intrigued her. It certainly intrigues me. Arendt seemed to find David and Goliath interesting only if she could extrapolate a lesson on power from it: "The story of David and Goliath is only metaphorically true; the power of a few can be greater than the power of many . . ." (The Human Condition, pg. 200). Coming at it from different angles, Arendt and Hillary, I think, would arrive at the same point you do: "We belong together."