Outmaneuvering
2026-07-14
To be loved or feared?
I'm reminded of A Bronx Tale yet again—the scene where Calogero asks Sonny whether it's better to be feared or loved. Sonny's response:
That's a good question. It's nice to be both, but that's very difficult. If I had my choice, I would rather be feared. Fear lasts longer than love. Friendships that're bought with money mean nothing. You see how it is around here; I make a joke, everybody laughs. I know I'm funny, but I'm not that funny. It's fear that keeps them loyal to me. But the trick is not to be hated. That's why I treat my men good, but not too good; I give them too much then they don't need me. I give them just enough where they still need me, but they don't hate me. Don't forget what I'm telling you.
As a man, that seems to be the binary for how others perceive us. Sure, it's nice to be both, but that's extremely rare. I think of great political leaders like Marcus Aurelius and George Washington, for instance. There aren't many others I can think of who fit this tough bill. I know that I don't have the capacity to be feared because the one who would be most afraid of me is myself. I've thought about how when I get loose, I go all the way. Restraint has been the most important thing I've had to cultivate, particularly because I feel so bound by what I'd consider an overall good, affable, and agreeable nature. More than anything, I've learned that people like it when you're clever, but not more clever than them. Even when I try my best to be accommodating, create social parity, or whatever else—I've still found an immense disdain from others for reasons I don't care to explain.
That's why I like to write: there's no need for any sort of "battle of wits" to take place. I don't have to be interrupted or undermined here; there's no one tampering with the flow of my thoughts. I get to be as clever or as stupid as I want, and there's no one stopping me—well, as long as I keep my domain and hosting fees paid for, that is. But still, I struggle with people fearing me, even when I only have a desire to be loved. However, I've learned that love from others isn't something you work or ask for; people love not out of any sort of obligation, but just because, well, they love you. There's nothing I can really do to convince anyone to love me, and so that emboldens me to be unafraid in how I conduct myself in the world. Love, like all gifts, is best when it is unasked for.
Of course, I get too far inside my own head and start trying to convince myself that I'm hated to some degree—that those feelings of vitriol are entirely justified because "people don't understand me, so fuck 'em," I'll say as I turn my gears further into fictitious polemics and scenarios that don't make any logical sense. Getting caught up in those stupid fantasies takes so much out of me, and after a long session of maladaptive daydreaming, I look back on it and feel like a total buffoon. So much for being clever, right?
I've been told by others before that I have good leadership capabilities, but being in any official capacity of it has inevitably led to immense failure. Perhaps I could be a decent spiritual leader, but any worldly position of leadership isn't something I can particularly handle. I'm an analytical thinker, but am by no means strategic. The difference is that in analysis, all you have to do is get the lay of the land; in strategy, the art is in how to proceed and win. I have been so bound to this idea that there is nothing to win or gain, and so any capacity for strategic thought leaves me immediately. Additionally, all of my analysis is typically internal; external analysis is harder for me, and in the realm of strategy, I always find myself being too concerned about my own position and always forget to account for my opponent's—thus, I get inevitably duped because of my chronic and persistent myopia.
And that's why I can't be feared; I don't spend enough time thinking about and anticipating the moves of others. I can't concern myself with it because I consistently remember that comparison is the thief of joy. Sure, to the victor go the spoils, but what about when those spoils run out? Do I proceed with another innocuous conquest? Do I sacrifice internal peace for the sake of something that doesn't even fucking matter? The hallmark of a great strategic thinker is never-ending insecurity; they must constantly be thinking of how to advance their position, and while this may be for the sake of others, I find that insecurity so psychically damaging that I can't bear to think about it for more than a few seconds.
Perhaps that's one of the many reasons I maintain my faith; there's no outmaneuvering God.
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