The power of introverts

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When I was nine years old,

I went off to summer camp

for the first time.

And my mother packed me a suitcase

full of books,

which to me seemed like

a perfectly natural thing to do.

Because in my family,

reading was the primary group activity.

And this might sound antisocial to you,

but for us it was really just

a different way of being social.

You have the animal warmth of your family

sitting right next to you,

but you are also free to go

roaming around the adventureland

inside your own mind.

And I had this idea

that camp was going to be

just like this, but better.

(Laughter)

I had a vision of 10 girls

sitting in a cabin

cozily reading books

in their matching nightgowns.

(Laughter)

Camp was more like a keg party

without any alcohol.

And on the very first day,

our counselor gathered us all together

and she taught us a cheer

that she said we would be doing

every day for the rest of the summer

to instill camp spirit.

And it went like this:

"R-O-W-D-I-E,

that's the way we spell rowdie.

Rowdie, rowdie, let's get rowdie."

(Laughter)

Yeah.

So I couldn't figure out

for the life of me

why we were supposed to be so rowdy,

or why we had to spell

this word incorrectly.

(Laughter)

But I recited a cheer. I recited

a cheer along with everybody else.

I did my best.

And I just waited for the time

that I could go off and read my books.

But the first time that I took

my book out of my suitcase,

the coolest girl in the bunk came up to me

and she asked me, "Why

are you being so mellow?" --

mellow, of course,

being the exact opposite

of R-O-W-D-I-E.

And then the second time I tried it,

the counselor came up to me

with a concerned expression on her face

and she repeated the point

about camp spirit

and said we should all work very hard

to be outgoing.

And so I put my books away,

back in their suitcase,

and I put them under my bed,

and there they stayed

for the rest of the summer.

And I felt kind of guilty about this.

I felt as if the books needed me somehow,

and they were calling out to me

and I was forsaking them.

But I did forsake them

and I didn't open that suitcase again

until I was back home with my family

at the end of the summer.

Now, I tell you this story

about summer camp.

I could have told you

50 others just like it --

all the times that I got the message

that somehow my quiet

and introverted style of being

was not necessarily the right way to go,

that I should be trying to pass

as more of an extrovert.

And I always sensed deep down

that this was wrong

and that introverts were

pretty excellent just as they were.

But for years I denied this intuition,

and so I became a Wall Street

lawyer, of all things,

instead of the writer

that I had always longed to be --

partly because I needed to prove to myself

that I could be bold and assertive too.

And I was always going off to crowded bars

when I really would have preferred

to just have a nice dinner with friends.

And I made these

self-negating choices so reflexively,

that I wasn't even aware

that I was making them.

Now this is what many introverts do,

and it's our loss for sure,

but it is also our colleagues' loss

and our communities' loss.

And at the risk of sounding grandiose,

it is the world's loss.

Because when it comes

to creativity and to leadership,

we need introverts doing

what they do best.

A third to a half of the population

are introverts --

a third to a half.

So that's one out of every two

or three people you know.

So even if you're an extrovert yourself,

I'm talking about your coworkers

and your spouses and your children

and the person sitting

next to you right now --

all of them subject to this bias

that is pretty deep

and real in our society.

We all internalize it

from a very early age

without even having a language

for what we're doing.

Now, to see the bias clearly,

you need to understand

what introversion is.

It's different from being shy.

Shyness is about fear of social judgment.

Introversion is more about,

how do you respond to stimulation,

including social stimulation.

So extroverts really crave

large amounts of stimulation,

whereas introverts feel

at their most alive

and their most switched-on

and their most capable

when they're in quieter,

more low-key environments.

Not all the time --

these things aren't absolute --

but a lot of the time.

So the key then to maximizing our talents

is for us all to put ourselves

in the zone of stimulation

that is right for us.

But now here's where the bias comes in.

Our most important institutions,

our schools and our workplaces,

they are designed mostly for extroverts

and for extroverts' need

for lots of stimulation.

And also we have

this belief system right now

that I call the new groupthink,

which holds that all creativity

and all productivity

comes from a very oddly gregarious place.

So if you picture the typical

classroom nowadays:

When I was going to school,

we sat in rows.

We sat in rows of desks like this,

and we did most of our work

pretty autonomously.

But nowadays, your typical classroom

has pods of desks --

four or five or six or seven kids

all facing each other.

And kids are working

in countless group assignments.

Even in subjects like math

and creative writing,

which you think would depend

on solo flights of thought,

kids are now expected to act

as committee members.

And for the kids who prefer to go off

by themselves or just to work alone,

those kids are seen as outliers often

or, worse, as problem cases.

And the vast majority of teachers

reports believing that

the ideal student is an extrovert

as opposed to an introvert,

even though introverts

actually get better grades

and are more knowledgeable,

according to research.

(Laughter)

Okay, same thing is true

in our workplaces.

Now, most of us work in open plan offices,

without walls,

where we are subject to the constant

noise and gaze of our coworkers.

And when it comes to leadership,

introverts are routinely passed over

for leadership positions,

even though introverts

tend to be very careful,

much less likely to take outsize risks --

which is something

we might all favor nowadays.

And interesting research

by Adam Grant at the Wharton School

has found that introverted leaders

often deliver better outcomes

than extroverts do,

because when they are managing

proactive employees,

they're much more likely to let

those employees run with their ideas,

whereas an extrovert

can, quite unwittingly,

get so excited about things

that they're putting

their own stamp on things,

and other people's ideas might not

as easily then bubble up to the surface.

Now in fact, some of our transformative

leaders in history have been introverts.

I'll give you some examples.

Eleanor Roosevelt, Rosa Parks, Gandhi --

all these people described themselves

as quiet and soft-spoken and even shy.

And they all took the spotlight,

even though every bone in their bodies

was telling them not to.

And this turns out to have

a special power all its own,

because people could feel

that these leaders were at the helm

not because they enjoyed directing others

and not out of the pleasure

of being looked at;

they were there

because they had no choice,

because they were driven to do

what they thought was right.

Now I think at this point

it's important for me to say

that I actually love extroverts.

I always like to say some of my best

friends are extroverts,

including my beloved husband.

And we all fall

at different points, of course,

along the introvert/extrovert spectrum.

Even Carl Jung, the psychologist

who first popularized these terms,

said that there's no such thing

as a pure introvert

or a pure extrovert.

He said that such a man

would be in a lunatic asylum,

if he existed at all.

And some people fall smack in the middle

of the introvert/extrovert spectrum,

and we call these people ambiverts.

And I often think that they have

the best of all worlds.

But many of us do recognize

ourselves as one type or the other.

And what I'm saying is that culturally,

we need a much better balance.

We need more of a yin and yang

between these two types.

This is especially important

when it comes to creativity

and to productivity,

because when psychologists look

at the lives of the most creative people,

what they find

are people who are very good

at exchanging ideas

and advancing ideas,

but who also have a serious

streak of introversion in them.

And this is because solitude

is a crucial ingredient

often to creativity.

So Darwin,

he took long walks alone in the woods

and emphatically turned down

dinner-party invitations.

Theodor Geisel, better known as Dr. Seuss,

he dreamed up many

of his amazing creations

in a lonely bell tower office that he had

in the back of his house

in La Jolla, California.

And he was actually afraid to meet

the young children who read his books

for fear that they were expecting him

this kind of jolly Santa Claus-like figure

and would be disappointed

with his more reserved persona.

Steve Wozniak invented

the first Apple computer

sitting alone in his cubicle

in Hewlett-Packard

where he was working at the time.

And he says that he never would have

become such an expert in the first place

had he not been too introverted

to leave the house

when he was growing up.

Now, of course,

this does not mean that we should

all stop collaborating --

and case in point, is Steve Wozniak

famously coming together with Steve Jobs

to start Apple Computer --

but it does mean that solitude matters

and that for some people

it is the air that they breathe.

And in fact, we have known for centuries

about the transcendent power of solitude.

It's only recently that

we've strangely begun to forget it.

If you look at most

of the world's major religions,

you will find seekers --

Moses, Jesus, Buddha, Muhammad --

seekers who are going off by themselves

alone to the wilderness,

where they then have profound

epiphanies and revelations

that they then bring back

to the rest of the community.

So, no wilderness, no revelations.

This is no surprise, though,

if you look at the insights

of contemporary psychology.

It turns out that we can't

even be in a group of people

without instinctively mirroring,

mimicking their opinions.

Even about seemingly

personal and visceral things

like who you're attracted to,

you will start aping the beliefs

of the people around you

without even realizing

that that's what you're doing.

And groups famously follow the opinions

of the most dominant

or charismatic person in the room,

even though there's zero correlation

between being the best talker

and having the best ideas --

I mean zero.

So --

(Laughter)

You might be following the person

with the best ideas,

but you might not.

And do you really want

to leave it up to chance?

Much better for everybody

to go off by themselves,

generate their own ideas

freed from the distortions

of group dynamics,

and then come together as a team

to talk them through

in a well-managed environment

and take it from there.

Now if all this is true,

then why are we getting it so wrong?

Why are we setting up our schools

this way, and our workplaces?

And why are we making

these introverts feel so guilty

about wanting to just go off

by themselves some of the time?

One answer lies deep

in our cultural history.

Western societies,

and in particular the U.S.,

have always favored the man of action

over the "man" of contemplation.

But in America's early days,

we lived in what historians

call a culture of character,

where we still,

at that point, valued people

for their inner selves

and their moral rectitude.

And if you look at the self-help

books from this era,

they all had titles with things like

"Character, the Grandest

Thing in the World."

And they featured role models

like Abraham Lincoln,

who was praised for being

modest and unassuming.

Ralph Waldo Emerson called him

"A man who does not

offend by superiority."

But then we hit the 20th century,

and we entered a new culture

that historians call

the culture of personality.

What happened is we had evolved

an agricultural economy

to a world of big business.

And so suddenly people are moving

from small towns to the cities.

And instead of working alongside people

they've known all their lives,

now they are having to prove themselves

in a crowd of strangers.

So, quite understandably,

qualities like magnetism and charisma

suddenly come to seem really important.

And sure enough, the self-help books

change to meet these new needs

and they start to have names

like "How to Win Friends

and Influence People."

And they feature as their role models

really great salesmen.

So that's the world we're living in today.

That's our cultural inheritance.

Now none of this is to say

that social skills are unimportant,

and I'm also not calling

for the abolishing of teamwork at all.

The same religions who send their sages

off to lonely mountain tops

also teach us love and trust.

And the problems that we are facing today

in fields like science and in economics

are so vast and so complex

that we are going to need armies

of people coming together

to solve them working together.

But I am saying that the more freedom

that we give introverts to be themselves,

the more likely that they are

to come up with their own unique

solutions to these problems.

So now I'd like to share with you

what's in my suitcase today.

Guess what?

Books.

I have a suitcase full of books.

Here's Margaret Atwood, "Cat's Eye."

Here's a novel by Milan Kundera.

And here's "The Guide for the Perplexed"

by Maimonides.

But these are not exactly my books.

I brought these books with me

because they were written

by my grandfather's favorite authors.

My grandfather was a rabbi

and he was a widower

who lived alone in a small

apartment in Brooklyn

that was my favorite place

in the world when I was growing up,

partly because it was filled with

his very gentle, very courtly presence

and partly because

it was filled with books.

I mean literally every table,

every chair in this apartment

had yielded its original function

to now serve as a surface

for swaying stacks of books.

Just like the rest of my family,

my grandfather's favorite thing to do

in the whole world was to read.

But he also loved his congregation,

and you could feel this love

in the sermons that he gave

every week for the 62 years

that he was a rabbi.

He would takes the fruits

of each week's reading

and he would weave

these intricate tapestries

of ancient and humanist thought.

And people would come from all over

to hear him speak.

But here's the thing about my grandfather.

Underneath this ceremonial role,

he was really modest

and really introverted --

so much so that when

he delivered these sermons,

he had trouble making eye contact

with the very same congregation

that he had been speaking to for 62 years.

And even away from the podium,

when you called him to say hello,

he would often end

the conversation prematurely

for fear that he was taking up

too much of your time.

But when he died at the age of 94,

the police had to close down

the streets of his neighborhood

to accommodate the crowd of people

who came out to mourn him.

And so these days I try to learn

from my grandfather's example

in my own way.

So I just published a book

about introversion,

and it took me about seven years to write.

And for me, that seven years

was like total bliss,

because I was reading, I was writing,

I was thinking, I was researching.

It was my version

of my grandfather's hours

of the day alone in his library.

But now all of a sudden

my job is very different,

and my job is to be

out here talking about it,

talking about introversion.

(Laughter)

And that's a lot harder for me,

because as honored as I am

to be here with all of you right now,

this is not my natural milieu.

So I prepared for moments

like these as best I could.

I spent the last year

practicing public speaking

every chance I could get.

And I call this my "year

of speaking dangerously."

(Laughter)

And that actually helped a lot.

But I'll tell you, what helps even more

is my sense, my belief, my hope

that when it comes to our attitudes

to introversion and to quiet

and to solitude,

we truly are poised on the brink

on dramatic change.

I mean, we are.

And so I am going to leave you now

with three calls for action

for those who share this vision.

Number one:

Stop the madness for constant group work.

Just stop it.

(Laughter)

Thank you.

(Applause)

And I want to be clear

about what I'm saying,

because I deeply believe our offices

should be encouraging casual, chatty

cafe-style types of interactions --

you know, the kind

where people come together

and serendipitously have

an exchange of ideas.

That is great.

It's great for introverts

and it's great for extroverts.

But we need much more privacy

and much more freedom

and much more autonomy at work.

School, same thing.

We need to be teaching kids

to work together, for sure,

but we also need to be teaching them

how to work on their own.

This is especially important

for extroverted children too.

They need to work on their own

because that is where deep thought

comes from in part.

Okay, number two: Go to the wilderness.

Be like Buddha, have your own revelations.

I'm not saying

that we all have to now go off and build

our own cabins in the woods

and never talk to each other again,

but I am saying that we could

all stand to unplug

and get inside our own heads

a little more often.

Number three:

Take a good look

at what's inside your own suitcase

and why you put it there.

So extroverts,

maybe your suitcases

are also full of books.

Or maybe they're full of champagne glasses

or skydiving equipment.

Whatever it is, I hope you take

these things out every chance you get

and grace us with your energy

and your joy.

But introverts, you being you,

you probably have the impulse

to guard very carefully

what's inside your own suitcase.

And that's okay.

But occasionally, just occasionally,

I hope you will open up your suitcases

for other people to see,

because the world needs you and it

needs the things you carry.

So I wish you the best

of all possible journeys

and the courage to speak softly.

Thank you very much.

(Applause)

Thank you. Thank you.

(Applause)