Stupidly Relentless: Ancient Rome’s Superpower

Anyone who fought Rome in its heyday had to deal with one major psychological hurdle. Ancient Rome didn’t play by the same rules everyone else did. All people try to win in war, but if they lose too many men in battle, or if their population suffers too greatly because of the conflict, they look to negotiate peace terms. That’s what anyone with any sense does. Romans were too hardheaded to know when it was time to call it quits. They were like those boxers who get beat up pillar to post, but just keep coming. The only way to stop them is to separate them from consciousness because, as long as they are awake, they’ll keep trying to win regardless of how much damage they have taken. The Roman poet Quintus Ennius had a great line that captured the Roman ethos, “The victor is not victorious if the vanquished does not consider himself so”. This was the Roman superpower: no scenario existed in which they accepted to consider themselves defeated. Even though they had a great army and won more battles than they lost, it’s not like the Romans were invincible. At times, they suffered such defeats that would have brought to their knees any nation populated by rational people. But they were not rational people. They were stubborn and willing to pay any price rather than give up. Fighting them meant you either had to wipe them out of existence or they’d keep trying until they won.

I’m not telling you this just to offer you some history trivia. There’s a life lesson on this. But before we make the transition from history to our lives, let’s consider another example.

Back in the 1990s, Dennis Rodman established himself as one of the greatest rebounders in the history of basketball. At first sight, he looked like an unlikely candidate for this outcome. He was considerably lighter and shorter than most of his direct competitors contending for rebounds, so he couldn’t rely purely on physical attributes or athletic talent. Part of his success revolved around his instincts to gauge where the ball would end up. But the other part is highly reminiscent of the Roman formula for success. He simply wanted it more than other players, so he was willing to do what they were not. Unable to tower over his opponents, he would jump and tip the ball. Once, twice, three times. All other players jumped once. Some jumped twice. Very few jumped three times. By the fourth tip, most everyone except Rodman had given up, for they concluded getting that particular rebound more trouble than it was worth. Rodman would jump as many times as it took to get the rebound. And this was his secret: he routinely beat bigger, stronger people by outworking them.

Great, but so what? None of us will ever be the head of an ancient army, and I’d venture to say none of my readers are competing at the highest level in the NBA. So, how does this relate to our lives?

When I look back at my experience, I see the same dynamics at play. Out of all the times when something has ever worked out well for me, I can’t think of more than a couple of occasions when great things just fell in my lap. Nearly always, things started with a door that destiny closed in my face. And the only way I kicked those doors open was through mind-numbingly stupid persistence. Whenever I have been able to achieve results that, according to all logic I shouldn’t have achieved, it has been because I kept trying until reality got tired of saying ‘no’. Whatever skill or talent I may have would have led nowhere if not accompanied by an unrelenting willpower. Nearly every goal I’ve achieved has been the result of months, if not years, of trying; of hundreds of emails, meetings, and phone calls. Almost nothing has ever worked for me at the first attempt (or the second, or the third). Perhaps because I grew up without much and lacking a Plan B, I had no option but to persevere.

Of course, there are limits to this approach. A quote widely and incorrectly attributed to Albert Einstein says that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, and expecting a different result (I believe the actual author was Rita Mae Brown). If we want to avoid wasting time, it’s important to see the difference between a door that may open in the future and one that is permanently closed.

I have been thinking quite a bit about this lately as a result of conversations with friends. These talks remind me that for better or worse (probably both), not everyone is wired like me. In particular, the sweetest and kindest people I know seem to have a hard time adopting my approach. Precisely because they are sweet and kind, they don’t want to impose on anyone, don’t want to ask for things, don’t want to create any inconvenience, or they definitely don’t want to be perceived as pushy. I sympathize 110% with their concern. The problem is that their very understandable priorities often lead my friends to being too soft, too yielding, too willing to accept reality turning them down.

I think a big misunderstanding is at the root of this problem. Being determined and unrelenting doesn’t mean being rude. You can be monstrously polite, warm, and as kind as humanly possible, and still ask for things, still knock to see if anyone can open a door for you. Asking for something is not a sign of weakness, for we all could use someone else’s help. And it doesn’t mean being obnoxious as long as you read the room, are courteous, and know when to stop. A few times in my life, when I had nothing left to make it back home, I even asked for money on the street. I didn’t feel any shame. If people felt like helping me, great. If they didn’t, that was ok too. I’d wish them a good day in either case.

Don’t get me wrong—I’d much prefer if opportunities fell in my lap, and everything worked out at the first try, but that has not been my experience. Rolling up my sleeves and stepping up again is all I know.

The only area of my life in which I have never used this approach has been in pursuing ladies. Most women have to deal with hordes of pushy men who can’t take ‘no’ for an answer, so the last thing I ever wanted to do was add to that. Either things click and we are both interested or it’s time to bow out. But with the exception of the romance department, stupid persistence has always been my ally.