Over the past year, I blogged a few time about the importance of deliberate practice in achieving high performance (A Star is Made, A Star is Made – Part 2) and how one of the two types of geniuses are “experimental innovators” relentlessly working on a problem and ebbing at it through trial and error (What Kind of Genius are you?).

At a recent conference organized by the New Yorker, Malcolm Gladwell described the different types of geniuses. He suggested that given the complexities of the problems we face, stubborn and deliberate innovators who collaborate with others are much more likely to be the leading innovators of the 21st century.

His recounting of how Andrew Wiles solved Fermat’s last theorem was a case in point. It took Wiles years of work, collaboration with multiple mathematicians around the world and resulted in a 200 page proof.

As Gladwell points out, it takes about 10,000 hours of deliberate practice to become good at almost any activity. The good news is that you can become good at almost anything you set your mind to. The problem is that 10,000 hours of deliberate practice is about 10 years of practicing 3 hours a day.

He suggested that as a society, we are not giving people the right incentives. We often reward intelligence, but ignore stubbornness which is arguably more important.

He also points out how there are extreme differences in how individuals capitalize on their potential. If you take otherwise identical groups of white American and Chinese American – groups with the same IQ – 60% of white Americans end up in elite professions, while 78% of Chinese Americans end up in elite professions. In other words, the dominant ethnic group in this country does not do a good job at capitalizing on the potential of its members. We would have millions more people to throw at complex problems if we capitalized more effectively.

We focus on elite universities; but if future innovation is going to come from groups of stubborn smart people working together instead of the lone genius, then we should making sure schools like Penn State are good.

A few weeks ago I had the great pleasure of attending a small salon on ethics, spirituality and religion. I was humbled by the intelligence and insight of the attendees: public intellectuals, authors, a professor of religion, and numerous successful executives and entrepreneurs.

It was one of the few intellectual discussions I have attended where the atheists were balanced by an equal number of theists. A few brief presentations by keynote speakers included Girard’s explanation of religion (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ren%C3%A9_Girard), the taxonomy of the religious debate, and the relevance of religion in the 21st century.

By far the most heated debate surrounded one theologian’s question: “Is it ever ok to do evil for good purposes?” and its corollary — a debate on torture. Instinctively, most people in the audience were against ever committing an act of torture. However, they recognized that Neville Chamberlain’s appeasement of Hitler failed, and that the International Community could have limited genocide in Rwanda via the use of force. We would condone torture if the stakes are high enough, the outcome clear enough. In other words, most of us will “do evil” if we are sure it is “for good purpose,” such as saving a family member from imminent demise

As we tackled the theologian’s question on the merits of torture, we came to realize that our moral center is relative and highly dependent on the circumstances.

1. Framing & Ethics

If people are told: “There is an out of control train. It is about to run over 20 people. If you press this button, you divert the train and kill 1 person.” Most people press the button. If instead you say: “There is an out of control train. It is about to run over 20 people. If you push this 1 person in front of the train, you slow the train down enough to save the 20 people.” Most people do nothing. Yet the potential outcomes are identical in both cases.

2. Legality & Ethics

The definition of “torture” in international law differs from the definition of “torture” in domestic law,. Article 17 of the Third Geneva Convention states: „No physical or mental torture, nor any other form of coercion, may be inflicted on prisoners of war to secure from them information of any kind whatever. Prisoners of war who refuse to answer may not be threatened, insulted, or exposed to unpleasant or disadvantageous treatment of any kind.” The United States has adopted a more permissive definition of torture; it “must be equivalent in intensity to the pain accompanying serious physical injury, such as organ failure, impairment of bodily function, or even death.”

Perspective also influences the relevant ethics of torture. An individual may draw the conclusion that it is okay for them to do evil for good purposes. Simultaneously they may insist it is wrong for a society to legalize evil acts with a positive outcome. To illustrate, most individuals would engage in torture if they believed that the result would save family members from a certain demise. Yet a much small group would provide the government a carte blanche to institutionalize torture. Torture may be an example where personal ethics does not harmonize with a legal edict governing social conduct.

3. Efficacy

The most astute comment on the debate on torture came from one of the public intellectuals in the audience. He questioned whether the debate on torture should instead be a debate on efficacy rather than ethics.

He argued that we are uncomfortable with the use of torture because we are not convinced it works. We are not convinced the individuals we torture are guilty. We are not convinced that the people inflicting torture will necessarily extract information or instill fear. Moreover, even if we only torture guilty parties and effectively apply torture as an instrument, the very fact that we conduct torture publicly eviscerates our perceived respect for human rights and may actually be counterproductive to our long-term security.

Our ethical boundaries and beliefs were challenged. We left simultaneously enlightened and confused but at least having attempted to question the basis for our beliefs. And so the night ended.

It all started with an innocent question.

The conversation had a reached a point where it was perfectly logical to ask, “Are you Jewish?” Little did I expect the outpour of raw emotion that followed. My friend was brought up in an ultra-orthodox Jewish family on the East Coast. His anti-secular upbringing had become both the source of his rebellion and sadly, his father’s downfall.

Upon reading the auto-biographical account he had written, I was struck by the vivid passion that came through in his writing. His story was genuinely touching. Being the self- centered individual that I am, it reminded me of my own writings many years back – not in content but in the purity and strength of emotion.

This triggered a trip down memory lane. I re-read the letters I wrote to others and myself many years ago. For all its naiveté, the passionate expression of my love, longing and fear rendered me slightly nostalgic. When I was younger, I was terrified of social expectation, judgment, and harbored a fear of rejection. In part, such fears drove me into social isolation, and it was in that isolation that I developed true independence, which in turn led to greater creativity and drive. Did I lose something in the process of conquering those fears?

It’s amazing how much easier life is when one is older. We are more experienced, confident and financially independent and come to realize that most of the things we once feared do not actually matter. After all, if you approach a girl and get rejected, you have lost nothing. Yet it seemed such a risky and momentous step at the time.

My hunger and drive have in no way abated, but is that because of habituation? Maybe it’s just what I do and who I am. While I still feel a fire burning inside of me, it is a canalized and more logical form of passion. Arguably it’s the longing and need to succeed that have disappeared – the “je ne sais quoi”, “zazazu”, and butterflies that make the experience magical.

Is fear of rejection requisite to falling in love? I have loved, but have not been in love in years. Even when I consciously wanted to, the invisible protective barriers of my subconscious seemed to refuse it.

It might also be why most entrepreneurs are one hit wonders – young men in their twenties who no longer feel as much of a need to compete after they succeed. It is natural to become more risk averse once you have something to lose.

From this evolves another interesting paradox. When I was younger, in an attempt to be taken seriously by adults, I avoided behaving as a child. I was always studying, reading, deferring to authority and generally being shy and conservative. As I no longer fear disappointing others, I have become a lot more relaxed and playful. I have no qualms rolling in the mud with my puppies or admitting that I love video games, remote control boats and helicopters, paintball and games of all genres. I am arguably more of a kid today than I was then. Yet from the same process that allows me to be childlike came the loss of poetic longing and fear that have inspired so many throughout time.

Despite this, as I turn 33, my recently discovered youth leaves me hopeful about the future. My motivations are now self- driven and no longer dependant upon the approval of others so perhaps something greater has actually been gained. As for love, who knows, the discovery of quasi-childish innocence may yet retrigger those seemingly lost feelings.

Rest of my life: here I come!