According to Robert Greene, one of the greatest forms of power you can possess is to be an “anomaly”—like Batman, you’re sought after because you have the particular blend of skills required.
When the Joker emerges, the only option is to use the Bat-Signal. The exalted version for us mere mortals is to be the top-of-mind individual when people face their equivalent of the Joker.
In practice, few possess such an exalted, unique blend of skills that they are the only option. However, aiming a step or two closer to this (likely) unattainable goal seems like a reasonable proposal.
The more non-fungible your specific set of interests, skills, or talents—the more power that gives you, according to Greene. A few of his ‘Daily Laws’ from The Daily Laws, illustrate core tenets of his viewpoint:1
“Embrace your strangeness. Identify what makes you different. Fuse those things together and become an anomaly.
Always stick to what makes you weird, odd, strange, different. That’s your source of power.
Keep in mind that your calling could be combining several fields that fascinate you.”
According to this worldview, ignoring messaging that seeks to remove or obfuscate our inherent differences, and instead, embracing, developing, and even celebrating what makes us—and particularly yourself—different could be a source of individual and collective power.2
in What Do Men Want? highlights the drawbacks of viewing men and women as interchangeable cogs instead of championing their differences. She proposes a recognition that these differences can cause friction but suggests approaching them with “serious play.”Perhaps an exalted form of diversity should genuinely encourage one of the central Cambridge Dictionary definitions: “Many different ideas or opinions about something.”
People are different, and have different opinions—and that’s good. We should reject approaches that aim to increase our fungibility, particularly those that aim for a dystopian ‘perfect fungibility,’ where humans are a homogenous grey sludge that can be endlessly moulded.
Perhaps listening to that still, small voice that pulls you toward things that may be deemed weird or strange is a primary way to develop your non-fungibility.
In We Who Wrestle With God, Jordan Peterson suggests that the burning bush that catches Moses’s eye and makes him go off the beaten path is “the spirit that lurks behind or makes itself partly known in virtually every encounter with what sparks our interest and compels us forward.”
Perhaps there’s some unknown universal law: the more people that follow their burning desire/fascination, the better things are—even if it seems counterintuitive and we can’t explain why.
Another theme that comes up in Greene’s writing is a proclamation to be wary of social pressures to confirm, such as being enveloped in a group; as doing so may wear away the parts that make you non-fungible, as he writes in The Daily Laws:
“Unconsciously, you might feel that what makes you different is embarrassing or painful. . . If these counterforces [social pressures to conform] become strong enough, you can lose complete contact with your uniqueness, with who you really are. Your inclinations and desires become modelled on those of others.”
Worse yet, you could come to believe those parts—that ‘secret sauce’—were never really you. If you embrace—rather than try to conceal—your weirdness, at least it will be you who is liked or disliked, rather than an avatar.
The Hermit archetype appears particularly non-fungible. I wonder if this partially explains some people’s reticence to become too entangled in group dynamics. Does the ‘entry cost’ sometimes seem too high? Perhaps it’s the lowest-common-denominator pull that characterises some groups?
Some individuals are affable one-on-one but degenerate in group settings, which makes you wonder which version most truly represents them. Perhaps those who shapeshift to a high—not moderate, which is normal—degree should be given a wider berth.
One way to prevent isolation and give some form of protection against the potential tyranny of groups is proposed, perhaps implicitly, by Scott Gerber’s article, Why Your Inner Circle Should Stay Small, and How to Shrink It: Be “ruthlessly selective” when choosing your inner circle—which, perhaps, is only five people. You can select for more aligned, upward-aiming individuals much easier than presuming any one group will just happen to function optimally.
You’ll likely connect with your inner circle’s inner circle, and so on; so, if your inner circle follows Scott’s advice, too, it may be the most effective way to come across ‘your people’—particularly if you tend to be on the fringes of groups3 as your inner circle, by no means, need to know one another.
You could even aim to be the ‘dumbest,’ or at least not the ‘smartest,’ person in your inner circle, perhaps feeling a form of upward pull. Strive to foster an environment conducive to all involved, encouraging others to express and develop their non-fungibility with the least dilution and contortion of themselves as possible.
Robert tends to write forcefully and often without nuance with his laws. Perhaps taking things seriously, but not literally is a good way to interpret them. Robert goes into this topic in-depth and with more nuance in Mastery.
I’m not arguing for unconstrained cultural relativism. The primary focus is on what makes you different—such as your interests, skills, and talents—not, or at least to a lesser degree, what makes you different through the lens of identity politics.
Perhaps embracing your weirdness has made it trickier to assimilate into groups as the ‘entry cost’ makes you feel too disconnected from yourself.