David and Goliath: Revisited
Malcolm Gladwell wrote an article in the New Yorker titled “How David Beats Goliath” over a decade-and-a-half ago. A few years later, he went on to publish an eponymous book, “David and Goliath: Underdogs, Misfits, and the Art of Battling Giants.”
It was a hit but received a decent amount of negative reception. Why? Because it just doesn’t make any sense: How did David beat Goliath? In the real world, Goliath, more often than not, tends to beat David. The powerful oppress the meek, innocents are killed in wars they can’t fight, older kids pick on the younger ones and large corporations almost always outperform small businesses.
But that doesn’t make it any less of a powerful narrative. The mythos of the underdog sustains our hope for a better world and a better future. Because even though it might not happen, it could. And that helps us keep on because a chance is worth more than anything.
It’s a classic underdog story, and we love underdogs. David is a skinny kid going up against the massive warrior Goliath—he is like a fly trying to fight the greatest boxer of all time, Muhammad Ali— and on top of that, David doesn’t have armor or a sword. But, despite all the hurdles, he manages to outsmart his opponent by bringing a sling and a rock to an unevenly matched fight. Against the odds, he wins.
Gladwell’s book presents several case studies of people whose successes are intimately linked with the circumstances they overcome—like a dyslexic lawyer who, unable to read, is forced to commit the law to memory through listening and then becomes one of the greatest trial attorneys of his time. There is a middle school girl’s basketball team in Redwood City that managed to turn a scrawny, nerdy team into champions by operating strategically to win. There is a small-town French pastor who managed to resist the Nazi regime and hide Jewish refugees because he was in a small, remote community. And how the “remote misses” in London during World War II created literal “survivorship bias”—bombings meant to break the morale of the city only increased the courage and confidence of those who survived because they had not been killed.
We are fascinated by underdog stories. The mythos of our Silicon Valley is steeped in a thousand zero-to-hero stories with figures like college-drop-outs Steve Jobs, Mark Zuckerberg and Bill Gates making millions by their early twenties. We root for the underdog in sports, just like how at the Superbowl so many rooted for the underdog Eagles against the Chiefs. Films and musicals like “Hamilton,” “300” or “Rocky” are all about overcoming the most incredible adversity. How did all of Gladwell’s case studies and our real-life examples succeed? Just like Apple’s famous slogan: They had to “Think different.”
As a society, we hope that the underdog can win by outsmarting, outmaneuvering or otherwise pulling oneself up by one’s bootstraps.
And yet, tragically, there are so many circumstances that can greatly decrease one’s chances of success. Voters tend to vote for the attractive candidate, most NBA players tend to be tall and most lawyers do not have dyslexia. Coming from poverty means a largely diminished chance of being able to get a college education or professional career. A serious health condition, the loss of stability at home or lack of education can also greatly impact one's odds of success. Still, we have such a hope for the underdog, for the seemingly impossible.
Perhaps we hope that we may one day become that winning underdog. That we’ll fight against the odds—against fate. Maybe if we take enough punches and learn to do things a little differently, that just maybe, we’ll win. Unlike the first law of thermodynamics, hope cannot be destroyed. But, it can most certainly be created.
To all the underdogs out there: Keep on fighting. One day, you might just win.