On being Number Two

I watched the movie The Social Network the other night and found it so infuriating that I almost gave up my Facebook membership. Then, because I thought it was a really good movie, I watched it again and didn’t mind it so much because I understood something. The movie had touched a nerve with me.

I had identified with one of the losers in the movie, Eduardo, Mark Zuckerberg’s second in command. Eduardo was the co-founder of Facebook who was totally eclipsed and eventually thrown over by his genius friend. I was outraged at the callousness of this, at Mark the callow nerd who didn’t understand a thing about loyalty.

The thing is, Eduardo was smart but Mark was a genius. Eduardo worked hard but Mark’s imagination outran both of them and created something way beyond what diligence alone could accomplish. The enterprise got very big, very fast, in ways Eduardo couldn’t fathom. Eduardo got left behind.

I happen to work with a genius who has also been my friend for nearly 30 years. She has not thrown me over, our enterprise has not left me behind, and I always get credit for what I do. But I understand the Eduardos of this world.

I know what it’s like to be Number Two. I know what it’s like to be part of the support network for someone else’s ideas, creativity, and intelligence. I know what it’s like to work in someone else’s shadow. In fact, I believe this represents a good portion of my gifts, my own brand of creativity—that I am the ultimate team player and prefer not to be the center of attention. But every now and then I question my longstanding habits and preferences, which seem to place me firmly and usually comfortably in the Number Two position.

My fury at the movie was a sign of recurring discomfort. I am aware that Number Two signifies “loser” in our culture. Ever hear sports fans chant, “We’re Number Two”? Number Twos are overshadowed. We are constantly in the presence of someone who is smarter, more beautiful, more creative, or more famous than we are and the comparisons are inevitable. We make the comparisons ourselves, other people make them, and, most insidiously, we imagine other people making them. And, in the worst cases, Number Twos get shafted and left behind, like Eduardo was.

Not all cultures are as obsessed as Americans are about being Number One. My genius friend once got us a whole day of conversation with the genius psychologist James Hillman in which he claimed, among much else, that one of the five principles of the Sikh religion is to always come in second. (I have not seen it put this way elsewhere but it sounds good. One tends to accept what geniuses say.) Hillman was suggesting that cheerful Number Twoness could put us in a much better relationship with the Earth.

The biggest error of Number Twos is to depend on the Number Ones for affirmation and identity—hence the fear of getting left behind. Eduardo sued Mark and got his name restored as Facebook co-founder. But Mark’s genius is still the sine qua non of Facebook.

Perhaps an even bigger Number Two error is to forget our own brand of genius, which is that we are capable of setting ego aside in order to make other people’s genius shine bright and for good. When we think too much about our Number Two status we are right smack back in ego territory. We’ll lose there, every time.