Punishments are Good

Whiplash. Punishments. Potential.

Photo by Artyom Kabajev on Unsplash

Whiplash

I recently watched the film, “Whiplash”, where one of the major characters, Fletcher, an extremely harsh Music professor, brings up the importance of punishment, of being pushed to one’s limit–to the verge of breakdown, to the POINT of experiencing a physical and psychological breakdown! This, Fletcher suggests, is needed for greatness to be achieved! In the face of such an (almost) extremist mindset, the protagonist, Neiman—his student—asks, “Wouldn’t (the person) be discouraged?”

“(The person who is destined for greatness) will never be discouraged.”

Simply put, Fletcher believes that our greatest potential can only be met if and only if we are pushed to the extreme, that is the point of breakdown. 

I suppose the director of the movie believes the same: in the movie, a character who could not endure Fletcher’s hard ways commits suicide. This–in the movie–illustrates and exemplifies a character who is “discouraged”. Hence, in Fletcher’s view, that character is “not destined and does not have the potential for greatness”, because “(the person who is destined for greatness) will never be discouraged.”

On the other hand, Neiman is different. Neiman is willing to perform his drum part, literally after he has just experienced a car accident and has his head literally splattered with his own blood. At the end of the movie, Fletcher pushes Neiman to the point where he plays drums until his hands are chapped and bloody–and the movie ends here. Perhaps the director’s message is similar to Fletcher’s mindset: that we should receive various forms of punishment to be able to achieve greatness. And that it takes someone like Neiman, who “will never be discouraged”, to be destined for greatness and to reach his maximal potential. 

My Thirteen-year-old Self

The movie reminds me of my wee, teenage self. I had just graduated elementary school and was in the process of enrolling in secondary school–a process that would appear to be obvious, universal and straightforward. Nevertheless, it was not for me. My parents had decided it would benefit me more should I attend an English-medium school (also known as international schools, in my home country), which meant–at that time–that I was to prepare for school entrance exams. 

These entrance exams taunted me. Mainly because I was from a Chinese-medium school. Though not entirely foreign to me as a language, English would definitely be around the realm of unfamiliar territory. My exposure to it was minimal–I barely spoke and wrote, and almost never read. Another reason for my fear was my knowledge that the number of international schools I could have attended at that time was equally as minimal as my exposure to English–very few. 

So there was no magic at the end because it seemed fairies who would grant my wish of passing my exams did not exist, at least for me. 

My performance in these entrance exams was very substandard. But that was not the most shameful event for me: on a separate occasion, I witnessed my parents beg an acquaintance, who had connections with one of the two schools my parents had applied to for me, to check on the possibility of allowing my entrance. I can never forget the look on everyone’s faces. My parents implored, their eyes upon the acquaintance as if he had—at that time—been the beacon of hope for their son’s education. On the other hand, the acquaintance’s brows formed a knot and met, and it seemed to me that his eyes exposed his narcissistic tendencies–he seemed to find joy in having control over the fate of others (though in hindsight, I am not sure he could have really been of much help). 

That was punishment for me. To know that my parents had to place their heads down, their dignities aside, and have their prides swallowed; so that their insufficiently competent son could enroll in a school. To know that these could be circumvented had I been more proficient. And to know that there was nothing I could do to help, because of everything else I could have done in the past to improve myself. It was like watching a canvas which I had screwed up, and was unable to mend.

But, the fairy did emerge after all, in the form of a school principal of the second and final school my parents had applied to for me. So that I could mend, or create a new canvas. He decided to give me a chance, notwithstanding my having scored 12% for the English exam; though he was also cognizant to warn my mother that I would struggle a great deal. I was at the table at which the discussion took place, and I remembered the word “struggle”, and I knew what it meant. Shame, again. Punishment, again. (Also, I did not forget to feel captivated by the Caucasian principal’s Midlands accent.) 

Long story short, the shame I had felt, and the knowledge that there were no other international schools I could have attended–which were all a form of harsh, psychological punishment. It manifested in the form of the conscience that would gnaw at me internally, fuel a feeling of heaviness and emptiness (read: conscience) inside me, and uncover the recognition of shame by exposing me to my vulnerabilities. 

Fortunately, ignorant as I was, I knew to make use of this punishment as a source of motivation for me. I resolved to cultivate study habits, a sense of responsibility, a tenacious attitude, attentive self-awareness and a wavering aspiration to be on an ever-upward and -forward trajectory. All these I did to the best of my abilities. 

I can never be sure if I have achieved greatness. But I would like to think that, at that time, I reached the level of greatness I could have reached. And I attribute this attainment to the punishments I experienced. They made me possess a level of sophistication that I could not articulate but now can: that there are some things in life that can only be attained if we are sufficiently competent. Not rich, or famous, or popular. But competent. 

Even today, 10 years later, as I strive to act in ways that characterize self-enrichment in all facets of my life, a distinct motivator is my memories of those punishments. 

A niggling doubt remains, are punishments all good?