Chapter 6: Praise, Encouragement and the Hunger for Applause

"Great Job, Everyone!"

Kaito is thirty-seven and was recently made the leader of a team of six gardeners who look after the parks in his town. He was chosen because he is skilled, hard-working and kind. He wants to be a good leader, and he has read that good leaders praise their staff. So he praises them constantly. "Great job!" "Excellent work!" "Fantastic, well done!" He says these words dozens of times a day.

At first, the team seemed pleased. But after a few months, Kaito noticed something strange. His praise did not seem to mean much anymore. When he said "Great job!" to a gardener who had worked carefully all morning, and then said the same words to another who had done the minimum, the first gardener looked slightly annoyed. One younger worker seemed to do nothing without first checking whether Kaito would approve. Another older worker rolled his eyes when Kaito praised him, as if he were being treated like a child.

Kaito himself has a confession. He is just as hungry for praise as anyone. Every week, he sends a report to his own manager and waits anxiously for a reply. When the manager writes "Good work," Kaito feels happy for the rest of the day. When the manager does not reply, or writes only "Received," Kaito feels uneasy and wonders what he has done wrong. He realizes that his mood rises and falls with the words of one person above him.

Most of us have grown up in a world full of praise. Parents praise children, teachers praise pupils, managers praise employees and, online, strangers praise each other with symbols and numbers. Praise feels good, and it is often meant kindly. But it can also create a hunger that is never satisfied, and a dependence on others' judgment that makes us anxious.

Teachers who worked in Adler's tradition made a distinction that helped many parents, teachers and leaders. They distinguished between praise and encouragement. The difference sounds small, but it can change the way we relate to others and to ourselves.

Adler and the Power of Courage

Encouragement was at the centre of Adler's own work. He believed that many difficulties in human life, from children's misbehaviour to adults' problems at work and in relationships, could be understood as forms of discouragement. A discouraged person has lost faith in their ability to meet life's tasks. They may give up, avoid challenges, seek attention in unhelpful ways or try to feel important by putting others down. All of these, in Adler's view, are signs that a person needs more courage.

So the task of a teacher, a parent, a doctor or a friend, as Adler saw it, was largely to encourage: to help the other person regain their courage and their sense of their own ability. He wrote about this throughout his books for ordinary readers, including Understanding Human Nature and What Life Should Mean to You. He believed that people could change a great deal when someone believed in them and showed them that they could take the next step.

The meaning of the word "encourage" is helpful here. To encourage someone is to give them courage, to put courage into them. To discourage is to take it away. Adler was interested in what we do that gives courage and what we do that takes it away, often without meaning to.

Adler noticed that discouragement often comes from well-meaning people. A parent who does everything for a child, to save the child from struggle, may teach the child that they cannot manage alone. A teacher who corrects every small error may teach a pupil that nothing they do is good enough. A partner who always takes charge may teach the other partner to stop trying. None of these people intend to discourage. But the message the other person receives is: "You are not capable." Encouragement sends the opposite message: "You can do this, and I will be beside you while you try."

Praise and encouragement can look alike, and both can be kind. But teachers in Adler's tradition noticed that they often have different effects. Some kinds of praise, surprisingly, can discourage. And encouragement can often help in situations where praise has stopped working.

To see why, we need to look more closely at what each one says, beneath the words.

Two Kinds of Kind Words

Praise, as these teachers described it, is usually a judgment of a result, given by someone who is in a position to judge. "You are so clever." "That is a beautiful picture." "You are the best player on the team." "Great job." Praise says, in effect: "I have looked at what you did, and I approve." It places the person giving praise in the position of a judge, and the person receiving it in the position of someone being judged.

Encouragement, as they described it, focuses less on judging results and more on recognizing effort, progress, contribution and the person's own experience. "You worked hard on that." "I can see how much you have improved since last month." "Thank you for helping me carry the boxes. It made it much easier." "How did you work out that solution?" "You seem really pleased with it." Encouragement says: "I see you, I see what you are doing and I believe in your ability." It is offered more as one equal to another.

Why might this difference matter? Teachers in this tradition suggested several reasons. Praise that focuses only on results can make people afraid to try difficult things, because they might fail and lose the praise. Praise for qualities such as "clever" or "talented" can make people believe that success comes from something fixed in them, rather than from effort they can control. And constant praise can create a dependence, where a person feels they have done well only when someone tells them so.

Encouragement tends to avoid these problems. When we recognize effort and progress, people learn that what they do matters, and that they can improve by trying. When we thank people for contributions, they learn that they are useful members of a group, which connects with Adler's idea of social interest. When we ask about their own view, "How do you feel about it?", they learn to judge their work for themselves, rather than always looking to others.

It is fair to say that modern discussions about praise are more mixed than any simple rule. Many people find that specific, sincere recognition of effort and progress is helpful, while vague, constant or exaggerated praise tends to lose its meaning. But people and situations vary, and a warm "Well done!" from someone who loves us can still be a fine thing. The distinction between praise and encouragement is best used as a helpful guide, not as a strict law.

Kaito Changes His Words

When Kaito learned about this distinction, he recognized his team at once. His constant "Great job!" had become a kind of background noise. It did not tell anyone what they had done well. It treated careful work and careless work the same. And it kept him in the position of a judge, standing above his team, handing out approval.

Kaito decided to experiment. Instead of saying "Great job!" to everyone, he began to notice specific things and mention them. "You edged that flower bed very neatly. It looks very tidy." "Thank you for helping Marta lift that tree. I know it was heavy." "How did you get the roses to recover so well? I would like to learn your method." He also began asking the team for their opinions about how to manage the parks, and taking their ideas seriously.

The effect was gradual but clear. The older gardener, who had rolled his eyes at praise, began to talk with Kaito about his years of experience and offered several useful suggestions. The younger worker, who had always checked for approval, began to make small decisions on her own. When Kaito asked her, "How do you think it went?", she began to answer thoughtfully instead of looking anxiously at his face.

Kaito also noticed something about his own feelings. When he stopped handing out praise from above, he felt more like a member of the team. The relationship became less like a teacher with pupils and more like colleagues working side by side, each contributing different skills. He found this more satisfying than being the one who approved of everyone.

And his own hunger for praise from his manager? Kaito began to practise asking himself the same encouraging questions. "What did I do well this week? Where have I improved? What did I contribute?" He still enjoys it when his manager writes "Good work." But he no longer spends the weekend worried when the manager writes only "Received." He has started to judge his own work by his own standards.

Adaeze and the Drawings

Adaeze is thirty-five and the mother of a seven-year-old girl named Chioma, who loves to draw. Every evening, Chioma brings her drawings to her mother. And every evening, Adaeze says the same thing: "Beautiful! You are such a good artist!" She says it warmly, and she means it.

Recently, Adaeze has noticed a change in her daughter. Chioma has started to ask, "Is it beautiful?" before her mother has even looked. If Adaeze is busy and does not respond at once, Chioma becomes upset. And she has stopped trying new things. She draws the same house, the same sun and the same cat every day, because those drawings always get the response "Beautiful!" When her teacher suggested she try drawing people, Chioma refused, saying she was not good at people.

A friend who had trained as a primary teacher suggested that Adaeze try responding differently. Instead of judging the drawings, she could show interest in them. So one evening, when Chioma brought a picture, Adaeze sat down beside her and said, "Tell me about this one." Chioma explained that the cat was looking for its friend, who was hiding behind the house. Adaeze asked questions. "Where is the friend? What colour is it? How did you make the sky look like it is getting dark?"

Chioma talked for ten minutes. She was delighted. The next day, she drew the cat's friend, a small dog, and the day after that, she drew the cat's whole family. Adaeze continued to respond with interest and questions, and sometimes with simple observations: "You used so many colours in this one." "You worked on this for a long time." Gradually, Chioma stopped asking "Is it beautiful?" She started asking "Do you want to see what happens next?"

Adaeze still sometimes says "That is beautiful," because sometimes it is, and she wants to share her joy. There is nothing wrong with that. But it is no longer the only thing she says. And Chioma, freed from the need for one particular kind of approval, has become braver in her drawing. Last week, she drew a picture of her whole class, with all twenty-four children. It took her three days. She was very proud of it, and she said so herself.

Bruno and the Volleyball Team

Bruno is fifty-five and has coached a youth volleyball team for many years, in his free time. For most of those years, his style was simple: praise the winners, criticize the mistakes. Players who scored points were praised loudly. Players who made errors were corrected sharply. The team often won, but Bruno noticed that some players became very anxious during matches, and several talented young people left the team after a season or two.

A few years ago, Bruno attended a short course for volunteer coaches. One of the topics was encouragement. The instructor explained that young players often learn more when coaches recognize effort, improvement and teamwork, not only results. Bruno was sceptical. He believed that young people needed to know when they had done well and when they had not.

He decided to try a small experiment for one season. He continued to give clear feedback about technique, because players need to learn. But he changed what he paid attention to. He began to notice and mention effort: "You chased that ball all the way. That kind of effort helps the whole team." He recognized improvement: "Your serve is much more consistent than it was a month ago." He thanked players for supporting each other: "I saw you encourage Kacper after his mistake. That is what a team does." And after matches, he asked the players, "What did you learn today?" before telling them what he thought.

By the end of the season, Bruno noticed several changes. Fewer players seemed anxious during matches. They took more risks, trying difficult shots they had previously avoided. They supported each other more. And fewer players left the team. The team did not win every match, but they improved steadily, and in the final tournament they played the best volleyball Bruno had seen from them.

Bruno says that the hardest part was changing his own habits. "I grew up being shouted at by coaches," he says. "I thought that was how you made people strong. But these young people became strongest when they believed in themselves. My job was not to judge them from the sideline. It was to help them find their own courage."

Lina and the Voice Inside

Lina is twenty-six and works as a junior accountant. She is very capable, but she has a constant need to hear that she has done well. After finishing any task, she feels anxious until her supervisor confirms that it is correct. If her supervisor is away or busy, she checks her work again and again, unable to feel satisfied on her own. She often stays late, going over things that are already finished.

Lina's need for outside approval has a long history. As a child, she received a great deal of praise for good marks at school, and she remembers feeling that her parents' love was brightest when she brought home excellent reports. She learned to measure her worth by others' judgments. Now, as an adult, she has no inner voice that can tell her, "That was good work." She only has an outer voice, and it is not always available.

Lina decided to try building an inner voice of encouragement. At first, it felt strange and false. But she began to use the same kind of questions she would use to encourage a friend. After finishing a task, she asked herself: "What did I do well here? What did I find difficult, and how did I handle it? What have I learned?" She wrote the answers in a small notebook.

Over a few months, the notebook began to change something. Lina still enjoyed her supervisor's approval, but she no longer needed it to feel that her work was finished. She had learned to recognize her own effort and progress. She also noticed that she had become kinder to herself when she made mistakes. Instead of thinking "I am terrible at this," she began to think "That was hard. What can I learn from it?"

Lina's story shows that encouragement is not only something we give to others. It is also something we can learn to give ourselves. People who have grown up depending on praise can learn, slowly, to become their own source of encouragement. This does not mean ignoring others' feedback. It means having a steady inner voice that does not depend entirely on outside approval.

Practical Steps: Offering and Finding Encouragement

The first step is to notice your words. For one day, listen to how you respond when others do something. Do you usually judge ("good", "great", "perfect", "wrong")? Or do you notice, thank and ask? There is no need to change anything yet. Simply notice your habits.

The second step is to recognize effort and progress. When someone does something, try mentioning the effort they made or the progress you see, rather than only the result. "You stayed with that problem until you solved it." "You are much faster at this than when you started."

The third step is to thank people for contributions. Thanks is one of the simplest forms of encouragement, because it tells people that they are useful and that they belong. "Thank you for your help." "Your idea made the meeting much better." "I appreciate that you stayed to finish."

The fourth step is to ask rather than tell. Instead of announcing your judgment, ask the other person for theirs. "How do you feel about it?" "What part are you most pleased with?" "What would you do differently next time?" These questions help people develop their own ability to judge their work.

The fifth step is to encourage yourself. Like Lina, ask yourself the same questions at the end of a task or a day. What did you do well? Where did you improve? What did you contribute? Over time, this builds an inner voice that can steady you when outside approval is absent.

The sixth step is to encourage people when they fail, not only when they succeed. This is when encouragement matters most, and when praise has nothing to say. After a mistake or a disappointment, you might say, "That did not go the way you hoped. What did you learn?" or "You took a risk, and that took courage." or simply "I am still here, and I still believe in you." These words can help a person get up and try again, which is the heart of what Adler meant by courage.

Encouragement Is Not Withholding Warmth

Some people, on hearing about the difference between praise and encouragement, become worried that they should never say "Well done!" or "That is wonderful!" again. That would be a mistake. Warmth, joy and admiration are good things to share. When a friend achieves something they have worked hard for, it is natural and kind to say, "That is wonderful! I am so happy for you!"

The point is not to remove warm words, but to make sure they are not the only thing we offer, and that they do not become empty through constant repetition. Encouragement is a broader and deeper way of supporting people. It includes warmth, but it also includes attention, thanks, questions and belief in the other person's ability.

It is also worth saying that encouragement is not the same as avoiding honest feedback. Bruno still corrected his players' technique. Kaito still told his gardeners when something needed to be done differently. Encouragement does not mean pretending that everything is fine. It means giving honest feedback in a way that leaves the other person's courage stronger, not weaker: focusing on what can be learned and improved, rather than on what the person is or is not.

Finally, encouragement must be sincere to work. If we use encouraging phrases as a technique to get people to do what we want, they will usually sense it, and the words will feel as empty as constant praise. Real encouragement comes from real interest in the other person and real belief in their ability. The phrases in this chapter are only tools. What gives them life is the attitude behind them: the attitude of one equal who wishes another well.

A Short Exercise: Translating Praise

This exercise helps you practise turning automatic praise into encouragement. It takes about fifteen minutes to prepare, and then a week of practice.

Take a page and write down five phrases of praise that you use often. They might be "Good job," "Well done," "You are so clever," "Perfect," "Amazing." Next to each one, write two or three ways you could say something more specific and encouraging in the same kind of situation. For "Good job," you might write: "You worked hard on that." "Thank you, that really helped." "How did you do it?" For "You are so clever," you might write: "You found a really good way to solve that." "You kept trying different ideas until one worked."

During the following week, try to use your new phrases at least once a day, with family, friends, colleagues or anyone else. Notice how people respond. Do they talk more? Do they seem more thoughtful, more pleased or more relaxed? There is no right answer. You are simply experimenting.

At the end of each day, also write one sentence of encouragement to yourself, using the same kind of language. "I stayed patient in a difficult meeting." "I finished the report even though I was tired." "I helped my neighbour with her shopping." After a week, read your seven sentences. Notice how it feels to recognize your own effort, rather than waiting for someone else to do it.

When Kaito did this exercise, he found that his most common phrase was "Great job!" He replaced it with three alternatives and pinned them inside the door of the tool shed. His team noticed, and one of the gardeners joked that he had finally learned some new words. Kaito laughed. But a month later, that same gardener came to him with an idea for a new flower bed, explained it carefully and asked, "What do you think?" Kaito asked, "What do you think?" The gardener smiled and said, "I think it will work." It did.

Chapter Summary

Adler saw many human difficulties as forms of discouragement and believed that encouragement, giving people courage, was one of the most important things we can do for one another. Later teachers in his tradition distinguished praise, which judges results from above, from encouragement, which recognizes effort, progress and contribution as one equal to another. Constant or vague praise can lose meaning, create dependence and make people afraid to try difficult things. Specific encouragement tends to build courage and independence, though no simple rule fits every person and situation.

Kaito with his gardeners, Adaeze with her daughter's drawings, Bruno with his volleyball team and Lina with her need for approval all found that shifting from praise to encouragement made relationships more equal and people braver, including themselves. Encouragement is not withholding warmth or avoiding honest feedback. It is a broader way of showing that we see others and believe in them.

In the next chapter, we will look more closely at an idea that runs beneath encouragement: that the healthiest relationships are between equals, side by side rather than above and below.