Meet with Triumph and Disaster and treat those two impostors just the same
A poetic meditation on impostors, unforgiving minutes, and the difference between the map and the ground by way of Rudyard Kipling's "If—"
This is an episode summary of the Reversing Climate Change podcast. It’s a short bonus episode in which Matt Schmitt, CEO and co-founder of Structure Climate, calls in to read Rudyard Kipling’s “If—” and share what the poem means to him and his work in carbon dioxide removal. The contribution was prompted by the recent Emily Swaddle episode in which Ross and Emily spoke about poems that have mattered to each of them.
You can listen to the podcast on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, or wherever else you listen to podcasts. You can also listen to it in its entirety right below this paragraph.
Quick Takeaways
Matt Schmitt was inspired by the poetry thread in the Emily Swaddle episode and called in to read “If—” by Rudyard Kipling.
The whole poem is here, but Matt focuses on two lines: “If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster / And treat those two impostors just the same,” and “If you can fill the unforgiving minute / With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run.”
Triumph and Disaster are both capitalized in Kipling’s text. Matt reads that as part of what makes them feel like impostors; they’re styled like personas, not facts.
The verb “treat” is doing double work: treat as in “treat someone well,” and treat as in “treaty”—to negotiate over the long term.
The unforgiving minute doesn’t care what you think. The minute is sixty seconds. If the map and the ground disagree, the map is wrong.
His closing thought: we often think what we measure is important, not because it’s important but because we can measure it. Sharing poetry on a carbon removal podcast doesn’t measure cleanly. It still feels right.
“If—" by Rudyard Kipling
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!A Listener Calls In
This is a different kind of episode for the show. Matt Schmitt heard the recent conversation with Emily Swaddle, where Ross and Emily spent some time on poems that have meant a lot to each of them, and decided to call in from Minneapolis with one of his own. So this isn’t an interview and it isn’t a Ross monologue. It’s a listener contribution—a colleague in the carbon removal world picking up the thread and running with it.
The poem he chose is Kipling’s “If—,” one of those poems that has spent a hundred years getting quoted, embroidered onto walls, and hung in locker rooms. Matt reads it through, and then stops on two parts of it that have stayed with him.
Triumph and Disaster as Impostors
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same.
Matt’s first observation is small but worth sitting with: Kipling capitalizes both Triumph and Disaster. He doesn’t have to. The capitalization styles them as figures, almost as characters who walk into the room. And that, Matt argues, is part of what makes the impostor framing land. They show up dressed like they matter. The poem says: don’t let the costume fool you.
The reading underneath this is unsentimental. Nothing is ever as good as it seems. Nothing is ever as bad as it seems. Both feelings overstate the case, and the discipline the poem is asking for is the discipline of refusing to be moved by either to the degree they want to move you.
Then Matt does something nice with the verb. “Treat” carries an obvious meaning—treat people how you want to be treated, treat triumph and disaster gently, evenly, with the same hand. But “treat” also lives inside the word “treaty.” To treat with someone is to negotiate, to come to terms over the long run. Matt reads the line both ways at once: you are treating triumph and disaster well, and you are also entering into a long-term negotiation with them. You’re going to keep meeting them. You’re going to have to keep coming to terms.
That second reading does something the first one doesn’t. It makes the relationship ongoing. You don’t beat the impostors and move on. You stay in conversation with them for as long as the work lasts.
The Unforgiving Minute
If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run.
This is the line Matt loves most. The minute is sixty seconds. It does not care whether you think it is sixty seconds. It does not care how you feel about the day, or how busy you’ve been, or what your map of the situation says about how the time should be spent. The minute is the minute.
He uses an analogy here that’s worth quoting properly. We have a tendency, he says, to look at the world and see both the land and the maps we use to navigate the land — and the land can be physical, social, spiritual, cultural, whatever. The maps do their best to portray what the mapmaker thought was important. But if the map and the ground disagree, the map is wrong. The map doesn’t get to negotiate with the ground. The map can’t treat with the ground the way you might treat with Triumph and Disaster. The ground just is.
The unforgiving minute is the ground. Your sense of how productive you were, your sense of how much time you had—those are the map. If they don’t match, the map is the part that has to change.
It’s a tough reading, and Matt doesn’t soften it. Fill the minute or don’t. The minute will be sixty seconds either way.
Why Read Poetry on a Podcast About Carbon Removal
Matt closes with a small defense of the whole exercise. He acknowledges, before anyone else has to, that the poem is about a hundred years old and has a lot of gendered language (”you’ll be a Man, my son”) that doesn’t translate cleanly to the present.
And then he gets to what is, for our purposes, the most useful sentence in the episode: we often think what we measure is important, not because it’s important but because we can measure it.
He can’t tell you exactly how reading poetry on a carbon removal podcast contributes to the work of carbon removal. He doesn’t try. But, he says, it feels good and it feels right, and that is itself information worth taking seriously. The unmeasured part of the work is still part of the work.
If you have a poem you’d like to read on the show, the door is open.
Full Transcript
Matt Schmitt: Hey Ross. This is Matt Schmitt. I’m CEO and co-founder of Structure Climate, speaking to you from Minneapolis, Minnesota. I was so inspired by your recent episode with Emily when you touched on poetry and started talking about poems that meant a lot to you, that I wanted to share a reading of a poem with you and your audience, and also then share some of what it means to me. And so today I will be reading “If—” by Rudyard Kipling.
If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, Or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream — and not make dreams your master; If you can think — and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to broken, And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with kings — nor lose the common touch; If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you; If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run — Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And — which is more — you’ll be a Man, my son!
So the two parts that I want to touch on are Triumph and Disaster, and then the unforgiving minute.
The Triumph and Disaster: “If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster and treat those two impostors just the same.” The idea of Triumph and Disaster both as impostors I think is so rich and real and also uncomfortable. But often what we face — nothing is ever as good as it seems, nothing is ever as bad as it seems. To Kipling’s credit, both Triumph and Disaster are capitalized, which I think actually adds to the feel of them being an impostor. “Meet with Triumph and Disaster and treat those two impostors.” “Treat” here is another word that I love, because, I mean, yes, there is the basic, you know, treat people how you want to be treated, and yet there’s also the use of “treat” as negotiation, or to sign a treaty, with the idea that there is a long-term component to it. You are treating with Triumph and Disaster. And yes, they are impostors, and yes, you should treat them just the same. And if you can do that, well, then so much the better.
And then the second part: “If you can fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds’ worth of distance run.” This idea of the unforgiving minute, the minute that is sixty seconds — it does not care whether you think it is sixty seconds or not. The minute is sixty seconds. And the question is, can you fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds’ distance run?
I think that we have a tendency, when we look around, to see the land and to see the maps that we use to navigate that land. And the land could be physical, the land could be social, the land could be spiritual or cultural. And our maps likewise do their best to portray what the mapmaker thought was important to portray about the land. And yet if the map and the ground disagree, the map is wrong. It’s not a negotiation between the map and the ground. The map doesn’t get a chance to treat with the ground. The unforgiving minute is the unforgiving minute. And if you can fill that unforgiving minute with sixty seconds’ distance run, then the world will be yours and everything in it. And what’s more, you’ll be a man, my son.
I do want to acknowledge that there are a lot of gender-coded references throughout this poem, it being maybe a hundred years old or so. But yeah, that’s what I wanted to share.
Ross, I really appreciate the opportunity to use your platform, your audience, your listeners, as a chance to have this kind of dialogue. I think that this sort of thing is important even if it’s difficult to measure, and yet I try to keep in mind that we often think what we measure is important not because it’s important but because we can measure it. And so even if it’s hard to describe exactly how reading poetry and sharing thoughts about poetry ties into carbon removal — to me, Ross, I have to say, it feels good, it feels right. And so it is my pleasure to contribute this to the show.
Once again, this has been Matt Schmitt, CEO and co-founder of Structure Climate, calling in from Minneapolis and sharing “If—” by Rudyard Kipling.
See you all out there.
