A Hollow Victory

On the Gnawing Emptiness of “Success”

Last week I wrote about my father and events that formed my character as I head off from my traditional home at 18 years of age, to move to London and establish myself in the world.

I had put my faith in a culture of progressivism that promised me everything—a global career, riches, status, endless mobility, sophisticated pleasures, the ability to reinvent myself completely.

The following scene, from The Path of Manliness book I'm writing, is from 2015 when I was a Sustainability Lead for Microsoft, celebrating what should have been the pinnacle of my career.

Yet increasingly I couldn't avoid a gnawing sense that something essential was missing.

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The Celebration

The crystal clinked as my boss raised his glass in the private dining room of Copenhagen's Admiral Hotel. "To Paul," he said, his American accent cutting through the murmur of conversation. "Who not only organized our most successful COP delegation but somehow got us face time with the Danish Minister of Science himself."

Approving nods circled the table—executives from three continents, two sustainability directors from partner companies, and my teams from Paris and Seattle.

"It was nothing," I say, the practiced modesty of someone who knows it was definitely something. "Denmark is small enough that if you know the right people, doors open."

Outside the tall windows, Copenhagen harbor reflected city lights that blurred in the December darkness. I smiled and accepted their praise with practiced humility, but inside I was soaring. This moment—the culmination of the UN Climate Conference, with me at the center of Microsoft's sustainability efforts—felt like vindication.

I had evolved beyond my traditional South African upbringing into something more sophisticated, more global, more progressive. What would my father think if he could see me now, advising ministers and corporations on saving the planet? The thought of him, steadfast in his faith and traditional values, flickered briefly before I pushed it away, focusing instead on the admiring faces around me.

"The Minister was particularly impressed with your input on smart grids," my boss continued, swirling his third glass of Barolo. "He mentioned it twice during the closing session."

I leaned forward, elbows on the white tablecloth. "It's about finding the market-based solutions that incentivize the right behaviors. State regulation is far too constrictive."

The table nodded in agreement. This was our shared language—markets, incentives, global frameworks. So different from my father's world of commitment, community, faith.

The waiter appeared with another round of plates—Nordic fusion cuisine arranged in artful minimalism. Reindeer Tataki with Yuzu-Miso glaze. Not quite the Michelin-starred meal we'd had at Noma with the Danish team, but impressive nonetheless. I caught the irony—discussing carbon footprints over imported wine and exotic ingredients flown in from across the globe. The thought floated up and I let it drift away just as quickly.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I discreetly check it under the table.

A text from Sofie, the woman I'd taken to bed last night. Last night was amazing. Coffee tomorrow?

I slipped the phone back without replying. The connection had been purely physical—two ships passing in the night. I'd be flying to India next week anyway.