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Should you build your image on authenticity or a carefully crafted "mask"? As it turns out, the answer isn't quite that simple. In theory, we hear about the need to "be yourself" everywhere. In business practice, however, it often means making compromises, adapting to others and specific roles, and sometimes stepping outside your comfort zone. Andrzej Silczuk talks to Marcin Prokop—a TV personality, journalist, and graduate of banking, finance, and economics—about the cost of being authentic and why it’s worth it anyway.
00:00:00 Introduction
00:02:38 How to maintain credibility
00:04:21 Starting your career - what to watch out for
00:08:22 Finding your own path
00:12:34 The need for authenticity
00:14:18 Image pressure at work
00:18:05 Choosing the right path
00:28:57 How to develop your potential?
00:43:16 The art of setting boundaries
00:53:41 Authenticity in practice
00:59:05 The wrong measure of success
Transcript
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: Welcome to the Multi.Life space and the program "Well Said." My name is Andrzej Silczuk, and today I have a great honor. My guest is a TV personality, journalist, and graduate of banking, finance, management, and economics. Please welcome Marcin Prokop. Good morning.
Marcin Prokop: No one has ever introduced me like that before.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: Like what?
Marcin Prokop: It’s nice to know I have some skills beyond just being a TV face. You brought up my very distant, almost ancient university studies, which I rarely use in my work. It’s gratifying that someone noticed that even a morning show host has a logical mind.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: You know, I wouldn’t want to define you so narrowly as just a morning show host, because as I know, you are someone who would fit the modern definition of a Renaissance man. You do so many things—columnist, publicist, presenter, emcee—and on top of that, you’re a traveler and a motorcycle enthusiast. I think you’re the kind of person who could regale anyone with fantastic stories about the world, culture, and geography.
Marcin Prokop: You are very kind to me, thank you.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: Have you returned from any motorcycle trips recently?
Marcin Prokop: Not a motorcycle trip, but I did just return from a month-and-a-half-long journey across the United States. I was filming the next season of my show, and this time I focused less on myself and more on the places I visited and their history—specifically Hawaii, Puerto Rico, and Alaska.
It’s a triangle of American frontiers, all of which were, at some point, victims of American imperialism. And since the current U.S. President expresses neo-imperialist sentiments like "Let's take Greenland, let's attack Canada, let's start a trade war with the whole world," I thought it would be good to show my viewers the lesser-known, less popular face of the "good uncle" we once thought the U.S. was, only to find out that this "uncle" has his own dark interests too.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: I understand. We are talking about a world that is very dynamic, changing culturally, socially, and economically. When I invited you to this episode, I thought I’d like to show a less obvious side of you—though perhaps it’s more obvious to me, as I’ve been observing you for a long time and get the impression that you are a person defined by a certain consistency. Is it easy to stay true to yourself in such a rapidly changing world?
Marcin Prokop: I think there’s no other way, because our most important currency—perhaps not the only one, but certainly the most vital—which we trade regardless of what we do, and which won't devalue no matter where the whirlwind of history and the changes you mentioned throw us, is credibility. That is the only thing that will always be valuable.
We live in an era of post-truth, fake news, and a time when trust in institutions, individuals, and authorities has been severely shaken. We live in a time of eroding trust, and I believe that being credible is what gives us an edge over a world that is slipping away from that very definition.
So, I think consistency is one of the ways to build credibility. Besides, I’m not the only one who believed in the success of such a strategy—Professor Bartoszewski, of blessed memory, used to say, to paraphrase, that it is worth being decent, even if it doesn't always pay off.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: You have years of an intense career behind you. I think it’s a career that could easily be divided among several people. In your history, have you ever been forced into a role you had to confront or push back against?
Marcin Prokop: Very early in my career, let's call it that, I realized that meeting other people's expectations is a bad strategy—not just for success, but for survival in general. I remember that a real test for me was taking on the role of a judge on the show "Idol" many years ago. It was the third season of "Idol." Kuba Wojewódzki, who had been a judge previously, took a break—I don't know, he resigned for some reason—and I was invited to take his place. Actually, it was on his recommendation; he saw something in me as a young man, even though I was relatively unknown at the time. Well, I made the mistake of trying to step into the master's shoes, so to speak—trying to fill Mick Jagger's boots and play in the Rolling Stones while pretending to be him, which was received terribly by the viewers.
Everyone saw through the charade, and I didn't feel comfortable in that role either, because Kuba plays with completely different cards than I do. I knew even then that I wasn't that kind of person—that I’m not someone who likes to hurt others, to put it bluntly. And Kuba had built his media persona partly on that.
I was miserable trying to play someone I wasn't, and at the same time, the role was rejected. So, I did a quick soul-searching exercise to see what went wrong, and it turned out that when you enter a new world—whether it's media or business, anywhere—and you start at a fairly high level, suddenly appearing among players who have their own agendas, you’re going to be molded like plasticine.
Producers, directors, and various advisors will immediately appear, suggesting how you should best play your hand. Of course, they are pursuing their own interests. They aren't thinking about your growth or your well-being, but rather about how to quickly secure someone to replace a person who seemed irreplaceable.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: How old were you?
Marcin Prokop: Sorry?
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: How old were you then?
Marcin Prokop: Oh, 23… 22… 23—something like that.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: You were really just a kid in that world.
Marcin Prokop: Yes, although I had already seen a bit of the media world, because for a few years prior, I had been the editor-in-chief of "Machina" magazine, a pop-culture publication that was quite significant and influential at the time.
And I also had the experience back then of walking into a room with people often twice my age and suddenly being their boss. I had to build my authority without having much of a foundation to build it on, because I hadn't really done anything in life yet, and suddenly I had to manage people who had twenty or more years of experience behind them.
I wondered then what role to adopt and how to come across as credible. I ended up adopting a strategy of simply not pretending to know everything. I chose to ask others for advice as mentors, and then I made decisions based on the information I gathered—in effect, giving people the feeling that they were co-deciding.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: You were simply learning.
Marcin Prokop: Yes.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: So, this whole story about "Idol." It was, in fact, a learning process—you experienced a role, an identity that wasn't yours, but one you adopted as an attempt to imitate your predecessor. I take it that’s also one of the key elements, since we’re learning our whole lives, right?
Marcin Prokop: I think one of the most important, or perhaps the most important, discoveries we can make on any path to so-called success is realizing what I’m actually good at, what my true competencies are, what my innate tools are that I can work with, and what I can learn.
I always use Michael Phelps as an example—one of the most outstanding, or perhaps the most outstanding, swimmer in the history of the sport, who was born to swim. Very long arms, very large hands, a broad chest…
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: Huge mitochondria.
Marcin Prokop: …yes, a long torso, short legs—perfectly designed for swimming. Now, imagine what would have happened if Michael Phelps hadn't found his sport, if he had tried to become a champion at something else, if he had tried to be a basketball player, for instance. He would have been mediocre or nothing at all. So, in my opinion, the most important thing we can do to help ourselves in our careers—and I’m going back to that word "career," though it’s a very broad term. Life is a career in a sense. A good title for a Budka Suflera album, by the way, if they were still around—"Life is a Career."
It’s about finding your natural capabilities and maximizing them. I quickly realized that my capabilities are, first of all, being as natural as possible, being myself—even though that sounds terribly cliché—and not pretending to be anyone else. Secondly, operating somewhere between lightheartedness and being a bit of a circus clown, but behind every clown in history, there is some intelligence and an ability to analyze reality. It’s about shifting the weight between that role of the jester and the role of a person who can sometimes share a deeper thought or ask a more insightful question. It’s about standing in that split between being someone who entertains and someone who occasionally prompts reflection or even challenges people.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: You’re talking about reaching a point where you start to recognize your own authenticity. At what moment are you able to see that what’s happening around you, that your environment, is starting to push against the boundaries of your authenticity? How do you realize that this is happening? That is to say, that in a moment, you might have to lose something?
Marcin Prokop: I think it’s a feeling similar to having a stone in your shoe. You feel a sense of discomfort. You feel that something is rubbing you the wrong way. You feel that you aren't the one at the helm of your own decisions, and that instead of pursuing your own ideas, you start guessing what the world around you might expect from you, and you try to anticipate those expectations by doing things you think will satisfy others.
It’s a bit like the overeager employee syndrome, trying to please the boss before they even have a chance to utter their magic spell.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: People pleasers.
Marcin Prokop: Yes. That is the easiest path to becoming an unhappy and frustrated person. I also think it’s not easy to break free from the pressure of being a machine designed to meet others' expectations, because in most homes, we are conditioned to be just such machines. Parents implement this in us, consciously or unconsciously, by steering us, conditioning their love, and so on. So, rejecting this strategy of living for others and their expectations is a major step toward becoming self-directed and authentic, as you put it.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: Is it possible to be mistaken about this? I feel like I’m being authentic, but in fact, I’m not?
Marcin Prokop: I’m not sure I understood your question correctly... Could you paraphrase it?
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: Have you ever played yourself, stepped into a role where you were almost certain that it was really you, only to realize later, "Oh no, that’s absolutely not me"?
Marcin Prokop: I see. I do that consciously sometimes. It’s not that every situation requires me to show 100% of who I am in private, or who I try to be in private, because certain media roles require a bit of acting.
Obviously, you’re someone a little different when you’re hosting a lively gala for corporate employees who have had a few drinks and just want to have fun, want it to be entertaining, and want you to be their ringmaster. You host an event related to, I don’t know, the Smolensk anniversary differently—I’ve had those experiences too.
So, I can play with different versions of myself, but the art lies in doing it consciously. I mean, I know who I am, I know my constitution, and if I use an avatar—some chosen costume—I pull a version of myself out of the closet, put on that costume knowing what I’m doing and why, and then I take it off, hang it back in the closet, and step back into my own shoes.
So, I do regularly step into roles. Being a judge on "Poland's Got Talent," which I’ve been doing for a while now, is also a kind of role where no one expects me to be 100% myself—understood as the "private me." Certain things need to be amplified, certain chords need to be played louder, but I think the key to being authentic is the awareness that you are doing it and why you are doing it.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: And that you then step out of that role.
Marcin Prokop: Yes.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: I understand, but there is a lot of talk today about a certain kind of image pressure. It affects everyone—from someone doing any kind of job, working in a company, holding a position, or perhaps not yet holding that position but already feeling the pressure of how they should behave, how to function during meetings, how to communicate, how to voice a grievance, because sometimes we have a grievance but have to phrase it in a specific way so as not to accidentally offend anyone.
All the way to the macro scale, where you, as a person with high public exposure, might have certain image pressures imposed on you. I’m thinking about expectations. How do you deal with such pressures? Where do you find that "pebble in your shoe," and how do you accept its presence, because sometimes, I suspect, even though it chafes, it has to stay there for a while.
Marcin Prokop: I don't know if this is a strategy that works for everyone, but it seems to me that in my case, the ability to be alone has worked. By that, I mean not being attached to how the group perceives me and not building my sense of self based on how the group perceives me. And that is something that has been a part of my life since I was very young.
I learned quite early on that even if the group rejects or doesn't accept me, that is no reason for me to judge myself poorly. In today's terms, I don't feel as good as the number of likes I get; I feel as good as I judge myself to be, as I recognize myself to be at any given moment.
I think many of our decisions are motivated by the fear of being rejected by the group. Or, the lack of a decision is also motivated by the fear of being judged by the group—meaning, I won't do something because if I stick my neck out, if I show some initiative at work, if I suggest an idea, or if I want to do something differently than the "magic book" that instructs us how to behave says, then I might make a fool of myself, I might embarrass myself, I might look like an idiot, or it might not work out.
So, I make the decision not to do something because I fear the consequences, because maybe I won't be accepted, or maybe I'll be ridiculed. Meanwhile, as an expert on the human psyche and the human brain, you would probably agree—or maybe not, maybe science says otherwise—that we spend much more time thinking about ourselves in our own heads than others spend thinking about us.
So, by motivating my actions, or lack thereof, with the fear of rejection, I am effectively sabotaging myself in the name of something that is only a demon in my own head, while the rest of the world devotes 10% or 5% of the attention I attribute to them...
Dr. hab. Andrzej Silczuk: ...or even less.
Marcin Prokop: Or even less. I sometimes use the analogy of a person driving along a road, passing the trees that stand by the side of the road, thinking: "Good heavens, what do these trees think of me? What are they judging me for? I'm driving down this road, they're looking at me the whole time, how are they evaluating me? Am I driving well?" But the trees you pass really only see you for a fleeting moment.
Dr. hab. Andrzej Silczuk: Like in the Mela Koteluk song – "Why do the trees say nothing?".
Marcin Prokop: That just happened.
Dr. hab. Andrzej Silczuk: That just happened, OK. I understood that what we are talking about is self-worth. And if it is controlled from the outside, then we are lost in these circumstances.
Marcin Prokop: I think it's good to achieve success in any field to have a foundation for building that sense of self-worth. So even if, I don't know, let's say I work at an IT company and I'm judged by the benchmark of whether I'm a good programmer or a good software salesperson—whatever it is—to have a sense of my own value in that company, independent of others' assessments, I need to have some other documented sense that I am valuable. For example, if outside of that company I play a sport, I don't know, I run marathons—or anything else—and I've proven to myself, and to the rest of the world, that I can achieve results, that I am good, that I can succeed, that I am capable, then you can extrapolate that feeling to other areas.
I also learned this quite early on in school, where I published a newspaper—first a school one, then a student one—when it turned out that I could write, that I could reach people, and that even though it was totally amateur journalism copied on a photocopier and handed out for free just to get those thoughts distributed, people would then refer to it, pass the paper around, and discuss it. I was on everyone's lips, my opinions became relevant, and that reinforces your conviction that what you do can have an impact.
And then, even on such a simple thing, on such a simple, small success, you can build the feeling that I can also—since I could run a school newspaper—run a magazine like "Machina," which has years of tradition and employs 50 people, even though I'm just a kid who was suddenly made its director because of various situations that occurred.
Dr. hab. Andrzej Silczuk: I was just thinking that success can be a very individual thing. The question is, in what area? Because success doesn't necessarily come from professional or developmental achievements for everyone. There can be other milestones. For some, a life goal might be starting a family; for others, it might be owning property or the balance in their bank account. For some, it might be getting feedback that what they write or do is appreciated and that people want more of it. How do you think one can find this? Because so far, I’m hearing that it’s largely a function of time—that some time must pass before you discover the area that nourishes you and gives you a sense of satisfaction, which then influences your self-worth.
Marcin Prokop: I would first look at what makes me lose track of time while I’m doing it. That’s a pretty easy indicator that shows me where my "zone" is—where that flow state is that I reach when I’m doing something. In other words, I’m doing an activity—playing tennis, working on the computer, doing my job, watering the garden, or taking care of the kids—and I’m not thinking about how much longer I have to do it.
Sometimes when I host live shows, like the morning ones, there are episodes where I’m constantly checking the clock to see how much time is left, and it drags on forever. But then there are others where the producer suddenly says, "Thank you very much," and I’m like, "Wait, already? It’s 11:30?" Just like that. And if you have something in your life that makes you stop looking at the clock, that’s likely the thing that brings you pleasure, that you’re good at, and that lifts you up—like the airplane in the Red Hot Chili Peppers song—and you should try to make that a significant part of your life.
In my case, it was my profession. Because when I made those newsletters I mentioned, or when I prepared broadcasts for the school radio, or when I ran around with an amateur camera filming things in the yard, or when I came up with little sketches and short film-like projects, I felt like I was doing something meaningful for myself. I felt that it was cool, that I was fulfilled, that I knew what I was doing, that I was doing it well, and that it was being well-received.
And yet, for many years, I forced myself to be someone I had defined somewhat artificially. I told myself, "I am an economist, I am a financier." Since I had already invested in a five-year degree, finished it, and earned a title, I had to be what I had chosen, even if I felt it wasn't really me.
In other words, try to see if there’s a disconnect in your life between what you’re actually doing and what brings you the most joy, pleasure, and fulfillment. Paradoxically, many people are afraid to choose the path that could bring them satisfaction, relief, and joy. They don’t want to feel like a duck swimming on the surface of a pond, paddling its feet frantically underwater but moving very slowly—because that’s a sign that you’re doing something counterproductive, that you’re rowing against the current.
Suddenly, when I started doing things professionally that I never imagined could be my reality—writing for a newspaper, running a paper, then working in television—I felt that it came much more easily to me, that I achieved success in it much faster, and that I felt much better about myself than I did working at the bank.
Despite the five-year degree I finished, I’d sit in that bank and feel, first of all, that I didn’t understand why I was there. Second, I felt mediocre; I didn’t feel outstanding, nor did I feel that I could be outstanding. Third, I didn’t understand most of the processes around me; I was just a puzzle piece in a larger picture that I didn’t understand or recognize. Fourth, I’d watch the clock, waiting for Friday so I could leave and spend the beloved weekend away from that institution.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: I understand that you were searching for that path. Did you actually work at a bank? Did you sit in a place like that, or was that a metaphor?
Marcin Prokop: That was a description of reality. I worked at a bank that is located relatively nearby—on Senatorska Street.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: So that is the full experience of Marcin Prokop.
Marcin Prokop: Yes.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: Listening to you, I started to imagine how difficult that "invented" adulthood must be. That step into an assigned identity—not necessarily our own—that we adopt as young people. Most of us made decisions about our future education and chose a field of study without having any idea what it would look like during or after those studies. And then we found ourselves in the position of fulfilling that career path.
And I hear about this adulthood that can be misinterpreted as doing things that don’t bring that childlike pleasure—the kind where you can lose yourself. I have a question that comes up whenever I enter these registers and topics. I wanted to ask you: how do you understand the moment when we lose that childlike ability to play with total abandon—not just in terms of time, but also in reality?
I’m talking about that genuine, childlike play where truly fantastic experiences unfold. Do you remember that from when you were a little boy? You must have had it, because we all had those moments where simple sticks, pebbles, or toy soldiers could be used to wage massive battles—battles so intricately constructed that if we were to film them today, they would make for a fantastic story. And then, suddenly, it just vanished. What happened?
Marcin Prokop: I think the child in us dies the moment we start living up to expectations that aren't our own. To give you a concrete example—and not just talk in theories—in my case, it was choosing a degree that wasn't my own choice.
I mean, when you're 18 or 19 and people tell you, "Now you have to choose your path in life," you really don't know a damn thing in most cases. Forcing someone to commit to something for years, or almost their entire life—because that’s the perspective of a young person—thinking, "I have to choose something now that will have consequences for the rest of my life," is a form of torture. It’s inhumane, in my opinion, and ineffective, too, because most of these people choose poorly—they don't yet know who they are, what they want, or where they're headed. They haven't, metaphorically speaking, tasted enough flavors from different ice cream shops to know what they actually like. I went to finance school not because I loved finance, but because there was pressure to "get a so-called good job."
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: "A good job."
Marcin Prokop: Exactly. And what even is a "good job"? A doctor—sure, but a doctor has to study so much, as you know best, and only a few really succeed, so I dropped that idea. A lawyer? Oh man, memorizing all those rules—no way. So, maybe economics. They’ll always need people to count other people's money.
And that’s how I ended up at a university that didn't captivate or fascinate me; it wasn't a life adventure, but a choice I simply struggled through because I have this trait: if I start something, I finish it. I don't know if that trait is always useful, but I decided, "Well, since I've started, I'm going to see it through to the end."
Maybe that’s not a good idea, because today I tell my daughter, who is at a similar stage—she’s already chosen her studies but is wondering if she made the right call—"Honey, remember that you can always change your decision. There are no irreversible things, except maybe taxes and death; everything else can be undone. So if you decide this isn't your path, don't wait. Pack your bags, take a different road, and keep searching, because life is too short to suffer through something that isn't yours."
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: What helps in finding that path?
Marcin Prokop: What helps?
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: What can help? What is a tool we could reach for when we don't know? Because, let's be honest, you're 18 or 19. And even older—sometimes there are people who are much older, in their 30s or 40s, who still don't know what they want in life.
Marcin Prokop: There is one thing we can all do that seems silly at first, but I’ve had proof time and again that it works. Let’s ask our friends, both close and distant, what they think our greatest strength is. What are we actually good at? Because we, of course, like Baron Munchausen, have some sort of belief about ourselves, but we can't pull ourselves out of the swamp by our own hair. We aren't capable of being both the subject and the reviewer of our own lives. So, let’s ask the people around us how they see us and create a map of our personality, our capabilities, and our weaknesses through eyes that see us from the outside. That will help us define ourselves a bit more objectively.
And the second thing is: don't be afraid to try things. Regardless of your age—whether you're 20, 40, or 50—try new things, because you might find that what truly ignites your passion is something you haven't discovered yet. Thirdly, in my life, the catalysts that pushed me toward finding myself were often new relationships with new people.
They were often the ones who opened up "transfer windows" for me that I could step into. So, let’s be open to relationships with people who can become our mentors—though that’s a very heavy word, there’s a certain gravitas to "mentor"—but I mean someone who is good at something, someone better than us, someone doing something that fascinates us, something we like, something we see that could draw us in. Let’s build relationships with those people, trying to learn as much as possible from them, to extract as much as we can, and to become part of their world. I think only after jumping around the board for a while will we finally understand which piece we are.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: Can a psychologist be that person, that relationship, which you can lean on, for instance, when you need that point of reference?
Marcin Prokop: Yes, assuming the psychologist sees you from the outside, is as objective as possible, and you are honest with them—because that is a prerequisite for the success of this operation. I get the impression that many people try to pretend to be someone else in therapy, which is the complete antithesis of what therapy is about. Are you coming here to impress the psychologist? If so, we’ve already misunderstood the goal from the start. So, the ability to stand before someone "naked," metaphorically speaking, is an important starting point for receiving feedback about yourself—whether from friends or a psychologist. I just think it’s also important to choose the right psychologist, but that’s your area of expertise to explain to people, because if you choose poorly, it might turn out to be counterproductive.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: Definitely. There are a lot of psychologists in Poland, or people labeling themselves...
Marcin Prokop: Too many.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: ...with that title, even though they lack the competence. Indeed, there are people, such as therapy coordinators, who can guide someone looking for a psychologist suited to their needs in a short conversation, and that’s great. It really is an additional tool you can use. I wanted to ask you: do you have a developed anchor you can drop when you feel the current of events starting to push you in a direction that puts stones in your shoes—let’s call them sandals for a moment—where you can shake them out and clean them, but you know, more keep coming back? What anchor can you drop to return to yourself? Because we know we can’t maintain an integrated identity all the time; we will periodically be knocked off balance. How do you get back there?
Marcin Prokop: Maybe I’ll tell a story that seems unrelated to your question, but in effect, it will be an answer of sorts. I remember a story about a King of France—I don’t remember which Charles it was—who once set out with his army for a battle against Britain. They lined up in an open field, staring at each other for long hours, as was the custom on the battlefield back then, sizing each other up before the fight, standing in their metal helmets and armor, brandishing their weapons.
And at that moment, the king heard the clatter of weapons behind him in his own ranks, so he assumed there was a betrayal, that some sabotage was taking place, that someone behind his back had drawn a weapon and was a threat. So, without waiting long, he drew his sword from its scabbard and began hacking left and right at his own soldiers, thinking a traitor was hiding among them.
He killed over a dozen people until he finally grew so weak that he couldn't strike anymore. During the time he was swinging his sword, no one stopped him. No one said, "King, these are our own men!" It turned out, in the meantime, that the clatter of weapons was simply a spear that had fallen from a knight's hand and, upon hitting the ground, struck the helmet of one of the soldiers with its metal part. The king had mistaken it for the clatter of weapons.
And the second story about the same ruler is that for many years he convinced his courtiers that he was made of glass, and therefore, every morning he had to be wrapped in pillows so he wouldn't hurt himself. The king is made of glass, so we must protect him accordingly. Later, many years after, it turned out he likely suffered from schizophrenia, and since the disease wasn't recognized back then, the courtiers dutifully and politely wrapped him in pillows because that’s what the king wanted.
Why am I telling this story? Because what happened then has a lot in common with what often happens to us now—in short, we are victims of our own courts. We are like kings in our own bubbles, whose interest lies in patting us on the back, confirming our belief that we are great, that our opinions are correct, and that what we do is right.
We create these bubbles ourselves, even if just by unfriending people on social media who don't agree with us, who think differently, who vote for someone else. Suddenly, we become surrounded by a court just like that king, just like Neymar, who also has his courtiers—his friends whom he pays to go with him to parties and matches, who pretend to be his friends even though they are paid employees.
If we don't get rid of this bubble of courtliness, if we surround ourselves only with people who agree with us because they are sometimes dependent on us—just as the courtiers were dependent on the king and therefore agreed with him—we are just as easily cultivating a band of people dependent on us for various reasons: emotional, financial, business, etc. We will very easily break away from that anchor.
So, returning to the beginning—to anchor yourself in that port of credibility and being true to yourself, you need to surround yourself with people who are able to challenge you, who are able to tell you: "That’s not right," "You’re wrong," "I don’t agree with you," "It could have been done differently," "You acted improperly," etc. Or, in short, people who bring you back down to earth without worrying that they might risk you getting offended, sulking, or becoming angry.
And the second thing is openness to receiving that information. Of course, our ego often sways us in a direction where any criticism at a certain level becomes an attack on our own identity, and it is very easy to overlook those essential voices that can build us up in the name of "I know better, what is he going to tell me?" So, in short, don't surround yourself with a court of sycophants—a court that will never build you up—but surround yourself with people who challenge you, and engage in discussions with people who don't agree with you.
A prime example of someone who built their life around debate is the recently shot Charlie Kirk, an American right-wing activist who traveled to college campuses with his own convictions and views, which were sometimes very radical. He would engage in discussions with people who came up to the microphone, challenging them while they challenged him, and sometimes it turned out that one side understood something better after such a discussion, or at least walked away with a seed of doubt about themselves.
In my opinion, this is what builds us up the most. It’s like at the gym: if you want your muscles to grow, you have to tear them, cause inflammation, and overload them. It’s the same with your personality—for it to grow, you have to constantly irritate it in some way.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: You’re talking about dynamics and authentic relationships as well…
Marcin Prokop: Yes.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: …the ability to build a culture within relationships, not just personal but professional ones too, which is what giving feedback is all about.
Marcin Prokop: Yes. And being open to it.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: Absolutely, because these days people talk more about feedforward than feedback—meaning I don’t give you information to dwell on what went wrong, but rather on what we expect for the future. We try to nourish each other so that our surroundings become higher quality. I think that’s very interesting and valuable. Can you think of any other types of relationships that could be developmental, pushing us to become better versions of ourselves?
Marcin Prokop: A very simple thing you can do for yourself is to seek out information from sources that are seemingly contradictory to your worldview. In short, if I’m a liberal by conviction and would normally only read "Newsweek" because it’s part of my bubble that confirms I’m thinking correctly, then buy "Do Rzeczy" sometimes, or anything else from outside your bubble, and see how the same information is processed by someone who thinks completely differently than you or has completely different goals. So, we’re back to challenging the status quo of what I feel and what I know.
The second thing is what I call a "change vaccine." Change is quite painful for all of us; I don’t think anyone particularly likes it, but it’s going to happen whether we want it to or not. A macro-change that turned us upside down was the COVID pandemic, which put us on high alert, and suddenly it turned out we had to find new strategies for survival, learning, communicating, traveling, and so on.
We probably wouldn’t have built many things, like the ability to work remotely, if these circumstances hadn’t forced us to, and such circumstances that force us to change will keep appearing. To avoid fearing change or being paralyzed by it—even on a micro-scale, like a new CEO coming into a company and wanting to reshuffle things—it’s worth giving yourself "micro-vaccines against change" by intentionally altering your current habits, so that you consciously step out of those ruts.
In other words, if you shop at Żabka every day because it’s close to your house, make the effort to go to Biedronka, which is a bit further away. The ketchup is on different shelves there, the mayo is somewhere else, so you have to engage your brain to find those products, whereas at Żabka you do it automatically.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: OK, so life isn't ChatGPT.
Marcin Prokop: Exactly.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: We shouldn't take shortcuts or let things just happen to us; instead, we should put in small, consistent efforts.
Marcin Prokop: Yes.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: That’s also great prevention against cognitive decline in the future—training your brain.
Marcin Prokop: Or, for example, if you drive your kid to preschool every day using the same route, change it. Sure, the kid might cry for five minutes longer, or you might be late for work once or twice, but at least you won't be on autopilot. You’ll have to turn off the navigation and figure out how to get to your destination by going around through a different neighborhood.
In my opinion—and there’s no scientific basis for this in my case, though you’d probably have more to say on it—a lifestyle disease that has started to plague us and will soon become a major problem is offloading our decision-making to AI agents, which are increasingly used for trivial things like, I don't know, what pants to wear today.
So the agent asks you, "What top are you wearing?" – "Well, I have a blue shirt" – "Aha, then wear this and that." Since we are already handing over responsibility for various decisions, or for searching for information, or for anything else, to electronics—which, after all, isn't biological intelligence but just a sum of algorithms processing what we already know—we won't create anything new if we rely on what already exists, which is just a reshuffling of existing knowledge.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: You’re talking about how we give up that decision-making function for very simple things, simple choices. But I’m thinking that if we keep going down this path, we’ll lose the competence to make decisions in much more difficult matters. For example, being yourself today, staying true to yourself, is likely the consequence of repeatedly setting boundaries and saying "no." And now my question to you: do you remember a situation where, in order to stay yourself, you had to say a "hard no," and what were the consequences? In the sense of, how do you deal with that? Because being assertive—today we talk about being aware of your boundaries—doesn't happen for free.
Marcin Prokop: A quick example, maybe not the most profound one, is that when companies pay for me to come to their event and host their evening—which happens once a year, like the Rybnik Days, or a factory's 20th anniversary, or whatever else—it happened relatively often that by paying a certain amount, your occasional employer expected to acquire rights to you.
And those are the moments when, without setting clear boundaries like, "I know you're paying me, and I really appreciate it, but you're paying me for a very specific service." Just like when I go to a doctor, I pay for a specific service. When I go to a psychiatrist, I don't go so they can dance for me; I go so they can tell me what's wrong with my head and what medication to take.
So you are paying me for what I came here to do, and the rest is "no-no"—off the table. And you have to face the fact that there will be a groan of disappointment, or maybe a comment like, "Oh, he's gotten a big head," or there will be pressure like, "But maybe just once—maybe just for a moment—maybe just for 15 minutes." So in those moments, being true to yourself also means being politely assertive and saying...
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: "Politely assertive."
Marcin Prokop: …saying "No, thank you." It’s easier to say no when you have a foundation of success behind you—success measured in terms of security. In other words, once you have enough money to simply do what you want because you know that not doing something won't lead to consequences like, "I won't survive—if I don't do this, don't take this job, don't accept this assignment, or don't do it exactly as they expect, something terrible will happen to me, my family, or my sense of future security." So, until you have that safety net—and I’m speaking from my own world and my own convictions, though everyone can redefine this for themselves—it’s hard to be assertive if you can't afford to turn things down. It’s hard to imagine a young kid starting out in a corporation, at the very bottom of the pecking order, being bullied to some extent by their boss, yet wanting to build a career there, suddenly saying a firm "no" and refusing to bend. But from my perspective, it’s worth setting those boundaries.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: Is that a byproduct of age or experience?
Marcin Prokop: I think today’s younger generation finds it easier. I think it’s a parenting success of our generation that we’ve created "monsters," in quotes, who know how to defend themselves.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: To say "no."
Marcin Prokop: Sorry?
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: To say, "No, I don't agree, I don't want this."
Marcin Prokop: Yes, they can articulate something that is unthinkable for 40- or 50-year-olds—something that gets interpreted as a lack of ambition or commitment, whereas for these people, it’s a survival strategy. They simply know that by doing this, first of all, they don't let themselves be pushed around, and second, to tie it back to our topic, they stay true to themselves, which is an important value in their lives. Third, they know their priorities; they know that the corporate rat race isn't the most important achievement in life. If not here, then somewhere else.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: Maybe it doesn't have to be a race. If an organization works hard not to create such a competitive environment, but rather a "we're all in this together" culture, it can be a completely different kind of adventure. I’d like to pivot this story, because I understand that fear lies behind assertiveness. You’re younger, less experienced, less fueled by your own success, or you have a lower sense of self-worth. Setting boundaries can be satisfying because we remain true to ourselves, our ideals, and a sense of integrity. But there are surely circumstances where not being yourself is positive, or even beneficial.
Can you think of any circumstance where we hide behind a stage mask, regardless of whether you're a public personality like yourself, or just Andrzej working in an office or an organization?
Marcin Prokop: I’m trying to recall events from the recent past that would answer your question—whether I’ve ever significantly betrayed myself to reap some rewards—but I don't think I’ve had an episode like that for a long time. In fact, I’ve felt a sense of satisfaction in turning down things that could have brought me financial success, because at a certain point, you value your integrity more than your bank balance. So, if someone offers you, I don't know, a few million zlotys to dress up as a sausage because of your striking physical resemblance to a dried-out frankfurter, and you're asked to advertise a company that makes them, you think to yourself that maybe I can survive without those few million. Maybe I won't buy another car or whatever, but in reality, I don't even dream of that car—I dream of not living the rest of my life knowing that people associate me with being a dried-up sausage.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: To me, you are a hero of boundary-setting, because I have never seen you in an advertisement for products containing ethanol. You are part of a shrinking population of highly recognizable people who haven't let themselves be drawn into that game.
Marcin Prokop: That is a very common offer that comes up for some reason, which personally amazes me, because I am actually a non-drinker. Not because I’ve had an alcohol implant or have a history of addiction—quite the opposite, I’ve never had any problem with alcohol because I never liked the taste. So, aside from the occasional, legendary beer or a glass of wine, I’m not really associated with alcohol in any way. And yet, I don’t know, maybe because of the morning puffiness I sometimes display on the "Dzień Dobry TVN" show, people think, "Oh, he likes to hit the bottle, let’s give him a whisky ad or whatever."
So I’ve received quite a few of those offers, but I can manage without that paycheck. And I think that if I were to contribute to the promotion of drugs, I would prefer not to be co-responsible for some amount of human misery. Normalizing something that is a destructive stimulant, and what’s more, attributing "coolness," "desirable personality traits," or a "desirable way of spending time" to it, is a complete aberration.
It’s the same with normalizing marijuana use by, for example, various artists, saying "it’s cool." If you want to, go ahead and smoke—I have nothing against that. You’re an adult, you can choose one path or another, one stimulant or another, but attaching some lifestyle ideology to it, suggesting it’s an "aspirational way of life" that you should gravitate toward, is something I object to.
Dr. hab. Andrzej Silczuk: Because it’s a bit like giving away a part of your identity to that product.
Marcin Prokop: Yes.
Marcin Prokop: Because those traits you’ve built, your image, how you are perceived—regardless of your interpretation of how people look at your face on a morning show—the attitude you stand for would be transferred to products, which would automatically get that boost, I understand, in their own attractiveness, by leveraging Prokop’s attractiveness.
Marcin Prokop: There are a number of studies showing that the traits of the person advertising a given product are partially transferred to that product. So perhaps now people associate anti-dandruff shampoo with a nice, pleasant part of the morning.
Dr. hab. Andrzej Silczuk: There’s something cleansing about that.
Marcin Prokop: Yes, something that allows you to get rid of a problem. So, of course, some of my decisions regarding various commercial collaborations might not please everyone, but at least within my own sense of integrity, I can tell myself that I have never advertised a product I wouldn’t use myself. I have never urged people to try something I haven’t tasted, haven’t used, or wouldn’t personally consider extremely harmful. And I consider alcohol to be just that, so I won’t advertise it.
Dr. hab. Andrzej Silczuk: We keep talking about this authenticity of yours, which really resonates in every sentence of this conversation. A psychiatric question—a question about voices, but not voices like "voices," but rather an "internal guardian" that says: "Hey, Marcin, don’t overdo it, stop." Do you have something like that? Something that holds you back? Because I get the impression that you are a temperamental person. We remember you from hosting the show where you later became a judge. There was a lot of energy there, a lot of drive and dynamism. And I’m looking at you right now, very balanced and cautious about what you want to say to our viewers. And I wonder if there is a button you use to suddenly slow yourself down. Like on a motorcycle—that extra foot brake used to shed a little speed.
Marcin Prokop: I think it’s the other way around. I mean, there is a button I use to speed myself up.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: That’s interesting.
Marcin Prokop: What you’re observing right now, and what you folks sitting on the other side are seeing, is more of my default state of entropy—you know, the state I’m in most of the time, and one I’m reluctant to leave. But when I do leave it, I do it with a purpose. When the red light on the camera goes on, it’s like letting a greyhound off the leash and telling it to chase a hare. It turns from this docile couch potato—I have a greyhound, so I know what they can be like…
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: A big greyhound or an Italian one?
Marcin Prokop: A whippet, so something between an Italian and a regular greyhound. An English greyhound is just another name for that dog. Anyway, on a daily basis, he’s just a sluggish couch potato who lies on the bed, cuddled up to his owner. But the moment a trigger goes off—I don’t know, like a hare in a field or a marten running across the roof—he turns into a beast that will run with blinders on just to catch that poor animal. He probably wouldn’t even know what to do with it if he caught it, because that instinct has been somewhat dulled by domestication.
It’s the same with me. Once I feel I’ve gone a few steps too far in the race, I brake. Some people say I have a knack for braking just before hitting the barrier, and that it’s a valuable skill. Actually, I watched some drifting competitions up close a while ago, and there’s a discipline called "Kiss the Wall." The goal is to drift a car at high speed and maneuver it as close to the concrete barrier as possible. Even brushing against it—that’s the desired "Kiss the Wall" moment: touch it, but don’t wreck the car. I think of myself as a "drift car" driver sometimes. I test where the limit is just for the fun of it, because I like to romp around. I like watching people’s reactions when I confuse them, when I do the unexpected, when I prick the bubble of self-satisfaction, or when I turn the emotions in a room upside down. There’s a formal gala, everyone’s in tuxedos, and I flip the emotional script, trying to get these people to laugh heartily instead of sitting there in stiff anticipation of some poem I’m about to recite.
So, in short, I play with this role, but sometimes even a dog playing with another dog can snap its jaws too hard and accidentally hurt someone. So I try to keep that brake built into my system. I think—to wrap up and answer your question directly—the moment I hit the brakes is when I feel I could unintentionally hurt someone.
It’s easy, in what I do, to get carried away with a joke, irony, sarcasm, or verbal sparring, and cross the line where someone who was supposed to be a willing participant in the fun suddenly isn’t having fun anymore—they’re actually hurt. I see that "safe word" in their eyes, like, "Stop now," you know? And that’s the "stop moment."
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: So it really does fulfill the modern definition of freedom: that your freedom ends where another person’s boundaries begin.
Marcin Prokop: Yes.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: Thinking about young people today, those at the beginning of their journey—the 20-year-old Marcin—is there anything you, as a middle-aged man now—I won’t hide it, we’re practically the same age—is there anything you’d like to pass on to them? Considering they have slightly better skills than we did when it comes to setting and monitoring boundaries, but they still have a whole road ahead of them to discover themselves, crystallize their identity, and learn how to find that "flow."
Marcin Prokop: I think I would really want them not to fall for the propaganda that is, unfortunately, quite common, which suggests that the measure of your success is the scale of your possessions.
Many of today’s heroes of the popular imagination, like, I don’t know, Andrew Tate for instance, who in this so-called "manosphere" is an icon for many young and very young people, especially boys—he’s a meme-man, a character who becomes harmful if taken too seriously, because his only metric for life success is how many cars you’ve bought, how many women you’ve slept with, how many parties you’ve been to. And if that is to be your measure of success, young person, you will be disappointed quickly. Because material success, first of all, has this trait: it never arrives. There’s always someone who has more, always someone you can race against, you always have too little. In economics, they taught me that human needs are unlimited—that’s one of the first principles of capitalism—and it’s true.
You might boost your dopamine with another car for two weeks, but then you'll be left with emptiness if you don't find another way to define "success" in your life. So, first of all, don't listen to fools who tell you that your success is your money. And second—don't be afraid, don't be anxious. I think if I had heard this when I was 20, if I had heard it from someone...
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: Who do you trust?
Marcin Prokop: ...who was an authority figure to me and whom I trusted, I think I would have understood many things much sooner, because fear is sometimes very paralyzing, and very often, as we’ve discussed, this fear is tied to how we are perceived by the world, how we are judged. So, in short—I don't know if I can swear on this fine podcast, but I’m going to do it anyway: just f... what others think.
Try, however, to be your own harshest critic, without worrying about whether you are accepted, whether you are liked, whether you belong, whether you are part of some larger whole, whether you are enough of a white sheep to not stand out from the herd, or a black sheep—just learn to live in solitude, learn to live without the applause of others, and it will be easier for you.
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: Marcin, thank you very much for these words and for this conversation.
Marcin Prokop: I also thank you very much for the invitation and for the questions that weren't about the usual stuff, like "How did you and Dorota Wellman meet?".
Dr. Andrzej Silczuk: I was actually about to ask that question, but since you'd like that, we'll come back to it another time. Thank you so much, it was a huge pleasure on my part, and I hope on yours as well. Our guest was a man who is unprecedentedly authentic, consistent, a person who isn't afraid to set boundaries and who has certainly shared his life wisdom in a beautiful way. Thank you again.
Marcin Prokop: Thank you for the kind words, and best regards to everyone.
