In what may come to be called "the Katrina effect," we often see a tendency to assume that someone's in charge, and will make sure that needed steps will be taken to deal with problems. This assumption emerges directly from our experience in schools and jobs that are organized as authority hierarchies (see Design Principle One in my previous post). As noted earlier, most of us have been implicitly trained to be passive and well-behaved. Performance reviews consider whether a person is a "team-player," which usually means s/he does what s/he's told and doesn't make trouble, especially by asking unpleasant questions.
The lesson of the Katrina disaster, of course, is that the person in charge at FEMA did not do what was needed, nor did he make sure it was done. As one of many examples, out of 25,000 mobile homes the agency purchased for disaster refugee housing, only 1200 were actually used. Once the magnitude of this second disaster (the agency's tragic ineptness) became known, non-government relief efforts accelerated into action.
In a more recent disaster of a different kind, executives at financial institutions did not consider the untenable risks involved in extending mortgage credit to buyers who could not afford the payments. And the government regulators charged with overseeing the credit markets did not maintain control of those dangerous lending practices. Once the financial house of cards began to fall, the persons in charge stepped in with hundreds of billions of dollars to prop them up, but without oversight or conditions. At this writing, little or none of that money has gone to deal with the cause of the disaster, the high rate of housing foreclosures. Throughout all this, the rest of us watch the news reports, appalled. Where are the people in charge, and why are they not dealing with all this effectively?
A friend has pointed out that this is related to the Dunning-Kruger effect: Their research on incompetent people demonstrated that they "reach erroneous conclusions and make unfortunate choices, but their incompetence robs them of the meta-cognitive ability to realize it".
I have suggested, too, that such people tend to develop a kind of naïve arrogance, which often gets them elected or selected to leadership positions. Not a good combination when the times get tough, as they obviously have been! And more challenging conditions are on the way.
So what's to be done?
It seems clear from this perspective that none of us can any longer rest on the assumption that someone's in charge and will take care of things. The reality is that, actively or passively, we are all in charge. Each one of us has the responsibility to think about these questions, to talk with others about them, to learn what we need to about what is involved, and to engage in appropriate changes. This involves more horizontal coordination—among peers, friends, strangers, stake-holders. It's not easy. We haven't been educated or trained to work this way. But instead of being unconsciously incompetent, we are fully aware of the steep learning curve we are on. This is our strategic advantage.
Ironically, the person who will take on a position of authority in the US on January 20 seems to be a different kind of leader. He is very competent, but in a different, important way. He doesn't work from preconceived solutions and policies as much as from a commitment to bringing together the full range of relevant views, and working out together the best way to proceed.
Based on his very different orientation to leadership, his election appears to be sparking a spontaneous interest, an excitement, really, among people in organizations and communities throughout the US and also abroad. People seem to be thinking, "What can I do to be part of this? How can I start working with others in a different way?"
We may look back on this time and realize that we were part of the Obama Tipping Point—the fundamental shift from top-down politics and structures, to working together toward shared visions and goals. But is this really possible? As Barack Obama would say, "Yes, we can!"
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Assumption 8: Vertical or Horizontal Coordination
As you know, our world is primarily organized in ways that rely on vertical coordination. Someone with greater authority makes decisions, and others follow. And if two or more people disagree on anything, they take the question to someone "above" them, to avoid conflict by deciding for them.
Business organizations are generally structured as hierarchies of authority, with a CEO at the top directing an executive management group. Each of them, in turn, directs a group of middle managers, who direct groups below them, all the way down to supervisors and team leaders, who direct the people "on the shop floor" who actually "do the work." Everyone understands that managing is work too, but common usage is that people are either managers or workers. Still, managers understand all too well that managing is hard work. And it's getting harder.
As our world has accelerated, managers no longer have all the answers, and their direction tends to ignore or suppress the knowledge and information of group members who are doing the work. This sub-optimizes the potential for shared judgment and the effectiveness of the work group. It's the work group as a whole that can best generate the required information about needs and problems, and possible solutions. "No one knows as much as all of us."
But since our shared mindset has not yet changed, managers still get paid for deciding and directing, even though in most circumstances the consequences of their decisions are not easily evaluated. So, many managers cultivate the habit of hiding their confusion, and at least looking decisive. Decisiveness in a complex organizational environment is highly valued, and leads to promotions—all the way to the top. But decisiveness does not necessarily equate with good judgment, or wisdom. To make things worse, most people habitually collude in avoiding their own insecurity generated by complex, ambiguous situations by passively delegating upward to "the person in charge."
Public and not-for-profit organizations use the same framework, and generally try to emulate what they imagine is the efficiency and orderliness of business organizations. This, unfortunately, often leads them to become more "businesslike" and rule-bound, rather than more responsive and effective. Government organizations thus tend to be the most bureaucratic (that's where the word comes from—"we'll have to refer your request to the Bureau of Endless Red Tape.")
Schools and colleges have similar administrative structures, and also use this model within the classroom. The teacher or the professor knows more than the students, and conveys that information, usually via lectures, then verifies that students have acquired the requisite knowledge. The implicit learning that is transmitted, of course, is that the world functions as a hierarchy, and that those with more knowledge and authority direct the rest. Most schools thus prepare people to become passive factory workers—at least the factories of the past.
This vertical coordination model and its underlying assumptions have been termed "Design Principle One" by Fred Emery, Eric Trist, and others. In a ground-breaking study they discovered that teams of workers in a coal mine had developed a horizontal coordination approach. Without the help—or hindrance—of a supervisor, they worked out with each other how the day's work could best be done, and by whom. Rather than relying on skill specialization and division of labor among various team members, they learned continually from each other, and could perform most of the required functions as needed. When managers tried to return them to a "well organized" way of working directed by a supervisor, both their efficiency and morale declined markedly. Allowed to return to their own team-based approach, they regained their high performance.
Emery and Trist described this as the use of self-managed cross-functional teams, and termed the horizontal coordination approach "Design Principle Two." They discovered that it was based on both a high degree of teamwork and on the more effective task methods such teams devised, and continually improved. They termed these two components the social system (teamwork) and the technical system (work methods). Since the two elements were clearly interdependent, they coined the term socio-technical systems. They then found that they could engender change toward Design Principle Two by involving members of other organizations in a process they called Socio-Technic Systems Redesign.
Since that time, many successful STS Redesign projects have been carried out. At an auto assembly plant, for example, a whole team of workers rides on the assembly line and puts a car together from beginning to end. Then they proudly engrave their names on the engine block. Some businesses have derived such great improvements that they consider the new methods a significant competitive advantage, and are reluctant to allow visitors to their production facilities.
There have been relatively fewer applications in public and not-for-profit settings, though the potential benefit is great there, too. And educational institutions lag behind in this respect as well. What would happen, do you think, if a college emphasized collaborative shared learning among students—and among professors?
And what might emerge in a municipality, or a government agency such as, say, the FDA or FEMA, if it shifted away from vertical control and toward an approach of horizontal collaborative community, including employees, service recipients, and stake-holders?
One could say, in fact, that in some ways the National election we have been engaged in is about a choice between Design Principles One and Two.
Click on Comments to let us know what you think. This is a DP Two blog.
(If this note arrived in your email inbox, go to the blog site to post your comment.)
Business organizations are generally structured as hierarchies of authority, with a CEO at the top directing an executive management group. Each of them, in turn, directs a group of middle managers, who direct groups below them, all the way down to supervisors and team leaders, who direct the people "on the shop floor" who actually "do the work." Everyone understands that managing is work too, but common usage is that people are either managers or workers. Still, managers understand all too well that managing is hard work. And it's getting harder.
As our world has accelerated, managers no longer have all the answers, and their direction tends to ignore or suppress the knowledge and information of group members who are doing the work. This sub-optimizes the potential for shared judgment and the effectiveness of the work group. It's the work group as a whole that can best generate the required information about needs and problems, and possible solutions. "No one knows as much as all of us."
But since our shared mindset has not yet changed, managers still get paid for deciding and directing, even though in most circumstances the consequences of their decisions are not easily evaluated. So, many managers cultivate the habit of hiding their confusion, and at least looking decisive. Decisiveness in a complex organizational environment is highly valued, and leads to promotions—all the way to the top. But decisiveness does not necessarily equate with good judgment, or wisdom. To make things worse, most people habitually collude in avoiding their own insecurity generated by complex, ambiguous situations by passively delegating upward to "the person in charge."
Public and not-for-profit organizations use the same framework, and generally try to emulate what they imagine is the efficiency and orderliness of business organizations. This, unfortunately, often leads them to become more "businesslike" and rule-bound, rather than more responsive and effective. Government organizations thus tend to be the most bureaucratic (that's where the word comes from—"we'll have to refer your request to the Bureau of Endless Red Tape.")
Schools and colleges have similar administrative structures, and also use this model within the classroom. The teacher or the professor knows more than the students, and conveys that information, usually via lectures, then verifies that students have acquired the requisite knowledge. The implicit learning that is transmitted, of course, is that the world functions as a hierarchy, and that those with more knowledge and authority direct the rest. Most schools thus prepare people to become passive factory workers—at least the factories of the past.
This vertical coordination model and its underlying assumptions have been termed "Design Principle One" by Fred Emery, Eric Trist, and others. In a ground-breaking study they discovered that teams of workers in a coal mine had developed a horizontal coordination approach. Without the help—or hindrance—of a supervisor, they worked out with each other how the day's work could best be done, and by whom. Rather than relying on skill specialization and division of labor among various team members, they learned continually from each other, and could perform most of the required functions as needed. When managers tried to return them to a "well organized" way of working directed by a supervisor, both their efficiency and morale declined markedly. Allowed to return to their own team-based approach, they regained their high performance.
Emery and Trist described this as the use of self-managed cross-functional teams, and termed the horizontal coordination approach "Design Principle Two." They discovered that it was based on both a high degree of teamwork and on the more effective task methods such teams devised, and continually improved. They termed these two components the social system (teamwork) and the technical system (work methods). Since the two elements were clearly interdependent, they coined the term socio-technical systems. They then found that they could engender change toward Design Principle Two by involving members of other organizations in a process they called Socio-Technic Systems Redesign.
Since that time, many successful STS Redesign projects have been carried out. At an auto assembly plant, for example, a whole team of workers rides on the assembly line and puts a car together from beginning to end. Then they proudly engrave their names on the engine block. Some businesses have derived such great improvements that they consider the new methods a significant competitive advantage, and are reluctant to allow visitors to their production facilities.
There have been relatively fewer applications in public and not-for-profit settings, though the potential benefit is great there, too. And educational institutions lag behind in this respect as well. What would happen, do you think, if a college emphasized collaborative shared learning among students—and among professors?
And what might emerge in a municipality, or a government agency such as, say, the FDA or FEMA, if it shifted away from vertical control and toward an approach of horizontal collaborative community, including employees, service recipients, and stake-holders?
One could say, in fact, that in some ways the National election we have been engaged in is about a choice between Design Principles One and Two.
Click on Comments to let us know what you think. This is a DP Two blog.
(If this note arrived in your email inbox, go to the blog site to post your comment.)
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Assumption 7: Information or Interaction
I was glad to be invited a couple of months ago to a half-day forum about climate change, convened at a friend's house. I didn't know most of the other participants, but I looked forward to getting acquainted, and perhaps finding ways we could join together to do what we could about this issue.
We convened in the large living room, and the two presenters sat on stools at the front of the room, near the large screen TV. They each had a music stand, with a many-page notebook on it. I began to sense I was watching a performance. One of the presenters had a remote control, with which he turned on the TV and cued a program, evidently on a DVD recording.
The video program had high production values--music, narration, etc. After showing a few minutes of the video, the presenter clicked off the program, and talked about the topic, turning the pages on his notebook as he went along. He and his co-presenter took turns reading and talking to us, and showing video segments about the growing problems of climate change, for about two hours. Then it was time for our break.
I was glad for the break. I was feeling pretty depressed about all the problems, and the growing dangers of climate change. And it was a relief to talk with others for a few minutes, instead of just listening passively. The second half of the program was more upbeat. Now we learned about people around the world who are working on ways to deal with the problems of global warming. The format of the session continued as before--mostly presentation of material, supported by video segments. Actually, I realized, we were primarily watching a well-produced video, with each segment being introduced by the presenters. The first half was the bad stuff, and the second half the good. A rational structure.
In this half of the program there were also a few activities. For example, we were invited to speak for five minutes with one or two people seated near us about our own assumptions and beliefs, and to report them out to the presenters and the group. Then we watched more video. Mostly we watched the video. Near the end, we received hand-made bracelets we could wear, signifying our commitment to a sustainable planet. And we got printed forms on which we could give feedback about the program by checking boxes, and writing a brief comment. Then it was over, and we adjourned to another room to enjoy refreshments and informal conversation.
After that I left, realizing I felt disappointed. I had received a lot of information about the growing problems of climate change, and about what many people and organizations are trying to do about it. I realized the material had been organized to convince participants that this is a serious problem, and to provide exemplary information about what they could and should do about it. But I already knew this is a problem. I think other participants did, too. And none of the examples of good programs gave me any sense of what I could do--on my own, or with others in the room. And we never got to talk about that with each other.
What I got from the session was a sense of affirmation--that I'm one of the good people who take this problem seriously, though I already knew that. I learned about some interesting Web sites, for further information. I felt a certain emptiness, though; a sense of disappointment. My brain had been engaged, but not my heart. And I had not connected with others in the group about how we might work together in our own communities to make a meaningful difference, at least locally. What a missed opportunity.
I was glad to learn that there are 108,000 Web sites on the net with material about climate change and sustainability, though I later looked briefly at only one of them. I did wear my bracelet a few times.
I wished we had spent one hour watching video material, and three hours talking with each other about our shared concerns, about our relevant talents and skills, and about how we could develop working relationships among us for taking constructive action in our community.
Why does this happen so often? People who are very intelligent and well educated make this kind of wrong choice--to present information, rather than to create meaningful interactive experiences. Our society seems to have a shared, unexamined assumption that problems are caused by a lack of information, and that therefore they can be solved by providing that information to people in a rational, well-produced program, with a logical structure.
Some of this probably comes from our early experience in school and college, where the emphasis has been on transmitting information from teacher to student, more than on supporting the learning process--the natural, genuine interest we have as human beings to learn about our world and to become relevant to it. Teaching methods have begun to change, at least at the edges, toward participative, interactive learning. But we have generations of people who grew up in the information-based paradigm (ok; I used the P word) whose orientation is still to transmit content, rather than to create a learning process.
The information overload we received as students only made us feel overwhelmed and stupid, but the teachers seemed so powerful and confident. So we go into meetings armed with PowerPoint presentations, with 72 slides and 12 bullet points on each one. We no longer expect real change from this information transmittal, but at least we feel more confident in the knowledge that we compiled all the data and presented it in a way that seemed professional.
We already have too much information. What gives me hope for improvement and motivates me to change my behavior is not information, but a sense of engagement, along with people I feel connected to. Not information, but interaction.
So I'm inviting your interaction about these questions. I hope you'll click on Comments and participate in this shared learning.
We convened in the large living room, and the two presenters sat on stools at the front of the room, near the large screen TV. They each had a music stand, with a many-page notebook on it. I began to sense I was watching a performance. One of the presenters had a remote control, with which he turned on the TV and cued a program, evidently on a DVD recording.
The video program had high production values--music, narration, etc. After showing a few minutes of the video, the presenter clicked off the program, and talked about the topic, turning the pages on his notebook as he went along. He and his co-presenter took turns reading and talking to us, and showing video segments about the growing problems of climate change, for about two hours. Then it was time for our break.
I was glad for the break. I was feeling pretty depressed about all the problems, and the growing dangers of climate change. And it was a relief to talk with others for a few minutes, instead of just listening passively. The second half of the program was more upbeat. Now we learned about people around the world who are working on ways to deal with the problems of global warming. The format of the session continued as before--mostly presentation of material, supported by video segments. Actually, I realized, we were primarily watching a well-produced video, with each segment being introduced by the presenters. The first half was the bad stuff, and the second half the good. A rational structure.
In this half of the program there were also a few activities. For example, we were invited to speak for five minutes with one or two people seated near us about our own assumptions and beliefs, and to report them out to the presenters and the group. Then we watched more video. Mostly we watched the video. Near the end, we received hand-made bracelets we could wear, signifying our commitment to a sustainable planet. And we got printed forms on which we could give feedback about the program by checking boxes, and writing a brief comment. Then it was over, and we adjourned to another room to enjoy refreshments and informal conversation.
After that I left, realizing I felt disappointed. I had received a lot of information about the growing problems of climate change, and about what many people and organizations are trying to do about it. I realized the material had been organized to convince participants that this is a serious problem, and to provide exemplary information about what they could and should do about it. But I already knew this is a problem. I think other participants did, too. And none of the examples of good programs gave me any sense of what I could do--on my own, or with others in the room. And we never got to talk about that with each other.
What I got from the session was a sense of affirmation--that I'm one of the good people who take this problem seriously, though I already knew that. I learned about some interesting Web sites, for further information. I felt a certain emptiness, though; a sense of disappointment. My brain had been engaged, but not my heart. And I had not connected with others in the group about how we might work together in our own communities to make a meaningful difference, at least locally. What a missed opportunity.
I was glad to learn that there are 108,000 Web sites on the net with material about climate change and sustainability, though I later looked briefly at only one of them. I did wear my bracelet a few times.
I wished we had spent one hour watching video material, and three hours talking with each other about our shared concerns, about our relevant talents and skills, and about how we could develop working relationships among us for taking constructive action in our community.
Why does this happen so often? People who are very intelligent and well educated make this kind of wrong choice--to present information, rather than to create meaningful interactive experiences. Our society seems to have a shared, unexamined assumption that problems are caused by a lack of information, and that therefore they can be solved by providing that information to people in a rational, well-produced program, with a logical structure.
Some of this probably comes from our early experience in school and college, where the emphasis has been on transmitting information from teacher to student, more than on supporting the learning process--the natural, genuine interest we have as human beings to learn about our world and to become relevant to it. Teaching methods have begun to change, at least at the edges, toward participative, interactive learning. But we have generations of people who grew up in the information-based paradigm (ok; I used the P word) whose orientation is still to transmit content, rather than to create a learning process.
The information overload we received as students only made us feel overwhelmed and stupid, but the teachers seemed so powerful and confident. So we go into meetings armed with PowerPoint presentations, with 72 slides and 12 bullet points on each one. We no longer expect real change from this information transmittal, but at least we feel more confident in the knowledge that we compiled all the data and presented it in a way that seemed professional.
We already have too much information. What gives me hope for improvement and motivates me to change my behavior is not information, but a sense of engagement, along with people I feel connected to. Not information, but interaction.
So I'm inviting your interaction about these questions. I hope you'll click on Comments and participate in this shared learning.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Assumption 6: Coercion or Community
This one has been tough to write about. For one thing, coercion--and one’s urge to use it--evokes such dark emotions. I was just watching a documentary about the beginnings of the Inquisition in a small village in France. Because the Church was losing its power and centrality among the people, there were initiatives to identify townspeople who were participating in "heretical practices." After many depositions and hearings, five people were burned at the stake. During the next two centuries, many more were persecuted, tortured, and killed.
This was not the beginning, nor the end of coercion. It goes all the way back to our pre-human and early human experience. Struggles for power and dominance were settled by force or the threat of force. Social stability depended on the dominance by some individuals or groups, and the submissive acceptance of it by others. The hierarchy was created and maintained by some form of violence.
In our modern and post-modern world, we have progressed beyond all that. We are civilized, aren't we? Well, yes, we are, but others aren't, so we must attack them, overwhelm them with our superior power, and liberate them from their coercive social structures. And they will be so grateful! Or if not, then they deserve the misery. This is how we solve problems; not every problem, but the really important ones.
We begin learning how to do this, and how to think this way, through parental guidance. A good spanking, for the child's own good, has marvelous results: Compliance. Most of the time. While they're at home. If not, kids get a time out in their room, or when they're older, they get grounded for a week. In school, the education continues: "corporal punishment" is no longer used very much, but misbehavior results in detention. It's excellent training for the post-graduation or post-drop-out life: If you don't comply, you go to prison. We put you away; some would say we throw you away.
How comfortable to have put that last description in those terms. Let me make a small shift: If we don't comply, they throw us away.
Does that change your feelings about this?
In organizations the same pattern exists, though it's applied more subtly, yet no less intensely. Managers expect compliance from their direct reports. If they don't get it, performance reviews won't be good. No pay increases or advancement. If my people get really stupid about it, they're out of here. We've got a business to run. But sometimes managers have priorities that conflict with those of their own peers. It's OK; that's why we invented the hierarchy: we also have managers who resolve differences among us. They have greater power, and what they say goes. We don't always like what they do, but we prefer this arrangement to just fighting with our peers. Don't we?
We live in a culture of coercion. We subscribe to and support the assumption that coercive behavior is needed to maintain order--in our families, in our organizations, in our countries, and in our world. And many of us hold a further, underlying assumption that this is the only choice, and the alternative would be chaos.
There is some evidence, however, for an alternative assumption: that instead of coercion we can acknowledge our community of shared interests. We can re-connect with those we have disowned and made into "others," and engage with them in a different form of interaction, based on mutual respect as human beings, supported by our own self-respect as human beings. We can vulnerably communicate our own interests, concerns and aspirations. We can invite others to do the same with us. And we can frame this interaction in the context of our super-ordinate goal: building mutually satisfying relationships and working arrangements--ones that work well for all concerned.
This is a good definition of community. It's available for use in our families, in our schools, in our work organizations, and in our governments. The family systems work of Virginia Satir, for example, has been eminently successful in building healthy families that are not based on coercion. Some schools have been quietly operating this way, and some organizations have had great business success with this different approach. More courts are diverting divorce proceedings to mediation, and some are starting to use the approach of restorative justice--bringing together those who created damage with those who were harmed, along with their families, and supporting their coming to terms with each other about how to repair those damages.
It's hard work, especially while we unlearn old ways and learn new ones. Most people have less experience with community than they do with coercion/compliance. So the needed attitudes and skills for community are not as widely held. But they are learnable. They are effective. And they are much more satisfying for the human spirit and ultimately for the global society.
This was not the beginning, nor the end of coercion. It goes all the way back to our pre-human and early human experience. Struggles for power and dominance were settled by force or the threat of force. Social stability depended on the dominance by some individuals or groups, and the submissive acceptance of it by others. The hierarchy was created and maintained by some form of violence.
In our modern and post-modern world, we have progressed beyond all that. We are civilized, aren't we? Well, yes, we are, but others aren't, so we must attack them, overwhelm them with our superior power, and liberate them from their coercive social structures. And they will be so grateful! Or if not, then they deserve the misery. This is how we solve problems; not every problem, but the really important ones.
We begin learning how to do this, and how to think this way, through parental guidance. A good spanking, for the child's own good, has marvelous results: Compliance. Most of the time. While they're at home. If not, kids get a time out in their room, or when they're older, they get grounded for a week. In school, the education continues: "corporal punishment" is no longer used very much, but misbehavior results in detention. It's excellent training for the post-graduation or post-drop-out life: If you don't comply, you go to prison. We put you away; some would say we throw you away.
How comfortable to have put that last description in those terms. Let me make a small shift: If we don't comply, they throw us away.
Does that change your feelings about this?
In organizations the same pattern exists, though it's applied more subtly, yet no less intensely. Managers expect compliance from their direct reports. If they don't get it, performance reviews won't be good. No pay increases or advancement. If my people get really stupid about it, they're out of here. We've got a business to run. But sometimes managers have priorities that conflict with those of their own peers. It's OK; that's why we invented the hierarchy: we also have managers who resolve differences among us. They have greater power, and what they say goes. We don't always like what they do, but we prefer this arrangement to just fighting with our peers. Don't we?
We live in a culture of coercion. We subscribe to and support the assumption that coercive behavior is needed to maintain order--in our families, in our organizations, in our countries, and in our world. And many of us hold a further, underlying assumption that this is the only choice, and the alternative would be chaos.
There is some evidence, however, for an alternative assumption: that instead of coercion we can acknowledge our community of shared interests. We can re-connect with those we have disowned and made into "others," and engage with them in a different form of interaction, based on mutual respect as human beings, supported by our own self-respect as human beings. We can vulnerably communicate our own interests, concerns and aspirations. We can invite others to do the same with us. And we can frame this interaction in the context of our super-ordinate goal: building mutually satisfying relationships and working arrangements--ones that work well for all concerned.
This is a good definition of community. It's available for use in our families, in our schools, in our work organizations, and in our governments. The family systems work of Virginia Satir, for example, has been eminently successful in building healthy families that are not based on coercion. Some schools have been quietly operating this way, and some organizations have had great business success with this different approach. More courts are diverting divorce proceedings to mediation, and some are starting to use the approach of restorative justice--bringing together those who created damage with those who were harmed, along with their families, and supporting their coming to terms with each other about how to repair those damages.
It's hard work, especially while we unlearn old ways and learn new ones. Most people have less experience with community than they do with coercion/compliance. So the needed attitudes and skills for community are not as widely held. But they are learnable. They are effective. And they are much more satisfying for the human spirit and ultimately for the global society.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Assumption 5: Abundance or Ecological Limits
Building on Assumption 4, and the reality of abundance and creativity in many realms in our shared lives, we need to consider the other side of the coin. In so many ways, we human beings have grown up experiencing areas of abundance that we take for granted. As a child, I knew without thinking about it that one could spit (or whatever) in the pool and the great volume of water would so dissolve it as to make it of no consequence to fellow swimmers, or even to me. An empty soft drink bottle could be tossed in the trash and it would disappear forever. I could drink tap water, or turn on the lawn sprinklers, and if I forgot to turn them off it was OK; water was clean and free. No one worried about it. One could read the newspaper every day, and then throw it away. It was trash.
In movies or on the TV, one sometimes saw clips of people in India bathing in the Ganges, or depositing the ashes of a newly cremated and consecrated corpse into the river. I wondered how close one was to the other, but the people there did not seem concerned. The Ganges flows endlessly, and all is carried away.
One seldom thought much about breathing, even when a relative's tobacco smoke involved us in the involuntary practice of sharing the smoke. The occasional bout of asthma was ascribed to allergies or childhood stress, and most people pretty much grew out of it eventually. If not, there were medicines available form the magical cornucopia that opened for us at the doctor's office.
Gasoline was never cheap at whatever age or time or country as one pulled up to the pump and filled up. Well, it was not free, and one needed to come up with gas money one way or the other, but it was seldom a big issue. One very seldom thought, "Oh, I can't take that trip; it's too expensive to buy the gas for it." As teens we often chipped in for gas money for whoever was driving us to the all-night party. But no one said, "I can't go, I don't have money for the gas." It was only slightly more expensive than tap water, which flowed endlessly and so reliably we never gave it a thought.
And new homes were built in tracts, by the hundreds--plenty of space for them, out on the edge of town, on those orange orchards that were purchased and converted to more useful (and lucrative) purposes. Rivers were dammed and diverted to provide the drinking water and lawn sprinkling that was required by the good life.
Agriculture, too, was a booming business. Labor-saving machinery extended and accelerated the human capability for tilling and harvesting, and the wonders of chemistry provided effective pesticides for protecting the crop. The government, too, made sure agriculture and petroleum extraction thrived, by providing subsidies out of tax revenues, so there was plenty of food, and gasoline.
Abundance--unquestioned, endless availability. Economic growth was good for everyone and supported by all. Progress is good, and it gets its proponents elected.
Fast-forward to the present: In riots protesting rising food prices in several countries in West Africa recently, several demonstrators were shot. In Australia, the protracted drought has severely reduced the harvest of foods. In some countries, farmers are starting to carry guns to protect the food on their fields from robbers.
The demand for foodstuffs has been increasing dramatically in high-population countries like India and China. The price of wheat and rice has recently increased dramatically. So many people have been buying up grains before the price goes up that stores like Costco are now limiting the number of sacks of rice one can buy. Oxfam America is warning of severe food shortages and the need to rescue people all over the world from hunger.
Are you sweating yet?
But don't worry; we are dealing with these problems. Or are we? We are certainly making progress on similar crisis issues like energy and climate-change. There is significant public support for reducing our petroleum dependence by using corn to produce ethanol. We can grow our own fuels, no? There are only a few problems with this quick fix: Ethanol production from corn uses more net energy and pumps more carbon dioxide into the atmosphere than petroleum-based fuel. And the diversion of corn from food uses to fuel uses is increasing its price, and the price of other grains, on the world market. So we have a perfect, though tragic, example of a problem (food shortages) that is caused by a solution (switch to ethanol).
The cascading consequences that currently include food riots remind us of Assumption 2: People will come up with rational solutions that work. Under conditions of emerging crisis and stress, this becomes Reality 2: Unconscious Reactiveness, which ends up making things worse, and feeds the crisis conditions. This is a bad vicious circle.
In 1972, Donella Meadows and others published The Limits to Growth, which was variously welcomed, criticized or dismissed by various experts. It explored the possible interdependence among global variables such as: world population, industrialization, pollution, food production and resource depletion. The authors suggested the possibility of a sustainable interaction pattern that could be achieved by altering growth trends among the five variables.
More than 35 years later, this kind of analysis is being given serious consideration by some. The possibility of moving toward an acknowledgment of ecological limits, and a collaborative, intentional self-control on a global scale provides a glimmer of hope for life on the planet.
In movies or on the TV, one sometimes saw clips of people in India bathing in the Ganges, or depositing the ashes of a newly cremated and consecrated corpse into the river. I wondered how close one was to the other, but the people there did not seem concerned. The Ganges flows endlessly, and all is carried away.
One seldom thought much about breathing, even when a relative's tobacco smoke involved us in the involuntary practice of sharing the smoke. The occasional bout of asthma was ascribed to allergies or childhood stress, and most people pretty much grew out of it eventually. If not, there were medicines available form the magical cornucopia that opened for us at the doctor's office.
Gasoline was never cheap at whatever age or time or country as one pulled up to the pump and filled up. Well, it was not free, and one needed to come up with gas money one way or the other, but it was seldom a big issue. One very seldom thought, "Oh, I can't take that trip; it's too expensive to buy the gas for it." As teens we often chipped in for gas money for whoever was driving us to the all-night party. But no one said, "I can't go, I don't have money for the gas." It was only slightly more expensive than tap water, which flowed endlessly and so reliably we never gave it a thought.
And new homes were built in tracts, by the hundreds--plenty of space for them, out on the edge of town, on those orange orchards that were purchased and converted to more useful (and lucrative) purposes. Rivers were dammed and diverted to provide the drinking water and lawn sprinkling that was required by the good life.
Agriculture, too, was a booming business. Labor-saving machinery extended and accelerated the human capability for tilling and harvesting, and the wonders of chemistry provided effective pesticides for protecting the crop. The government, too, made sure agriculture and petroleum extraction thrived, by providing subsidies out of tax revenues, so there was plenty of food, and gasoline.
Abundance--unquestioned, endless availability. Economic growth was good for everyone and supported by all. Progress is good, and it gets its proponents elected.
Fast-forward to the present: In riots protesting rising food prices in several countries in West Africa recently, several demonstrators were shot. In Australia, the protracted drought has severely reduced the harvest of foods. In some countries, farmers are starting to carry guns to protect the food on their fields from robbers.
The demand for foodstuffs has been increasing dramatically in high-population countries like India and China. The price of wheat and rice has recently increased dramatically. So many people have been buying up grains before the price goes up that stores like Costco are now limiting the number of sacks of rice one can buy. Oxfam America is warning of severe food shortages and the need to rescue people all over the world from hunger.
Are you sweating yet?
But don't worry; we are dealing with these problems. Or are we? We are certainly making progress on similar crisis issues like energy and climate-change. There is significant public support for reducing our petroleum dependence by using corn to produce ethanol. We can grow our own fuels, no? There are only a few problems with this quick fix: Ethanol production from corn uses more net energy and pumps more carbon dioxide into the atmosphere than petroleum-based fuel. And the diversion of corn from food uses to fuel uses is increasing its price, and the price of other grains, on the world market. So we have a perfect, though tragic, example of a problem (food shortages) that is caused by a solution (switch to ethanol).
The cascading consequences that currently include food riots remind us of Assumption 2: People will come up with rational solutions that work. Under conditions of emerging crisis and stress, this becomes Reality 2: Unconscious Reactiveness, which ends up making things worse, and feeds the crisis conditions. This is a bad vicious circle.
In 1972, Donella Meadows and others published The Limits to Growth, which was variously welcomed, criticized or dismissed by various experts. It explored the possible interdependence among global variables such as: world population, industrialization, pollution, food production and resource depletion. The authors suggested the possibility of a sustainable interaction pattern that could be achieved by altering growth trends among the five variables.
More than 35 years later, this kind of analysis is being given serious consideration by some. The possibility of moving toward an acknowledgment of ecological limits, and a collaborative, intentional self-control on a global scale provides a glimmer of hope for life on the planet.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Assumption 4: Scarcity or Abundance, version 2
Most people have grandparents who lived through the Great Depression of the 30s in the US. Those were hard times. There was no work, stocks became worthless, and banks were useless. Everybody was broke. People lined up at soup lines. After the economy finally recovered, especially after World War II, those people who had lived through the Depression still worried about losing their jobs, losing their money, losing their security.
Many carried the expectation of scarcity within them; they saved their money, and were careful about expenditures. It was the next generation who drove the post-war economic boom years, in the 50s and 60s. Two generations were in the same economy, but their perceptions and behavior were different--the first was oriented to scarcity, the second to abundance. Many folks in the Depression generation were so scared--or scarred--from that experience that they continued to be frugal and to worry about their expenditures for the rest of their lives.
I was a grad student at UCLA during the Kennedy administration when the US military discovered Soviet ballistic missiles in Cuba. The President gave the Soviets an ultimatum: get the missiles out, or expect a nuclear attack from the US. Everybody I knew was extremely concerned about what was going to happen. One of the most tangible behaviors I became aware of was that people hoarded food. Shelves on supermarkets were nearly bare. One couldn't find bags of sugar or other staples anywhere. Everyone expected a military catastrophe, which would create scarcity, so they hoarded basic foods, and created what everyone feared: scarcity.
It was also during the 60s that the hippy generation began exploring new ways of perceiving the world, and new ways of traveling through it. The limits of perception and awareness were pushed back through music, psychedelics, and communal living. This social exploration and creative innovation floated on the exuberance of a growing economy. The context of abundance encouraged a turn toward relaxed social strictures and an abhorrence of conflict. Make love, not war.
Today, as the price of food and the fuel to transport it are increasing, there is a growing experience of scarcity again. The world is running out of oil. Solar and wind energy are not yet online, and nuclear energy comes with the one troubling problem: there's no good way to throw out or store the deadly nuclear waste.
What we do have is a growing abundance of human beings on the planet. We do all need to eat, drink, stay warm or cool as needed, and get from here to there using mostly petroleum-based transportation. And together we're pumping more and more carbon dioxide and methane into the atmosphere, changing our world's climate and melting our polar ice caps. We're accelerating down a road that leads to a brick wall.
But more and more of us are paying attention to this emerging problem, and are using our individual and social creativity to find ways to deal with it and to put those solutions in place. The Web site for Wiser Earth lists links to 108,647 organizations that are currently working toward the interdependent goals of social justice and ecological wellbeing. We are tapping into what is most abundant in the world--human creativity and good will toward fellow human beings and toward all living beings on the planet.
As we do, we are discovering an emerging global consciousness, beyond our collective individual consciousness; one that has the abundant energy, creativity, and commitment to bring back sanity to our world and to maintain the one life-boat we're all in--or as Buckminster Fuller called it, our Spaceship Earth.
Many carried the expectation of scarcity within them; they saved their money, and were careful about expenditures. It was the next generation who drove the post-war economic boom years, in the 50s and 60s. Two generations were in the same economy, but their perceptions and behavior were different--the first was oriented to scarcity, the second to abundance. Many folks in the Depression generation were so scared--or scarred--from that experience that they continued to be frugal and to worry about their expenditures for the rest of their lives.
I was a grad student at UCLA during the Kennedy administration when the US military discovered Soviet ballistic missiles in Cuba. The President gave the Soviets an ultimatum: get the missiles out, or expect a nuclear attack from the US. Everybody I knew was extremely concerned about what was going to happen. One of the most tangible behaviors I became aware of was that people hoarded food. Shelves on supermarkets were nearly bare. One couldn't find bags of sugar or other staples anywhere. Everyone expected a military catastrophe, which would create scarcity, so they hoarded basic foods, and created what everyone feared: scarcity.
It was also during the 60s that the hippy generation began exploring new ways of perceiving the world, and new ways of traveling through it. The limits of perception and awareness were pushed back through music, psychedelics, and communal living. This social exploration and creative innovation floated on the exuberance of a growing economy. The context of abundance encouraged a turn toward relaxed social strictures and an abhorrence of conflict. Make love, not war.
Today, as the price of food and the fuel to transport it are increasing, there is a growing experience of scarcity again. The world is running out of oil. Solar and wind energy are not yet online, and nuclear energy comes with the one troubling problem: there's no good way to throw out or store the deadly nuclear waste.
What we do have is a growing abundance of human beings on the planet. We do all need to eat, drink, stay warm or cool as needed, and get from here to there using mostly petroleum-based transportation. And together we're pumping more and more carbon dioxide and methane into the atmosphere, changing our world's climate and melting our polar ice caps. We're accelerating down a road that leads to a brick wall.
But more and more of us are paying attention to this emerging problem, and are using our individual and social creativity to find ways to deal with it and to put those solutions in place. The Web site for Wiser Earth lists links to 108,647 organizations that are currently working toward the interdependent goals of social justice and ecological wellbeing. We are tapping into what is most abundant in the world--human creativity and good will toward fellow human beings and toward all living beings on the planet.
As we do, we are discovering an emerging global consciousness, beyond our collective individual consciousness; one that has the abundant energy, creativity, and commitment to bring back sanity to our world and to maintain the one life-boat we're all in--or as Buckminster Fuller called it, our Spaceship Earth.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Assumption 3: Competition or Collaboration
Any sports fan knows that there is nothing like competition to bring out the best in an athlete or a team. In the heat of the struggle, participants' performance surges beyond their own expectations. Spectators, too, become very involved in the experience and often believe that their enthusiastic cheers are crucial to the athletes' triumph. A true fan won't think about seeing the game later on tape or broadcast playback; they must cheer their team while the struggle is on, so they can help.
In business organizations, market share is a key measure of success. Apple may have a single-digit share of the PC market, but it's increasing, and users of Macs, iPods and iPhones are proud to be part of that struggle. Similarly, brand loyalty is actively encouraged in cosmetics, athletic shoes, automobiles, and credit cards. It's us versus them, and we're better.
Sometimes, though, the competitive spirit emerges inappropriately and counter-productively. Executives in charge of different product divisions within a company vie for investment capital to develop or promote their own product. The allocation may favor the most enthusiastic and compelling advocate, but in the end the over-all company profits may suffer.
We understand this well in the context of a basketball team: the flashy player may make more baskets than the others, but the team as a whole may lose the game. Our team is competing with their team, but if we compete within the team, we lose the game. So we need to cooperate within the team in order to compete successfully with the other team.
Athletic teams and businesses competing for market share are in a win-lose environment. Mathematicians who work with this call this a zero-sum game. One and minus one equals zero. If they lose, we win. But there is another type of game structure, which they refer to in less elegant terms: The non-zero sum game. If we both work together in an appropriate and relevant way, we can both win.
Our pre-historical ancestors knew that they must compete with other predators in order to eat. They also learned that they could work together and get a big prize--coordinate their spears and bring down the mastodon. The knowledge of both strategies--competition and cooperation--is carried deeply within our instinctual psyche and shared culture.
But the experience of each is very different. Competition is adrenaline-based and exciting. Cooperation is deliberative and interdependent. It requires more patience, tolerance for frustration, and awareness of the big picture.
In a role-play activity I have used, two teams are instructed to discuss whose company will get the chance to buy a special crop of Valencia oranges, until they reach a decision. If they don't reach a decision within a prescribed time, neither team will get the crop, and it will be sold elsewhere. Most groups bog down in heated debate, growing more polarized, guarded, and narrow. Eventually, some teams disclose enough about their "private" instructions to discover that one company needs the oranges to make a highly prized juice for market. The other company needs the oranges for their excellent zest, which they will use in a gourmet baking formula.
Their understanding of the game they're involved in thus magically shifts from win-lose to win-win. The newly-discovered option emerges as if by magic--beyond their preconceived assumptions. What enables that shift is an attitude of curiosity and openness, courageous self-disclosure about your own interest, and respectful inquiry about the other's. The creative conclusion then becomes easy and self-evident.
Yes, some situations really are zero-sum games. But many are not, unless we assume they are. Our expectations, themselves, can create antagonism and polarization. Win-lose behavior then often leads to lose-lose outcomes. But if we pay attention, invite collaborative inquiry, and generate inclusive options, we are able to discover the amazing truth: we can all win.
In business organizations, market share is a key measure of success. Apple may have a single-digit share of the PC market, but it's increasing, and users of Macs, iPods and iPhones are proud to be part of that struggle. Similarly, brand loyalty is actively encouraged in cosmetics, athletic shoes, automobiles, and credit cards. It's us versus them, and we're better.
Sometimes, though, the competitive spirit emerges inappropriately and counter-productively. Executives in charge of different product divisions within a company vie for investment capital to develop or promote their own product. The allocation may favor the most enthusiastic and compelling advocate, but in the end the over-all company profits may suffer.
We understand this well in the context of a basketball team: the flashy player may make more baskets than the others, but the team as a whole may lose the game. Our team is competing with their team, but if we compete within the team, we lose the game. So we need to cooperate within the team in order to compete successfully with the other team.
Athletic teams and businesses competing for market share are in a win-lose environment. Mathematicians who work with this call this a zero-sum game. One and minus one equals zero. If they lose, we win. But there is another type of game structure, which they refer to in less elegant terms: The non-zero sum game. If we both work together in an appropriate and relevant way, we can both win.
Our pre-historical ancestors knew that they must compete with other predators in order to eat. They also learned that they could work together and get a big prize--coordinate their spears and bring down the mastodon. The knowledge of both strategies--competition and cooperation--is carried deeply within our instinctual psyche and shared culture.
But the experience of each is very different. Competition is adrenaline-based and exciting. Cooperation is deliberative and interdependent. It requires more patience, tolerance for frustration, and awareness of the big picture.
In a role-play activity I have used, two teams are instructed to discuss whose company will get the chance to buy a special crop of Valencia oranges, until they reach a decision. If they don't reach a decision within a prescribed time, neither team will get the crop, and it will be sold elsewhere. Most groups bog down in heated debate, growing more polarized, guarded, and narrow. Eventually, some teams disclose enough about their "private" instructions to discover that one company needs the oranges to make a highly prized juice for market. The other company needs the oranges for their excellent zest, which they will use in a gourmet baking formula.
Their understanding of the game they're involved in thus magically shifts from win-lose to win-win. The newly-discovered option emerges as if by magic--beyond their preconceived assumptions. What enables that shift is an attitude of curiosity and openness, courageous self-disclosure about your own interest, and respectful inquiry about the other's. The creative conclusion then becomes easy and self-evident.
Yes, some situations really are zero-sum games. But many are not, unless we assume they are. Our expectations, themselves, can create antagonism and polarization. Win-lose behavior then often leads to lose-lose outcomes. But if we pay attention, invite collaborative inquiry, and generate inclusive options, we are able to discover the amazing truth: we can all win.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
The Connection Between Assumptions 1 and 2
Before going on to Assumption 3, it can be useful to consider how the first two assumptions are sometimes connected. When we are in an environment of stable growth there is a sense of predictability and security. In that kind of context, we tend to use our intellect more easily. And the measured, considered exploration we typically exhibit under these conditions tends to support stability, and controlled growth.
This is the paradigm of philosophical inquiry and scientific experimentation. People in this environment tend to take it for granted, and expect it to continue. They assume stability and continuity.
In different circumstances, a disruptive event takes people by surprise, and generates newly focused attention; but the stress often engages the ancient physiological mechanisms for fighting or fleeing. Adrenaline and cortisol flood the body and the brain, and plentiful glucose becomes available to muscles and tissues. Responses are quicker, but more instinctual, reacting to each threatening event. The mind is much less reflective and discerning, responding to the immediate present much more than the possible future. Often these responses tend to add energy to the crisis, and make matter worse.
So this is the paradigm of emotional reactivity. We are seeing a lot more of this in news broadcasts, for example, partly because our world is becoming more tumultuous, and also because media executives have discovered that crisis commands much more attention from viewers than does thoughtful, reflective news analysis.
Major disasters are tragic, but they increase viewer ratings. So does reporting of war events, sports contests, and election campaigning by candidates. Reporters' questions tend to elicit adversarial and controversial views much more than reflective exploration of issues, policies, and plans. And viewers cooperate by letting themselves be drawn to such reporting, and forming increasingly polarized though superficial views and commitments. We are addicted to adrenaline, and it is rotting our brains and our society, at a time when pressing social and environmental issues require thoughtful, well-considered planning and social policy.
As our world moves toward the possibility of serious, even catastrophic crises in climate change, energy depletion, and water and food shortages, the tendency to experience the adrenaline madness of crisis response and polarization may increase, instead of what we'll need the most--calm focused analysis, shared reflection and dialogue on a large scale, leading to enlightened social policy, government leadership, and civic engagement at all levels.
By the time lemmings realize they are running toward a cliff edge, the crowd behind them is pushing them inexorably forward, enthusiastically, madly, driven by the shared passion for progress toward something important in front of them, just out of sight, and hoping to get there before the others while there is some of that left. Are there any lemmings near the back, wondering what the fuss is all about, and considering other options?
This is the paradigm of philosophical inquiry and scientific experimentation. People in this environment tend to take it for granted, and expect it to continue. They assume stability and continuity.
In different circumstances, a disruptive event takes people by surprise, and generates newly focused attention; but the stress often engages the ancient physiological mechanisms for fighting or fleeing. Adrenaline and cortisol flood the body and the brain, and plentiful glucose becomes available to muscles and tissues. Responses are quicker, but more instinctual, reacting to each threatening event. The mind is much less reflective and discerning, responding to the immediate present much more than the possible future. Often these responses tend to add energy to the crisis, and make matter worse.
So this is the paradigm of emotional reactivity. We are seeing a lot more of this in news broadcasts, for example, partly because our world is becoming more tumultuous, and also because media executives have discovered that crisis commands much more attention from viewers than does thoughtful, reflective news analysis.
Major disasters are tragic, but they increase viewer ratings. So does reporting of war events, sports contests, and election campaigning by candidates. Reporters' questions tend to elicit adversarial and controversial views much more than reflective exploration of issues, policies, and plans. And viewers cooperate by letting themselves be drawn to such reporting, and forming increasingly polarized though superficial views and commitments. We are addicted to adrenaline, and it is rotting our brains and our society, at a time when pressing social and environmental issues require thoughtful, well-considered planning and social policy.
As our world moves toward the possibility of serious, even catastrophic crises in climate change, energy depletion, and water and food shortages, the tendency to experience the adrenaline madness of crisis response and polarization may increase, instead of what we'll need the most--calm focused analysis, shared reflection and dialogue on a large scale, leading to enlightened social policy, government leadership, and civic engagement at all levels.
By the time lemmings realize they are running toward a cliff edge, the crowd behind them is pushing them inexorably forward, enthusiastically, madly, driven by the shared passion for progress toward something important in front of them, just out of sight, and hoping to get there before the others while there is some of that left. Are there any lemmings near the back, wondering what the fuss is all about, and considering other options?
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Assumption 2. Rationality or Unconscious Reactiveness
As human beings, we are the undisputed champions of intelligence among living beings on the planet. We know this because we have come to that conclusion ourselves, through reasonable thought and deliberation. The ravens, dolphins, and sequoia trees do not dispute the point with us. We're so smart we can teach some animals tricks, and we can construct machines that display awesome computational abilities.
We're even smart enough to understand that under certain circumstances we can behave in pretty stupid ways. Well, we can easily detect stupid behavior in other people, who of course, should (or actually do) know better. But what makes people act so stupid sometimes?
Anyone who has read Scott Adams' Dilbert comic strip and recognized his/her own work environment knows that stupid behavior is rampant and common in organizations--and many other places. But let's be clear: the real and very common spectacle is not just stupid people acting stupid, but smart people acting stupid.
What appears to an ambitious manager as his/her smart new directive to organize the production of software into a more efficient (-looking) structure is understood by the software engineers who are actually doing the coding as one more requirement to break the work up into smaller pieces, making the work more controllable by the manager, but less productive by the coding team.
Or consider the new VP of Administration who mounts a strategic planning project. Input is widely invited from all levels of the organization in order to increase their buy-in to the preconceived new priorities. No one is fooled by this exercise, though plenty of initially naïve and hopeful participants are frustrated and disenchanted. The exercise, intended as a career-enhancing move by the VP, turns out to be a trust-destroying experience for all concerned.
Managers are certainly not the only ones prone to this pattern, but their behavior is a rich source of examples. In each case there was a "rational" and often well-articulated intent. The software manager wanted to improve the organization of the coding process. The VP of Administration wanted to provide clear strategic direction for the organization. In both cases, their efforts had the opposite results.
One of the many ways in which rational behavior is undermined by unconscious reactiveness is the unacknowledged goal of looking good or feeling good about oneself in a situation that is really out of control. The assumption is that the role of manager requires one to know more than those one manages, be better at thinking than them, and help them to improve--or at least to control their behavior.
This is a losing proposition, for all concerned. It makes managers' work much harder--impossible, really. And their behavior, dressed in the garb of rationality, covers the ragged underwear of unacknowledged emotional reactiveness. Instead of real leadership toward individual and organizational excellence, it creates a Dilbert environment of cynicism, covert struggle, and organizational decline.
For those seeking to understand and avoid these pitfalls, it's useful first to acknowledge they exist. We all (yes, even I) experience layers of intention, awareness, and emotion along with our logical analysis. It is, after all, what makes us human. When we are ashamed of our humanity in this sense, we give up its genius; we paint ourselves into the corner of "rationality" without humility or wisdom.
But we can, instead, choose to accept our own and each other's full humanity, beauty marks and all, and reconnect with our own full capacities to think, experience, learn, and collaborate with each other toward our shared goals. It takes practice to change our habits of mind and heart in this way. But it's a good and useful practice.
We're even smart enough to understand that under certain circumstances we can behave in pretty stupid ways. Well, we can easily detect stupid behavior in other people, who of course, should (or actually do) know better. But what makes people act so stupid sometimes?
Anyone who has read Scott Adams' Dilbert comic strip and recognized his/her own work environment knows that stupid behavior is rampant and common in organizations--and many other places. But let's be clear: the real and very common spectacle is not just stupid people acting stupid, but smart people acting stupid.
What appears to an ambitious manager as his/her smart new directive to organize the production of software into a more efficient (-looking) structure is understood by the software engineers who are actually doing the coding as one more requirement to break the work up into smaller pieces, making the work more controllable by the manager, but less productive by the coding team.
Or consider the new VP of Administration who mounts a strategic planning project. Input is widely invited from all levels of the organization in order to increase their buy-in to the preconceived new priorities. No one is fooled by this exercise, though plenty of initially naïve and hopeful participants are frustrated and disenchanted. The exercise, intended as a career-enhancing move by the VP, turns out to be a trust-destroying experience for all concerned.
Managers are certainly not the only ones prone to this pattern, but their behavior is a rich source of examples. In each case there was a "rational" and often well-articulated intent. The software manager wanted to improve the organization of the coding process. The VP of Administration wanted to provide clear strategic direction for the organization. In both cases, their efforts had the opposite results.
One of the many ways in which rational behavior is undermined by unconscious reactiveness is the unacknowledged goal of looking good or feeling good about oneself in a situation that is really out of control. The assumption is that the role of manager requires one to know more than those one manages, be better at thinking than them, and help them to improve--or at least to control their behavior.
This is a losing proposition, for all concerned. It makes managers' work much harder--impossible, really. And their behavior, dressed in the garb of rationality, covers the ragged underwear of unacknowledged emotional reactiveness. Instead of real leadership toward individual and organizational excellence, it creates a Dilbert environment of cynicism, covert struggle, and organizational decline.
For those seeking to understand and avoid these pitfalls, it's useful first to acknowledge they exist. We all (yes, even I) experience layers of intention, awareness, and emotion along with our logical analysis. It is, after all, what makes us human. When we are ashamed of our humanity in this sense, we give up its genius; we paint ourselves into the corner of "rationality" without humility or wisdom.
But we can, instead, choose to accept our own and each other's full humanity, beauty marks and all, and reconnect with our own full capacities to think, experience, learn, and collaborate with each other toward our shared goals. It takes practice to change our habits of mind and heart in this way. But it's a good and useful practice.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Assumption 1. Stable Growth, or Discontinuous Change
We make assumptions all the time in order to deal with day-to-day activities, interactions, and tasks. They can be right, or they can be wrong. We could try to check them all before proceeding, which would be prudent, it seems, but how can we possibly do that? We wouldn't get anything done!
"Our company has been holding its market share for several years, and we have great customer loyalty. We can continue using the manufacturing and marketing methods that have worked so well in the past, and concentrate on developing new products that will serve our customers."
This is the assumption of stability over time. What was true yesterday is mostly true today, and will probably also be true tomorrow. Change does happen, but it happens slowly and regularly.
It takes me 35 minutes to commute to the office. I've learned this from experience over the years. If I leave the house 40 minutes before I need to be there, I'll be on time for my appointments there. But recently I've begun to notice that going through the center of town tends to get me behind a traffic jam, not just on Fridays around noon, or during rush hours, but almost any time of day. I can't count on that 35 minute commute any more. There are just more people living and working in this town, and there are more cars on the road.
What was true yesterday will not necessarily be true today, or tomorrow. Things change. Usually gradually, like a candle burning down; other times suddenly, unexpectedly, like a draft blowing out the flame.
In December, 2005, Wired magazine published and article about how the rising price of gasoline could actually be beneficial, by making it economically feasible to develop alternative energy technologies that are initially more expensive than current ones. The three scenarios the author considered involved the price of crude oil at $20-30 a barrel, $30-70 a barrel, and $70 and up per barrel. Today's price, at over $110 a barrel, was at top of the range of reasonable expectations just three years ago.
Widely shared assumptions are useful in some ways. They provide coherence for discourse and action. They can also become problematic blind spots for a community, an organization, or a society.
So one type of shared assumption is about stability: "How things are is how they will continue to be." A similar assumption is about stable change, or growth: "Prices of stocks are increasing about 6% per year, except for short-term market volatility." The long-term growth rate itself seems stable.
A different assumption about change, however, is more ominous, and important: "Some things may suddenly change in unexpected and irrevocable ways." For example, by the time we get clear as a global community of human beings that carbon dioxide and similar gases have set in motion catastrophic planetary climate changes, including liquefied ice caps, widespread coastal flooding, destructive storms and droughts, and damaged food chains, it may be too late to generate the corrective action needed (as individuals, organizations, and governments) to head off those climate changes. And under those stressful conditions, organizational innovation and international cooperation may become even more difficult.
So this is not assuming stability, nor predictable growth any more; it's considering the possibility of discontinuous, relatively sudden, irreversible change. By the time we discover that our earlier assumptions were wrong, it's very hard to make use of that new understanding.
Maybe it's not too late, but there is probably not much time left to shift our human social behavior appropriately. What's encouraging is that a lot of people and organizations are thinking about climate change, and communicating about it. One actually senses the beginning of a tipping-point shift in awareness and collaborative action on a planetary scale.
I click the link on my computer and gaze at the picture of my newborn grandson. I wonder about the world this boy will grow up in. And I wonder if you see that picture, too, or if what you see is a page-full of random numbers. So this note is to check with you about my assumptions. Do you see what I see?
"Our company has been holding its market share for several years, and we have great customer loyalty. We can continue using the manufacturing and marketing methods that have worked so well in the past, and concentrate on developing new products that will serve our customers."
This is the assumption of stability over time. What was true yesterday is mostly true today, and will probably also be true tomorrow. Change does happen, but it happens slowly and regularly.
It takes me 35 minutes to commute to the office. I've learned this from experience over the years. If I leave the house 40 minutes before I need to be there, I'll be on time for my appointments there. But recently I've begun to notice that going through the center of town tends to get me behind a traffic jam, not just on Fridays around noon, or during rush hours, but almost any time of day. I can't count on that 35 minute commute any more. There are just more people living and working in this town, and there are more cars on the road.
What was true yesterday will not necessarily be true today, or tomorrow. Things change. Usually gradually, like a candle burning down; other times suddenly, unexpectedly, like a draft blowing out the flame.
In December, 2005, Wired magazine published and article about how the rising price of gasoline could actually be beneficial, by making it economically feasible to develop alternative energy technologies that are initially more expensive than current ones. The three scenarios the author considered involved the price of crude oil at $20-30 a barrel, $30-70 a barrel, and $70 and up per barrel. Today's price, at over $110 a barrel, was at top of the range of reasonable expectations just three years ago.
Widely shared assumptions are useful in some ways. They provide coherence for discourse and action. They can also become problematic blind spots for a community, an organization, or a society.
So one type of shared assumption is about stability: "How things are is how they will continue to be." A similar assumption is about stable change, or growth: "Prices of stocks are increasing about 6% per year, except for short-term market volatility." The long-term growth rate itself seems stable.
A different assumption about change, however, is more ominous, and important: "Some things may suddenly change in unexpected and irrevocable ways." For example, by the time we get clear as a global community of human beings that carbon dioxide and similar gases have set in motion catastrophic planetary climate changes, including liquefied ice caps, widespread coastal flooding, destructive storms and droughts, and damaged food chains, it may be too late to generate the corrective action needed (as individuals, organizations, and governments) to head off those climate changes. And under those stressful conditions, organizational innovation and international cooperation may become even more difficult.
So this is not assuming stability, nor predictable growth any more; it's considering the possibility of discontinuous, relatively sudden, irreversible change. By the time we discover that our earlier assumptions were wrong, it's very hard to make use of that new understanding.
Maybe it's not too late, but there is probably not much time left to shift our human social behavior appropriately. What's encouraging is that a lot of people and organizations are thinking about climate change, and communicating about it. One actually senses the beginning of a tipping-point shift in awareness and collaborative action on a planetary scale.
I click the link on my computer and gaze at the picture of my newborn grandson. I wonder about the world this boy will grow up in. And I wonder if you see that picture, too, or if what you see is a page-full of random numbers. So this note is to check with you about my assumptions. Do you see what I see?
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Nine Assumptions and Ten Realities--Introduction
I'm thinking about nine generic assumptions most people make, and ten alternative perspectives that may be a better guide to navigating reality. I want to start by considering the place of assumptions in our lives first, because they've gotten a bad rep. "Don't make assumptions," people say. But how can we not? And, really why shouldn't we? It's only those assumptions we don't realize are unfounded that get us in trouble, and only sometimes. And when we discover they're not correct, we learn, and improve our judgment.
Our daughter gave birth to a son a month ago. "She sent us pictures of the baby," I told my wife. "I forwarded her note to you." A few minutes later, she said, "Help! I don't get how to view the pictures!"
"You just click on the link in her note," I said. "It's not working," she said. "Come show me." (I've learned that whenever I tell her to "just" do something, it turns out to not be as simple as I thought.)
So I went over to my wife's iBook and clicked on the link in the email note I had forwarded to her. Instead of a group of very cute baby pictures, it opened Safari on a page with wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling random numbers. "Oh;" I thought. It doesn't work on her computer as it does on mine. She has an older operating system, and uses a different browser.
"Well, come look at them on my computer," I said, and she did.
The phenomenology of computers is that they each can interpret and display the same information in very different ways. What I get on mine is not necessarily what you get on yours. But we tend to assume otherwise. "Just click on the link!"
So discovering this unfounded assumption is useful to me. I now know that some things will look the same for each of us, and some things won't. Web designers know all about this, of course, and regularly test their marvelous new pages on several browsers before finalizing their design and giving it to the client.
The assumption used to be, "What I see is what you get." Now it's "What you see may not be what I meant; I'd better check."
Our daughter gave birth to a son a month ago. "She sent us pictures of the baby," I told my wife. "I forwarded her note to you." A few minutes later, she said, "Help! I don't get how to view the pictures!"
"You just click on the link in her note," I said. "It's not working," she said. "Come show me." (I've learned that whenever I tell her to "just" do something, it turns out to not be as simple as I thought.)
So I went over to my wife's iBook and clicked on the link in the email note I had forwarded to her. Instead of a group of very cute baby pictures, it opened Safari on a page with wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling random numbers. "Oh;" I thought. It doesn't work on her computer as it does on mine. She has an older operating system, and uses a different browser.
"Well, come look at them on my computer," I said, and she did.
The phenomenology of computers is that they each can interpret and display the same information in very different ways. What I get on mine is not necessarily what you get on yours. But we tend to assume otherwise. "Just click on the link!"
So discovering this unfounded assumption is useful to me. I now know that some things will look the same for each of us, and some things won't. Web designers know all about this, of course, and regularly test their marvelous new pages on several browsers before finalizing their design and giving it to the client.
The assumption used to be, "What I see is what you get." Now it's "What you see may not be what I meant; I'd better check."
Friday, March 7, 2008
What Dreams We Awaken To
What if this world became more humane, and our inter-connectedness became more clear--more manageable, constructive, mutually supportive?
What do you yearn for in the pressing possibilities of tasks and interactions? What is the Job this world is offering you? In the quiet moments of your mind, what do you know is true?
What is this blog about? What blog do you imagine helping to create? You're invited to imagine and suggest.
What do you yearn for in the pressing possibilities of tasks and interactions? What is the Job this world is offering you? In the quiet moments of your mind, what do you know is true?
What is this blog about? What blog do you imagine helping to create? You're invited to imagine and suggest.
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