Institutional inability to tolerate failure and mistakes is cited as one of the major impediments to innovation. Most organizational activity is directed at existing operations where people deal primarily with “knowns” and, I would even argue, knowable surprises. As a result, failure and mistakes are pushed to the edges of daily organizational life. In stark contrast, innovation ventures into the unknown where failure sits squarely in the center of things. Avoiding it is impossible. Yet, it seems we are built with a bias against failure. We are literally wired to avoid it, making innovation that much harder to achieve. How do we find a way to work against the grain of our true natures and stop trying to wish failure and mistakes away?
Perhaps we can start by reconsidering some of our sacred cows – like the belief that experts do not fail. This seems important to me as innovation itself becomes the domain of experts and we look to them in the same way that we look to other experts – as people with knowledge that prevents them from failing at the thing they are expert at doing. Experts are supposed to be able to size up situations, define outcomes, consider alternatives, and take action to achieve goals while avoiding mistakes. Being an expert requires a large amount of confidence. But confidence doesn’t always deliver the goods.
In the past few years, there’s been a wave of articles and books exploring the gross fallibility of human judgment, especially expert judgment. There are many reasons why we make lousy decisions and most of them have to do with the crazy extent to which we strive to see patterns in random events. Our drive to make meaning creates a bias toward coherence. The easier it is to believe a story, the more confident we are that it is true. The more that those offering an opinion are credentialed and have long impressive resumes, even if there is no statistical basis that judgment yields a better result than random guesses, we believe in that expert’s opinion. We derive comfort from the illusion of skill.
Daniel Kahneman, one of the leading theorists on the psychology of judgment and behavioral economics, suggests that a confident expert might make a better decision when at least two criteria are met:
- The environment in which the judgment is made is sufficiently regular to enable predictions from the available evidence.
- Professionals have adequate opportunity to learn the cues and the regularities of the situation.
The domain of innovation fails on both counts. So, how can we get comfortable with the fact that even our experts are going to make mistakes? And what can an expert do to incorporate mistake-making into the ongoing process of developing expertise?
An article by Atul Gawande in The New Yorker explored the topic of expert failure in the medical profession. Gawande is looking at expert failure at the tiny mistake end of the failure continuum as he examines the medical profession’s bias against coaching and its preference for teaching. But even tiny mistakes can combine in unanticipated ways to create colossal failures.
Surgical mastery requires familiarity and judgment and is among what Gawande calls late-peaking careers which deal with complexities of people or nature and are tolerant of less than ideal physical stamina. Late-peaking careers stand in contrast to early-peaking careers – most sports or athletic endeavors, certain of the arts (dance), and mathematics (where it appears people peak early because they are unburdened by the weight of their own theories). Whether late- or early-peaking, experts in any field reach a performance plateau. This is where coaching comes in.
Coaches “observe, judge, and guide.” They don’t have to be good at what it is they are coaching. Pro sports coaching is based on the premise that it is virtually impossible to achieve and maintain peak performance on one’s own. I believe that it is easier to coach people in early-peaking careers precisely because we are comfortable with the idea of younger people benefiting from the knowledge of older people. Another bias that makes coaching the late-peaking career expert more difficult comes from the difference between expertise that is conferred through formal academic education and that which is conferred through other sorting methods (such as sports competitions). Traditional pedagogy is based on the concept of graduating and not requiring further instruction in a particular area. For experts in many fields, expertise means not needing to be coached. That doesn’t mean that experts do not need to keep up in their fields, but they are assumed to have the skills needed to do this on their own.
“The sort of coaching that fosters effective innovation and judgment, not merely the replication of technique, may not be so easy to cultivate. Yet modern society increasingly depends on ordinary people taking responsibility for extraordinary things….With a diploma, a few [people] will achieve sustained mastery; with a good coach, many could….[Coaching] may prove essential to the success in modern society.”
But, experts getting coached face big problems. When Gawande, a surgeon himself, brought a coach into the operating theatre, it did not reassure his patients. In fact, it made them nervous. It made them doubt his skill. The coach in the operating theatre meant that Gawande might make a mistake, he wasn’t perfect. Our expectations about perfection, even in the face of what we know is complexity, are not realistic. We don’t want to believe that our surgeons can fail, even though we sign consent forms that acknowledge this fact. Intellectually we can accept that there are many variables which are impossible to predict or control. But emotionally, we are shocked when an expert fails. We expect experts to succeed. All the time.
If we must accept mistakes and failure and acknowledge that even experts will encounter them when they operate in highly complex systems, then gaining a better understanding of mistakes and failure despite our wiring to not dwell too much on them seems like a good place to start. Next up on the blog: a theory of mistakes that might help us learn to love them.
Sources:
- “Personal Best,” Atul Gawande, The New Yorker, October 3, 2011
- “The Surety of Fools,” Daniel Kahneman, The New York Times Magazine, October 23, 2011






