Artists + Scientists = Insights

The challenge of recognizing and understanding new ideas is so ancient that we can reach back to the New Testament and read about a frustrated Matthew as he explains why he has to tell stories (parables) to help people understand the news that he brings them.

 “Therefore I speak to them in parables; because while seeing they do not see, and while hearing they do not hear, nor do they understand.”  Matthew 13:13

But telling stories, even ones with profoundly teachable moments, has its limits when the idea that must be understood is complex and its impact is pervasive. That’s where numbers come in. Numbers put us on solid ground when we want to talk about big, universal concepts.

 “Some people make arguments by telling stories; other people make arguments by counting things.” (1)

The quote above comes from an article about income inequality that compares using stories and using numbers to make the argument about why a large wealth gap is harmful to society. The author, Jill Lepore, contrasts the story argument approach used in a book on the topic, Our Kids: The American Dream in Crisis by Robert Putnam to the numbers approach used by an economic index developed in 1912 by Corrado Gini to measure national income inequality. She asserts that numbers alone have their limitations as an argument technology (2) and cites an historian of science, Theodore Porter, to explain why.

 ‘“Quantification is a technology of distance….Reliance on numbers and quantitative manipulation minimizes the need for intimate knowledge and personal trust.” …But quantification’s lack of intimacy is also its weakness; it represents not only a gain but also a loss of knowledge.’

We need numbers, to be sure. But numbers alone do not make the kind of compelling arguments that are a pathway to knowledge. The most compelling arguments, the ones that persuade, include both numbers and stories. We want to be both emotionally moved, compelled in some way, and we want to know that we are on solid ground, not simply swept away by our feelings. The definition of argument includes emotion – heat and persuasion – and a presentation of facts or reasons. Arguments are the ultimate mash-up.

Argument: an exchange of diverging or opposite views, typically a heated or angry one; a reason or set of reasons given with the aim of persuading others that an action or idea is right or wrong.

We don’t use the term argument too much anymore in organizations – we strive to have fact-based discussions. Fact-based is code for numbers. But when numbers monopolize discussions, the exchange of ideas becomes strangely neutered. Most of the discussions we have in organizations are arguments devoid of heat and persuasion and they frequently fall short of helping a group reach a decision. In order to really “see,” we need feelings and facts.

Stories are not the only way of bringing feeling to an argument that leads to fuller knowledge than numbers alone can provide. Surprisingly, the imperative to bring feeling to numbers is taking place in the world of big data analytics. As it becomes possible to amass unimaginable amounts of data and represent it visually in various forms, it is paradoxically becoming important to develop a “feel” for how to visualize data so that it tells a story. For example, genetic scientists at Albert Einstein College of Medicine in New York have sought help from a painter and conceptual artist to “reimagine the way they represent their data…[because the] problem today is that biological data are often abstracted into the digital domain,…and [geneticists] need some way to capture the gestalt, to develop an instinct for what’s important.” (3)

The instinct for what’s important in this case comes from having a “good eye” to identify possible hooks or pivot points that can unspool meaning from data so that it tells a story. Developing this “good eye” is a capability all of us have. At some early point in our lives, we used what is called perceptual learning to detect subtle differences that allow us to discriminate between similar but different objects or shapes – the numbers 3 and 8, for example. We rely on this ability without thinking. It is an instinct.

Usually we develop these instincts slowly, over time as a result of many, many repetitions. But there are ways to accelerate the acquisition of this sort of instinct. Developing this skill boils down to a particular way of practicing. For example, in a research experiment, a set of medical students learning techniques for gallbladder surgery viewed short video clips that showed the procedure at various stages and were asked to instantly decide what stage they were seeing. Students who engaged in perceptual learning scored four times higher than their peers on tests about the procedure. Perceptual learning helps us to rapidly detect subtle differences and frees us up to consider what these differences might mean.

“One thing I try to argue is that it’s not just about bigger machines to crunch more data, and it’s not even about pattern recognition,…It’s about frameworks of recognition; how you choose to look, rather than what you’re trying to see….” Daniel Kohn, painter and conceptual artist.

The way that you choose to look at something, the framework, reveals what you see. Frameworks screen some elements out and force other elements to a dominant position. The framework teases a story from the data that gives it meaning. The combination of story and numbers makes a compelling argument that has the potential to lead to new insights.

Innovation needs both artists and scientists to find ways of looking that help us see what is possible. Facility bringing together the technologies of feeling and fact is a requirement for organizations that want to build a successful innovation capability. In our time, rather than the wolf lying down with the lamb, we have geneticists partnering with painters to unlock the mysteries of the universe.

Sources:

(1) “Richer and Poorer: Accounting for Inequality,” Jill Lepore, The New Yorker, March 16, 2015.

(2) based on the dictionary definition of technology: “the application of scientific knowledge for practical purposes.”

(3) “Learning to See Data,” Benedict Carey, The New York Times, Sunday Review, March 29, 2015.

 

Culture of Innovation

“Our people are not very innovative.”

This is how more than a few leaders sum up the challenge they believe their organizations face when it comes to innovation. Their people are the problem. These leaders believe that while their people are very good at doing what needs to be done today, they are lousy at coming up with ideas to handle what might be coming in the future. However, none of the leaders who voice this opinion seem to have stepped back far enough to see that their people are delivering exactly what has been asked of them.

Organizations strive to be optimized, lean and efficient. As a result, everyone’s focus is on the task at hand, not the task that might possibly be at hand in three to five years. And performance appraisal systems seal the deal, awarding promotions and bonuses for achieving annual results that keep the existing business growing and profitable. But these are only the formal mechanisms that get in the way of a culture of innovation. They are the outward manifestations of culture. It is the informal atmosphere in which everyday business is conducted that creates culture. It’s the subtle and sometimes not so subtle messages that individuals receive when they offer an opinion or suggestion that create a culture of innovation or its opposite, a culture of business as usual.

I like the definition for culture of innovation that Adam Bryant gave in a recent webinar (1):

Culture is the collective relationships in an organization that create a welcoming environment for crazy ideas.

I believe that if people in an organization are not very innovative, it’s not because they cannot be innovative, but because when you peer just below the surface, they are being actively discouraged. How organizations discourage innovation comes in so many flavors and forms, it’s impossible to catalog all of them. One of my favorites is the tyranny of the inner circle. Inner circles form when people coalesce in little affinity groups with others who are like-minded. They drift towards one another under the banner of “getting it.” Being part of a group empowers those who “get it” to express a dismissive attitude and take a bunker-like stance towards those who “don’t get it.” Who are the most likely candidates to be among those that “don’t get it?”

New employees. Even if they are experienced, new employees just don’t get the way things work or how to get things done. They get the message that absent this knowledge, it’s best to keep your ideas to yourself.  The message is often delivered in a very subtle way. For example, in group discussions if new employees are bold enough to offer up a suggestion that runs against the group’s consensus opinion, they are perfunctorily thanked for their suggestion and the conversation moves on as if the idea had never been put forward. For a new employee, the message received is “shut up and listen until you figure out how we do things around here.” Until you “get it.”

Non-experts in the core business. In my opinion, expertise can be one of the biggest impediments to innovation. When a group of experts in the same industry or process gets together for problem-definition or problem-solving, the homogeneity of experience is often an innovation-killer. Organizations try to combat this mental closing of the ranks by bringing in people whose experience lies adjacent to or entirely outside the group of experts. But the barriers of industry jargon and a tendency to immediately head down into the weeds gets in the way, keeping diverse points-of-view on the fringe of consideration. Non-experts in the core business obviously “don’t get it,” but without a purposeful use of their differences, the experts usually shut them out.

Junior employees.  Blessed with the characteristics of the two groups described above, the junior employee lacks both experience in the core business and experience elsewhere. They really don’t “get it.”  However, rather than use what they do bring to the table (e.g., millennial perspective, a more bias-free perspective, etc.), most organizations treat junior level employees like little children who should be seen and not heard.

A close second to the inner circle machinations that actively undercut a culture of innovation is the half-hearted leadership attempt to try something. Even though innovation requires experimentation, many organizations seem to run experiments designed to reinforce the belief that their organizations are not innovative. These experiments often have the feel of throwing spaghetti at the wall to see what sticks. Let’s call this innovation-discourager the splatter wall syndrome.

The splatter wall syndrome occurs when an executive gets a bee in his or her bonnet that the organization should give innovation a try. The resulting project is usually a stand-alone event which even if deemed a success (lots of participation, a winning contribution or two that is selected for further consideration or development) doesn’t really do much to alter the status quo. There is no Act Two, no real vision for where this is leading the organization or how to take the next step. In many cases, other priorities take hold and it is back to business as usual.

If the event is deemed a failure (low participation levels, no ideas deemed worthy of further pursuit), then the result is even worse because the cynics have proven their point, people are not innovative. Despite all the talk about never wasting a good failure, in my experience, failure is rarely mined for insight in organizations. Even if everyone acknowledges that failure is a necessary part of innovation, I have yet to meet the executive or participant who wants to be closely associated with one. And outside of a few exemplary organizations that debrief on failures as well as successes, most organizations leave failure unexamined (aside from assigning blame) and quickly move on.

These are only two of the ways that a culture of business as usual gains ascendancy and a culture of innovation takes a back seat in most organizations. There are doubtless many, many more. What can be done to shift the balance? To boost the factors that build a culture of innovation so that it is at least co-equal to a culture of business as usual?

Adam Bryant proposes six rules to follow in order to create a culture of innovation. These rules also apply to strategy, but the slant that Bryant takes and which I slant even further, bend them in the direction of innovation. I like Bryant’s first three rules, but I have changed the last three so much that I’m not sure he would want credit for them. (For Bryant’s six rules see my endnotes (2).)

#1  A Simple Plan

There must be a playbook that everyone uses and it must be easy to keep score, to know whether the organization is winning or losing. The scorekeeping part feels like a restatement of the maxim attributed to Peter Drucker – “If you can’t measure it, you can’t manage it.” Ironically, according to the Drucker Institute, Peter Drucker never actually made this statement about management and measurement (3). Apparently Mr. Drucker held a much more nuanced view and believed that there are some critical aspects of managing an organization that do not yield to measurement. The same holds true for some aspects of innovation.

There is an uncomfortable tension about innovation – for an organization to be successful, it must give people constraints and an endpoint at the same time that it permits them to wander outside the lines. The innovation process starting at the fuzzy front end through launch needs to be mapped out and the decision-making criteria that progress an idea through the process need to be easily understood and transparent. Otherwise, it’s hard to engage people in the process and it’s even harder to declare victory. At the same time, innovation by its very nature doesn’t stay within the boundaries. Organizational systems do their best to root out messiness, but a simple plan for innovation needs some messiness to be effective.

#2 Rules of the Road

When a workplace is exciting and people are energized, it isn’t because the organization’s values are listed on its website or plastered on posters. But it’s also true that when people can unhesitatingly and un-ironically tell you what the organization’s values are, it’s likely that it’s a place where doing great work is possible. Values that have this effect transcend bland slogans. People actually use them to evaluate the way that they interact and make decisions.

Bryant suggests that there can’t be more than three values (human beings can’t remember more than three things at a time, take that multi-tasking!). His examples of great values: 1) “Be an owner.  Help others.”  2) “Be in.  Be real.  Be bold.”  Similarly, innovation benefits from guiding principles. They might be statements such as: “There are no bad ideas, but there are some ideas that are not right for our business at the moment.”  “Good ideas can come from anyone and anywhere.” The key: leaders must believe them.

#3  A Little Respect

I have a hard time knowing where to start with this one. It’s a little bit like a kindergarten truism and dangerously close to “be nice to others.” But, in my opinion, this might be the single-most important rule for organizations to follow if they truly want to build a culture of innovation and it may be the most difficult in the hard-driving, fast-paced, bottom-line focused world of business to achieve. Because, at the end of the day, for a culture of innovation to exist, people have to feel free to speak-up. For that to happen, others must make what Bryant calls the “Most Respectful Interpretation” of what they hear.

In some ways, Rule #3 is a corollary of Rule #2. Treating the ideas of others as if they are inherently worthwhile puts the Rules of the Road into action. This is very difficult in the culture of business as usual which is always driving towards a quick solution and seeks to rapidly dismiss ideas that seem off-topic. How many meetings have you been in where even if people don’t say anything, their body language and facial expressions say it all? The reason that it’s important to treat what people say as if it has merit, is because sometimes the merit isn’t immediately obvious. Even if it turns out that the idea won’t work, for great ideas to emerge, leaders must model a respectful attitude towards new ideas and insist that everyone act in this way.

#4  Cast the Widest Net Possible

Far too many organizations are extremely timid when it comes to who gets invited to the innovation party. Typically business units keep their innovation programs within the business unit. Despite the fact that most heads nod in agreement with the maxim attributed to Albert Einstein “we can’t solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them,” this is precisely what tightly prescribed participant boundaries does.

Rather than take advantage of the diversity that exists within their own organizations, most innovation initiatives remain firmly fixed within organizational silos. The rise of crowd-sourcing and open innovation is the clearest countervailing force that the default position of keeping it local will ultimately be unmoored. Casting the widest net possible contributes to the messiness that is required to foster innovation.

#5  Embrace Discomfort

Innovation is not about agreement. In fact, it’s much closer to the opposite. But handling disagreement and conflict productively is hard. It slows things down and most people would prefer to avoid it. An intrepid few might decide to seek forgiveness rather than ask permission, but this does little to challenge the status quo. And it only works if the gambit is successful. Failure exacts a high price. Since a culture of innovation must somehow tolerate challenges to the status quo and resist sweeping failure under the rug, people must be able to have uncomfortable conversations, disagree and still find common ground. This is the true essence of collegiality which as it turns out is not comfortable. Common ground is not a happy place because no one gets everything that he or she wants.  But it is the productive place from which true change is possible and the crucible of innovation.

#6 Do It In Person

Or as close to “in person” as possible.  Tone, intention, enthusiasm: all of the cues and energy we get from listening and/or seeing other people. These cues are important whenever the stakes are high. But they are especially important when people are working together to develop new ideas. The cues and energy that come from working together in person (or nearly in person) frequently help groups avoid misunderstanding or clear it up quickly so that it doesn’t become a stumbling block. While the research on whether groups foster or retard creativity is mixed, the collaboration that groups need to take an idea from its earliest conception through to completion can be more productive when communication is enriched with verbal and nonverbal cues.

It’s a rare organization that will fire on all cylinders when it comes to following these six rules.  I believe that organizations which intentionally strive towards following all of them have a good chance of evolving a culture of innovation. The keys are intentionally and all of them. A culture of innovation is a constant effort to sub-optimize just enough for new ideas to break through business as usual.

Sources:

(1) “Creating a Culture of Innovation: Lessons from CEOs,” ExecuNet webinar broadcast on 11/6/14, Adam Bryant, Speaker and Author, based on his book:  Quick and Nimble, Lessons from Leading CEOs on How to Create a Culture of Innovation. [When I saw the title, my first thought was: what organization would not want to be quick and nimble?  But, the quick are also among the first to run into problems, dead-ends and failure. That’s why the fast-follower archetype has such power.  And nimble?  Nimble is not fun either. To be nimble you must be light on your feet which means you are always, always, always resource-constrained.  All that pivoting can leave you disoriented and exhausted. Being quick and nimble is not a cake-walk.

(2) Adam Bryant’s six rules for creating a culture of innovation: 1) A Simple Plan, 2) Rules of the Road, 3) A Little Respect, 4) It’s About the Team, 5) Adult Conversations and 6) The Hazards of Email.

(3) Measurement Myopia – on Drucker’s more nuanced view of measurement and management.

Gusty Conditions

In my previous post, I made two claims:

  1. All companies are going to have to do more than create high utility products and services, they will also have to deliver positive social impact through their core business.
  2. Corporate employees can be “taught” something important about social impact by social entrepreneurs.

In this post, I’d like to discuss why I believe these claims are valid. The basis for this belief rests on shifts in: 1) the expectations that individuals and society have about the purpose of corporations (i.e., their license to operate) and 2) perhaps as a direct result of these changing expectations, the way that some corporations are beginning to view their relationship to society and their role in the economy.

In early July 2014, David Brooks, a New York Times Op-Ed columnist, wrote a piece on the sharing economy and the evolution of social trust. Brooks suggested that “…[t]here is a new trust calculus, powered by both social and economic forces.  Socially, we have large numbers of people living loose unstructured lives…” By “loose, unstructured lives,” Brooks means that many more people are operating outside the confines of large institutional structures for longer periods of time.

As any outsider can attest, the view from the outside is different from the one on the inside. Add to the fact that more people are on the outside looking in, disturbances such as growing economic polarization, generalized global political unrest and the inability of governments to mount effective responses to these and other large, systemic problems. It should come as no surprise that there is growing distrust of large institutions which seem to exist solely to perpetuate their own existence and enrich a lucky few.

Much of this sourness is directed at corporations. To many people, despite all the talk about the importance of their employees, companies appear profoundly unconcerned about them. Employees are treated as just another means of production that needs to be “right-sized” from time to time. Some companies even appear to be unconcerned about customers (as any telecommunications customer can attest).

In this climate, people have come to increasingly value the ability to directly negotiate with other people which technology has facilitated at low cost. The impersonal culture of big institutions is sitting alongside what Brooks calls a “personalistic” culture of peer-to-peer relationships.

Airbnb and Uber might be the two most visible and contentious companies of the sharing economy. They are causing headaches not only for the hospitality and car service industries, but also for city governments and other regulators in their respective industries because the operating model for these companies is a decentralized network which doesn’t easily conform to the structures and processes of centralized agencies and regulatory regimes. But, these sharing economy pioneers seem to not only care about people – both customers and employees – they also “…seem inclined to compromise and play nice with city governments.  They’re trying to establish reputations as good citizens…” They are changing the rules of the game and maybe even the game itself.

The emergence of a sharing economy facilitated by peer-to-peer relationships that combine technology-enabled virtual and face-to-face experiences (ultimately, you show up at the Airbnb and meet the host and other guests and you get into an Uber car and meet your driver) with a corporate ethos of being good corporate citizens is bleeding over into the traditional economy. Increasingly, even the most hidebound institutions are feeling the pinch of the “personalistic” culture.

New Yorker article published in July 2014 tells the story of the enormous difficulties facing parents whose children are presumed to be the ONLY ones with a medical condition. But there is a story behind this story which is about the “personalistic” culture that Brooks describes and its demand that institutions deliver social impact. “One of a Kind” tells the story of how Bertrand Might’s parents, Matt and Cristina, tried to discover what was wrong with their infant son. The Mights traveled from medical institution to medical institution only to have one diagnosis after another proved false and the medical practitioners lose interest when there was nothing more they could do.

When Bertrand turned seven, a DNA sequencing study that had started two years earlier, concluded that his severe disorder was caused by an inherited genetic mutation. However, “…without additional cases, there was virtually no possibility of getting a pharmaceutical company to investigate the disorder, no chance of drug trials, no way to even persuade the F.D.A. to allow Bertrand to try off-label drugs that might be beneficial.” Unless, somehow, more patients emerged. While the medical researchers theoretically could have shared their data with other medical researchers to find these patients, there were many institutional and professional disincentives that made it unattractive for them to do so. Primary among them – not getting exclusive credit for any forthcoming discovery.

So, the Mights decided that they would take to the social network and find others with the genetic defect themselves. Matt, a professor of computing, had developed a following online among both computer programmers and in the more general online community based on a very popular post that he had written a few years earlier. He decided to harness this visibility on behalf of his son. His post, “Hunting Down My Son’s Killer,” became the top story on Reddit less than 24 hours after it was posted. It went viral and its search engine ranking climbed, making it easier to find.

Within 13 months of making the post, the Mights had identified nine more people with the same genetic mutation and medical problems as their son. But they have done even more. Working with another family whose child has the genetic disorder, they have pushed the clinicians and researchers focused on this disease to pool their knowledge and collaborate on developing a clear clinical report on the disorder. The paper has been published. One of the researchers commented on the process, “It’s a kind of shift in the scientific world that we have to recognize – that, in this day of social media, dedicated, educated, and well-informed families have the ability to make a huge impact….Gone are the days when we could just say, ‘We’re a cloistered community of researchers, and we alone know how to do this.” Gone are the days when institutions are free to serve themselves without sufficient consideration of how their core processes impact real people.

As if on cue, McKinsey recently released the results from a global survey on “Sustainability’s strategic worth.” The study results note a marked shift from two years ago when the major reasons that executives gave for engaging in sustainability (which covers environmental as well as social impact) were managing reputation risk and increasing operational efficiency through lower costs. In 2014, executives were far more likely to say that they want to somehow align their sustainability initiatives with their business goals, mission or values. Rather surprisingly, nearly 50% of the CEOs said that sustainability is one of their top 3 strategic priorities and 13% said it was their most important priority.  At the same time, capturing the business value from sustainability initiatives is difficult “…because the more that companies prioritize sustainability, the more it needs to be integrated into (and even change) the core business.”  Nothing quite like having a McKinsey report to support your beliefs.

In my next post, I will document how these forces – the “personalistic” culture and its demand that corporations demonstrate that they are worthy of social trust in the way that they run their businesses – is playing out in the way that the media portray corporate actions that once would have focused narrowly on the economic returns that companies deliver to their shareholders. The winds of change are blowing, becoming gusty at times.

Sources:

  • “The Evolution of Trust,” David Brooks, The New York Times, Op-Ed column, July 2, 2014
  • “One of a Kind,” Seth Mnookin, The New Yorker, July 21, 2014
  • “Sustainability’s strategic worth,” McKinsey Global Survey, Shelia Bonini and Anne-Titia Bové, McKinsey & Company, 2014.

On Merits Alone

When we are confronted with something new – whether it is something as concrete as a new haircut or something as abstract as a new idea – most of us believe that we can provide an objective response.  We believe that we can evaluate something new and different based on its merits alone to determine if it is good or bad, worth pursuing or rejecting.  However, both nature and nurture suggest otherwise.

Industrial designers know how to use the way human beings are wired to experience their surroundings to elicit reactions that are not based on the actual physical characteristics of what is encountered but on subtle environmental cues. Cabin design for business class air travel is a perfect example of how designers manipulate our all too human senses so that those who shell out the big bucks for luxury air travel feel they are getting what they pay for.

Alternating upholstery tones on the seats in a business class cabin creates “a pattern that causes the brain to register less than the entire expanse.”(1) The checkerboard effect prevents people from being able to perceive the whole. As a result, business class passengers entering the cabin do not become overwhelmed by a cascade of seats. Contrast that with the phenomenon of entering the economy or coach class cabin – the deflating vista of tightly packed row upon row of identical seats and the immediate claustrophobia it induces.

Designers use another trick in business class cabins with seats that open up to become fully flat beds to distort reality. While most passengers in these cabins sit facing forward, they sleep on a diagonal, “an innovation that makes it possible to create what looks like a first-class experience in a significantly smaller space.”(2) These passengers feel that they have more room than they do because every centimeter of space is designed to “de-crowd” their experience. How much space they actually have at their disposal is irrelevant. In fact, most of them would be shocked to learn how little it really is, even in luxury class.

If we were asked to describe the business class cabin compared to coach, we would most likely call it “roomy,” and “private.” In reality it is not particularly roomy or private. But we wouldn’t really be able to tell. Even if we were industrial designers ourselves and could appreciate how we were being manipulated, we would still be manipulated. It’s just the way we are made. It’s our nature.

Over the past decade or so, it’s become increasingly accepted in the business world that human nature affects our decisions and actions at work. We are wired to respond to risks in certain ways that are divorced from reality. We are likely to take action if there is a 90% chance of success but will avoid a 10% chance of failure like the plague. If asked to place an economic value on something that is completely outside of our expertise, we come up with numbers that are anchored to whatever numbers are floating around in our heads from our most recent experiences. We shut down disconfirming points of view under all sorts of pretexts – the person expressing them is not a team player or is simply obnoxious.  Even if these observations are true, they serve to keep us from having to absorb unsettling information. Behavioral economics has emerged as a field of inquiry because traditional economic theory with its assumption of rational decision-making that is aimed at maximizing utility fails to explain the way in which people really seem to go about making economic decisions.

It’s also becoming increasingly clear that nurture, the lives we lead, profoundly shape how we evaluate new things, even in the world of work. I remember when I was first entering the work world, one of the big messages about how to conduct yourself was “leave your personal life at home.” “It’s just business” is still a catch phrase that is often used to explain away decisions that deeply impact others on not just a professional, but also a personal level. When I was younger, I struggled with an inability to completely inhabit this impersonal, highly rational business self. When I was upset, I would find myself crying in the women’s bathroom; quietly, of course, but crying nonetheless. This was NOT something that you were supposed to do in business. And perhaps it was because the way that men typically channel their frustrations – bluster and bravado – was considered businesslike, it wasn’t clear to me that no one was really leaving their true selves or their personal lives at home.

Recently reported research from a team of business school professors at Wharton and Temple University examined how the marital status of 1,500 CEOs affected the riskiness of their decisions and actions. The researchers looked at CEO decisions such as capital expenditures, innovation, R&D and acquisitions and used their company’s stock return volatility as a market-based measure of enterprise risk.

“…we find that there is a still sizable difference — about 10% greater investment [in risky activities] by firms led by single CEOs compared to firms run by CEOs who are married. And differences in stock return volatility are also quite substantial… Managerial decisions are affected by what is happening in those individual’s personal lives in ways that most of our views of business decision making do not account for.”(2)

Apparently nobody leaves his or her personal life at home – not even the CEO.  How we live our lives affects the way we perceive and respond to our options.  This happens without any conscious awareness on our part. However, we act as if this were not true. We act as if we are dispassionate decision-makers who respond to the new and different without bias. The evidence is mounting that this is a lie we tell ourselves to shut down the discomfort that we experience when confronted with something new and different. Instead of sitting in that discomfort with an understanding that both nature and nurture are doing their best to maintain the status quo, we react as quickly as possible to keep the new and different at bay. Perhaps we should take a page from the comedian Louis C.K. whose approach to developing material is all about unease.

 “You’ve got to embrace discomfort. It’s the only way you can put yourself in situations where you can learn, and the only way you can keep your senses fresh once you’re there.”(3)

Nature and nurture could be our best friends when it comes to the new and different. But only if we can learn to resist the urge to get back to what feels safe and hang in there with discomfort long enough to have a shot at evaluating whatever it is that we haven’t experienced before on its merits.

Sources:

(1) “Game of Thrones,” David Owen, The New Yorker, April 21, 2014

(2) “Risk and the Unmarried CEO,” sourced on 5/21/14 at: https://knowledge.wharton.upenn.edu/article/risk-single-ceo/  based on Marriage and Managers’ Attitudes to Risk, Nikolai Roussanov and Pavel G. Savor.

(3) Quote sourced on 5/25/14 at http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/04/22/louis-ck-gq-cover-story-embracing-discomfort-photo_n_5191708.html

The Drudgery of Discovery

Science:  Knowledge or a system of knowledge covering general truths or the operation of general laws especially as obtained and tested through the scientific method (principles and procedures for the systematic pursuit of knowledge involving the recognition and formulation of a problem, the collection of data through observation and experiment, and the formulation and testing of hypotheses) (1).

What is more important in advancing discovery – the science of discovery or the discoveries themselves?

Of course, both are important. Discoveries are newsworthy and sometimes earth-shattering. They are sexy stuff. Science creates a repeatable path towards future discoveries. Science, especially its reliance on the scientific method, is decidedly unsexy. Its end point (a discovery) might be sexy, but the process, for the most part, is not.

I recently finished reading a book about decrypting an ancient language known as Linear B. While “The Riddle of the Labyrinth” is an excellent account of cracking the code that unlocked Linear B; the author, Margalit Fox, also seeks to restore credit for this achievement to a woman whose arduous and lengthy efforts created the science of discovery that made it possible to decipher this written and spoken Mycenaean language (an early variant of Greek from the Bronze Age).

Linear B

 

Linear B was discovered on tablets at the turn of the 20th century by the English archaeologist Arthur Evans. The tablets represent the earliest known European writing from around 1450 BC, 700 years before the Greek alphabet (which before Linear B was believed to be the first European writing).  If history comes into being with the written record, the Linear B tablets transformed a period that had been considered pre-history into history.

Kana Chinese

Writing systems are less common than most of us think. Spoken language can exist without them (the author notes that of the estimated 6,000 languages that are spoken today only 15% are believed to have written forms). In ancient times writing systems appear to have been even rarer than they are today.  Linear B is a syllabic writing system in which the symbols stand for syllables (such as Japanese kana). There are two other types of writing systems. Logographic languages are those in which the symbol stands for a concept (such as Chinese).  Alphabetic languages are those in which symbols stand for specific sounds (such as English).

Just how difficult was it to decrypt Linear B?

When attempting to read a script, a reader can find herself in one of four possible situations:

Language_Script 2x2

A known language in a known script such as the text you are reading right now is immediately intelligible – no deciphering is needed. However, when one unknown is introduced into the picture, everything changes, making decipherment extremely challenging. The author cites two cases which to date have not been resolved.  Rongorongo, a script believed to have written a Polynesian language that is still spoken on Easter Island, fell into disuse. So even though the language is known it is not possible to associate sounds with the symbols. Etruscan, a non Indo-European language of ancient Italy, has a script that survives and can be read (it is based on the Greek alphabet). However, lacking an understanding of word breaks and grammar, the string of sounds cannot be parsed into meaning.

If just one unknown can render some decipherment impossible, two seems like a locked box of impossibility. However, by creating a science of graphics – painstakingly inventing a framework to uncover the hidden rules of Linear B’s grammar, syntax, and structure – Alice Kober made it possible to unlock the language. By rejecting ALL assumptions, she avoided the trap of circular logic that had stymied previous decoding attempts. Others made starting assumptions that led them to what turned out to be false conclusions, dead ends. Had she not died from what many assume was cancer at the age of 43, Kober might have been able to complete her life’s work.

There are many themes that lace the story Fox tells, but three stand out:

Sexism:  In the 1930s and 40s when Alice Kober was conducting her research, the prevailing culture of sexism made it all too easy to diminish the accomplishments and contributions of a rather plain-looking and self-effacing middle-aged woman who had no time to be bothered with social niceties. The Alice Kober described in this book does not seem all that likable (or interested in being likable). She comes across as a brilliant obsessive who was denied a seat at the table precisely because she was a woman. At the time she was being considered for an associate professorship at the University of Pennsylvania (in the 1940s), women were not deemed viable candidates for such positions by men. What makes for painful reading, though, is to be reminded that at that time not even women thought that women should hold such positions.

Hero Worship: The competitive nature of discovery, even in a field most of us wouldn’t give a second thought – early history. When only one person will  ultimately get credit for the discovery even though many others have made the “ah-ha” moment possible, knowledge hoarding is a reasonable position to take even if pooling knowledge would advance the discovery. A corollary to this theme is the cultural obsession (which seems to span many cultures) with a “hero” – the person (usually a man) who ultimately solves the problem that many others have been working on for a long, long time. The credit for cracking the code of Linear B was entirely ascribed to Michael Ventris whose solution, the author makes plain, relied on at least three ground-breaking insights that came from Alice Kober but were never credited to her.

The Ends versus the Means: The relegation of methodology or science to a lower importance status compared with discovery itself. Alice Kober spent the better part of 15 years building a framework that did not presuppose anything about the language she was attempting to understand. Even though the tablets on which the language was inscribed were found on the island of Crete in the purported remains of the palace of Minos at Knossos, Kober did not assume that the language was Minoan. She did not assume that it was a remnant of Etruscan, the “lost” language of a civilization that preceded the Roman civilization. She did not assume that it was logographic (like Chinese or Japanese) even though many of the symbols made it tempting to do so. She painstakingly constructed a methodology for discovery – a science of graphics – which integrated rules and basic theories of how languages work to allow the origins of the language – its grammar, syntax, and sound – to emerge.

Kober died before she could crack the code and it isn’t certain even if she had lived that she would have been the one to decipher Linear B. However, the fact that a drab and discounted woman pursued the drab and discounted side of discovery – the science side –has consigned her to the ranks of unsung heros. I am in awe of the tremendous intellectual and emotional conviction required to let the process work, resisting the impulse to make assumptions and trusting that the truth will out. While it is easier today to source and mine data than it was for Kober, who had to do it all by hand using an intricate paper-based system, it is no easier to tease meaning out of data. Someone still has to construct a framework that makes meaning out of masses of information. And someone has to be fearless enough to look at the results without blinders to grasp its implications. Someone has to be willing to pursue the unsexy, but necessary, task of inventing a science.

 

(1) Source:  http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/science?show=0&t=1396526463

Boo!

Just in time for the Halloween Holiday, comes scary innovation news from Singapore and the U.S. National Funeral Directors Association – an open innovation competition called Design for Death.

Mushroom Death Suit

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jae Rhim Lee wearing the Mushroom Death Suit

Even in industries with processes that would appear to be at total odds with change of any sort, there is a push to move outside the comfort zone and imagine possibilities for the future (including the afterlife).  Burial practices are for the most part dictated by religious ritual. They would have to win in the competition for process least likely to change and least likely to attract those outside the profession to participate in an innovation competition, however open.  And it’s not as if there is a concern about the market for services drying up. As the old saying goes – “there are only two certainties in life – death and taxes” (Ben Franklin).  But, the industry is in its mature phase – the critical inflection point at which transformation occurs from within or without or both. Looked at this way, an open innovation competition for Design for Death might even be entirely predictable.

First and foremost in shifting the framework for thinking about death is a language change. While it may seem exasperating (even I sighed when I read the new term of art), the funeral industry is rebranding itself as the deathcare industry. (Microsoft Word highlights this term with a red underscore because it is not standard English…yet.) Deathcare shifts the focus from a narrow one of how we dispose of bodies (funerals and burials) to a more expansive one of how we acknowledge death and incorporate its presence in life.

Design for Death is the first in a series of challenges that are co-sponsored by the Lien Foundation, a Singapore-based philanthropy whose mission is to stimulate and spark high-impact idea exchange, high-intensity collaboration, and high-end value creation by leveraging the people, private and public sectors around three issues: eldercare, water and sanitation, and early education; and ACM, a philanthropy established by the founder of a Singapore-based casket company to uplift the deathcare profession. The next competitions focus on two of death’s many prequels – hospice care and community arts engagement in hospitals.

What is particularly interesting about the winning submissions to the competition is that:

  • All of the idea submitters are young – the oldest is 37 and the youngest is 24.
  • They do not work in the deathcare industry.
  • Some of them are not even designers.
  • None of them come even close to what you would call “experts.”

As the National Funeral Directors Association’s Executive Director, Christine Pepper notes,

The many entries we received from designers around the world show that innovation in deathcare doesn’t have to come from funeral directors. Ideas for how families honor and remember their loved ones can come from anyone and anywhere. The ideas and innovations presented by the designers who participated in this contest bring fresh perspectives to our profession and challenge funeral directors to think about the services and products they offer to families in new ways.

The winning ideas (and even some that did not win) are arresting, poetic, thoughtful and novel. I encourage you to visit the website to see all the entries, but note two that I really liked here:

  1. “I wish to be rain” which transfers cremated ashes to the troposphere via a balloon that seeds clouds which ultimately release precipitation.
  2. “Mushroom death suit” which uses the properties of mushrooms to decompose the body and partially remediate toxins that are released during decomposition.

And, lest you think that there is no way to measure the impact of such innovation on how society handles death, the Lien Foundation partnered with the Economist Intelligence Unit to conduct research and create a Quality of Death index that ranks 40 countries on provision of end-of-life care. The UK ranks #1 and the US is #9 tied with Canada. You can visit this site to begin your death-venture (I kid you not). For most of us, this is the ultimate haunted house.

Happy Halloween!

Difficulty and Doubt

“It’s just too hard to get things done around here.”

Classic expression of frustration heard in almost any organization, but especially in large ones. Laboring under the assumption that important activities should not be difficult to accomplish, the standard management reaction is to make things easier. When new priorities must be merged with existing ones, it seems even more important to design processes that outmaneuver the glitches that cause tempers to flare. We strive to create friction-free processes that are repeatable, reliable, and consistent. However, removing friction might be exactly the wrong thing to do if it’s important to learn and innovate.

Much of the impetus for the wave of interest in managing innovation comes from a belief that we have so little of it because the system makes it too hard. It’s true that in most organizations, processes and resources are focused almost exclusively on sustaining existing activities. With organizations running so lean there is very little bandwith available to take on something new.  It makes sense to assume that if we can remove snags and roadblocks from an innovation process, then we can free up innovators and increase innovation. But what if that’s not so? What if innovation requires friction?

Friction is the proverbial “when the going gets tough” situation.  When circumstances are not conducive but instead are daunting, it forces acknowledgement of:

  • Doubt, the limits of knowledge, even the ability to know
  • Possibility of failure and consideration of how to persevere should it be encountered
  • Probability that progress will be incremental and fitful, requiring many adaptations

Friction provides the opportunity to practice making difficult decisions and dealing with the consequences – this is the essence of learning and is a prerequisite for innovation.  When we talk about managing innovation in organizations, we are really talking about establishing habits of being curious and open to learning.  However, it seems to me that we misdiagnose the difficulty involved with innovation as a problem that should be solved by making things easier.  In fact, without difficulty, we reduce the potential for doubt, failure, and the need to revisit assumptions over and over again.  We undermine the potential for innovation.

At the same time I was reading Malcom Gladwell’s review of Albert O. Hirschman’s theories which the preceding musings are based on (1), I came across a story posted on fastcompany.com that gave life to Hirschman’s belief about the importance of  difficulty and doubt for progress to occur in any system (2). The fastcompany.com story was about 17-year-old  Easton LaChappelle who faced difficulties (lack of knowledge, skills, funding, and institutional support) that should have prevented him from accomplishing what he set out to do (reinvent conventional prostheses).

But, as Hirschman might have predicted, LaChappelle’s difficulties proved essential to his innovation. LaChappelle had to teach himself “electronics, coding, how to use a 3-D printer,” and most importantly how to do all of it on the cheap from his bedroom.  He figured out what he needed to know and how to learn it, what materials he absolutely needed on hand and how to get them, how to confirm market demand (via a Kickstarter campaign), and how to use every available opportunity to tell people his story about making prosthetics affordable.

LaChappelle’s goal was to rethink the $80,000 prosthetic arm (a price tag that doesn’t include the costs of the surgical procedures needed to use it) and find a way to make an affordable one. LaChappelle ultimately created a $400 robotic arm that can be used by amputees without surgical preparation.  Think of it as an iPhone equivalent – if you need to upgrade in a few years, it’s not out of the question.  Contrast that with the $80K arm and the technology that you are stuck with for a long time.

Now, of course, LaChappelle in many ways is not your average teenage kid.  But he COULD be.  He has a curious mind whose dictates he follows and he is flexible in how and where he learns. These behaviors are not particularly unique to LaChappelle.  Most little kids exhibit them all the time.  These are the habits of innovation and they are rarely inhibited by the kinds of difficulties that we routinely decry as the obstacles to innovation in our organizations.  But, in the same way that we squash these habits in kids by running them through the education system, we squash them in organizations by running innovation through the exercise of the business case analysis.

I am not opposed to the basic concept of the business case analysis.  A systematic thinking through of goals, constraints, resources, and potential scenarios is time well spent.  However, the hallmark of business case analysis is the degree to which we ask people with new ideas to express an extremely high conviction that they have been able to squeeze all doubt out of the picture. We do this by identifying potential roadblocks or other surprises and describing how they will be managed. To pass the business case test, we pretend that the surprises are risks rather than uncertainties (for the difference between the two, see (3) below under Sources) and that we are skillful enough to map out strategies for avoiding or minimizing them.

However, doubt, like difficulty, is critical for innovation.  Doubt is the handmaiden of curiosity.  If you believe that you know it all and you are certain of what you know, there isn’t much to be curious about and there isn’t much new to be learned.  Doubt seems ever more important when situations are complex and uncertain which is increasingly the case in all domains of contemporary life.  Hirschman’s ideas snapped me out of my blathering on about “making innovation simple and easy.”  Because, really, how can that be?  How can innovation be anything other than replete with difficulty and doubt?  The two sources of friction that create the conditions for something new to suggest itself.

Sources:

(1) “The Gift of Doubt: Albert O. Hirschman and the power of failure,” Malcolm Gladwell, The New Yorker, June 24, 2013

(2) “Meet the 17-year-old who Created a Brain-Powered Prosthetic Arm,” Liz Presson, FastCompany.com, sourced on 8/26/13.

(3)  Risk: We don’t know what is going to happen next, but we do know what the distribution looks like.  Uncertainty: We don’t know what is going to happen next, and we do not know what the possible distribution looks like.  Attributed to Michael Mauboussin, sourced on 8/16/13 at The Big Picture.

Easton LaChappelle’s TedxMileHigh Talk

 

The Curious Observer

When I’m asked to enumerate best practices for idea management or group decision-making or team-building or any activity that involves people trying to do something as a group, somewhere on my list is the practice of making sure that somebody (or somebodies) is an observer. In idea management, which typically occurs on-line using some kind of collaboration software, that somebody is called the moderator. For in-person groups (or mostly in-person – sometimes people are connected via video conference, but they see one another and interact in real-time) the term of art is facilitator. While everyone acknowledges that this role is important, in idea management it often goes to a more junior person or an administrative type; i.e., it’s important, but not that important.  For in-person groups, the facilitator is often a more experienced (i.e., “older” person or someone who has had group facilitation training). However, facilitators are rarely required to understand the content of the discussions or decisions that the group makes. They are expected to guide a process. The same holds true for on-line moderators.

However, when observers, whether facilitators or moderators, lack familiarity with the substance of the group’s discussions and decisions – not expertise, but just enough understanding to be dangerous – I believe that the group markedly diminishes its potential for innovation, the truly different way of figuring out how to move forward or solve a very persistent, complex problem. I believe that groups need curious observers. Curious observers play an essential role in discovery – the pivotal moment in all innovation that is perhaps the true “Eureka” moment. Because creating something and recognizing that it might be important in some way rarely occur at the same time. In our idealization of innovation, we tell stories that merge creators and discoverers into one person who has one blinding flash of insight. But more often than not, there are many insights along the way some of which are discovered by curious observers.

Case in point from a story about fungus from a recent New Yorker magazine(1). Mushroom fungus or polypore mycelium to be specific. (Stay with me on this one!)

Two seniors at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute (RPI) were beavering away at a class project for an Inventors Studio class, which is exactly what it sounds like – a class devoted to guiding students in the process of invention with the long shot hope that their ideas might form the basis of a company that will bring innovative solutions into the market. These two seniors, Gavin McIntyre and Eben Bayer, were casting about for an idea that their very exacting professor, Burt Swersey, would approve for their project. They had pitched a few ideas to Swersey to no avail. Then, Bayer recalled an experiment that he had performed in another class at RPI responding to the challenge of making insulation out of perlite. Most of us know perlite as the little white plastic-like pellets that are mixed in with bagged potting soil. We also know how annoying those little pellets can be – they are lightweight and float around, settling in puffy clumps, making a mess. In his RPI class, Bayer had used mushroom spores to bind the perlite.

As a kid growing up on a farm where his dad made maple syrup and sold it commercially, Bayer had had a lot of chores to do outdoors.  One of his chores was to shovel wood chips from a pile to a burner that boiled the sap.  He had often noticed that the wood chip pile sprouted mushrooms whose mycelium bound the chips so tightly together that he found it difficult sometimes to shovel them.  He had remembered that binding property during his class project to create perlite insulation. He brought the results of that project – a glass jar of solid perlite and mycelium – to Swersey’s class.

Here’s what happened according to Swersey:

“He takes this thing out of his pocket…and it’s white, this amazing piece of insulation that had been grown, without hydrocarbons, with almost no energy used.  The stuff could be made with almost any waste materials – rice husks, cotton wastes, stuff farmers throw away, stuff they have no market for – and it wouldn’t take away from anybody’s food supply, and it could be made anywhere from local materials, so you could cut down on transportation costs.  And it would be completely biodegradable!  What more could you want?”

The rest of the story about Evocative Design, McIntyre and Bayer’s company that produces packaging material out of mushroom fungus, is quite an amazing read and I recommend it. But what stood out for me in the story is that without Swersey it is unlikely that the company and its subsequent success would have happened. McIntyre and Bayer both had jobs lined up after RPI – good jobs. Swersey urged them to forgo these jobs and continue developing their invention. They thought they might be able to work on their invention on an after-work-hours basis, but Swersey emphatically told them this would not be enough. He offered to take money from his retirement savings to invest in their company. He helped them get a grant from the National Collegiate Inventors and Innovators Alliance and got them situated in RPI’s incubator space for start-ups.

Swersey, a curious observer, was an essential part of the discovery process. Neither McIntyre nor Bayer on their own had the perspective to recognize the potential of what Bayer had initially created and what they both further developed in Swersey’s class. Bayer’s flash of insight was based on an idle observation made years earlier in passing. From his point of view at the time, using mycelium to bind perlite was a one-off to complete a class requirement. Bayer threw a “Hail Mary” pass when he brought the idea to Swersey’s class to see if it would pass muster there.

Swersey, while not an expert in mycology or insulating materials engineering, did however operate with a framework that enabled him to see the potential in Bayer and McIntyre’s invention. His “Eureka” moment was every bit as necessary as Bayer’s in this story of invention and innovation. Inventor’s Studio is the search for ruthlessly affordable solutions(2) to existing problems that can make a discernible difference in the lives of the vast majority of people on the planet who live on less than $1 a day. This framework is incredibly clear – expansive and targeted at the same time. Without it, Bayer’s little while disk of perlite and mycelium, would still be an interesting curiosity rather than a biodegradable packaging material which is used by companies like Dell, Crate and Barrel, and Steelcase, and who knows what else in the future.

Without a curious observer to hold this kind of framework in place for groups as they work to solve problems, the connection between creativity and discovery often fails to take place. This is especially true for groups of experts who have even more to overcome than naïve amateurs like the students in Swersey’s class. As their professor, Swersey’s students expected his observations and input to matter, whether or not he was an expert in their project’s specific materials or engineering. Experts, on the other hand, view their facilitator or moderator as someone who is supposed to keep them on time and on task but has little else to contribute to problem solving. And, most facilitators and moderators buy in to this definition of their role. However, when facilitators and moderators are also curious observers, they can help the experts overcome the limitations of expertise. They can call attention to the contrary point of view that groups are quick to dismiss and encourage its exploration. Curious observers can ask questions and offer potential solutions that might be foolish or wrong, essentially acting as a naïve amateur, to challenge a group’s assumptions that often masquerade as facts. The curious observer can catalyze the moment of discovery which grasps the potential in an invention, whether a thing or an idea, and become an integral participant in the process of innovation.

(1)    “Form and Fungus,” Ian Frazier, The New Yorker, May 20, 2013

(2)   Designing for ruthless affordability is a concept from the work of Paul Polak.


Polak Advocates the ‘Ruthless Pursuit of… by FORAtv

Just Generally Better All Around

In planning for disasters, the best preparation comes from making sure that things are better under normal circumstances.  Scientists and engineers who are looking at ways to help governments better prepare their citizenry for climate-related disasters (heat waves, storm surges, hurricanes, etc.) have made two significant discoveries:

  1. The most successful physical adaptations not only protect people and infrastructure when things are bad, they also improve everyday life.
  2. In addition to investing in the physical adaptations necessary to withstand severe climate conditions, investing in social adaptations is equally important.

In disasters like the ones caused most recently in the northeastern United States by Hurricane Sandy and other environmental calamities, it turns out that places where people are more neighborly fare better than those where people are isolated and have little connection to their neighbors. Communities in which neighbors look out for one another, those that exhibit a high degree of social connectedness, are more resilient than those whose inhabitants lack this quality of civic-mindedness. Social network resilience helps neighborhoods bounce back from severe damage to the physical infrastructure. Of course, this sounds reasonable and perhaps obvious (like many insights once they are explicitly stated).  But, even if it seems reasonable and obvious, we do not act as if it is.  That is, we do not think of investments that improve the quality of everyday life in our communities as a prophylactic against bad times.

Instead, when planning to manage environmental risks to our communities, we over-focus on physical infrastructure to protect us from disaster.  For water-related catastrophes, we build dams and levees and other types of storm surge barriers. Most of these measures do little or nothing to improve the quality of life under normal conditions and in some cases, seriously degrade it by consuming scarce resources.  Yet, a philosophical shift is taking place in the realm of physical adaptations. Structures are now being conceived that not only offer protection against environmental calamities, but also make everyday life nicer.

In Rotterdam, The Netherlands, where most of the densely populated country sits below sea level, the story of civilization has been a war with water.  Dikes and other systems that pump water out once it encroaches on the land have long been, and continue to be, a staple of the country’s response to water-related calamities.  However, in the past few years, engineers, architects and city planners have deployed a new water approach. In addition to disaster-prevention and –response, an approach which proactively explores what it means to co-exist with water has emerged. Today, in the middle of the city’s harbor, three transparent domes or Floating Pavilions sit on the water. These buildings are not quite boats and not quite houses but a new blended form of habitat which the city hopes will help it formulate new ways of living with water.   Singapore, another country that lies close to sea level, has always faced the one-two punch of monsoon-season flooding and, perversely, insufficient potable water. The Marina Barrage and Reservoir, located in the city center on one-sixth of Singapore’s entire land mass, is a three-pronged initiative which seeks to simultaneously, “improve drainage infrastructure, reduce the size of flood-prone areas, and enhance the quality of city life.”(1)

Today more than ever, many organizations have elevated risk management and mitigation to a primary position in their resource allocation decisions.  However, I believe that our current views of risk management have more in common with the now abandoned approaches that used to inform environmental disaster planning than those of more recent vintage. We don’t think about risk management and mitigation as making things generally work better most of the time, but rather as protecting us from disaster. We over-focus on structural adaptations in our processes to root out or prevent errors and typically ignore social adaptations altogether. As a result, we often make it harder to get everyday work done and virtually impossible to undertake highly risky activities such as innovation. This may be at least one of the reasons why innovation is so challenging for most organizations.

What if, to think about ways of creating more conducive conditions for innovation, we turned our current view of risk management on its head, borrowing from what is now understood about surviving physical disasters?  What if we focused on physical and social adaptations that not only manage risk but also improve the quality of everyday work life?

Many people who lead innovation initiatives focus on creating a supportive culture, processes and infrastructure that are designed specifically for innovation.  Bespoke.  But what if to achieve breakthrough innovation, you have to have a culture, processes and structures that improve the everyday activities of the organization?  What if designing exclusively for innovation is the wrong way to go about it?

In another potentially perverse turn of the screw, the processes and structures that are set up to encourage innovation often try to weed out the small, incremental ideas that make all aspects of work life better. In the rush to promote game changing ideas, small improvements get shoved aside. This might be a BIG mistake.  It could be that the small improvements are what make it possible for the game changers to be proposed, accepted, and implemented. It’s the slow and steady stream of little things that make life better, creating a solid foundation which strengthens the organization, building the capacity to withstand and support significant change.  Rather than pressing for BIG ideas, innovation might do better promoting a disproportionate number of small ideas.  It might need to partner more closely with those responsible for HR practices and policies so that ideas which improve the day-to-day conditions of most people in the organization are considered to be as important as those that have the potential to transform the business.

The notion that “things just being generally better all around for most of the time” is a precondition for being able to withstand seismic change requires an equally seismic shift in the way we think about effectively managing risk and organizing for innovation.  But, for innovation to succeed, it may be a non-negotiable mindset.

Source:

(1)   “Adaptation,” Eric Klineberg, The New Yorker, January 7, 2013

Doesn’t Play Well with Others

“They can’t even comply with the rules of the conference.”  This indifference to the rules was apparently the most irksome aspect about the behavior of executives at Uber, an upstart car-hiring service, to the president of the International Association of Transportation Regulators.  “Uber [is a] ‘rogue’ app…the company [behaves] in an unauthorized and destructive way.”

Uber and other similar start-ups (SideCar, Lyft by Zimride) use mobile technology to match people with different kinds of transportation services (taxis, limousines, ordinary people driving their cars) in real-time.  The technology disintermediates the infrastructure that in the past has made those connections (dispatchers) and has regulated them (the transportation authorities).  To rein these new companies in, some municipalities have attempted to pass rules that would make the services they provide illegal.  “…[But] when Washington tried to pass rules that would make Uber illegal, customers bombarded City Council members with thousands of emails in protest.”  The companies claim that since they aren’t actually providing the rides, the regulations don’t pertain to them.

It’s another one of those situations where the writing is on the wall.  While regulators can slow the tide of change in the transportation industry, they are not likely to stop it.  But what seems to really get everyone’s goat is that the new kids on the block are completely disinterested in playing the game, let alone following the rules.  After I read the article, I kept thinking about how we emphasize the importance of collaboration in creating a culture that fosters innovation.  Much of what is written about collaboration has a nicey-nice spin to it – like the classic Coca-Cola commercials from the 1970s (back when there were three network channels and commercials ran for a leisurely one entire minute).  The idea that harmonious collectivism could bring about big change was in the air.  But what if collaborating to innovate looks less like the Coke commercial and more like a nasty fight among toddlers in a sandbox?

There is good reason to suspect that the spirit of getting along, of aiming for group harmony is at odds with the kind of against the grain decision-making and action-taking that is required for innovation.  Innovation requires a calculated approach to risk-taking.  Innovators size up a situation, drawing a line between the survivable worst and the fatal worst that could happen and insure that they stay on the side that lets them live to fight another day.

An in-depth profile that appeared in The New York Times this past December about a group of 16 expert skiers and snowboarders involved in an avalanche reads like a primer on how a group of experts striving to be in harmony make horrible decisions.  This group of highly experienced skiers and snowboarders who had all been tested in extreme situations, collectively made a horrible, life-threatening and, for some, life-ending decision to pursue a run down a challenging slope in iffy weather conditions.  It was a decision that any one of them was unlikely to have made on their own, had they been less invested in being and being seen by the other members of the group as good sports.

The disaster which led to the deaths of three members of the party occurred on Cowboy Mountain which is part of The Cascade Range in the state of Washington.  The skiers (there were snowboarders in the party, but for the sake of brevity, I will refer to all of them as skiers) were drawn to an area just outside the official ski zone known as Tunnel Creek.  It’s a place where experts frequently go to enjoy snow and slope conditions that are not available within the sanctioned ski areas but are still relatively easy to access.  The lure of fresh powder and 3,000 vertical feet angled at about 40 degrees is hard for great skiers to pass up.  But, when combined with weather conditions that create a thin, fragile layer of frost sandwiched between hard packed snow below and soft fluffy powder above, Tunnel Creek becomes an avalanche waiting to happen.  The kind of avalanche that is triggered by the skiers themselves as they ski down the slope, creating stress on the layers of snow.

Individuals within the group had misgivings. They all knew that the official avalanche forecast fell into a gray zone that should have made experts like themselves sit up and take notice.  But, the fact that each of them knew the reputation of the others led them to be overconfident that the group simply could not make a bad decision.

As one skier recalled afterwards:  “This was a crew that seemed like it was assembled by some higher force,….I was thinking, wow, what a bunch of heavies….”

Another thought:  “There’s no way this entire group can make a decision that isn’t smart,” he said to himself. “Of course it’s fine, if we’re all going. It’s got to be fine.”

And yet, some remember having misgivings beforehand, but feeling conflicted about expressing them:

“I can tell circumstances, and I just felt like something besides myself was in charge. They’re all so professional and intelligent and driven and powerful and riding with athletic prowess, yet everything in my mind was going off, wanting to tell them to stop.”

But over-riding everything else was a strong need to go along and get along:

“…[T]here were sort of the social dynamics of that — where I didn’t want to be the one to say, you know, ‘Hey, this is too big a group and we shouldn’t be doing this.’ I was invited by someone else, so I didn’t want to stand up and cause a fuss. And not to play the gender card, but there were 2 girls and 10 guys, and I didn’t want to be the whiny female figure, you know? So I just followed along.”

[But she shouldn’t have worried, because the guys felt just the same.]  “I thought: Oh yeah, that’s a bad place to be. That’s a bad place to be with that many people. But I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to be the jerk.”

Keep in mind that this was a group of experts, the same kind of domain experts we assemble in our organizations when we need to make complex decisions about taking risks.  And they represented a wide range of ages, from 29 – 53, so you can’t lay blame at the feet of youthful exuberance.  Yet, when you read their reflections on how they viewed the situation, you feel as if you are listening in on a group of teenagers for whom being part of the group and having the group operate smoothly is more important than anything else.

We place a high value on harmonious group behavior   Remember the transportation regulator’s biggest complaint about Uber – they didn’t play by the rules, they were not being good sports.  Yet, playing by the rules, whether they are literally regulations or the way things have been done in the past or the even more forceful social norms that proscribe group dynamics, does not always yield the best outcome.  We might want to rethink what playing well with others looks like in the context of innovation – maybe a few squabbles and some sand-throwing is essential to taking the kind of risks that, even if you don’t succeed, insure that you are around the next day to try again.

Perfect Harmony – Coca Cola Commercial


Sources:

  • “Car-Hiring Apps in a Snarl,” Brian X. Chen, The New York Times, December 3, 2012
  • “Snow Fall: The Avalanche at Tunnel Creek,” John Branch, The New York Times, December 26, 2012