“The greatest battle is not physical but psychological. The demons telling us to give up wehen we push ourselves to the limit can never be silenced for good. They must always be answered by the quiet, steady dignity that simply refuses to give in… Courage. We all suffer. Keep going.”
“There’s a huge, gratifying feeling on the rare occasions that any of us come up with an inspiration to do something innovative. The personal rewards, and just the feeling, is enormously good. Part of what gave us the ability to be creative is the old thing – -necessity is the mother of invention — and the passion and curiosity about why things work. It’s about the ability to picture what’s going on and discuss things with other people who have thought about it longer than you have, or have a different approach… It’s a fun thing to do, for sure. You appreciate other people doing things when you read the history books. If you feel that in some small way you can join this illustrious bunch of people who have done things, it’s worth having a go at it.”
Say no to sarcasm. Yes, it's okay as a funny aside during a dinner conversation with people you know well. But it doesn't belong anywhere else, and certainly not in a creative workplace. Categorically ban it from any place or space where you're endeavoring to bring something cool and new to life.
Sarcasm brings with it many ills. If I'm listening to your concept for a marketing tagline, and I sarcastically respond "That's great", I've just cut you down in public, which is not helping you get to a better place. And now you no longer trust me as a generative, open-minded person. Worse yet, the next time we work together, you've learned not to take my utterances at face value. So the next time I say "hey, that's so cool!", you're going to waste energy and time processing that statement to figure out my intent, as oppposed to taking it as a microburst of positive energy which helps push you forward.
We're all here to be remarkable. A broad commitment to being remarkable reduces the friction, smooths out the bumps, and amps up the energy we all need to continue bringing cool things to life. Sarcasm is friction. Plain old nasty, energy-robbing, friction.
Innovating is already so hard — so why add any additional things to get in your way, right? Just say no.
The fellow in the photo above is John Stevens, a self-taught civil engineer who made a huge contribution to the development of the Panama Canal over a hundred years ago. I've been learning about him through the pages of David McCullough's amazing work The Path Between the Seas, which is the story of how the Panama Canal came to be. From political intrigue which brings down governments to financial engineering that would make even a Goldman VP blush to the hard-headed bravery of entrepreneurial engineers like Stevens, this book has it all. It's the ultimate start up fable. It was recommended to me by my friend and colleague Bob Sutton, who is a big fan of the book, too:
This is a great story of how creativity happens at a really big scale. It is messy. Things go wrong. People get hurt. But they also triumph and do astounding things. I also like this book because it is the antidote to those who believe that great innovations all come from start-ups and little companies (although there are some wild examples of entrepreneurship in the story — especially the French guy who designs Panama's revolution — including a new flag and declaration of independence as I recall — from his suite in the Waldorf Astoria in New York, and successfully sells the idea to Teddy Roosevelt ). As my Stanford colleague Jim Adams points out, the Panama Canal, the Pyramids, and putting a man on moon are just a few examples of great human innovations that were led by governments.
For all you interested in the art and science of bringing cool stuff to life, this is a mandatory read. It is so choice. If you have the means, I highly recommend picking up a copy — you won't regret it.
Anyway, back to John Stevens. Anyone tasked with leading teams of creative people on a quest — where you know what you are going after, but you have no idea how you're going to get there — needs to study Stevens. A railroad man who trailblazed many a path through the mountains of the American West, Stevens instinctively knew how to get on with things, and how to inspire every one else to do their best. In a very Dave Packard kind of way, the guy knew the value of literally getting in the trenches to so that he could know — really know — what was happening out in the world. Where his failed predecessors in the saga of the canal ruled from the dry and safe roost of a remote office, upon his arrival in Panama, Stevens made a huge difference to the morale and direction of the entire enterprise simply by pulling on some big rubber boots and walking up and down the line of excavations, all the while chomping on a cigar. This guy is a role model for all us trying to make a dent in the universe.
McCullough includes some choice quotes from Stevens, many of which come from some books he authored later in life, which I am planning to read after I finish Path Between the Seas. Here are some of my favorites, with some color commentary:
"With great respect to supermen, it has probably been my misfortune, but I have never chanced to meet any of them."
As you might expect from someone with the discipline to put in the amount of study to become a self-taught engineer, Stevens was a believer in the simple value of hard work. I have to believe that if Stevens were to be alive today in order to meet Roger Penske, he would deeply admire Penske's aphorism, "Effort equals results". I also like this quote because it says something about the nature of talent, that it's not just about being born with something, but being willing to develop your talent, to gain the kind of experience that only comes with mileage.
Here's a great one on the primacy of doing:
"There are three diseases in Panama. They are yellow fever, malaria, and cold feet; and the greatest of these is cold feet."
I love that line. I'd wager that more organizations die of cold feet than from the burns that come with trying and failing. For anyone who has ever engaged with getting an organization to change, it's cold feet that you're fighting.
Finally, I'll leave you with Steven's wonderful expression of what I call Innovation Principle 15: celebrate sins of commision, stamp out sins of omission:
"You won't get fired if you do something, you will if you don't do anything. Do something if it is wrong, for you can correct that, but there is no way to correct nothing."
In fact, I like his formulation a lot more than mine: there is no way to correct nothing, so do something.
My colleague Paul Bennett produces one of my favorite collections of thinking, a blog he calls The Curiosity Chronicles. Over the past few weeks here at metacool I've been riffing on a bunch of ideas and thoughts rattling around my head and heart on the subject of leading, being a leader, and leadership (of which three the first is by far the most important…). To that end, Paul's latest post Curious About… Role Models really got my attention. Here's an excerpt:
To me, both of these examples share something in common. They are of women, leading in that unique way that women leaders excel: by sharing emotional stories and personally connecting in the first case, and by doing rather than endlessly debating in the second. It brought to mind British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher’s famous line: “If you want anything said, ask a man. If you want anything done, ask a woman.”
And here's another:
Being inspired by others is one of the most important aspects of leadership in my opinion, and having role models is a way to have something to constantly strive for. And work towards. It keeps us grounded and reminds us that we are all human. Whether it’s your mother, a young women who moved you with the story of her journey from village to boardroom or a mother who just happens to be digging a vegetable plot for her children to inspire the rest of the nation to eat better in the most important garden in the world, nothing helps us retain a sense of self better than realizing that there are other people out there in the world that we can learn from.
How might we all learn to be ever curious, like Paul? As he says, you could do worse than to follow your role models, or to go find some if you if they're not there yet for you. For instance, for me, when I need a reminder to feel the confidence to express myself first and analyze things later, I watch and read about Shinya Kimura. I'm hoping to visit his shop in the next few months. Finding inspiration in others is a surprisingly effective way to let yourself inspire others.
“Coming up with ideas is interesting and indefinable, isn’t it? The brain is a funny thing. An idea often emerges in the shower, or during a walk. Your brain has been ticking away and the idea just bubbles up. Occasionally you feel, ‘God, I’ve gone dry.’ It’s like writers’ block. Shortly before the launch of a new car, when I’ve used all my existing ideas, I think, ‘Now what?’ But running the car produces new ideas as you understand what you’ve created.”
My friend and colleague Bob Sutton wrote an interesting post last week on the topics of good bosses, FUBAR, and SNAFU. Having personally contributed to a few SNAFU situations (honestly, how could you not if you've ever shipped anything real?), and living a large part of my life these days helping others work through situations mired in the muck of FUBAR, I really appreciated his post. It's one that anyone engaged in the art and science of bringing cool stuff to life should read. Here's an excerpt:
But it is impossible to be a leader without facing stretches where you and your followers are overwhelmed with the complexity and uncertainty of it all. When this happens, to maintain everyone’s spirits keep them moving forward, and to sustain collective stamina, sometimes it is best to embrace the mess–at least for a while.
This challenge reminded me of two of the most famous and fun World War II expressions:
SNAFU — situation normal, all f**ked-up
FUBAR — f**ked-up beyond all recognition
One CEO I know… uses the distinction between the two to help decide whether a "mess" requires intervention, or it is best to leave people alone for awhile to let them work through it.
He asks his team, or the group muddling through mess: "Is it a snafu or fubar situation? " He finds this to be a useful diagnostic question because, if it is just usual normal level confusion, error, and angst that is endemic to uncertain and creative work, then it is best to leave people alone and let hem muddle forward. But if it is fubar, so fucked-up that real incompetence is doing real damage, the group is completely frozen by fear, good people are leaving or suffering deeply, customers are fleeing, or enduring damage is being done to a company or brand — then it is time to intervene.
I love this distinction between SNAFU and FUBAR, and as a leader of, and contributor to, teams engaging in the creation of new things, I find it really useful, on several levels.
First, if I tried to deal with every FUBAR and SNAFU situation on my radar, I would go completely batty. As Bob also writes, indifference can be as important as passion, and knowing what not to engage in helps save your passion for the things that really matter to you and the people you work with. Focusing on FUBARs seems like a great way to spend your time as a manager.
Second, what I judge as SNAFU may not be SNAFU to those really close to the matter, such as the core design team working on a project. When exposed to the chaos that is a design effort in the middle of things, it is hard as an outsider to feel as much confidence about where things are going as the folks who are working on it each day. In those situations, you have to go more by their body language than by the content, as the tendency at these points as an outsider is to see a lot of SNAFU, perhaps because it is. But experience says that the SNAFU feeling may actually be part and parcel of the design process; if you're not feeling it you may not be pushing enough. And calling SNAFU on a team may actually have an effect opposite to what you desire, as imposing your opinion on folks who have the experience and wherewithal to work out their own problems is as sure a ways as any to sap morale, destroy confidence, and extinguish the spark of intrinsic motivation. As Bob says, better to let people work through their own problems, so long as you have confidence that the time, resources, and talent are there to make it happen.
FUBAR, on the other hand, demands action. These situations cause damage to brands, organizations, careers, and sometimes even people. It's a sign of good leadership when they are identified honestly, and dealt with effectively, even if it means long, difficult road to reach a solution
So, in a long-winded way, I agree with Bob. But, I do think there's more to this story. There's another World War II acronym called SUSFU, and it is some ways the most pernicous of this trio of f-bomb acronyms. Here's what it stands for:
SUSFU: situation unchanged, still f**ked up
Of all the "FU" family of acronyms, SUSFU is the one that really gets my goat. SUSFU is the groundhog day version of FUBAR, in that it invovles something that's a mess, but which somehow has been left unresolved so long as to become routine, even invisible. At one point a SUSFU was a FUBAR, but maybe it didn't get fixed, and then people got scared to deal with it, and then they chose to live with it rather than try to challenge it. This can happen in one's personal life, in a long-lived team, certainly in an organization of any size, and especially in society. Think of big wrongs which existed in our own culture for many years — such as limited voting rights — and in each case you'll see as SUSFU loitering around the premises. Global warming is a SUSFU. The lack of vocational training and apprenticeships in this country for the mechanically-minded is a SUSFU. That lackluster loss leader in your product lineup is also a SUSFU.
FUBAR's are usually self-evident and feel like a crisis to most observers, so taking the responsibility to express the leadership to resolve them, while challenging and hard, is a relatively straightforward decision. A SUSFU, on the other hand, is likely to be flying under the radar to the part where it's become part of everyday life, so remedying it will demand the vision, sense of humor, and fortitude of Brad Pitt's character in Moneyball. SUSFU's are resilient SOB's, rising zombie-like to thwart all your best efforts to move forward. The upside is that the payoff for righting a SUSFU can be enormous. To be sure, slaying a SUSFU may be a quixotic endeavor, but in my opinion we need more people to take up the cause of moving past them.
Here's my challenge to you: in the next year, could you identify one SUSFU in your life and then try to make it better? Imagine the the collective impact of thousands of us unf**king all those SUSFU's. Pretty f**king awesome, no? Go for it. JFDI.
… you can't be the leader you want and ought to be. Or more than a million.
Here's my personal short list:
For me, and I'd wager for you, this is all bunk. We're not born ready, and if we can be honest with ourselves, we'll likely never achieve a state of true mastery of anything. But life is about getting on with things, because life, after all, is finite. A lot of rewards go to those willing to embrace mediocrity and get on with life. But fear has a way of getting in the way. By acknowledging the fear we feel, and not ignoring it, but choosing to act because of it, we give ourselves — and those around us — a gift of inestimable value.
Because, for me, when I'm telling myself all of those "I'm not…" phrases from the list above, that's when I know I'm really on to something. The fear I feel is a signal that what I'm contemplating not doing is really worth doing. And to not take the risk of action is to shirk the responsibility of acting when I'm able to act, of delaying or nulifying the value of the gifts I can bring to world. We owe it to ourselves — and to each other — to go for it, to try to help someone, to make something, to move things forward whenever we can.
“It is the joy, passion, and beauty that we infuse into life that is the glory of the human species. I think leaders can contribute to that joy— and to its extinguishment. I think administrative memoranda should be constructed as works of poetry, that organization charts should be exquisite pieces of sculpture, that relations between a boss and subordinate should have the qualities of a Balanchine ballet, that work should include immersion into a glorious fiction.”
from A Conversation With James G. March on Learning About Leadership, by Joel Podolny
Academy of Management Learning & Education, 2011, Vol. 10, No. 3, 502–506. http://dx.doi.org/10.5465/amle.2011.0003
This is from 2003. You may have seen it before. I only saw it recently, as I’m not a regular basketball fan. I have to admit that each time I watch it, I tear up.
The situation was this: 13-year-old Natalie Gilbert had been chosen to sing the US national anthem before the start of a game between the Dallas Mavericks and the Portland Trail Blazers. The setting was an arena seating almost 20,000 fans. All of us who’ve ever stepped out the door of our home — which I assume is everyone reading this post right now — has screwed up at one point in life, probably in a very public way. Can you imagine what it would feel like to be 13 years old and flubbing your lines in front of a crowd of strangers the size of a small town? Thank goodness for the proactive kindness of Mo Cheeks, the coach of the Trail Blazers at the time.
My question is this: of all the adults on the floor of the arena, why was he the only one to act? And why did he act so immediately? Why did he take such a risk to his own reputation — how could he not be embarassed to sing on national television given that his vocal skills are not, ahem, professional-grade?
My definition of leadership is simple: it’s the act of making something happen which otherwise would not have happened. Mine is an action-oriented definition: if you act and make a difference, you are leading. Hopefully that difference is a positive one. If you know the right thing to do, or the right framework to use, you are part of the way there, but you are not leading (yet). You must act. It’s the only to make a difference.
A key implication from the example of Mo Cheeks is that acting as a leader demands that we embrace our own mediocrity. “Am I willing to risk my personal reputation and status for the good of others?” becomes a fundamental question any potential leader must answer. We must balance the inferior nature of our solution and abilities against what the state of the world would be if we did not act. Case in point, just imagine if Cheeks had taken 45 seconds to pull up the exact text of the national anthem on a smartphone so that his leadership intervention could be perfect. Sure, he would have looked better, but in the meantime, things could have turned very ugly for Natalie Gilbert. Instead, Mo Cheeks turned the energy of the entire arena around. The sound of the entire arena getting behind Natalie and Mo is really inspiring. Thank goodness that Cheeks was able to overlook his lack of singing ability, for it allowed him to demonstrate his formidable acumen as a leader.