Numerous management books, and countless magazine and newspaper articles, have examined Google's innovative way of organizing over the past few years. Specifically, writers and academics alike have marveled at Google's unique tactic for inspiring innovation: allow each employee "flex" time--discretionary time that they can spend on the project of their choice. As the project grows "legs" (that is, as it begins to show some promise), it's the employee's responsibility to lobby his co-workers and managers for additional resources.

One can engage in a lighthearted thought experiment by imagining the following scene, taking place in the not-too-distant future: a team of internal IT consultants is meeting with a corporation’s leadership group and CEO in a richly-appointed board room to scope out a large project to improve the company’s critical business systems.

After receiving copies of the complex organization chart and learning in excruciating detail which corporate officers, functional VPs, department managers and project leaders the consulting team must satisfy using prescribed report formats, the IT team leader suddenly leans forward, faces the CEO, slaps his hand on the table, and emphatically declares (paraphrasing Humphrey Bogart’s nemesis in “Treasure of the Sierra Madre”): “Bosses? We Don’t Need No Stinking Bosses!”*

Mesmerized by this impertinent outburst, the CEO inquires what the IT team has in mind. The team leader proceeds to outline an organizational design so radical in concept that it totally eclipses the tired Industrial Age command-and-control paradigm—a design perfectly adapted to the Information Age where electrons push actionable information to decision makers at light speed.

The IT leader reminds the CEO that they have already spent countless hours together in unproductive discussions to determine how to thread systems, processes, strategies, and people through, around, over, under, above and below the swollen mass of the corporation’s outdated hierarchy. The iconoclastic IT leader gently suggests to the CEO that there is a point at which a clean slate is in order. To the extent that organizational energy is being spent on activities that are not advancing the mission, the leader observes, that energy is wasted and creates a drag on business performance.

On the other hand, to the extent that organizational energy is focused like a laser beam on the brilliant execution of mission-driven processes that deliver real value to customers, it can fulfill its potential. Think about basic physics, the IT leader urges. Energy is either working for you or creating friction—being wasted. How can we make it work for you? The CEO gives the IT leader her full attention, and gestures for him to continue.

Encouraged, the leader explains that if everything that takes place in a business is a part of a strategy-driven process to meet a specified human need, then it logically follows that all individuals in an organization can have their roles defined in terms of their specific contributions to particular processes. If that is true, then ipso facto, the entire business can be defined in terms of its processes—not only the organization’s horizontal, end to end, value-creating, customer-centric core processes but also the supporting processes that enable the core. The startled CEO, realizes that the IT leader is talking about nothing less than the total fusion of process and organization.

The CEO, skeptically, asks who will manage the new organization. The IT leader points to the framed mission and vision statements on the boardroom wall. Do the company’s people understand the mission and vision? The CEO nods affirmatively, remembering that a major effort is made during orientation sessions to drill the mission into new employees. The IT leader explains that individual missions can be crafted which align with the ultimate corporate mission, to galvanize superior performance. Assuming that people are capable of self-management, then the mission will be the boss, not someone who happens to have a title and occupies a box on the organization chart. Expertise, based on influence and persuasion, will displace artificial positional authority. Decisions and decision rights can be carefully, uniquely and contextually defined. Major decisions will require collaboration. Carefully defining the scope of decision-making authority will insure that all pertinent viewpoints are considered, making for better decisions.

The CEO begins to appreciate the large ramifications of the changes being proposed by the IT team, but has more questions. How will people know what processes to own? The IT leader responds that a careful audit will have to be made to identify all the processes needed to run the business, the people involved in the business and their repertoire of skills and interests, and the degree of decision-making authority each person is able to wield with alacrity. By proceeding through the information-gathering process in a systematic way, coupled with interviews of all key personnel, it should be possible to reasonably identify individuals to processes and processes to individuals. If changes need to be made later, there are no inherent barriers to doing so. It is possible that some processes will be jettisoned. It is possible that additional talent will need to be acquired. Only a thorough audit will tell for sure. And shouldn’t the business be performing that analysis anyway, for its own benefit, whether or not the IT project is authorized?

As the CEO digests these answers, more questions come to mind. How will employees relate and be accountable to each other, since their relationships will be defined in terms of processes, not in terms of managers and subordinates? The IT leader smiles to himself. The CEO is asking good questions. What would prevent the company from creating a series of contracts between employees as internal customers and suppliers of each other’s processes, documenting their acceptance of responsibility for certain processes and decisions? The CEO can’t think of anything that would preclude such an arrangement. Enforceable contracts are, after all, the sine qua non of the business world.

How will the business measure performance, the CEO wonders? The IT leader explains that some work would have to be done here as well, building on existing performance measures and metrics. People will either measure themselves or access their own performance measures automatically, preferably at frequent intervals to calibrate their performance accordingly—and improve. If people have no human bosses, then they really have to evaluate their own performance, the IT leader explains. And don’t we want people to make better performance an exciting adventure, in order to maintain their focus on the mission? The CEO remembers the earlier discussion about organizational energy, and its effect on business performance.

Her mind swirling from the discussion, the CEO concludes the meeting. She briefly considers that it would be much easier to implement such a process-driven system in a startup than trying to change the culture of an existing company, especially a public company like hers with diverse stakeholders. There is a great deal to think about…

*With apologies to Gold Hat, as played by Alfonso Bedoya in “The Treasure of the Sierra Madre ” (1948): “Badges? We ain’t got no badges. We don’t need no badges. I don’t have to show you any stinking badges!”

If you pay any attention to the news, you've likely noticed that one of the US' top military commanders in the Mideast lost his job this week.  President Obama earlier this week "accepted the resignation" of General McChrystal, the top military commander in Afghanistan.  Apparently General McChrystal was urged to resign after making some "insubordinate" comments regarding the President and his administration in a recent magazine interview.

I didn't read the interview, and have no idea what the General might have said, but some of President Obama's comments in his press conference earlier this week struck me as meaningful.

The President said (I paraphrase) that it degrades the integrity of the military to allow a subordinate to question his superior, particularly in a public venue.  Without delving into the politics of the situation, I will say that I believe that we should treat each other with respect--particularly when speaking in public about another.  But I'm not so sure that "insubordination" is such a bad thing.  I know it has negative connotations, but why is it such a bad thing for an acknowledged war expert (General McChrystal, incidentally, is widely acknowledged as a "warrior") to say that he disagrees with his boss' strategy in the war? 

My opinion is that, in general, doing the right thing is more important than respecting "authority".  In fact, I kinda think it's a good thing to question what you're told because, quite often, even the "boss" is wrong.  My guess is that you can see the link between "insubordination" and Self-Management.  But I'm interested in hearing what you think.  I encourage you to take part in the poll below.

Being a parent is an educational experience, as I'm sure those of you who've raised children can attest to.  But as a lifelong student of business, and more specifically, management, I wouldn't have thought that I would learn all the really important leadership lessons from my children.

I did, though.  I met this week with a friend who hasn't had children, and as we discussed leadership, I realized that my view on the subject has really been influenced by my experiences as a parent.  Further, I realized that there are a few key lessons that really relate to Self-Management.  So I'm going to try to write about them in my next few posts here.

This isn't, for those of you who are feeling a little cynical, one of those shallow “I learned it in kindergarten” type articles.  It’s a small set of leadership principles, the revelation of which I’ve only received as a result of my attempts to be an adequate parent. 

So here goes.

Lesson #1: People Will Try to Live Up to Your Expectations

I guess it’s a little cliché, but hear me out before you deem this post shallow; I think you’ll be surprised.

I learned early on as a parent that setting an expectation for excellent things—grades, performance at the karate exhibition or piano recital, a singing part in the church Christmas event—caused my kids to strive to achieve that level of excellence.  We talk a lot at our house about being excellent, and about what it takes to be excellent: discipline and hard work, focus, commitment, responsibility and a good attitude.  And my children put a great deal of effort into meeting those expectations. 

As I pondered their effort, I began to wonder what it would be like if, instead of talking about excellence we talked about mediocrity or “doing enough to scrape by”.  Would their efforts and attitudes be different?  They would, I think.  Here’s why: an expectation is a somewhat overt message that says, in no uncertain terms, “here’s what I think you’re capable of”.  That’s a pretty powerful thing to say to a kid: this is what I think you can do; it has an incredible effect on what they actually achieve.

And then there are the parents who constantly berate their children, pointing out their inadequacies, and using every failure on the part of the child as further proof that the child doesn’t have what it takes to be anything of any import.  We’ve all seen those parents, and we’ve all met their children; often, the child perfectly achieves the parents’ expectation of him.

I don’t think this is a hard sell, is it?  I’m not telling you anything you don’t agree with (at least most of you), to some degree.  But if it’s good for a child, is it good for an adult too?  Yet our businesses, by design, have this horrible tendency to set expectations depressingly low.  There are locks on every thing we can possibly lock—implying we expect someone to steal.  An employee has to get a requisition signed, in triplicate by four different managers, in order to purchase gloves and safety supplies—implying we think someone is wasting company resources.  Employees have to go through an intricate and, frankly, oppressive systems of checks, and achieve myriad approvals before implementing any sort of meaningful change—implying that we think most of our people are dumb and can’t think through the change process. 

I know that there are a few of you reading this—my “but I was a good manager”—friends who are already scrolling to the bottom to tell me why I’m wrong, and that’s OK; I’ll read the comment and likely respond.  But before you do, ask yourself if I’m really all that wrong; don’t those things, even if they’re subtle, send some pretty powerful signals to employees about what we expect of them?  And, if that’s the “here’s what we expect” message that we send, how likely is it that we’re going to have a strong population of employees in our enterprises who truly perform excellently?

I had a conversation recently with a colleague in one of our affiliate enterprises that really brought this idea into focus for me.  This colleague was remarking on the general inadequacy of the colleagues they work with on a regular basis.  The people they work with, this colleague said, were lazy, liars who have a tendency to steal.  I was a little surprised by this, but listened as the colleague went on to outline the things they had worked to implement in an effort to catch the liars, thieves and sluggards.  I wondered if those efforts had resulted in a more honest group of non-thieving colleagues with incredible work ethics?  The answer was no.  It made me wonder which was the cause and which was the effect.

So here's my point: Self-Management is built on a foundation that expects quite a lot out of people.  There aren't a lot of locks, because there's an expectation that people will be brutally honest; there aren't a lot of hoops to jump through in order to cause change, because people are expected to be the experts who know what change is needed; and people don't have to get "approvals" to make purchases, because they're expected to know better than anyone what needs to be purchased in order to perform. 

Of course that raises some, "but what happens when..." questions, which we'll endeavor to answer in subsequent posts!

My wife and I went to Costco the other day to buy diapers for our 8-month-old daughter.  I’m constantly astounded at the variety of baby products available; it’s a little overwhelming.  And diapers are no exception.

There are “Little Snugglers”, “Little Movers” and “Snug & Dry” (I always wonder—if I don’t buy the “Snug & Dry” is there no guarantee that she will remain snug and/or dry?).  There’s the leak lock system, or the snug fit system.  There are overnites, little swimmers, pull-ups, jean diapers (replete with a denim print) and even a new “green” option—made with hypoallergenic, organic cotton and with a liner made of renewable materials! 

And that’s just a single brand! 

My wife is far more decisive than I, and she quickly made her decision (we didn’t choose the “green” option), and moved to deciding which size was appropriate for our daughter. 

“The size 2,” my wife said, “is for 12-18 pounds; that’s what she has now, though, and they seem a little tight.” 

“So let’s go with the size 3, then,” I said.  “They’re good from 16-28 pounds.  She’s 17 pounds now, and if we buy the 2’s, we might not get through the whole box before she outgrows them.” 

“But there are a lot more diapers in the size 2 box,” she says, “than the size 3 box—and for the same amount of money.”  That’s the difficult thing about Costco: the size 2 box had approximately 3,100 diapers in it whereas the size 3 box only had approximately 2,700 (I might be a little off on those numbers, but you get my point). 

We ultimately settled on the box of size 3 diapers, but as we debated, I scanned the area to see what the size range is for diapers.  It appears that you can buy diapers up to a size 6 (which is suitable for children “over 35 lbs” according to the box).

Something occurred to me and later that night I asked my eight year-old son if it would bother him if I made him wear diapers.  He gave me a very strange look.  “I’m not going to force you to wear them,” I told him, “I’m just curious.  What would you think?” 

“That would be weird, Dad,” he said, “and embarrassing at school.  I don’t need diapers!”  He was a little embarrassed, so I let the topic go, but it seemed that there was an analogy there.  You don’t have to be a parent to recognize that there’s a general expectation that, at some point, diapers aren’t going to be a necessity any longer.  Forget the diapers, though; from a general developmental standpoint, we (as parents) recognize that our job is to ensure that our children develop the skills, talents, knowledge and expertise required to ensure that next year they aren’t facing the same limitations that they are this year. 

What I mean by that is, as a parent, your life is one long chain of constantly changing developmental goals for your children.  First, your goal is to get them to smile or coo when you speak unintelligible baby talk to them.  And when they finally do, you begin to teach them to say “DaDa” or “MaMa”.  And then it’s to wave bye-bye or blow kisses, and to crawl, then to walk.   Then it’s to count to ten, recognize their colors, or to recognize and say “nose” when you point to your nose. 

Soon you’ve moved on to reading and writing, tying their shoes and riding a two-wheeled bicycle.  Then it’s on to addition and subtraction, multiplication and division, playing the piano (or violin or the flute—or even golf). 

And one measure of our success as parents is the degree to which we aren’t still working on those early things—the degree to which our children have mastered something, and moved on to the next logical area of mastery.  We recognize, more than anything, the job of a parent is not a static job; it changes based upon the development of our children, and perception of our success is a direct reflection of the degree to which our children no longer need us to help them in those early areas of development. 

Contrast that with the general role of a manager in a traditional organization.  I don’t bring this up to disparage managers, and I certainly am not making any generalizations about managers.  But there is something to be said here for the underlying system. 

Think about this: great managers aside, the system in which managers work doesn’t say much for the manager’s subordinates.  The system puts in place pretty rigid methods of oversight—methods that don’t, systematically, allow much room for the development of those being overseen.  As an example, it’s generally recognized that one role of a manager is to approve purchases.  There’s a rational reason for this; leaders in companies want to make sure their resources are being used appropriately (that is, that money isn’t being wasted) and, perhaps more importantly, that the purchase fits into the strategy or mission of the enterprise.  And, on my first day working in a factory (or hardware store or appliance store), that system makes a lot of sense.  It’s unlikely I have enough perspective or expertise to be very effective at making wise purchases that support my organization’s mission past basic office supplies.  And that’s probably true of me on day three, and on day 10, and perhaps even on day 30.  But sooner or later, that’s not going to be the case any longer.  I’m going to learn the organization and our business; I’m going to implicitly understand our mission, and what’s required to achieve our mission.  Further, I’m going to develop ideas and concepts that I believe would support us more effectively achieving that mission.

In fact, for all intents and purposes, my level of knowledge, insight and expertise is going to rival that of my manager.  But the system doesn’t account for that, does it?  Sure, my manager (if she’s a good manager) might recognize this, and might allow me more latitude (thereby bending—or breaching—the policies, but to a positive end).  But she might not.  The point is that the system itself isn’t designed to assume that employees develop and grow—and that the managerial systems (like purchasing oversight) necessary on day one aren’t likely to be necessary as employees develop. 

And what invariably ends up happening is employees end up frustrated, disenchanted and disengaged—just like my 8-year-old son would have been had I forced him to start wearing diapers.  And, even if you aren’t interested in engagement or disenchantment, think about this: if the system itself is structured so that my manager is required to approve purchases, even when it’s apparent that I have at least as much expertise as she does, and am equally as committed to the mission as she, aren’t we wasting human effort?  And that’s one small example; when we consider the compounded effect of a system that demands this type of relationship all the way up and down the chain of command, the potential costs are staggering. 

I know that I’m presenting hypotheticals and concepts that are a little theoretical here, and I can hear you, my Eternal Reader, telling me that you were “a good manager”, and that most of the managers that you encountered were also good managers—and that may, in fact, be true.  But my quest here isn’t against “bad managers”; it’s against a system that is inherently flawed.  Sure, we can make the flawed system better by hiring good managers, but that doesn’t seem like a very noble quest—and it’s certainly not the stuff revolutions are made of. 

This is, as always, first and foremost a call to examine the very philosophies that underlie our organizations.  There are inherent flaws in the system as we know it—flaws that can’t be addressed by simply hiring better managers.  Kids grow up, and our role as a parent changes.  And employees grow; we can’t grow as a company with a managerial system that assumes they don’t.

The keynote at our recent Self-Management Symposium was delivered in the form of an interview of Professor Isaac Getz of ESCP Europe Business School and Brian Carney of the Wall Street Journal, co-authors of the book Freedom, Inc.  One of the things they discuss in their book is "managing to the 3%".  They discussed it in the interview and, as I listened to them speak, it occurred to me that this may well be one of the most dangerous risks to organizations everywhere.

Let me try to outline the concept:

Getz and Carney discuss, in their book, a particular manufacturing firm.  The owner happens to be walking through the factory one day and sees a worker standing at the supply closet, holding a pair of worn gloves.  The owner stops and asks the employee if there's something he can help with.  The employee responds that he's waiting for the supply clerk to come to the supply closet so that he can turn in his worn out gloves and receive a new pair.  The owner nods and says that's fine, and moves on.  But he can't shake the feeling that something's not right.  So he tracks down the factory accountant and asks him how much it costs the company for a pair of gloves.  I don't recall the exact cost, but it was a few dollars.  He then asks how much it costs the company for that particular employee to sit for 15 minutes and wait for a new pair of gloves (the employee worked on a line that was running at reduced capacity while he sat and waited for new gloves).  Again, I don't recall the exact amount, but it was around $100 per 15 minutes.  After mulling this over for a few minutes, the owner of the company called everyone together and abolished the "new glove" process.  He indicated that gloves would be freely available to anyone who needed them.

You see, he realized something very important: their policy, intended to keep dishonest employees from stealing gloves (or, at the minimum, taking gloves more frequently than they really needed to) was actually costing the company money.  He calculated that for every time an employee had to go sit and wait 15 minutes for the clerk to open the supply room, receive the old gloves and approve and sign out a new pair, the company was losing the equivalent in lost productivity to 20 pairs of gloves!  Their policy, designed to ensure the company didn't lose money, was actually costing the company more money than if they'd just set the gloves out for people to take when they needed them!

Now, I may have some of the details a little off (I can't recall the exact numbers), but you get the general point.  The thing is, though, this tendency to enact these "policies" in order to ensure our organizations don't "lose" money, quite often end up costing us more in the long-run.  And the irony is (according to Getz and Carney) that, really, only about 3% of the general population is going to take advantage of the system anyways.  So, basically, we enact a rule in order to keep the 3% in line, and in doing so, crush the productivity of the other 97% who are actually working hard, trying to accomplish something productive.

And, before you disregard this, know that I see this "3%" mentality quite often--even in our affiliate companies (organizations that are supposed to be amongst the most self-managed in the world).  The truth is, we grow up in a world that is designed to thwart that lowest common denominator--that 3%.  So many of our government's stifling regulations are designed to ensure that small minority of the population doesn't get away with doing something wrong.  Problem is, those regulations are, many times, exactly that: stifling--not just to the 3%, but to everyone.

Don't get me wrong: every society must have some general codes of conduct.  But, as our organizations age, and as we become more "professional", we think that success depends on us having a whole volume of "does" and "don'ts".  Self-Management, though, is designed to be a principle-based organizational model (not one governed by a bunch of complex rules).  The two fundamental principles are you don't use force and you do what you say you're going to do.  Think about it: doesn't that cover just about everything?  You don't use force--not to get someone to do something you want them to do, NOR to get something that you want (that's called stealing).  And you do what you say you'll do.  Isn't that kinda the recipe for a productive society?

And here's the beauty of an organization like a business: you have a choice as to who is a part of the organization.  If someone refuses to adhere to those basic principles, then they just don't get to be a part of your organization any more.  Let's go back to our initial example with the gloves.  The owner in the story realized that he was losing quite a bit of money every time someone had to come go through the "new glove" process.  So instead he decided that anyone who needed gloves could simply grab a pair of gloves as needed.  The unstated (perhaps) rule, though, was that you can't steal gloves.  This change in process freed up the 97% who were honest and hard-working to accomplish even more.  If also, of course, freed up the 3% (who were inclined to steal) to take gloves home (and perhaps sell them on the black market; who knows).  The thing is, even if those 3% stole a lot of gloves, the additional productivity by the 97% more than made up for the losses.  Further, someone is bound to find out about the 3% at some point; some guy walking buy might see another worker stuffing a handful of gloves in his pocket.  And he, then, realizing that this shady glove-thief is not abiding by the first principle (you don't steal), can simply go through whatever process exists to disassociate with the thief.

So, I ask you this: what kind of organization do you want to be a part of?  One that has books of rules and regulations, processes for ensuring the 3% can't take too many pairs of gloves?  Or one that acknowledges that 97% of the people within the organization aren't going to steal gloves, and are simply being tied down by the opprossive regulations, and works to eliminate the 3% instead?

That's a real question.  Comment below; I'm interested in your thoughts.

A 1991 Chrysler LeBaron convertible coupe in good condition, sold on the street, is valued at about $1,100 by Kelley Blue Book.  In stark contrast, a 1991 Mercedes-Benz 500SL convertible coupe in good condition, with similar mileage, is valued at about $5,000.

I drove a Chrysler LeBaron for a bit (I borrowed it from my great-grandmother).  While I’ve never driven a Mercedes 500SL, based on my generally underwhelming experience driving my grandmother’s car (and possibly as some sort of subconscious response to the covert laughs my high-school friends had at my expense every time I drove Grandma’s car into the high school parking lot), I’d go for the Mercedes any day if I had to choose. 

The catch, of course, is the relatively steep price.  The Mercedes, even today (some 20 years after the two cars were manufactured) will cost you five times the value of the LeBaron.  Some creative entrepreneur, though, came up with a way for car owners to “have the Mercedes experience at the LeBaron price”.  They created a body kit (replete with those distinctive blocky Mercedes taillights and star emblem) that can turn a ’91 LeBaron into a Mercedes 500SL.

Well, mostly.  Actually, it really only makes your LeBaron look kinda like a Mercedes.  I saw one recently, and my first thought was, “there’s something strange about that Mercedes.”  My next thought: “that’s something masquerading as a Mercedes.”  It struck me that dressing up a LeBaron as a Mercedes isn’t all that different from a lot of management literature that I read.  Consultants, writers, thinkers and academics alike spend a lot of energy trying to devise ways to improve management and organizations—an admirable quest (and a goal I share).  But so much of what I read is tantamount to wrapping Mercedes-shaped body panels around a LeBaron and calling it a “high-performance, luxury vehicle”.

A "Merbaron Benz"

Much of what I read wraps creative ideas around the same old management philosophies that have served as the foundation of our organizations for over a century.  All you really end up with, though, is marginally improved business as usual; incremental improvements that don’t really tackle the fundamentals underlying the way we see management and organizations. 

The real thing--a 1991 Mercedes-Benz 500SL

Unfortunately, I think that we who are leaders in organizations have been far more receptive to this model of improving management than luxury car buyers were of the “Merbaron-Benz”.  Many companies now refer to their employees as “team members”, and their managers as “team leaders”—a positive step, to be sure.  But they stop far short of addressing the fundamental philosophy; very few companies have gone so far as to say, “authority should flow from the bottom up; let’s let the true leader emerge by choice of the ‘team members’.”  Many organizations have acknowledged that “worker empowerment” will positively impact their organizations, and so they “empower” their employees to provide input to their managers—who ultimately make the final decision.  Again, a great thing; but almost nobody has flipped the underlying philosophy on its head and said, “let’s truly empower employees; let’s build a mechanism by which employees can ‘veto’ their managers.” 

The potential for improvement is enormous, but we’re conditioned to management systems that are built on a foundational philosophy that Frederick Winslow Taylor characterized vividly before Congress in 1912 when he referred to:

“the man who is…physically able to handle pig-iron and is sufficiently phlegmatic and stupid to choose this for his occupation is rarely able to comprehend the science of handling pig-iron.” 

It’s a sentiment that few of us share, yet our control systems; our arduous processes of getting projects and ideas funded; our rigid methods of defining jobs; our policies of “need-to-know”—they all flow directly from a philosophy that makes the same assumptions about our employees as Taylor made. 

So here’s the challenge: let’s approach the reinvention of management beginning with our philosophy.  Ask yourself: what are my fundamental beliefs about my employees?  Are they uncaring automatons, simply out to take advantage of me?  Or are they, at heart, passionate, driven, thinking human beings, with a great deal of insight and expertise?  If your answer is the latter, then begin with that as your foundation, and ask yourself: what principles will allow that passion, drive and intellect to flourish?  What management systems will focus that insight and expertise toward maximizing the value our organization creates? 

When we approach the problem as a matter of philosophy, then we’ll begin to truly re-invent management.  Until then, we’re simply driving the same old car with high-performance body panels bolted on.

By Elinor Slomba, Certified Scrum Master

Over Labor Day weekend an extraordinary event took place in the world of self organized groups.  Philadelphia, the City of Brotherly Love, hosted the World Convention of one of the largest and most respected 12-Step recovery programs, known as Narcotics Anonymous.  Over 18,000 recovering addicts were in attendance, from over 100 countries.

Twelve-step programs are a massive worldwide movement of various, self-organized groups  - each aligned to address a common, life-threatening problem (alcoholism, addiction, overeating, etc.).  Their power is based on face-to-face meetings in which people identify with one another and share openly and honestly on a regular basis.

This month, twenty years ago, I began studying Narcotics Anonymous as a participant observer for my senior thesis in Cultural Anthropology at the College of William and Mary.  Using Victor Turner’s ideas as a theoretical framework, I titled the thesis “Betwixt and Between: Communitas as Cure in the Lives of Recovering Addicts.”  I have been privileged to spend time sitting inside the circle at NA meetings, discovering how principles like “anonymity,” “humility,” and “surrender” make it possible for men and women whose lives had been controlled by drugs to live clean one day at a time, with each other’s help.

Organic openness is the essence of “Communitas” as outlined by Victor Turner (an underrated genius!  Please read his anthropology essays if you’re at all interested in contemporary organizational culture.  I have recommended them to many Agile coaches and colleagues working to improve the workplace.)

Examples of Communitas throughout history:

   • the monastic tradition established by St. Francis

   • women in Paris in the 1920s

   • performance artists in New York City in the 1970s (the scene fed by collaborations like Merce Cunningham/John Cage)

These groups stepped away from old forms and took for themselves the freedom to experiment with new ones.  Eventually, their ideas fed back into the mainstream where society as a whole could profit from them.  In the end, everyone had more creative options.

Narcotics Anonymous was founded in 1953 in California.  NA describes iteslf as “a global, community-based organization with a multi-lingual and multicultural membership.”   Its message, often referred to as the Promise of Freedom is: that any addict can stop using, lose the desire to use and find a new way to live.

This message – shared spontaneously in every meeting by members and read aloud from NA literature – is clear, consistent and reliable.  There is not one single culture for which the message is designed or in which it can be heard and understood.  There is unlimited potential in its simplicity.

Since NA has been fully self-supporting and growing worldwide as a multicultural phenomenon of Self-Organization for sixty years, perhaps we should listen to the wisdom it espouses.

The following is a GAME OF ASSOCIATION.  I start with a principle of Self-Organization, and follow it with a 12-step slogan from Narcotics Anonymous meetings.

Opting in.  “You are a member when you say you are.”

Collaboration.  “I can’t.  We can.”

Simplicity.  “KISS – keep it simple, stupid”

Continuous self-improvement. “Progress not perfection.”  ”The journey continues.”

Incremental development. “It’s a process.”  “One step at a time.”

Faith in the emergent solution.  “Trust the process.”  “Act as if.”

Servant-leadership. “Our leaders are but trusted servants.  They do not govern.”

Persistence.  “Stay in the solution.” “Don’t give up five minutes before the miracle.”

In Narcotics Anonymous, the stakes are the highest possible: people’s lives.  In order to have credibility and be able to attract newcomers as well as retain experienced members, it is essential that the organization be able to deliver on its Promise of Freedom.

They cannot achieve this through coercion.  It is only through Self-Organization that recovering addicts have been able to adopt this program of change and incorporate its sustaining habits into their lives.

There is a joke in NA that goes “How many recovering addicts does it take to change a lightbulb?  None!  The lightbulb has to be willing to change itself.”

Therefore, based on everything I have learned in Cultural Anthropology and can offer the workplace improvement movement, culture is more like a liquid than a solid.   It cannot be effectively hacked.  Instead, it flows like a river, carrying various messages along in its fluidity.

Cultural change is driven by those considered to be outsiders or rebels, individuals driven by courage and/or desperation to admit that standard ways of doing things simply DO NOT WORK.   These individuals gravitate toward the margins of organized groups, the interstices, the spaces in-between.   There, they have a better chance of finding each other, learning from one another, and together, eventually, making creative contributions.

    • What is your Self-Organizing group’s primary purpose? 
    • How do its members gather and share this message?
    • Have they experienced enough pain to truly want to change?

The author of this post, Elinor Slomba, is a member of the Morning Star Self-Management Institute's community of practice and a Certified Scrum Master. Her e-mail is: artsinterstices@gmail.com. For more on self-management in the world of addiction recovery, San Francisco's Delancey Street Foundation offers several important lessons. Contact the Self-Management Institute for more information.

It appears that high school football has done it again.  I wrote a while back about a Florida school district that had suspended a well-intentioned coach and the homeless football player that he took in off the street because they'd violated some rule that doesn't allow players to live with adminstrators, teachers or coaches.  I still don't really understand the point of the rule, but it's painfully obvious that, in that case, the "rule", had the coach followed it, would have kept a football player on the street. 

This past week, in support of breast cancer, game officials in 140 different high school football games in the State of Washington used pink whistles, and donated their game paycheck to breast cancer research.  A great thing, right?  Not according to the head of the Washington Officials Association.  He was, apparently, very angry that the officials didn't ask permission, and as of last weekend, planned to suspend the officials for two games (the playoffs) as punishment for violating the league "uniform" rules.  I have to say, this is absolutely mind-boggling. 

I understand the league's desire to present an air of uniformity and professionalism, but it's not like the ref's dyed their hair odd colors and dressed in uniforms made of raw meat (a la Lady Gaga) in order to make some statement.  They were demonstrating support for a pretty universally acknowledged good cause: obliterating breast cancer.  Again, this is the problem with rules: they are created in order to ensure bad things don't happen (like referees showing up in costumes made of meat), but they end up ALSO restricting good people doing very good things--because we "have to follow the rules".  Nobody stops and thinks about the implication of enforcing the rules on a case by case basis; we just decide that we are going to "follow the rules'--even if it means we quash some really great things in the process.

The real tragedy is that so many people get jaded because of experiences like this.  Incredible employees get laid off because there's a rule that says more "senior" employees (even if they are mediocre), get to stay around, while junior employees (even great ones) have to leave; the register operator at the local fast-food chain has to get three different supervisors involved in order to give me a refund for an overcharge on a recent visit; an innovative idea gets caught up in a quagmire and never sees the light of day because it wasn't submitted on the correct form.  I understand the reasons for the rules in each of these (real) examples; but from a practical perspective, they're the stuff that Dilbert comics are made of.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: better organizations aren't driven by rigidly oppressive rules; they're governed by principles.  Sure, principles are a lot more ambiguous than rules, and there's more "gray" area for someone with ill-intent to slip through the cracks, but principles also allow a whole lot of room for good people who want the freedom and ability to do good things, to be excellent. 

Psychology Provides a Powerful Key to Successful Communication

A self-managed work environment demands open and authentic communication.  When individuals need help from others, communication is request-not-command, since people in such a workplace only manage themselves, not others.  For a request to be effective, it stands to reason that the request should be delivered in a respectful manner designed to elicit a positive response.

More broadly: what modern company, self-managed or not, doesn’t claim to foster teamwork, open communication, and professional relationships? It’s easy to imagine the recruiting challenges for any organization advocating rigid hierarchy, arbitrary command authority, and threats from superiors. Respectful communication is paramount. While that concept sounds simple enough, it's not necessarily intuitive for everyone.

Psychologists Stephanie Donaldson Pressman and Robert M. Pressman* offer some insight into the mechanics of respect that could easily apply to many conceivable work situations requiring effective communication—especially those involving requests that are complex, continuous, or involve multiple stakeholders.

They describe a formula called “I Feel…I Want” that has the potential to help individuals express themselves effectively. Expressing emotion is important, they say, because a) everyone has emotions, and b) everyone has a right to experience their own emotions (while we like to think we are creatures of logic, for example, brain science tells us that it’s virtually impossible to make a decision without emotion**). And it’s important for most people to have their feelings heard. The problem occurs when people use ineffective methods to express feelings (name-calling, always/never references, kitchen-sinking, reciting ancient history, etc.) that result in bad outcomes (escalation, counterattack, permanent animosity). The psychologists note that very few people listen well when they are being attacked—they are inwardly preparing a counterattack.

Expressing feelings is crucial. Human beings generally do listen to expressions of emotion. Since these expressions describe the speaker only, they have an excellent chance of being heard. There is no defense to prepare, since there is no attack to defend against. The psychologists call this RAC (Respectful Adult Communication). They distinguish RAC from another commonly used term, assertiveness. While assertiveness may be perfectly functional and often appropriate, it has a negative connotation for many people. It also carries risks. If I simply assert something to a colleague—“I want you to provide the pricing information by 4 o’clock”, for example—what right do I have to expect my assertion to be respected? Do I know my colleague’s competing priorities? Her ability to deliver on my request? The current trust level between us? The kinds of language that resonate with my colleague’s personality type? Simple assertion runs the risk of misfiring, since I can’t possibly know everything that’s going on with that individual at that point in time. The power of "I" statements is profound--one paragon of self-management, W.L. Gore & Associates, intentionally develops associates' skill in using "I" statements (part of the curriculum of Leadership Effectiveness Training, or L.E.T.).

Respectful Adult Communication can be a powerful key to opening doors. The “I Feel…I Want” formula allows an person to freely express his or her inner state of mind, which in turn leads an intended listener to actually listen. After achieving true two-way communication through honest self-revelation, it is possible to deliver even a complex request (the “I Want” part!) in a way that is most likely to succeed.

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  *  Stephanie Donaldson Pressman and Robert M. Pressman, The Narcissistic Family, Diagnosis and Treatment, Jossey-Bass, 1994, see Chapter 5. https://www.amazon.com/The-Narcissistic-Family-Diagnosis-Treatment/dp/0787908703
**  The Economist, December 19, 2006, “Captain Kirk’s Revenge”.

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