Harnessing Complexity

Using principles of complex adaptive systems to construct a marketplace of ideas. 

I was working with a client on their annual planning process for next year and beyond. We had about 50 people in the room, gathered from their offices around the world.

For the last portion of this two day meeting, I persuaded the manager to use the concept of a marketplace to generate ideas for the plans they had to create. The idea is derived from the town square or bazaar, socially constructed spaces where people congregate to transact their business. 

We built the marketplace on many of the basic principles of complex adaptive systems, including:

• disintermediation - people, information, and tools were all freely and directly accessible without the requirement to pass through intermediate channels.
• distributed cognition - knowledge and ideas were generated through the dynamic interaction between team members, tools, and the environment; no single individual held all the knowledge.
• proximity and connectedness - we had ready access in the room to the resources we needed.

We also agreed these essential ground rules:

• We had a clear objective or outcome - everyone knew the the target we were aiming at.
• We set constraints, boundaries, or parameters - these defined the field we were playing on. This is often seen as unneeded or a paradox: if we want people to think openly and creatively, how can we put constraints on them? In reality, it is impossible to be creative without constraints. 
• We encouraged the free flow of information, and this was both represented and demonstrated by movement in the room, movement of people and ideas. 

At first glance, it appeared chaotic. It was totally unlike the typical planning process where attention is focused in one place, usually the front of the room where presentation slides are being shown.

In the end, it turned out to be a thing of beauty, as people and information went where they needed to go. Large groups, small groups, pairs of people all found their way into the conversations they needed to have.

The experience proved once again the power and effectiveness of working with, rather than against, complexity. To do this, you must be willing to relinquish the need to control (i.e. prescribe) outcomes. Create a space where you can run small experiments that can safely fail. Allow answers to emerge. Rather than directing activity toward some precisely determined future, manage the evolutionary potential of the present.

On Collective Decision Making

Harnessing the power of groups when the stakes are high

I was with a senior management team recently that expressed ongoing frustration over its inability to make progress on several important issues. When I asked what was causing such upset, the more vocal among them started in on the topic of collective decision making and, specifically, their view that it leads only to the lowest common denominator. 

It is so interesting to watch groups continue to engage in activities and behaviors they believe will lead to worse outcomes than they'd actually like to achieve. But not surprising. We all do this.

What’s more, the unsatisfactory practice is often so ingrained we can't imagine another way to get what we want. "We're stuck with this." Or, "We've always done it this way." Or, "The only other option is to have the boss decide, and we like that even less." 

However, with the shift of an underlying assumption, collective decision making has the potential to create something that never existed before in a way that few other things can. 

Those of you who have studied economics are no doubt familiar with the possibility frontier. For those less well acquainted with the dismal science, here is a super-simplified explanation of the concept:

Also known by its more complete label as the Production-Possibility Boundary [Wikipedia link], it compares the production rates of two commodities using the same fixed total of the factors of production. It shows the most you can get of each of the commodities for a given set of conditions. The classic example is guns and butter: producing more of one means sacrificing the production of the other.

Moving away from economics to human interaction, in most instances a similar dynamic is at play: we enter a situation believing that the more you get, the more I have to give up. 

In the graphic at the top of this post this notion is represented by the dashed diagonal line where the midpoint is the optimal solution for us: we each give up a like amount of what we really want and walk away equally dissatisfied.

This is the "lowest common denominator" that many of us experience. 

That we can work only along this straight line is nothing more than an assumption we hold and one that doesn't serve us very well at that. 

If we change our assumption that the outer edge of our agreement, the place where we maximize the use of our inputs, is instead the possibility frontier, where does that take us? 

It shows us that there is a space where we can both get more of what we want and wind up better off than the pure compromise. This is the graphical representation of that overused and despised (by me) expression, "win-win".

The challenge in all this is that the solution set that exists in that shaded area between compromise and the possibility frontier is unknown at the time we start our conversation. It requires a not yet discovered combination of what we both want, unlike the horse trading that is typically part of reaching for a compromise.

If it offers solutions that are so much better, why don’t we usually head for the frontier? Mostly because there is fear involved, and this fear gets in the way. What might we be afraid of? We might be afraid of being pushed aside. Of not getting credit. I might have misperceptions about what is possible and where that might leave me. Perhaps I don’t trust you or this process. Or, I have too much self-interest wrapped up in what I want the outcome to be. I may be unwilling to let go of what I believe I know and other preconceived ideas.

Shouting into the Void

Let’s open ourselves up to an actual conversation about important events.

In the aftermath of the tragedy in Newtown, CT last week, I am struck by the nature of so much of the national and local discourse that is taking place. “Struck” as in disappointed more than surprised.

So much that is being spun out into the airwaves and blogosphere sets up along two sides of a debate: either you favor gun control or you support individual ownership of firearms as enshrined in our current interpretation of the Second Amendment. A collectivist and common good view of society or belief in the supremacy of the individual. Eurpoean-style socialism or American capitalism. Mediocrity and decline or Exceptionalism. Higher taxes or entitlement cuts. Left or right. Liberal or conservative. Right or wrong.

We have an unhealthy love affair in this country with splitting things into two pieces so we can determine who wins and who loses.

It is very discouraging.

What about a more sophisticated and nuanced perspective? One that rejects the notion that we have to create sides and then choose one.

What if instead we agreed that the better question to ask ourselves is “How do we allow for an individual freedom that is constrained by what we agree is best for everyone in the society?” Or, “How can the common good best support important individual freedoms?”

Asking questions like these allows us to open ourselves and enter into true conversation where we might learn something from one another.

It is only by learning from one another that we stand any chance of making progress on our apparently intractable issues. Otherwise, we wind up just shouting into the void.

My Most Powerful Tool

What I bring to the party and how I bring it make a huge difference.

Techniques can be useful in my work, but they are usually limited in their impact. Using my self as an instrument (or implement, or agent) has greater impact than any technique I’ve yet to come across.

What on earth does this mean, to “use my self”? It’s a simple idea, but one that is challenging to explain. The multiple attempts I’ve made to write this post are my evidence of that.

Self as agent, or instrument has three aspects: 

1. self-awareness and self-knowledge, 
2. choice, and 
3. attending (as in “what am I paying attention to?”). 

Using my self with clients is an exercise in working with these three aspects.

At the top of the list, self-awareness requires recognizing what I bring to a situation or interaction. I have preferences, predispositions, knowledge, experiences, characteristics, filters, biases, affiliations, and history, all of which influence what I see, what I say, and what I do at any moment. 

Some of these influences will be apparent to me and the client because they are part of what is occurring between us right now. They are out in the open. 

The greater portion of these influences will not be apparent to the client (and maybe not even to me) because they are internal and hidden.

As we get to know each other, the things that influence me and make me who I am have the opportunity to become more in the open. That’s called building a relationship. 

Still, even as these influences become more apparent, I have to continue to monitor them for appropriateness and effectiveness. Just because something can come out into the open doesn’t mean that it should.

This involves choice. I can choose to make any of these not-yet-apparent influences visible to the client, or not. Similarly, I can choose to make a different use of the already apparent influences, or not. This is when it becomes evident that I am using my self as an agent in the work we are doing together.

If I am not aware these things are happening with me, my effectiveness is going to be diminished or compromised. To avoid that, I’ve got to pay attention to what is going on with me, with you, and between us throughout our interaction.

And, when I’m not sure about any of this, asking a question is a good way to try to get a handle on things. 

None of this is unidirectional. You have your own preferences, predispositions, knowledge, experiences, characteristics, filters, biases, affiliations, and history, and not only do these things in you influence what you might say or do, they affect the impact of anything I say or do.    

There is much more to say on this topic. Later. What do you make of this so far?

Values at Work

Knowing what’s important improves commitment and performance.

I have been reminded of the importance of values in organizational life several times over the last few weeks. It’s interesting what happens when you give explicit attention to something that usually resides quietly in the background. 

Not long ago, I was working with an executive leadership team during their first retreat in about nine years. This was a group of aerospace engineers and scientists; people you might think have little time for “values”. We didn’t set out to talk about values, but they were a constant presence. 

Over the course of two days, conversation kept drifting back to words like responsibility, integrity, excellence, and cooperation.

Virtually all the participants, even the hard-bitten cynics, found the time they spent to have tremendous value for their work and relationships. Creating an opportunity for people to talk together about what is important to them has a very positive impact.

Values serve two purposes in the life of an organization, group, or individual. First, they keep you rooted in what is essential. You know where you stand. Second, and somewhat paradoxically, they make it possible to flex and adapt as circumstances emerge. Having clear values doesn’t make you rigid; rather, it makes it possible for you to know how to adjust to something new. Equally as important, others then know how to adjust to you.

Way back when I founded Campden Hill, I settled on five core values of my own. Not that I invented them or that they are unique; though maybe in this combination they are:

Curiosity / Wonder

Trust

Respect

Courage

Wisdom

Accidentally or by design, I find these values infuse my work nearly every day. Of course, this could be nothing more than the expression of the phenomenon that occurs in everything from social sciences to quantum mechanics: you find what you look for.

Curiosity makes it possible for me to ask lots of questions. Trust and respect allow me to remain open to what I hear in response. Courage enables me to challenge myself and others to reach beyond what we think we already know; to be vulnerable and not rush to judgment. And wisdom is an ongoing pursuit, something that emerges at the end of an experience. If I’m paying attention.

It’s nice to know I’m not alone in holding these values dear. A favorite blogger, Paul Bennett of IDEO recently posted some of his thoughts on trust. I especially like what he says toward the end of the piece: that “[t]rust doesn’t come from knowing, trust is born from safely not knowing.”

Here’s evidence of another of those apparent paradoxes we keep running into: strength, courage, and trustworthiness can come from vulnerability and not knowing.

I’m interested in hearing about how values influence your work and life. What do you say?