Ed Batista

Investment vs. Attachment

It's essential for me as a coach--and, I'd argue, for all of us when we're in any position of influence, particularly a leadership role--to distinguish between investment and attachment. It's a distinction that has a significant impact on our relationships in those roles, our mutual feelings of autonomy and independence, and our ability to support and lead others effectively.

We invest in people, and being invested in someone means we care about them and want them to succeed. We convey our investment in ways large and small, from being available to being vulnerable, from providing support and consolation to stepping into challenges and pushing back when necessary.

But if we invest in people, we're attached to outcomes. We want something specific to happen, and the successful accomplishment of that goal can be an important source of meaning and fulfillment to us, so we'll expend a lot of energy and exert a lot of pressure to insure that it's achieved.

As a coach, I need to be invested in my clients' or students' success without becoming attached to any particular definition of success. As they progress toward (or away from) certain outcomes, I pay careful attention to how I respond. If a client or student is succeeding in accomplishing a given goal, do I feel good because I'm invested in them as a person, or do I feel good because I'm attached to their accomplishment of that goal for some reason, perhaps because it would make me feel more effective as a coach? Whatever the cause, when my investment turns to attachment, it's a clear sign of bad coaching, and an invitation to explore 1) why I'm attached to that particular outcome, 2) how I might relinquish my attachment, and 3) how I might increase my investment in the person.

The calculus for a leader is different, of course. In almost all leadership roles, we have to balance our investment in people and our attachment to outcomes. If we care only about the people and are indifferent to the goals, it's either a very unusual leadership situation...or we're coaching and not actually leading. But if we don't sufficiently invest in our people while remaining deeply attached to achieving our goals, that unbalanced emphasis inevitably has a pernicious effect on engagement, commitment and retention. People sense that they're valued solely as means to an end, and if they can find equivalent compensation elsewhere while feeling valued as individuals, they'll pursue those options.

So while coaches have to be careful to avoid becoming unduly attached to outcomes, leaders must as well. We all draw the line in different places depending on our role, the context, the urgency of our goals and the relationships we have with our people, but we all have to find the right balance.

Postscript

A vivid example of this dynamic is an aspect of my role as a Leadership Coach at the Stanford Graduate School of Business (GSB). I work with 11 Leadership Fellows, second-year students who've been accepted into a competitive program in which they each work with a total of 9 first-year students in small groups and one-on-one to help the first-years develop their leadership and interpersonal skills.

I'm intensely attached to the goal of insuring that the 99 first-years who are being served by my 11 Fellows have a meaningful learning experience. That's an outcome that matters a great deal to me, and not only because it's a function of my role, but also because I believe deeply in the value of this curriculum, and as a GSB alumnus I want the school to do the best job possible of developing better leaders and managers.

But at the same time I work very closely with those 11 Leadership Fellows, in small groups and one-on-one, a process that involves not only (or even primarily) my managing their work with their first-year students, but also coaching them on a wide range of professional and personal issues during the course of the 8 months we spend together. It's impossible for me not to become deeply invested in my Fellows as individuals because of this level of engagement.

Admittedly, it's an unusual situation because 1) every year the Fellows I'm privileged to work with are an incredibly dedicated group of people, 2) my goals as a Leadership Coach are tightly aligned with my Fellows' goals, and 3) the Fellows' primary relationship to their students is as a coach, so even when I'm coaching them on issues unrelated to their work, they have an opportunity to learn work-related skills.

But even in this context I have to bear in mind the balance between investment and attachment. I do have to insure that we collectively deliver on our commitment to support those 99 first-years, and I'm firmly attached to that outcome. At the same time it's essential that my 11 Fellows know how deeply invested I am in them as individuals and how committed I am to their own growth and development. If I were to view my Fellows as means to an end, it would compromise my values and undermine my ability to work with them effectively. And yet if we were to lose sight of that end, it would essentially turn our 99 first-years into lab rats--highly complex rats, to be sure, but the subjects of an experiment all the same.

Photo by nosha. Yay Flickr and Creative Commons.

High Signs

One of the more challenging--and interesting--aspects of any leadership role is sensing the group's emotional state and responding accordingly.  This can involve conveying enthusiasm to address discouragement, or expressing empathy to acknowledge sadness, or simply not snapping back in the face of anger.

But we tend to focus on negative emotions as the key signs that merit our close attention and care.  Neuroscience research confirms what we know from direct experience: we have a keen sense for others' negative emotions, which activate a whole host of physiological and mental responses that allow us to manage both ourselves and the group dynamic more effectively.  In tense or fraught situations, our focus sharpens and our reflexes quicken, allowing us to act with clarity and decisiveness.  (Of course, when a situation becomes too stressful we may experience a threat response that will undermine our effectiveness; this is one reason why our leadership development curriculum at Stanford emphasizes experiential learning in settings that can evoke meaningful but manageable levels of stress, from role-plays to T-groups.  Experimenting in these relatively low-risk environments prepares us for situations when the stakes may be higher.)

However, a potential blind spot we can experience as leaders is forgetting about this responsibility when the group's emotions are positive.  We've just had a big win, hit a major milestone, or achieved our ultimate goal; people are happy, even giddy, and everyone feels great.  What's the problem?

When things are going particularly well and people are feeling particularly good, group norms and display rules can change dramatically.  And usually this is a wonderful experience.  Groups need this relaxation of everyday constraints in the wake of a big success or at the end of a meaningful experience; it provides an outlet for the wave of positive emotions people are feeling and creates a sense of release and closure.

But it can also lead to a sense of disinhibition that's important for leaders to be aware of and, if necessary, respond to.  The modified norms and suspended display rules that can play such an important role in heartfelt, enthusiastic celebration can also result in wide range of unintended consequences.  I think of them as "high signs"--indicators that the group is going so well or has achieved such a successful outcome that people are feeling a surfeit of positive emotions, which are both essential to the meaningful celebrations we crave at such moments and yet which can also result in misunderstandings, inadvertent insults and, well, lawsuits.

Heifetz and Linsky's metaphor of the balcony and the dance floor is helpful here: if we can't join our team on the dance floor and celebrate, we'll miss out on vital opportunities to connect.  (We'll also live much duller lives.)  But if we can't simultaneously step back and see the bigger picture from the balcony, we'll miss important patterns in the group dynamic--those modified norms and suspended display rules that usually signify good times, and on rare (but memorable) occasions are hallmarks of trouble.

Photo by EAWB.  Yay Flickr and Creative Commons.

Learning from Mistakes

What is a mistake?  When we make a mistake, what do we think that says about us?  How do we feel about ourselves?  And how does that framing affect what we learn from the experience?

In a recent article for Wired Jonah Lehrer discussed a soon-to-be-published study by Michigan State's Jason Moser that provides a neurological basis for understanding why some of us learn from mistakes more effectively than others:

[T]here are two distinct [neurological] reactions to mistakes… The first reaction is called error-related negativity (ERN). It appears about 50 milliseconds after a screw-up and is…mostly involuntary, the inevitable response to any [mistake].

The second signal, which is known as error positivity (Pe), arrives anywhere between 100-500 milliseconds after the mistake and is associated with awareness. It occurs when we pay attention to the error, dwelling on the disappointing result. In recent years, numerous studies have shown that subjects learn more effectively when their brains demonstrate two properties: 1) a larger ERN signal, suggesting a bigger initial response to the mistake and 2) a more consistent Pe signal, which means that they are probably paying attention to the error, and thus trying to learn from it.

[The Moser study] applied a dichotomy first proposed by Carol Dweck, a psychologist at Stanford. …Dweck distinguishes between people with a fixed mindset--they tend to agree with statements such as "You have a certain amount of intelligence and cannot do much to change it"--and those with a growth mindset, who believe that we can get better at almost anything, provided we invest the necessary time and energy. While people with a fixed mindset see mistakes as a dismal failure--a sign that we aren't talented enough for the task in question--those with a growth mindset see mistakes as an essential precursor of knowledge, the engine of education...

It turned out that those subjects with a growth mindset were significantly better at learning from their mistakes… Most interesting, though, was the EEG data, which demonstrated that those with a growth mindset generated a much larger Pe signal, indicating increased attention to their mistakes… What’s more, this increased Pe signal was nicely correlated with improvement after error, implying that the extra awareness was paying dividends in performance. Because the subjects were thinking about what they got wrong, they learned how to get it right...

...[U]nless we experience the unpleasant symptoms of being wrong--that surge of Pe activity a few hundred milliseconds after the error, directing our attention to the very thing we’d like to ignore--the mind will never revise its models. We’ll keep on making the same mistakes, forsaking self-improvement for the sake of self-confidence.

What I find most interesting and useful about Lehrer's analysis of this research is the connection it allows me to make between (on the one hand) the neurological evidence that people who devote more attention to their mistakes learn from them more effectively and (on the other hand) my own empirical experience as a coach that fixating on mistakes can be demotivating and lead to feelings of worthlessness, while focusing on successes can stimulate feelings of optimism and resilience, even (especially) in light of recent struggles.

Carol Dweck's research provides me with the missing link; the essential factor isn't the relative amounts of attention we devote to our mistakes and successes, but whether we're holding a fixed mindset or a growth mindset about ourselves and our capabilities.  In the former case, we view mistakes as manifestations of our intrinsic character, as de facto evidence of our unworthiness--and so focusing on our mistakes generates feelings of shame and embarrassment and undermines our self-confidence.  We go to great lengths to avoid these feelings under the best of circumstances, so it's no surprise that when we make a mistake while holding a fixed mindset, the very last thing we want to do is devote more attention to it--and so we lose the opportunity to learn from it.

But in the latter case, we view mistakes as external events, as unfortunate things that have happened.  This isn't to say that we're avoiding responsibility for our mistakes, or that we don't feel bad as a result.  As Lehrer notes, those of us who learn best from our mistakes actually have a bigger neurological response to a mistake.  But we don't view mistakes as personal defects, and they don't carry such a negative emotional charge.  I'd suggest that those of us who hold a growth mindset are able to forgive ourselves for mistakes and let go of (or at least mitigate) any feelings of shame or humiliation.  This forgiveness allows us to continue to focus on the mistake that much more intently, without losing confidence in ourselves, and as a result to learn from it more effectively.

The underlying question then becomes: What can we do to cultivate a growth mindset that will allow us to focus on our mistakes without feeling shame or losing confidence?  Many of my experiences with clients and students (and myself!) suggest that the first step is simply acknowledging any shame and embarrassment we do feel in the aftermath of a mistake, both to ourselves and to those around us.  At the very least, getting those uncomfortable feelings out in the open tends to diminish their power and allows us to choose what to do with them, rather than feeling driven in some way to escape their covert influence.

I know that particularly when I'm in a leadership role two of the most important things I can do are 1) quickly admit a mistake once I've made one, and 2) own up to my resulting feelings of shame or  embarrassment.  This makes it much safer for those around me to do the same, and the group's potential to support learning increases dramatically.  (And it's one reason why I encourage leaders to embrace mistakes, failure and surprises.)  That's not to say I find this easy, even though I get plenty of opportunities to practice--but it is a value I try to uphold.

For a discussion of specific steps that support the process of learning from mistakes, see my 2009 post on the same topic, based on Robert Brooks and Sam Goldstein's The Power of Resilience.

Thanks to @DanielCoyle for the initial reference to Lehrer's article.

Photo by Alex E. Proimos.  Yay Flickr and Creative Commons.

The Air Mask Principle

We've heard it over and over (and over) again:

In the event of an emergency, secure your own air mask first before helping others.

This applies on the ground as well, and the greater our desire to be of service, the more important it is to take care of ourselves in order to be able help others most effectively.

It's a simple principle to grasp, but the challenge is knowing just what this looks like in practice, both over time and at  any given moment.

So what's your equivalent of an air mask?  What activities and practices are essential to your health, well-being and effectiveness?  What steps are you taking to insure that they get on your calendar and stay there?  And how do you create and maintain boundaries that insulate these activities from the demands made on your time by other pressing tasks?  (A job made harder by the fact that these activities are usually important but not urgent.)

For example, I've learned that daily physical activity helps me reduce stress, clear my head, and stay mentally sharp.  When I'm active on a regular basis I'm a much better coach and a much happier person, and the two are related.  I use Don't Break the Chain to track how often I'm active, and here's what my exercise calendar looks from July 1st through October 14th:

That's about 65% over a 100-day period--not bad.  But that long blank stretch from September 21st through October 9th jumps out at me--what happened?  Initially I was just knocked out of my routine for a few days--no big deal.  But that carried over into the beginning of Fall Quarter at Stanford, which was a particularly busy time for me this year.  And then I caught a cold that was going around campus--always a sure sign that I'm working too hard and not taking care of myself.

While I believe I've done some good work with my students and clients over the last four weeks, I've also done some work that could have been better--and some of it was more stressful and less enjoyable than usual.  Knowing what I need to do to take care of myself and tracking my efforts on that front via Don't Break the Chain ultimately helped me get back on track, but I still needed to make some difficult in-the-moment decisions to prioritize my personal needs over other responsibilities.

And it's at those moments that I find the air mask principle useful.  There's always more work to do, there are always people I'd like to support in some way, and I can always find a reason to put others' needs ahead of my own.  But if I do that indefinitely, I'll burn out--or pass out.  No air mask, no oxygen.  Bearing in mind that I can't help others effectively unless I'm taking care of myself helps me choose to put my needs first when necessary without feeling that I'm letting others down or failing to honor my commitments.

 

Don't Build a Castle; Put Up 1,000 Tents

Don't build a castle; put up 1,000 tents.

Vince Stehle gave me this advice on more than one occasion while I was serving as the first Executive Director of the Nonprofit Technology Network and he was a member of our founding Board of Directors.  I consider myself privileged to have had Vince as a mentor, and this is one of the most important lessons he taught me.

The implications are clear: Don't over-invest your resources (time, money, attention) in a single, grandiose enterprise.  Instead, experiment across a portfolio of possibilities, and double down quickly on the ones that show promise.  Beware of commitments that will make it difficult to alter course in the face of changing conditions.  Instead, be nimble and responsive to incoming data (and resist the gravitational pull of sunk costs.)  Finally, don't prepare for siege warfare when all you need is a little shelter from the rain.

To be sure, the applications--the precise situations in which we should apply these heuristics--can be fuzzier, and this is where life experience, pattern recognition, and honing our instincts are key.  Because sometimes we do need to make a single, big investment, and embracing that portfolio of possibilities will spread us too thin.  And sometimes we have to be committed for the long haul, and if we cut and run we'll miss the success that was just around the corner.  And sometimes--every once in a while--we really are besieged, and nylon mesh won't stop cannonballs.

But I've found that Vince was right more often than not, and checking my impulse to start castle-building and diverting those energies into putting up lots and lots of tents has usually proven fruitful.  (Of course, there's a useful tension between this dynamic and my persistent perfectionism, and sometimes the latter gets the best of me.)

Castle by Phillip Capper.  Tents by Unofficial Glastonbury Festival.  Yay Flickr and Creative Commons.

Six Leadership Lessons from Dan Might

Even among the extremely talented, dedicated and service-oriented people I've had the privilege of working with in Stanford's Leadership Fellows program, Dan Might stands out as someone who would go the extra mile...or ten.  So it was gratifying--and not surprising--to learn that my recent post on Five Leadership Lessons prompted this insightful response from Dan, who added an extremely important sixth lesson of his own:

1. Initial Conditions Matter

I couldn't agree more--especially that you must be aware past the first hello.  Human systems are dynamic and we always have a lot of "firsts" with people.  The first time you commit to something people will notice if you follow through or not.  And the first time you face a stressful situation people will watch your reaction.

I agree when first meeting any group, whether you're the leader or not, remembering names will always help make a favorable impression.

Second, connecting with people on any level is critical.  Psychology shows commonality is important in relationships.  I figured this out by luck during my first leadership position.  I had 60 direct reports on a manufacturing line, and when I first met each employee I would point out when we had something in common as I asked questions about themselves.  I'm fortunate my parents had exposed me to a lot growing up from riding motorcycles to traveling all over that seemed to fit with something I could talk to someone about.  However, beyond even a common experience, just similar things about your personality I found work to connect and begin a relationship of understanding.  It was critical I do that because I was a 22-year-old newly-minted engineer leading a group of high-school educated adults who had worked with the company 25 years on average.  I had to bridge a gap with each individual.  Whatever it takes, connecting at some level is possible, and early on it is key.

I would also extend your last remark and stress always being aware beyond first encounters.  I try to live by that.  If I ever walk away and realize I might have been misunderstood or something would have been misinterpreted I go back and talk to the person and make sure we have the same understanding.  I literally did that before writing this post.  I emailed a co-worker I felt I might have upset today by pushing hard and asking tough questions to in order to spur some new thoughts around a strategy.  I was fortunate he responded right away and said he appreciated my passion for trying to motivate the leadership team and his motivation was something he had begun to lose and needed the wake up call.  It was important I followed up though in case he had been burying some resentment that would have grown.

2. Embrace Mistakes, Failures and Surprises

Yes!  I can identify with this, especially, early on in my career when I legitimately didn't have a lot of experience.  I figured controlling situations or defining tasks for people that I could do competently would avoid exposing where I might not be competent.  However, to your point, that limits the team and everyone’s experiences.  It also led to more micromanagement on my part because to ensure that nothing got beyond what I felt comfortable doing, I needed to control the situation more.  I slowly realized we could learn as a team, and I saw the value in saying, "I don’t know but I’ll find out."  If things went past what I knew, I admitted it confidently and said we’d figure it out.  I realized no one can do everything, and I had plenty of other skills that gained others' trust and respect.  Making mistakes was okay if I admitted it and was willing to correct and learn in the team's eyes.

I'm currently in a situation where I’m trying to help a struggling company and we need a better sales strategy.  I've had a lot of great experiences but sales is not one of them.  I needed to still maintain the leadership team's confidence that overall I can help the company but also let them know we’re going on a journey together and need to work as a team to find resources that will help us.  The great thing is we’re enjoying it and growing as a team.  We’re all experimenting, and we will make mistakes.  We’ve learned we need to be okay with that and use them as our most valuable lessons.  Remember, there are few mistakes you can make that will completely dismantle a company to the point of no return; it’s possible, but unlikely, so you need to be okay with going beyond your comfort zone.

3. Growth May Look Like Struggle

Yes!  People who are "Fs" on the MBTI or very high on empathy need to watch out for this.   I am right on the center of F and T, but I’ve always been rated high on empathy.  I constantly sense the unease of my employees when they’re struggling and I want to jump in and alleviate it.  I even had this problem as a Leadership Fellow.  It's a hard instinct to suppress.

What I need to tell myself is my best learning experiences have come from when I've struggled or made a mistake.  You can learn when things go well, but it’s harder to because we often assume we did everything right.  When things fail you have to look for a root cause.

I've helped manage this feeling by debriefing after someone struggles or coaching them and turning it into a positive after the fact that often leads to an "ah-ha" moment which provides a lot of satisfaction for both parties.  I focus on that satisfaction and know it will be worth it for the individual.  I think people are uncomfortable when they're struggling with something because they feel like they are being judged or considered a failure.  Instead, you can begin to shape their behavior with positive reinforcement after the fact by expressing you're happy they tried and now you both can begin examining what could have been done differently.

I did this with my employees on my production line.  They used to be trained that every decision had to go through the manager even if it was 2 AM and the line was broken down and the manager was at home asleep.  They were uncomfortable when I asked them to start making decisions and often times those decisions varied with their impact to cost, quality, or productivity metrics, so it was hard to say there was always one rule to go by.  I began to coach them that I was more proud of a decision and listening to them explain their well-intentioned logic (you should almost always be able to assume positive intent) that went into the decision than the actual outcome while they were still learning.  I stood by that belief and modeled it.  Even if they didn’t take the best route we debriefed the next day and I reiterated even if things didn’t go as best they could have I was proud of them and glad we had come up with lessons learned to fix it the next time.  Within a year we were setting production, cost, and quality records because we had a team that was learning, growing, and not afraid to try new things.

4. Feedback is a Gift

Right on all accounts.  Feedback does take time for us all to get used to giving and receiving.  Going back to something I said earlier about learning to admit when I was wrong, that went a long way to getting me better at accepting critical feedback and getting it.  When I started showing that I had no problem admitting my comfort with my own mistakes it opened others up to be more honest giving me feedback or accepting of my critical feedback because they know I also was willing to hold myself accountable and could find places to improve.

As a leader when giving feedback I always find it important to say that "Perception is reality."  I allude to the point that you're making about subjective versus objective truth.  They may feel they know objectively what they are feeling or doing, but they need to remember the perception of how they are coming across to others or myself might be different based on my subjective analysis and view of the situation and outcomes.

Acting on feedback is critical because it shows people you’re listening and care about what they have to say.

Bottom line: Feedback is critical, both giving and receiving, if you want to grow as a leader and improve your teams.

5. Safety, Trust, and Intimacy

Yes, patience and focus on what's important for the long run are critical.  I remember when I was turning around my production line I told my manager I needed time.  I told her not to look at the day-to-day metrics because they weren’t changing until I got the people engaged and feeling empowered which could be months...or years.  I was fortunate to have one of my best leaders at the time and she took a leap of faith and trusted me.  I realize looking back how big of a leap I was taking at 22 years old with little leadership experience and not knowing if what I was doing would even remotely work.  It gave me the room to take my time with the team and really focus on the intangibles.  Once we were a well-functioning team the metrics came and my manager was rewarded for her patience by record-setting numbers for the department at a time when the company needed all the production it could get.

I would also offer up a fourth factor that I’ve found critical: consistency.  I’ve noticed leaders that have a hard time developing the first three don’t have consistency in their reactions to certain stimuli.  They haven’t become self-aware enough to recognize when certain other factors may be influencing their mood.  I strive to make sure my reactions are consistent to a given type of stimulus.  If something is stressful I strive to remain calm even if I’m having a bad day or stressed in my personal life.  When someone brings me bad news I strive to listen carefully and make sure not to place blame on them and work to figure out what we need to do to correct it.  If I'm exhausted and someone brings me good news I muster all the energy I can show to my excitement with them.  For instance, even if you're a person who gets visibly stressed when things go wrong the consistency in your reactions allows your team to know that has nothing to do with them if you get upset due to something stressful.  They feel more comfortable delivering critical feedback and tough news or taking risks because they at least know how you’ll react.  To build safety, trust, and intimacy you need consistent behaviors.  I observed a peer of mine, who was also a production line manger, constantly react in different ways to good and bad news.  Happy sometimes, no reaction others, stressed at others, and even angry.  It makes people walk on eggshells when they don’t know who they’re going to get and what you may do with information.  That prevents building bonds between employees, peers, and the whole team in general.

6.  SAY THANK YOU!!

Also, this sounds funny, but say "THANK YOU!"  I can’t believe how far that simple phrase will go when honestly used to reinforce someone’s good actions.  Time and again I see managers don't take the time to acknowledge good work--something I’m not shy about giving people feedback on!  Money and other forms of recognition are always in limited supply, but honest "thank-yous" are always free and go a long way to improving morale, building relationships, and reinforcing simple but important things people do to help you or your team.

Five Leadership Lessons

Two weeks ago I began working with my fifth class of Leadership Fellows at the Stanford Graduate School of Business, and this coming week the Fellows meet the groups of first-year MBA students with whom they'll be working this Fall in the school's Leadership Labs.  It's prompted some reflections on what I've learned over the last five years about leading groups, with an emphasis on leader as coach and guide rather than as directive authority figure.  (Although note that I continue to re-learn these lessons regularly--while I recognize their fundamental importance and try to integrate them into my own practice, I can't say I've mastered any of them.)

1. Initial Conditions Matter

And much more than we realize.  I don't mean "Make a good first impression," because that connotes phony, superficial positivity--a pasted-on smile and a hearty backslap.  I do mean that in any leadership position or differentiated role we need to pay close attention to our first interactions with the people we're serving and to all of the factors that might affect our initial meetings.  Because human systems are so dynamic, with so many variables shaping their outcome, even the smallest things at the outset can have a big impact on the initial course of the relationship.  And in any differentiated role, the smallest things we do will be noticed and parsed for meaning.  There are some simple guidelines to follow here--take a moment to get centered and present before getting started, connect on some level with everyone in the group, remember everyone's name--but my overarching advice is simply to raise our level of awareness: Notice everything we can, reflect on the experience afterward, and test our assumptions as the system evolves.

2. Embrace Mistakes, Failure and Surprises

As leaders and coaches and teachers, we typically design experiences for the people we're serving with the expectation that certain things will (or won't) happen.  We define a set of parameters for the experience, and we work to insure that things stay within that boundary.  These structures and plans are sincerely intended to support others' learning and grow out of our legitimate expertise--but while those good intentions and that expertise provide us with some structure and safety, they also serve to limit the possibilities before us.  And our need for structure and safety can be driven less by a concern for the people we're serving and more by our desire to appear competent and avoid embarrassment.  So don't flinch when things go wrong, because that's when the richest learning is possible, and that's when we become learners right alongside the people we're serving.  I'm not saying it won't be scary--it will be--but perhaps the most important lesson, for us and for others, will come from how we respond to that fear; lean into it.

3. Growth May Look Like Struggle

Even when things aren't going entirely wrong, they may not be going well.  Groups cycle in and out of periods of struggle, and particularly early on in their development they may look to a leader for resolution.  But before we leap to rescue the people we're serving from what looks like struggle, it's important to recognize that most growth actually looks exactly like struggle from one perspective or another, and if we're took quick to jump in we may be depriving the group of its most valuable experiences.  The first step is recognizing what we're thinking and feeling as leaders when the group is struggling--we tend to view it as an indictment of our leadership and feel anxious to push the group past the difficulty.  The next step is to use this awareness not as a spur to action, but as a signal to pause, do nothing, and start asking questions instead: What growth might result if I hold back?  What opportunity might be lost if I intervene?  And am I worried about the group...or about myself? 

4. Feedback Is A Gift

We say this a lot at Stanford--so much so that it runs the risk of sounding like a cliche.  But it's never more true than when we're getting candid, meaningful praise or criticism from someone who's experienced our leadership.  And yet to make it possible for others to give us this gift, there are so many steps we must take to establish the necessary conditions.  Ask for feedback and act upon it--and be aware that how we respond to praise is as important as how we respond to criticism.  Give feedback, and do so honestly and candidly, and yet be aware of the influence we wield in our differentiated role--own our feedback as our subjective, personal response, and insure we're not being viewed as the source of objective truth.  And note that the more of this we can do in public with our team--particularly when it comes to people giving us feedback--the more everyone will learn, not only because they'll absorb the content of what's being shared, but also because it will normalize the process and make it safer for them to do it on their own.

5. Safety, Trust and Intimacy

I've previously described these three factors as the foundation of any group that aspires to help its members learn and grow.  I define safety as "A belief that we won't get hurt," trust as "We mean what we say and we say what we mean," and intimacy as "A willingness to make the private public."  The presence of these characteristics in a group supports the experimentation, risk-taking and vulnerability that are essential steps toward meaningful learning and growth--and the safer, more trusting and more intimate the group, the greater its potential value to its members.  But a challenge is that the steps  required to establish this foundation can appear to take time away from more pressing tasks--and as leaders we can easily get distracted by short-term deadlines and obligations and neglect the group's longer-term development.  In my experience group members themselves sense the need for these factors to be established in the group, and they express that need quite clearly, although often indirectly.  The key for a leader is to listen for and respond to any signals related to members' needs in these areas, while noting that it may be particularly difficult for members to articulate them in the face of our (perceived) indifference if we seem too focused on deliverables and results.  This aspect of group development is a true test of a leader's ability to focus on what we know to be important rather than what appears to be urgent.

UPDATE: Be sure to check out Dan Might's very thoughtful response to this post, Six Leadership Lessons.

Photo by Nicolas Vigier.  Yay Flickr and Creative Commons.

Experiential Learning Revisited

I've written before about experiential learning, but I recently updated the slides I use to illustrate the concept and thought I'd share them here.  (Download the 2-slide PowerPoint file [64 KB].)

The concept of experiential learning remains central to my work as a coach, particularly in Stanford's Leadership Labs, where we present this model and discuss it explicitly, but it's implicit in everything I do with students and clients, from facilitating T-groups in Interpersonal Dynamics (aka "Touchy Feely") to workshops on feedback and 1:1 coaching sessions.

This version of the experiential cycle derives from the work of David Kolb on learning styles and Roger Greenaway on debriefing, but the concept is rooted in William James' belief that the privileged intellectual status of abstractions can cause us to fail to learn from our own direct experience.

And if the slide above seems a little too wordy, you can always boil it down its essence:

Phil Stutz on Taking Risks

What holds us back at the edge of the cliff?  What might happen if we took that leap?

Phil Stutz is a psychiatrist based in Hollywood who has mentored and collaborated with therapist Barry Michels, and Stutz was interviewed earlier this year in an extensive New Yorker article by Dana Goodyear that discussed the pair's innovative approach to helping their clients overcome creative blocks, fear of failure and feelings of worthlessness.  I found many of their concepts provocative and even inspiring, particularly Stutz's embrace of risk:

The risk you take has a feedback effect on the unconscious.  The unconscious will give you ideas and it wants you to act on them.  The more courage you have when you act, the more ideas it will give you.

This quote evokes for me the feeling of standing at a cliff's edge, anticipating the thrill to come if I take the leap, but held back by fear--of a crash landing, of unanticipated difficulties, of the shame that would accompany failure.  But Stutz's framing encourages me to see that my fear--and my courage--can be self-reinforcing through their influence on my unconscious, and that taking a bold leap can be a powerful way of breaking fear's grip and unleashing my courage.

(I highly recommend not only Goodyear's article but also Michel's discussion of Stutz's deceptively simple stick figure "therapy drawings".)

Update: I was recently reminded of a similar post from just over five years ago: Doug Sundheim on Taking Risks

It's instructive to ask Sundheim's question--When in my life have I felt most alive?--and to realize that when I've quelled my fears and pushed myself to take meaningful risks, the reward has been a renewed sense of passion, a clearer sense of purpose, and a deeper connection with life.

Clearly a theme that holds some ongoing meaning for me!

Photo by Justin Ornellas. Yay Flickr and Creative Commons.

Bill Neukom and Carol Bartz: Two Ways to Leave

Two short-term, high-profile Bay Area leaders were kicked to the curb recently, but the manner of their respective departures couldn't have been more different, and I find them both fascinating counter-examples.

Yahoo CEO Carol Bartz was fired abruptly by the company's board--actually via a phone call from the chairman--and the following day she spoke freely with Fortune's Patricia Sellers:

Here is what Carol Bartz thinks of the Yahoo board that fired her: "These people f---ed me over," she says, in her first interview since her dismissal from the CEO role late Tuesday...

"The board was so spooked by being cast as the worst board in the country," Bartz says. "Now they're trying to show that they're not the doofuses that they are."

It's noteworthy that Bartz's contract had a non-disparagement clause, and she was apparently owed $10 million; I assume Bartz knew exactly what she was doing, and it was a deliberate choice to sacrifice that compensation (or at least put it at risk) in order to speak her mind without constraints.

Just over a week later, the San Francisco Giants announced that managing general partner Bill Neukom will become "chairman emeritus" next year and will sell his ownership stake, a move apparently forced by the team's primary owners.  Neukom will be replaced by team President Larry Baer, and the two stuck to the script at yesterday's news conference, as reported by the San Francisco Chronicle's Gwen Knapp:

Neukom repeatedly ducked the issue of whether he had been shoved aside with variations on "mistakes were made," the fingerprint wiper favored by politicians.

When asked the question directly on Thursday, Neukom began his reply with "Umm" and a pause before he went into a long-winded explanation about his plans to step aside in the near future and saying that, after consultation with the other investors, "I think the conclusion was that this was the right time to turn the reins over to Larry."

CSNBayArea's Mychael Urban offered a similar perspective:

Neukom neither admitted nor denied reports of communication issues with the other owners, describing their dialogue over his three-year tenure as "robust."

Asked if he was forced out, Neukom said, "I don't think that's the right characterization at all."

I'll let others debate the merits of these decisions by senior management; what interests me at the moment are the choices made by Bartz and Neukom at the moment of their departure.  The two clearly are very different people who had very different relationships with their organizations.  Bartz is well-known as a straight-talking, f-bomb-dropping leader, while Neukom is a tight-lipped, bow-tie-wearing corporate attorney, and both of them held true to form.  Bartz was hired to turn Yahoo around just 32 months ago, and there's no indication that the company holds any unique meaning for her.  In contrast, Neukom was a 16-year-old in San Mateo when the Giants moved West in 1958, and he's owned a stake in the team since 1995; it seems reasonable to assume that running the team fulfilled an important and long-held ambition of his.

So it's not surprising that Bartz and Neukom chose to leave as they did.  But each of their choices seems flawed to me, and I believe that both of them could benefit by learning something from the other.  While I respect Bartz's determination to speak her mind--all the more because of the shit she has undoubtedly had to deal with as a woman in technology--and I find her brash style personally appealing, I still felt dismayed when I read her interview with Sellars.  Bartz's justifiable anger at the manner of her firing seemed to trump all other concerns, and while Yahoo's board should be criticized for their mishandling of this transition, Bartz's clumsy remarks rebounded against her and made the board's public silence look (undeservedly) dignified and thoughtful in comparison.

Neukom's approach couldn't have been more different.  Instead of burning bridges, he sat side-by-side with his successor, tamped down his emotions, and denied that anything was amiss.  (At least he didn't say he wanted to spend more time with his family.)  But while I understand Neukom's desire to make a graceful exit and avoid damaging an organization he no doubt loves, his adamant refusal to acknowledge reality undermined both him and the team.  Neukom's discretion could be characterized as "taking the high road," but I see it as a way of avoiding responsibility--if nothing's wrong, then no mistakes were made--and it merely invites speculation about senior management's dysfunction.

Bartz's resolve to speak her truth and damn the consequences and Neukom's superhuman powers of self-regulation have undoubtedly fueled their careers and contributed mightily to their success.  But I'm reminded that our greatest weaknesses are overused strengths.

Photo of Bill Neukom: Associated Press. Photo of Carol Bartz: Robert Galbraith/Reuters