Mixed Messages

I was at a special interest group virtual seminar, about Diversity and Inclusion, this week. It was a closed group, not public: you had to give your identity, credentials and reason for attending in order to get the link, to ensure that relevant people attended.

One of the themes was about the subtle messaging that we can send, either deliberately or inadvertently, that others may read, that signals that we are intending either to include or exclude.

And the meeting was set up so that not only the Q&A stream , but also the chat function, were only visible to the host and the panel speakers.

The host, opening the session, mentioned that he realised that he was 'preaching to the choir' in his opening remarks.

All of which had the effect of making me feel excluded.

It is not, of course, that I think that either Diversity or Inclusion are Bad Things; but I do like to engage critically with such topics, and there are certainly questions about the particular approach that was being championed on this seminar.  

In particular, I think that diversity and inclusion are indicators; if either or both are missing, then it may be that an injustice or a lack of charity is being committed.  But it is justice and charity that are the primary values, not diversity and inclusion per se. Sometimes a lack of diversity, and exclusion, may be both the just and the charitable state of affairs. To take a topical example, men are rightly excluded from women's sporting competitions.

But the set-up of the event made me think that raising such questions would not be welcomed - it would be like the choir questioning the vicar mid-sermon, to use the host's analogy.

As a team I worked with many years ago used to say, if you can't walk the talk, at least try to stumble the mumble...

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With thanks to Tim Mossholder and Eilis Garvey for sharing their photos on Unsplash

Artificial Authenticity

Authenticity is a bit like motherhood and apple pie. One can't exactly be against it. Much of the literature on leadership talks about the importance of authenticity, and I think that is right. It is quite clear that people are unlikely to trust and follow a leader who is duplicitous, and inconsistent in words and actions.*  

But I think that the issue of authenticity bears some scrutiny. To take a simple, domestic, example, there are times when my wife (to whom I have been happily married for nearly forty years) can press my buttons, as it were, with such uncanny accuracy that I would gladly biff her on the head with a frying pan.**

Yet I don't. Would it be more authentic to do so, if that is what I am truly feeling at that moment?  I don't think so.  And the reason I don't think so is that we are complex beings, and our true self (our authentic self) is not merely the expression of the transient emotions that we experience at a moment in time. 

So what is authentic behaviour in that context?  I think it is about aligning our behaviour with our best version of ourself. The reason I don't biff Jane with a frying pan (or at least, one of the reasons) is that it is not true to who I am striving to be, or to become.  And by consistently not biffing her with a frying pan for forty years, I have now so developed my character, that I think I can fairly say that I am a non-violent husband, and I think that is a good thing - and indeed an authentic thing - for me to be. 

However, in a sense that authenticity is artificial: it is a learned behaviour - a discipline to refrain from acting on my immediate, and doubtless authentic, emotional response.

But where I think it differs from a problematic inauthenticity lies in the realm of intention. I am genuinely, and consistently, trying to be a loving husband. It is when that genuine and consistent intention is lacking, that someone's behaviour is more likely to be inauthentic in the problematic way.  And the problem with that understanding is that we cannot see another person's intention; we can only deduce it.

However, for myself, I can be clear: it is not inauthentic to aspire to be better than I am; indeed that is, for me, an essential part of becoming ever more authentic.

* I leave aside the rather extraordinary state of our political systems from this discussion...

** Hyperbole, but I'm sure you recognise what I am describing.

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With thanks to  Slava,  Aleksandra Tanasiienko, and Sammy Williams for sharing their photos on Unsplash

A Question of Authenticity

I mentioned a couple of weeks ago (here) that I am trying to grow my @ShiftingStories twitter account, not least with a view to publicising the book in the run up to the launch, in the hope of shifting a few more copies. That seems a reasonable and sensible thing to be doing.

However, something else happened that made me realise the need to manage the boundaries and ethics of promotion (and particularly self-promotion) with great attention. Someone I don't know sent me a request to connect on Linked-In. Normally, I ignore these or turn them down, or if I am feeling nervous about whether it's someone I have met and forgotten, send a note asking when we met.

But this time, because growing my social media presence is on my mind, I accepted. I then got a message back, quite friendly, but very much about promoting this chap's business. Not too bad, but not quite the spirit of the thing, I think. But then, and this is what grated, he endorsed me for five skills: executive coaching, leadership development and so on. Yet, to my knowledge, we have never met, still less worked together.

All of which made me feel that this was somewhat insincere - untruthful even. And worse, that by accepting his initial request, I was colluding with this dishonesty.

The irony, of course, is that following this blatant flattery, I am much less likely to do business with him than I would have been if he had left it at the straight promotional plug - which at least had the virtue of honesty. Apart from anything else, why should I believe those quoted on his page as endorsing him?...

And that gives me pause for thought about how best to promote my book. Overt promotion is I think absolutely appropriate. I have written and published it for a reason: I think I have something of use and interest to say, and I want people to read it. Growing the book's Twitter account very deliberately seems appropriate too: it is transparently an account for the book, and it is in the nature of Twitter to connect with people you don't know. But there is clearly a boundary, and I think you cross it once you start feigning interest in things or people you are not interested in, and that you are way over it once you start giving feedback on people you have never met (or books you have never read, come to that).

Of course, I may be doing the chap an injustice: I notice we have several connections in common, and it may be that they have all been singing my praises to him, so he feels he can endorse me with total honesty. I would like to believe that, I really would. But I have my doubts...