The Anxious Generation

 

Over the New Year break, I read Jonathan Haidt's book, The Anxious Generation.

It's a compelling read, well written with a mix of statistical date and interpretation, and anecdotal examples to illustrate his thesis. It adds up to a very powerful warning to parents and others concerned with the raising of children and adolescents. 

His thesis is that the huge growth in mental instability that we are witnessing in the young at present is largely fuelled by two factors, working together to create an Anxious Generation.

One of these is a massive reduction in the amount of unsupervised play that children experience. Since the 80s and with growing rapidity, parents have been less and less willing to allow their children to entertain themselves outside the home, with friends. 

That resonates with me. Growing up in London, I was allowed pretty free rein after school till dark, and all day on Saturday, to disappear and play in the park (or less safe places, of course, unknown to my parents, such as the local empty reservoir). We got into trouble, we rowed with other local children, we fell of home-made go karts and play park equipment that would be deemed unsafe now (anyone remember the Witch's Hat?) Haidt's point is that such play, including risk-taking and engaging with strangers who may be friendly or hostile, is a very important part of growing up. We learn all sorts of coping skills and strategies, cope with knocks and bumps, and generally increase our confidence and our competence.  But parents (and other adults in influential and authoritative roles) now perceive that as too dangerous (or in many cases, too likely to result in legal action) and children are over-protected.

The second factor is the all-pervasive iPhone (other brands are available), and in particular the social media apps, which are particularly toxic for girls - who seem to be experiencing the worst of the mental health crisis. Boys, of course, are not much better off, though for them it is gaming and pornography that are the big problems. At the very least, these (by design) consume ever more of a child's or adolescent's time and attention, reducing time and attention from everything else they should be attending to in order to grow and mature.  But there are worse risks, of course, which he explores in some detail.

He may be right or wrong in his overall thesis: I don't know. But one doesn't have to buy the whole thesis to recognise the reality of the issues he is raising. So I strongly recommend that you read this, if you have any responsibility for children or adolescents; and not least as he concludes with some very practical suggestions of ways forward.

Oh, and don't forget to look in the mirror. It is not only young people who can find that they are giving their iPhone more attention than it merits: and the consequent withdrawal of genuine adult engagement from the young is another significant issue.

Thank Heavens: A Good Text!...

You know that feeling - you're slogging through worthy and thoughtful, and probably valuable, texts on whatever it is you are studying, and suddenly you stumble across one that is written to be read, thought-provoking, exciting even - and thoroughly re-energising.  Thus me, studying for my Coaching Supervision Qualification.  Yes, yes, Hawkins and Shohet is essential reading, and their 7-eyed model is not without merit; and de Haan can't be ignored, and has some real insights; and then there's some good essays in some of the collections (The Heart of Coaching Supervision and Full Spectrum Supervision)... But to be honest it can all get a bit wearisome.  And then someone (whom I can't remember, or I would call down blessings on her (or conceivably his) head) suggested Hewson and Carroll's Reflective Practice in Supervision. So I dutifully bought it, it arrived, and the clouds parted, the sun came out, and birds began to sing.

It's not just that it's well written - though it undoubtedly is.  The authors have thought carefully about what will be useful to busy practitioners and have structured and signposted the book well. And it's not just that the content is good - though again it undoubtedly is: it gives the clearest idea of what is distinctive about supervision that I have read; and has a number of simple but profound frameworks that one can instantly recognise as useful, but also as worthy of further reading and thought.  But also, it builds on, refers to, and expands many of my particular areas of interest.  Michael White of Narrative Therapy fame, is an acknowledged reference point, as is Nancy Kline, of the Thinking Environment, for example.

So do I really like it because it speaks to my prejudices?  I think not, for I disagree with it (and with White and Kline) in various important ways.  In fact, interestingly, it offers a particular approach (the Consolidation Stance) that fills what seems to me to be the biggest gap in Kline's model. Nancy seems to assume that once one has had the right thought(s) then right action will follow as day follows night.  Not so Hewson and Carroll. They recognise that more is needed (as indeed does Scott, in his ground-breaking Shifting Stories, where the last part of the model, Enriching the Plot, addresses precisely that issue... but I digress...)

So if you happen to be studying to be a Coaching Supervisor, this is highly recommended.  Or if you are a coach, I think there is a lot to learn from this.  But above all, if you are thinking of writing a book for practitioners, have a look at this as a model - and compare it with other, worthy but weighty texts: you will learn a lot.

Thinking about the Thinking Environment

Conference Delegates in Thinking Partnerships

As regular readers of my musings will know, I am a big fan of the Nancy Kline's work on the Thinking Environment (see the tag of that name for a list of my posts on it).  Just yesterday, for example, I gave a presentation on Time Management at a conference: and instead of an hour's erudite exposition of the Eisenhower Matrix, and my planning models that help address the issues that throws up, I gave them five tips and then introduced them to the thinking environment (as a tool and practice that they can use to think about their priorities and time management regularly). Then I got them to work in thinking partnerships to elicit their own best thinking about improving their time management. The energy level in the room was very high, and some brief feedback at the end of the session suggested that this was a useful approach, for those who spoke at that stage.

It went down extremely well with the rest, apparently: at least, they gave me a generous round of applause; though that may have been because I ended with a deliberate clap-trap (as Max Atkinson terms it, iirc, in his excellent Our Masters' Voices).

Nonetheless, I continue to question Nancy's thinking and approach, because... well, because that's what I do. I am curious. I read a lot. I try to put together new learning with what I already know.  So questions arise.

One of the books I am currently reading is Kahneman's Thinking, Fast and Slow.  If you haven't yet read it, I highly recommend it; it you have, you may be able to see where this post is going.

For what Kahneman demonstrates, over and over again, is that we all, habitually, use shortcuts in our thinking, without ever knowing that we are doing so.  Given that the Thinking Environment approach is predicated on the supreme value of people doing their very best independent thinking, Kahneman's work clearly raises some questions.  And for me as a coach, it seems, it also introduces some more responsibilities: I need to learn how to spot these short cuts, so that I can help clients to notice when they deploy them. Sharing such knowledge, appropriately, falls, I think, into the 'Information' component of the Thinking Environment model, and would be designed, above all, to help clients better answer the question: 'what are you assuming?'

The other area where I have a question is in the assumption that is, it seems to me, implicit in Nancy's work: that once people know what they think they should or choose to do, they will then do it.  I am not sure that the evidence supports that proposition: which is why in my book, Shifting Stories, I dedicate a lot of space to the topic of Thickening the Plot; which is essentially about how to make the new and more helpful understanding that we have generated, come (and stay) true.

I will get to work on both of these, and may report back in this blog in due course.  I'll also raise it with Nancy and others at the Collegiate in due course, and their response, too, may find its way into a further post on this blog.

Why we do what we do

I am currently reading Why we do what we do  by Edward Deci, and finding it fascinating. 

One of the first issues that really caught my attention was his examination of the use of money as a motivator. It is such a truism, but according to Deci we need to be very careful here, as it can undermine intrinsic motivation, changing a chosen task into a chore, and leading to a risk of alienation. He describes, for example, an experiment in which students are given puzzles to solve. Some are asked to do it for the fun of it; others are paid. At the breaks, those paid, put the puzzles down and do something else; those doing it for fun, continue to play with it.  Which would we prefer in our teams?...

His central thesis is that intrinsic motivation is both more effective and healthier than extrinsic motivation. And to encourage (or at least not destroy) intrinsic motivation, Autonomy is critical. Perceived competence is also critical.

He notes the failure of centralised bureaucratic systems (eg Soviet, Chinese) that undermine both, and lead to disengaged people doing work they believe to be meaningless with a deadening effect both on productivity and on their own well-being.

Competition is interesting: if it’s win - lose, that is problematic; but if it is perceived as a chance to test yourself against a challenging standard, it can be very positive.

Feedback: Praise is also interesting: non-controlling praise works; controlling praise (ie praise motivated by a desire to attain specific future behaviours) undermines intrinsic motivation; ambiguous praise (ie not clear if controlling or not) is likely not to work for women (who typically interpret it as controlling - conditioned to seek praise as a reward?) and is likely to work for men (interpret it as appropriate recognition for their efforts - conditioned to think of themselves as entitled to recognition?)

Negative feedback: can be disastrous: as it is often both controlling and undermining of competence!

With all of rewards, limits and feedback (both positive and negative) it’s all about how you do it. So inviting self-evaluation is by far the best approach. Deci acknowledges that these are necessary but thinks that we pay too little attention to the risks, and too frequently address the needs in ways that are severely counter-productive.

People need to understand the instrumentalities; how to behave in order to achieve desired outcomes. The linkage between their behaviour and those outcomes - and feeling competent at those instruments, in a way supportive of their autonomy and nurturing of their competence.... is likely to be valuable.  Self-critical feedback (that is accurate) is of course a competent thing to undertake.

So loads to think about, and I have not even finished the book yet.  But it does raise questions over the influencing skills model I use, for example, about which I need to think more.

And I may well write further about this one, once I have finished it.

What am I reading?

You know that feeling when you really ought to write a blog post (target: one a week; last one a fortnight ago…) and you have no ideas whatsoever?... it happens to all of us, of course…

And then I thought it might conceivably be of some interest to someone, somewhere, to know what I am currently reading (by way of CPD, I mean, not the Damon Runyon short stories that I am reading for pleasure at the moment, admirably entertaining though they undoubtedly are).

So here goes. I am in the middle of two books at present. The first is Richard Olivier’s Inspirational Leadership: Timeless Lessons for Leaders from Shakespeare's Henry V.

I love the idea of this, and I imagine that the workshops that he runs, using Shakespeare’s text as a stimulus, are exciting and provoke real insight. But somehow there is a difference between that and Olivier taking us through the lessons of each Act.  All worthy stuff, but it just feels a bit platitudinous: ‘Be ready to confront your traitors, internal as well as external.’ That kind of stuff.  I can well believe that when one is working on the text, and suddenly sees the parallels between Richard’s situation and treachery of Cambridge, say, and one’s own experience with the head of another department, it is a valuable revelation. But to have the lesson spelt out in the abstract doesn’t quite cut it.

I bought the book with high expectations, as I really love the concept, but I have to say I am reading it slowly and without either huge enjoyment or huge learning.

The other book I am immersed in at the moment is Challenging Coaching, by Blakey and Day. Again, I like the idea – moving beyond empathy, rapport and listening, important as those are, and the rather simplistic GROW model so beloved of those who train coaches…

This time, however, I am not disappointed. I think that Blakey and Day are really onto something, even though I think there is a certain naivety and over-simplification in their critique of what they see as normal coaching heretofore. The idea that contracting is important, for example, doesn’t seem to be a new discovery…

The heart of the book is based on the acronym FACTS, which stands for Feedback, Accountability, Challenging goals, Tension, and Systems Thinking; and although I haven’t read the detailed chapters on each of these, yet, the acronym alone has provoked some interesting thoughts and indeed experiments in my coaching practice.

--

I expect to write more about this one, once I have finished it (not least because I have committed to run a session on it for Cumbria Coaching Network in a few months, so need to think further and experiment with it in real life, so that I have some basis for the workshop!)

The Power of the BATNA

Recently I have been working with a few people preparing for forthcoming negotiations. As always, I lean heavily on the wisdom of the Harvard Negotiating Project, as captured in the seminal book, Getting To Yes. 

Once again, I have been struck by the simplicity, power and simple rightness of the approach. In particular, the power of the BATNA.

The BATNA is the Best Alternative to a Negotiated Agreement. It provides the final criterion to judge whether or not you should accept a potential agreement. If the agreement is better than your BATNA, then you would be wise to accept it; if your BATNA is preferable, then refuse the agreement, and implement your BATNA.

It sounds simple, and it is; yet people rarely negotiate like that. Too often, people have a 'bottom line' approach to evaluating an agreement. But that is fraught with problems, particularly in a situation which is changing in live-time, or where there are many factors to consider.

But the other thing about the BATNA is that it tells you where the power lies in the negotiation. It is easy to believe that the power lies with the party with most wealth, resource, influence etc. Yet that is not the case. The power actually lies with the party who can walk away from the negotiation most easily; that is, the person with the best BATNA.

From that it follows that there are two key things to do before negotiating, if you can. One is to develop the most attractive BATNA you can for yourself: not because you necessarily want to adopt it, but because you will negotiate with more power if you have it available to you. It is like going to a job interview with another attractive job offer already made: it affects your performance. The second thing to do is to understand the other party's BATNA. If it is unattractive, then you have more power; if it is very attractive, you have less. Knowing that is very valuable.

For more on this, the book, Getting to Yes is highly recommended. And I also comment on it in relation to my book Shifting Stories, over on the Shifting Stories website.

Flawless Consulting

One of the books I return to again and again is Peter Block’s Flawless Consulting. It is packed with good advice, and the overall message is as powerful as it is simple: the need to behave authentically and to understand and complete each stage of the consultancy process effectively.

The reason it has come to mind now is that I am just back from spending a couple of days interviewing many of the members of a senior team. I used a very simple interview structure with just four questions, and listened to each of them for an hour.

As a result, my head is buzzing with the richness and complexity of all that I have been told, and wondering how best to feed it back into the system in a useful way.

And then I remember Peter Block’s words of wisdom: frequently the most useful thing a consultant can do is to offer a clear and simple picture of what is happening.

So I asked myself that question: if I had to offer a clear and simple picture of what is happening, what would I say?  And there, beyond the complexity, is the clarity I need. There are just a few things to focus on, at least initially.  Complexity sits behind them all, of course, but I am quite clear that if we address these few issues effectively, we can make significant progress.

So if you are engaged in consultancy, or if you use consultants come to that, I highly recommend Flawless Consulting: a true vade mecum.

Personality - what makes you the way you are

I have just finished reading Daniel Nettle's book: Personality - What makes you the way you are. The first thing to say is that it is fascinating - engagingly written, so that it is easy and enjoyable to read, and also well-founded on a very broad reading of the relevant research (and some interesting by-ways) and properly referenced: a book (and an author) you can trust.

Daniel (full disclosure - I know him) starts by explaining why personality traits matter, and what the Big Five are. Then he considers the evolutionary context: why is there such variance in each of the Big Five in all human populations. This is all fascinating context, enlivened by vivid examples and anecdotes - such as the variance in the Beak of the Finch (which is the title of the second chapter).

The next five chapters look at each of the Big Five in turn, considering the nature of the trait, how it has been researched, the benefits and risks associated with high or low scores, and so on. Each chapter has a title exemplifying. or rather personifying, the trait under consideration. Thus the chapter on Extraversion is Wanderers, that on Neuroticism is Worriers; Conscientiousness, Controllers; Agreeableness, Empathisers; and that on Openness, Poets.

In each case, I finished the chapter with a far deeper and richer understanding of the trait than I had had previously; and I am not starting from a zero base-line. 

In passing, it also becomes clear why typologies such as the MBTI, whilst they may have some utility as a useful fiction, and a way of enabling some self-awareness and some interesting discussions, are not really adequate in representing where the state of scientific knowledge now stands with regard to personality. The Hogan tools fare rather better, as the HPI is based on the Big Five, and also uses scales rather than the binary approach of MBTI.

The penultimate chapter then looks at the nature/nurture debate, particularly drawing on twin studies, which are, of course, crucial in this context. The startling and counter-intuitive conclusion is that parental influence (excepting extremes of abuse etc) has no influence on the personality of their children. There is more work to be done on environmental influence, but that finding is clear and conclusive. Other candidates for influence (such as birth order) are also considered and, by and large, discarded. But, as I say, there is more work to be done here.

Daniel Nettle (centre) expressing some extraversion:
chairing a post-play discussion with the cast of
Hitting the Wall at Northern Stage on 30 November 2016

All this can leave one feeling somewhat fatalistic: if so much of my behaviour is driven by my personality, and my personality is largely inherited and influenced post-birth by factors we can't fully describe, still less control, where do I stand in terms of individuality, agency and responsibility.  Daniel addresses this in the final chapter, and in particular, the key question: can I change? Here he makes valuable distinctions between personality traits and how one might express them (including working against them, as well as finding benign rather than harmful expressions); but he also emphasises the importance of the personal life story - the meanings an individual constructs to make sense of his or her experiences, and the malleability of those.  This of course is a perfect fit with my work in Shifting Stories, so I was both pleased and relieved to find it here.

So I highly recommend this book to anyone interested in deepening his or her understanding of personality, and in particular the big five. And now I need to go through it again, this time making notes...

Table d'hôte, A la carte or Open Space?

I am considering the merits of different approaches to training workshops in different contexts. Some of my workshops are table d'hote: I run a workshop according to an agenda that works, with input, exercises, discussions etc in a pre-determined order to meet defined learning objectives. Workshops on specific skills, such as my Influencing and Negotiating Skills workshop are very much in that mould.

Other programmes are more à la carte: we offer learners a choice of topics, speakers, and approaches at the start of the programme, and construct the programme according to their expressed needs. The programmes I run for Professors at various universities follow this model. The idea is that they are better placed to decide what they would value discussing than I am. And that approach, of course, also ensures a high degree of relevance and ownership

And I am also a fan of Open Space approaches, where the participants generate the agenda. I have blogged about Open Space before (eg here, and see the tag Open Space for other posts). This approach seems to work particularly well when the topic is large, and the agenda is about exploring possibilities, sharing expertise, and generating ideas for collective action, rather than learning pre-identified knowledge or skills.

All of which reminds me of John Heron's model of facilitation, where he identifies three decision-making styles (Hierarchical, co-operative and autonomous). Here I have applied them, I realise, to what Heron calls the Planning dimension of facilitating an event: who decides what is going to happen.

He also identifies five other key dimensions, and any one of those three styles can be used in any of the five dimensions.  The five are: meaning, confronting, feeling, structuring and valuing. The six dimensions (these five, plus planning, as mentioned previously) address six key questions:

• How shall the group acquire its objectives and programme?
• How shall meaning be given to and found in the experiences and actions of the group?
• How shall the group's consciousness be raised about resistance and avoidance?
• How shall the life of feeling within the group be handled?
• How shall the the group's learning experiences be structured?
• How shall a climate of personal value, integrity and respect be created?

All of which makes me reflect that whilst I am aware of making conscious decisions about the table d'hôte, à la carte or Open Space options, I am more likely to act out of habit in some of the other dimensions.

So a memo to myself: re-read Heron's book, and deliberately experiment with some different combinations of style and dimension...

Time to Think

I have blogged a bit recently about some of the fascinating reading I have been doing as part of my diploma, such as the books on the psychology of coaching by Brown and Brown, and Peter Bluckert. I mentioned my intention to be more psychologically aware in my coaching as a result, and believe that is useful.

However, I am also a great believer in simplicity, and in particular a fan of Nancy Kline's book, Time to Think.  Kline's thesis is that in a thinking conversation, the quality of someone's thinking is directly related to the quality of attention of the listener.  She offers a deceptively simple structure for a 'Thinking Session.' The challenge is to stick to that structure, and pay full attention to the other person throughout - refraining from interjecting, asking questions that pursue what you are interested in, offering suggestions, etc.  If the person you are listening to asks you a question, it can help to assume that it is rhetorical. Acknowledge it (perhaps non-verbally with a smile etc), and wait in silence for him or her to answer it himself or herself. Attention and silence are key tools in this approach to helping the other to think. There are other steps, especially if the person is blocked by some assumption he or she is making, but the bulk of the session is predicated on this highly attentive listening.

My belief in the power of Kline's approach was underlined this week. I was co-running an event for professors at a University, and I gave them the opportunity to do some co-coaching using Kline's approach. Afterwards, those doing the coaching reported how difficult they had found it to refrain from chipping in with their own anecdotes, expressions of commonality, words of wisdom or advice - and how much further the conversation had gone as a result.

My experience, too, is that Kline's approach can be extremely powerful. Yet clearly, if I am trying to assess what the psychological state of the other might be, and what intervention might be most helpful, I am not giving the individual the full attention that Kline suggests.

Likewise, I am aware how disruptive it can be to the train of thought of the other person if I start to make suggestions, or offer alternative ways of looking at things, during their thinking time. Yet clearly, those may be helpful interventions too; part of what people want from a coach is another perspective.

So my interim position on this is that I will do all the thinking about the psychological aspects of the coaching before the session, as I prepare, and after the session, as I review it, and again (in some cases) with my coaching supervisor. But during the session, I will try to give that quality of completely focused attention to the other person. In time, I am hoping that the psychological awareness will become simply part of what is available to me as I attend to the other, but I don't think it is helpful to allow it to dominate my thinking as I coach, if that distracts from being fully present and fully attentive. 

And with regard to making suggestions or alternative ways of looking at things, I will strive to keep that till the closing stages of the session, once a lot of serious listening has already taken place.

 I would be very interested to hear other coaches' views on this.

Emotions, Thoughts and Meditation

I am a fan of Goleman's work on Emotional Intelligence, and particularly as applied to Leadership (see The New Leaders).

One of the many reasons it appeals to me, is that it starts with the self. Rather than describe what a leader should do or say to others, in order to lead, it starts with the leader increasing his or her self-awareness: noticing, and then learning to regulate, what is going on for oneself emotionally.

However, recently I was talking with a leader I know. He is, I think, a good leader and manages his emotions effectively most of the time, which also enables him to lead others well, in the way Goleman et al suggest. However, he was telling me of a recent occasion when he 'lost his rag' in a senior meeting.  

The occasion was relatively trivial: and indeed that was what infuriated him. Senior people seemed to him to be squabbling about something of little or no consequence. It was silly and it was a waste of time, in a meeting when there was much serious work to be done.

All of which prompted me to think that it is not sufficient to notice and regulate one's emotional responses, important though that may be. Under pressure (or for other less obvious reasons, in this case probably a combination of overwork, exhaustion and exasperation) the emotions may leak out and one may lose one's rag.

So there is a prior discipline: of considering how we are making sense of the world, and doing so in a way that does not lead to us having to manage sudden emotional responses. There are many approaches to this, including CBT based approaches, for example, and my work on Story (did I mention, I have finished the book - there is just a little editing to be done now...?). So as well as the emotional component, we have to attend to the rational. But the other component, I think, is the spiritual: the cultivation of serenity, through a spiritual discipline to match the intellectual and emotional disciplines. 

That, I think, is what meditation has to offer, and why it is being rediscovered as an important part of the repertoire for those seeking to be truly effective. I have blogged before about my own developing discipline, here. I was reminded of the impact that this practice is having once again, when a couple of fairly major issues popped out of the woodwork, and I found that I was not only able to cope with them calmly, but also to feel calm throughout - which meant there was no danger of inadvertent leakage of inner turmoil.

Meditation is one of those things for which we feel we never have time: after all, it feels as though we are doing nothing - a terrible waste of time! But increasingly, I am convinced that investing time in meditating (a little, regularly) is saving me huge amounts of both time and energy.

Another Good Book

I have just finished another excellent book, Psychological Dimensions of Executive Coaching. In this ambitious book, Bluckert provides both a comprehensive overview of, and practical insights into, the field of Executive Coaching. 

He starts by establishing a framework for effective coaching, including the critical success factors, and then surveys the common issues that coaches are asked to help with. All of this was useful, though a little pedestrian at times (for example the coachability levels framework).

However, for me it was the next section that was particularly valuable: The Foundations of a Psychological Approach to Coaching. Here he addresses the key dimensions of a coaching session, and develops the idea of psychological mindedness as an essential coaching attribute. That leads into a discussion of the desirable proficiencies of a coach, and, naturally enough, how to develop as a coach.

The final section was also fascinating, as he addresses the issue of helping people through change from a Gestalt perspective. I have long been interested in Gestalt, and have worked with skilled Gestalt-trained change agents, (most notably Warren Scott, of Oakwood Learning) and picked up a little along the way. So I was particularly pleased to see this and extend my knowledge a bit further: it reminds me of other books on Gestalt and change on my bookcase that I really must get around to studying (something about unfinished business there...).

I was slightly frustrated, reading this, as I had borrowed a copy, so I couldn't scribbble in the margins. Fortunately, my new copy arrived this morning, so I will now re-read it, making copious notes as I go, and hope that this helps my retention.

The next challenge is increasing my psychological mindedness as I coach: that will, I think, be a longer term process...

Habits of mind

I have just finished reading Neuropsychology for Coaches, by Brown and Brown. I found it a very interesting and enjoyable read, as it explained the lightest theories and hypotheses emerging from the ever-expanding understanding of how the brain actually works, and discussed the implications for coaches.

In many ways, it confirmed things I already knew, and also offered fresh understandings of why some of the things I know work are actually effective - not least the story approach about which I have written my own book.

One of the key things for me was reaffirming the power of established neural pathways: the way in which every time we follow a particular pathway, we strengthen it and increase the likelihood of using it again.

That is phenomenally useful in terms of learning: indeed that is how rote learning of things like times tables works. But it also informs how we make sense of the world: the stories we construct, which is what I explore in my book. (Incidentally, when this is disrupted, it has very grave consequences for the individual: see for example this article in today's Guardian). And, as Brown and Brown make clear, these strengthened neural pathways largely determine how we act. The more we behave in a particular way, the more inclined we are to do so in the future. This is the force of habit.

So some of the things a coach is seeking to do when helping someone to make desired changes are to help them to:

1  remember to avoid telling someone what not to do, as the brain has no capacity for that;

2  discover where the new thinking or behaviour already exists in their repertoire (since, with adults, it is far easier to strengthen neural pathways that already exist than to create new ones though that is possible)

3  rehearse the new thinking or behaviour frequently, both in the coaching sessions and outwith them.

That is the premise not only of my (exceedingly new and original) work with shifting stories, and the more widely-known use of affirmations, but also of the ancient wisdom of the Greeks (Plato and Aristotle in particular) with regard to virtues.

Virtues were regarded as habitual ways of behaving. As a teenager, I rebelled against that notion: surely to be virtuous one should be choosing on each occasion to do the virtuous behaviour. Now, however, I am more inclined to agree with the Greek (and subsequent Christian) understanding of virtue as habitual.

The merit in virtuous behaviour, in this understanding, springs from two things: one is the effort that has gone into establishing the habitual good behaviour in the first place; and the second is the effort required to exercise that behaviour when other influences (self interest, the natural appetites, external duress etc) are pushing one in another direction.

That of course begs the question what is good behaviour: and again, I think the Greeks had some insights here, which were built on in the Christian tradition, giving us the classic formulation of Faith, Hope and Charity; Justice, Fortitude, Temperance and Prudence. As a set, these are hard to beat; I recognise that many who are not religious will raise an eyebrow at Faith, but would suggest that they consider it in the light of Viktor Frankl's work, and see it as referring to that sense of ultimate meaning which Frankl identified as so important. 

But the practical aspect of this with which I want to conclude is the question of how we develop such virtuous habits. Again the Greeks, and the Christian tradition, have some wisdom; wisdom subsequently rediscovered up by theorists like William James (Henry James' brother) and later by experimental researchers such as James Laird. This is the simple notion of 'as if' behaviour (and indeed 'as if' thinking). 

To become brave, for example, repeatedly behave as a brave person would behave, and you will establish that virtuous habit. To become more hopeful, deliberately think about situations as a hopeful person would, on a regular basis. In that way, you can strengthen those neural pathways, until they are simply part of who you are. Whilst the wisdom has indeed been around for centuries, Brown and Brown's book shows that the latest advances in neuropsychology help explain how and why that works.

Conditioned Leaders?

I have been discussing leadership in universities with a few people recently, and a conversation with one earlier this week took my thinking a bit further.

He was lamenting the lack of academics on the senior leadership team of his Institution (of which he himself is a member). Some of his colleagues protested that, pointing out that a number of the other members of the team were also academics.

His response was that they weren't really, or at least did not behave like academics: they had 'gone over' as it were, to the managerial side.

So his proposal was to increase the number of academics, in the hope that they would argue the academic, as opposed to managerial, case (assuming there to be some distinction between the two) at the strategic level.

However, I was not convinced. Is there something about joining such a team, I wonder, that made 'going over' more likely? Because if so, then appointing more academics to the team would not achieve the result my academic friend wanted.

I have a few hypotheses I am tempted by, which might explain why that might be the case. 

One is extrapolated from the famous Stanford Prison experiment. Don't push the analogy too far (I am not suggesting that all senior leadership teams in academia are brutal to those over whom they exercise authority); but is there something about being put in the position of a senior manager that makes one think and behave more like a senior manager? 

A second hypothesis is that the type of academic who might be attracted (or even persuaded) to join the senior leadership time is the type of academic who is interested in managerial type thinking, and therefore is bound to go native once in that environment.

A third hypothesis is informed by Barry Oshry's excellent book, Seeing Systems, about which I have blogged before. That would suggest that the thinking and behaviour of those in senior leadership teams is a function of their role in the social system: they are, in Oshry's terms, 'Tops' and tend to think and behave as Tops always do.

All of which raise interesting questions, as they suggest that increasing the academic representation on the senior team might simply increase the number of 'academics behaving like managers' on the senior team; rather than increasing the number who see their role primarily as advocating the interests of academics against 'creeping managerialism.'

I am not discussing, here, whether that is a fair characterisation. My own view, for what it's worth is that a degree of centralisation and standardisation are important, to maintain health and safety, meet legal and quality requirements, and so on; beyond that I am a great believer in subsidiarity. 

But what interests me particularly is the view of many academics I speak to that those who lead their institution seem, to them, to have left behind their understanding of what it is really like to write bids, win grants, lead research groups, and recruit and educate students on a day to day basis;  I am not sure that is true, but I can see why it might seem like that, and would like to help rectify that. But I think it is more complex than increasing the number of academics on the senior team.

On Scafell Pike

At the weekend I went up Scafell Pike with Mike (my son) and Dylan (one of my nephews). We had a great walk, despite cloud cover at the summit.
I know the mountain quite well, and had decided that we would return to Seathwaite by a different rout (Esk Hause, if you know it) to the one we had come up by (the Corridor Route).

Map source

So we headed off the summit, went over Broad Crag, and bore North East to avoid climbing Great End and head for the hause. (A hause is a pass, by the way. Don't worry about the geography, if you don't know the mountain: the point I am trying to make will soon become clear, anyway).

However, it seemed to be taking far longer than I remembered to get to Esk Hause, and also the path seemed to be veering too far to the right (ie South). 

So eventually, I decided we should strike off to the North and see what we could see from the top of the ridge.

What happened next was baffling. The landscape looked all wrong. I was expecting to see the path we wanted to join and then cross with Sprinkling Tarn up to our left. But instead, a beautiful valley opened up, heading North West  - which didn't correspond to anything on my map.

Mike and Dylan both recognised it at once, but what they said didn't seem to make any sense to me. So I descended to the path and accosted some other walkers and (swallowing my pride) asked where we were, on their map.  They pointed to the Corridor Route, which made no sense at all - I realised that they were as lost and disoriented as I was. We could not possibly be there, having gone North from the east side of Great End.

However, they were right. The reason that Mike and Dylan had recognised the valley is that we had admired it on our way up. Somehow, I had managed a serious mis-navigation, and was clearly nowhere near where I had thought we were. (I still don't know how that happened, but that's not the point).

What fascinated me, once I had accepted the truth proclaimed by the other walkers, by Mike and Dylan, and (eventually) by map and compass (now I was looking at the right place) was how hard my brain had found it to adjust from what I KNEW to be true, to what was really true. For example, I completely failed to recognise the valley we had admired on the way up, as I KNEW it could not be the same one, as we were somewhere completely different. I KNEW the other walkers were mistaken when they first showed me where we were, and I completely failed to understand the very clear words of Mike and Dylan about the valley they recognised.

It was a very powerful and salutary lesson for me, as someone who coaches others to relinquish 'known truths' in search of more accurate understandings of reality; and is clearly a lesson I am keen to hang on to and continue to reflect on.  And it ties in very well with the fascinating book I am studying at present: Neuropsychology for Coaches, about which I may write more once I have finished it.