In which I am revealed to be a Hysteric Gibbon...

I have blogged before about four-box models.  This is one that Mike came up with the other day at dinner.  I can’t remember just how the conversation went, but I said something to the effect that he was ‘too normy, stormy, and performy’ (vaguely referencing the well-known team development model.) He was intrigued and asked ‘if that was a thing…’ I explained it was from a different context, but he was off, and came up with this matrix.

On one axis we go from conformy to performy. This is about image, and the degree to which we seek to fit in with social norms (on one extreme) or (at the other extreme) stand out from the crowd.

The other axis is from stormy to normie, and is about temperament, from very volatile, to very laid back.

Having drawn this out, he put himself at the intersection of the axes (the perfect balanced man, as he clearly sees himself) and then plotted the rest of the family.  I, for example, was a little more stormy and a little more performy than he is (as is his elder sister Clare, but more so); his mother is a lot more normy and conformy than he is (as is his younger sister Lizzie, but slightly less so). His eldest sister Annie is stormy and conformy.

So that was fun. And then we realised that we needed to name the quadrants. We started with :

• Beige (for normy and conformy) and wondered if that was too derogatory, but as neither of us was in that quadrant, we went with it
• Poseur (for normy and performy)
• Hysteric (for stormy and performy)
• and, after some hard thinking, Gatsbic (for stormy and conformy - after Jay Gatsby).

But then we wondered if we would do better to have animals to characterise the quadrants, instead of these labels:

• Penguin (for normy and conformy) 
• Peacock (for normy and performy)
• Gibbon (for stormy and performy)
• and Collie (for stormy and conformy)

And we realised, of course, that both sets of labels were good, so left both in the final model.

Then (having added a spurious attribution to Jung) we sent the whole thing around the rest of the family for their comment. 

It was Annie who had the genius idea of re-norming the grid with herself at the centre (0,0) point: revealing that this gave a sense of how each of us might see the other. It was particularly insightful, for example, to realise that her husband, Harry, sees all of our family as Hysteric Gibbons…

So I record it here for posterity, and hope that you will find it as useful (or at least as entertaining) as we did.

Models as lenses

Last week, I blogged about my Idiot's Guide - a sort of vade mecum or reminder list of various models, theories etc that I have used over the years.

Chatting about this with the ever-perceptive Jane, we discussed how experience, reading, good supervision and reflection, etc help one to choose, almost intuitively,  the right model or theory to apply to a particular situation. Then, more interestingly, we discussed the value of applying the wrong model.


If one is dealing with a difficult negotiation, for example, it is hard to better the Harvard Model. But perhaps it would also be useful to look at it in the light of, say, the Drama Triangle, or the Conscious Competence Model.  Either of these might prove very enlightening, suddenly - enabling one to consider quite different aspects of the situation.

The metaphor that we quite liked for this was a lens. Looking at a problem through the correct lens can bring it into sharp focus, and that is really useful. But perhaps looking through a different lens - say a coloured one, or even one that blurs the focus, might enable us to see something new and fresh, that is of real value.

And the other thing that the lens metaphor highlights, of course, is that we are almost always using lenses, or models, to structure our thinking; and it is valuable to be explicit with ourselves about that, or we risk not noticing the interpretations we are putting on reality, and falling prey to unconscious bias, confirmation bias and all the risks that they imply.

The Idiot's Guide...

Many years ago, before the days of the internet, I compiled a set of notes for myself which I kept in my filofax (remember those) which were essentially an aide memoire of all the various models and theories to which I referred in my training (again, this was before I was coaching... dim and distant days...).  The idea was that occasionally I would say something like 'remember Maslow's hierarchy' and then my mind would go blank and I'd forget one of the levels; or similarly, 'there are four key points in Harvard's model of negotiation' and then I'd struggle to remember one of them; in which case I could flip to the guide and relieve my distress.  I jokingly titled these notes 'An idiot's guide to training jargon' - self-deprecation being the house style at that time. And I was fascinated to find that other trainers, seeing me use the Idiot's Guide, were keen to own a copy.  For a short while, I produced and sold a few hundred.


After last week's session on Ikigai, Jane and I found ourselves talking about it on a long walk over the weekend, and reflected on the way in which having a new model to think about provoked new and interesting insights on old and well-worn themes. That then led us to talk about the value of re-visiting old (but not-recently-contemplated) models in search of similar stimulation - and that reminded me of the existence of my old Idiot's Guide. It was fascinating to re-visit it, and remind myself of theories and models that clearly seemed important to me twenty years ago, but which I have not re-visited for a long time (when did I last think about Vroom's Expectancy Theory, for example?)  So we are currently putting all this into electronic format, so that it is readily available on the phone that has replaced my filofax as the lodestar of my business life.  

And of course it is fascinating to see what I want to add: there are so many things that I have learned since then, and which seem to me to have more utility and more accuracy than many of the models I used to use. Out goes NLP, in comes the Thinking Environment; out goes MBTI, in come the Big Five and the Hogan Assessments; and so on.

And of course, reflecting on utility and accuracy reminded me of that four-box model I devised about stories, and blogged about on the Shifting Stories blog a while ago. So I decided to develop a four box model to categorise all these models, as follows:

All fairly self-explanatory (though I leave it to you to decide which models fit where) with the possible exception of the label 'Bohr's Horseshoe.' That refers to an anecdote I often use when introducing a useful but perhaps not robustly-researched model to academics.  The story goes that the great physicist, Niels Bohr, had a horseshoe over his back door for good luck.  When challenged by his friends, 'Niels, surely you, of all people, don't believe in that superstitious rubbish!' the great rationalist replied: 'No, of course not! But I'm told that it works, even if you don't believe in it...'

Playing with four-box models

Last week, wondering what to post on the Shifting Stories blog, I drew up a quick four box model on the back of an envelope about the stories people tell in organisations. It was fairly light-hearted – not the fruit of deep thought or empirical research. What surprised me was how much it resonated with others. As is my custom, I cross-posted it to Linked-In, and it had a sudden flurry of hits and likes, mainly from people I don’t know.

So always one to respond to feedback, I thought  I’d play with some more four-box models (when wondering what on earth to blog about this week…). In part this was stimulated by a conversation with my eldest daughter at breakfast this morning. I am going to meet a charity this morning, with a view to becoming a trustee.   It is one of those informal ‘meet for lunch and then a brief meeting’ things – not, as I understand it, a formal interview. 

I was remarking that such occasions are not my favourite; I rather prefer a structured situation where I know the rules of the game, as it were. I am not particularly adept at informal social situations. But I mused that perhaps the image I should strive for is ‘committed but not fanatical.’ Annie laughed: ‘Yes, I think either uncommitted or fanatical might not be the best!’  And instantly a four box model sprang into my mind. So here is my grid for anyone recruiting trustees for a charity…

And that’s why I like four box models. Although they only look at a couple of variables, they do throw up and clarify interesting and thought-provoking combinations – and they are good fun.

Conscious Competence model of learning

Four Box Models

The recent post about Advisor Roles reminded me how many four box models I use in my work. They are often helpful in teasing out different aspects of complexity, or different elements in our thinking or in a process. The urgency and importance grid is a classic and well-known example.

One I frequently refer to is the Conscious Competence model of learning. People often find it helpful to understand why, when they have 'learned' something, they still find it difficult to do.  This helps highlight the difference between 'learned' as in understood, and 'learned' as acquired competence in...

I will probably post on more four box models over the coming weeks.

Conscious Competence Model

This model of learning suggests that when we start learning something new, we have both low competence or skill, and low understanding, or consciousness, of what we need to learn (A).

The first phase of learning, from A - B is about acquiring the knowledge or understanding necessary to raise our conscious awareness or understanding.

That results in our knowing what we are striving for, but not yet being skilled in executing it (eg knowing the theory of how to do a hill start in a car, but still stalling more often than not).

The journey from B - C can be a frustrating one.  We know what we are trying to do but can’t yet do it.  The temptation can be to give up at this point.  But in fact, what we need is to practice, until we are competent.

At C we are operating at a point of high consciousness  and reasonable competence (eg during a driving test, when we are continually muttering 'mirror, signal, manouevre...' to ourself).

Over time, our awareness may reduce, leading to unconscious competence (D).  We maintain the competence (we jump in the car and drive safely to work, without explicitly thinking about our driving at all).

However, as we are paying less attention to the process, we may find our competence slips a bit (eg forgetting to put on the handbrake, when stopping at red lights: E)  

If we want to improve our competence further, (to take the Advanced Motorists' test, for example) we will need to go on the same journey: increasing awareness (E - F) practicing skills with heightened awareness, to improve our competence (F- G) and then allowing it to slip into unconscious competence at a higher level of skill (H).

This model informs both my own design and execution of learning interventions, and how I help other to understand the learning journey.  
For example, I may use this model to introduce learning that builds on things people already know. I explain that I am not assuming they have no knowledge or skills, but rather seeking to help them bring the knowledge and skills they do have back into conscious awareness, so that they can be polished, improved a bit, and slipped back into unconsciousness at a higher level of competence.  I find this can deflect people from a path of resentment or feeling patronised when it is necessary to cover things they may, or indeed should, already know, but don't put into practice.  

It is also one reason why getting groups to discuss an issue is helpful: it helps bring the tacit (or unconscious) knowledge back into awareness: conscious competence.