Control and Trust

I have been thinking recently about control and trust. One of the organisations with which I work is keen to build more trust as part of its culture. That follows the retirement of a CEO who was very controlling.  He was highly competent, very knowledgeable, and normally had the good of the organisation at heart - but he ruled with a rod of iron, and that had some unfortunate side effects (as well as keeping things running very smoothly). One, it seems to me, is that many people were infantilised.  

Even senior people, with large personalities seem to struggle to take on responsibility. And managers throughout the organisation struggle to trust others (peers or subordinates) to do anything beyond the routine.  In a fast-changing industry, that is problematic.

Discussing this with some senior people, it became clear to me that part of the problem was a failure to distinguish between control and controls.

Jane in our GP14 on Ullswater

When I was challenging them to trust more, it kept coming back to a fear of losing control - and then disastrous things might happen. They accept that they need to be able to delegate more - and to trust more - but the c-word keeps coming up.

But if one thinks about controls, rather than control, things change. The analogy I like is sailing my dinghy on Ullswater. One of the joys of dinghy sailing is the immediacy and impact of feedback: get it wrong, and you are quickly in the water, wet, cold and spluttering.

If I am sailing with someone less skilled than I am (and that's a pretty low bar...) and want to be sure not to capsize, the easiest thing is to take control, and sail the boat myself.  But if I want to be free to do other things (take a few photos, perhaps), then I need to hand over control.  And to do that with confidence, I need to teach the other person how to use the controls. These are simple enough in a dinghy: the mainsheet, the tiller...  

James takes the controls...

But I think the analogy good for organisational life: if the right controls are in place, and the person to whom we are delegating understands both the requirements of the task, and the controls and their purpose, then we can afford to take the risk of trusting them with the tasks at hand.

So rather than focusing on control (which can really be a proxy for our own ego needs) it is more valuable to ensure that we really understand the necessary controls: and then we can hand over control - and free ourselves for more strategic leadership activities.

A Walk in the Lakes

Yesterday, a coaching client (let's call him Pete, as that's not his name...)  and I went for a walk. We started at the bottom of Haweswater, walked up the Riggindale Ridge onto High Street summit, with wonderful views of the Hellvelyn range, and Scafell and Crinkle Crags beyond; and then over Ill Bell, down to Nan Bield Pass, over Harter fell to Gatescarth Pass, and then back down to Haweswater: about 9 miles, and with over 2000 feet of height gain. It took most of the day and we then retired to the Haweswater Hotel for a coffee.

 

And Pete talked, and I listened, and we enjoyed the silence and the views. I started the conversation by reminding Pete of the pre-work he had done for the day, and that today was an opportunity for him to think out loud about the issues he wished to consider; and then I asked him where he wanted to start…

 The conversation was often very discursive: going off at tangents; but I trusted that Pete was talking about what was important to him.  I made some interventions: questions to clarify, reminders of where we were up to after we had distracted ourselves by commenting on the view or the wildlife, a couple of challenges; but relatively few.

And at the end of the day, Pete sat down and wrote some notes: an action plan and some reflections.  From all the discursive conversation, he had made substantial progress in his thinking about, and planning for, some complex and difficult issues and decisions that he faces. I asked whether he had got everything from the day that he had hoped to, and he raised one issue on which  he had hoped to make more progress.  I reflected that I thought we had discussed it in passing, and made a few observations on what I thought he had said. He agreed: we had indeed discussed it – and although we had not quite drawn that part of the conversation to its conclusion, we were quickly able to do so.

All of which made me reflect on the power of walking and coaching at the same time – which has always, in my experience, delivered great outcomes for the client.  Where does that power come from?  My hunch is that it is a combination of a number of factors: 

Thinking in advance - because he knew he was coming to discuss these issues for a whole day (and because I send him a series of questions) Pete had done a lot of thinking prior to the walk, and came full of questions and also half-formed (at least) insights; 

Time – to be silent and reflect, to allow for digression, for the brain to do its almost miraculous background processing;

Silence - merits a mention of its own. When you are walking together, long silences are fine, in a way that would be most uncomfortable in a normal coaching session.  I mean silences of 5 minutes or more.  And that allows for a lot of reflection and processing.

Walking side by side - in most coaching, eye contact plays an important role; but in walking coaching, eye contact is minimised; instead you look out at the world together, and that feels a very different dynamic (especially, I suspect, for introverts, as Pete is);

Perspective - it is a truism that one of the aims of coaching is to generate fresh perspectives; and there is something about the outdoors - particularly in the mountains, with the vast landscapes that we walked through, that really enables that;

Exercise and oxygenation - I think that these have a stimulating effect on the whole system, brain as well as body;

The different location - we had a very different conversation than we would have had in an office; indeed, it is hard to imagine having a day long 1-1 meeting indoors that would not be entirely dreadful!

The stimulus of the natural environment - the beauty of the fells, and also the danger (more apparent than real, perhaps) of the ridge walk all added to the experience.

And inevitably, the journey as a metaphor - there was one point when we were most of the way up the ridge (which has some sharp falls to either side, and Pete has vertigo...) when that was particularly acute…

Of course, this is not the first time I have done this: if you are interested in a previous client's reflections on the process, you can read them here; and there is a brief clip on YouTube of me being interviewed about walking coaching here.

Be careful what you wish for...

One of the things many people I talk with wish for is to work for an organisation that is values-led; or at least has a set of values aligned with those of the individual.  And one of the things I enjoy about working with so many universities, who now form the majority of my clients, is that I truly believe in the importance and value of learning in all its aspects.

So why do I sound a note of caution?

The reason is that I have also noticed that it is in values-led organisations (whether commercial, educational or third sector) that some of the most painful conflicts have arisen.  And perhaps the reason is obvious, but it took me a while to understand and articulate it for myself, so perhaps it will be helpful for others.

When we work for an organisation that is aligned with our values, we are engaged at a very deep level - and so is everyone else. So when differences arise about how we should act, they are deeply held, and also more difficult to discuss dispassionately.

I still remember vividly working with a Christian charity that faced a difficult dilemma. They were clear that they would recruit anyone who wanted to contribute to their charitable purposes; but when it came to Board appointments, things were not so clear. On the one hand, some believed that the values of equality and inclusivity, founded in the Christian virtue of Charity, demanded that they appoint people to the Board regardless of their religious affiliation (or lack thereof). On the other hand, others believed that the integrity of the organisation as a Christian charity, demanded that the Board (or at least the majority of the Board) should be believing Christians: Faith is also a Christian virtue, of course. Their concern was that removing the Faith-based requirement for Board appointments would inevitably result, over time, in the organisation losing its Christian ethos.

As you can imagine, people on either side of the debate felt very strongly indeed; and it was difficult to discuss the issue without the emotional temperature rising very rapidly.

Similar conflicts can arise in all arenas, of course. In a university, a proposal that would be beneficial to students but onerous to teaching staff is one example. Some would argue that the students' perspective is the most important - whatever facilitates their learning should be prioritised. But equally, others argue that motivated and productive lecturers are the most important determinant of student learning: so over-burdening and alienating them is clearly wrong.

And because our values are involved - because we are deeply invested in the issues - these conflicts are far more difficult to discuss and resolve than if we are arguing about some issue where our intellect - and our passions - are not so deeply involved.

So by all means work for an organisation that is led by the values that you adhere to - but don't indulge in the fantasy that everything will therefore be sweetness and light!

Why is truth-telling so hard?

I was at a meeting recently with a couple of very senior people (Let's call them A & B) and an HR person (let's call him X).

X had convened the meeting to discuss a proposal I'd written at X's invitation for a piece of work in the organisation, which A & B would need both to approve and be actively involved in developing and delivering.

Early on, I asked A & B if they had had a copy of my proposal - I didn't want to go over the whole thing again if they had, but I have learned to take nothing for granted.  They both said that they hadn't and X said he would send it through to them after our meeting.

As we left the meeting, X told me that he had indeed sent the proposal through to A & B before the meeting, but had thought it better not to mention that.

And so the truth was not told.

And I get that - I am sure that I have done similar in similar situations, and may well do so again.  But I have been ruminating on it ever since and a few things strike me.

One is that X's silence is easily understood: X did not want to embarrass A & B, especially in front of an outsider; and may have been wary of the consequences had he done so.

A second is that X may have been right. I don't know the organisational culture, or A or B as individuals, and it may be that X would have been victimised for pointing out that the document was in fact in both of their in-boxes.

And what harm was done, after all? Just a white lie, to save face for busy senior people.

But actually, I think harm was done.

For example, A & B may think X is less competent than he is - he should have sent the paper in advance.  Or they may discover it in their in-boxes and realise that he had sent it - and then judge him for not saying so. They have also been denied a learning opportunity: how was it that their systems had not flagged that there was a paper they should have read for this meeting? And X's behaviour suggests, and colludes with, a culture where the truth is not spoken to senior people, which is very unhealthy.

All of which reminds me of Patrick Lencioni on trust (and the associated need for vulnerability), and also later on telling the truth (with regard to accountability) and how easy it is to excuse ourselves from doing so.

Of course, it is easier for me as an outsider, to tell the truth: I can walk away more easily if it goes wrong.  And of course, that gives me a graver obligation to do so.

And that reflection makes me think of the organisations where I am not an outsider: a couple of charities with which I work. In one, I have some leadership responsibilities, and in the other I am a pawn on the ground, as it were. But in both cases there are issues about which I am having to think carefully about telling the truth.  

And the reason in both cases is that I have raised issues or queries quite openly and with little forethought, and then found that I have been met with a very strong, negative reaction from senior people.  Which brings me back to my question: why is truth-telling so hard?  And in the organisational context, it is frequently because of the (fear of) potentially negative responses of those with power.

Yet organisations need the truth to be told; leaders need people to be able to speak honestly and openly to them; or else they are leading without complete information, and possibly without insight.  And the led (including me) need to find the courage to speak our truth, and also the wisdom to do that in a way that reduces the likelihood of a defensive response - but we need not let the fear of such a response stop us from speaking all together, or we collude with the dysfunctionality of the organisation.

Playing with pictures

Recently, at the instigation of my good friend and colleague Jan Allon-Smith, I bought a set of three packs of Visual Explorer Cards, as developed by the Centre for Creative Leadership.

I have been experimenting with them in a variety of settings: a team awayday, coaching and coaching supervision; and for different purposes: checking in and out at the start and end of the day, exploring coaching and supervision issues, and eliciting feedback after a peer-observed supervision session. 

They have proved very fruitful in all three contexts, as one might expect: stimulating a slightly left-field (or as some would say,  right-brained - but let's not get into that argument just now...) approach to the issues under discussion, as I had hoped and indeed expected.

But what I found very helpful, and had not foreseen, was the way in which they served as reference points later in a conversation, to issues discussed earlier.  Thus in the supervision session, I asked the coach I was supervising to select and talk about images at various stages of our conversation. Quite early on, for example, I asked her to choose a picture (and then talk about it) representing how she would like her coaching client to be at the end of a coaching session. Later in the conversation, on more than one occasion, we were able to refer back to that: 'if you want your client to be... [gesture at appropriate card], how does that inform how you choose between these approaches?...' It proved a remarkably effective shorthand way of referring back to a whole set of ideas that had been unpacked earlier.  At the end of the supervision, I invited the coach to take photos of the pictures she had chosen, as part of her note-taking from the session, which she thought a particularly useful and powerful way of helping her to remember what she had been exploring.

In describing that to my wife and business partner, the ever-insightful Jane, she pointed out that the pictures were serving a similar purpose in this context to the naming of stories in the ManyStory approach. How had I not seen that? So now I'm off to blog about that on the Shifting Stories site...

It is worth saying that the Visual Explorer cards are very expensive, and if one had the time and inclination, one might do as well to buy a large stock of postcards (if I were in London, I might simply have gone to the South Kensington museums and a couple of art galleries and bought one each of every card they stocked).  One of my colleagues at the Coaching Supervision Group suggested buying the pack of 100 Penguin Book Cover Postcards  - but my reservation here would be that too many feature mainly words, and all have words on the covers which would change the dynamic....

Having said which, the only advantages of the CCL images over a rich selection of good varied visual postcards  (though I am sure that they would argue they have been carefully selected etc etc...) are that they come in neat plastic boxes to keep them in good condition when carried about, and that they look made for the job - which, if one has cynical clients, or one is concerned about maintaining a very professional image, may be valuable.

My final reflection on all this is that I used to use far more visual imagery in my work - particularly when I was running Creativity Workshops on a regular basis, which I have not done for a few years now. I wonder if I have retreated somewhat into a 'safer' world of more word-based practices - so a healthy reminder to keep refreshing my work and approaches.

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.

GDPR and Ice Cream

On Friday (16 March) we had a very valuable CCNet meeting at Abbott Lodge Ice Cream Farm. And not valuable only because of the quality of the ice cream (excellent though that was). But the real value lay in the opportunity to be taken systematically through the implications of the new General Data Protection Regulations by Mark Wightman (of Aethos Consulting).

Mark Wightman

Mark started by some myth-busting.  For example, people who claim that they can (for a fee) make you GDPR-compliant are probably overstating their case.  The regulations are full of words like ‘proportionate’ and ‘reasonable.’ What that means in practice is that until there have been a few court cases and the judiciary have decided what is proportionate and/or reasonable, we won’t know.

On the other hand, that also means that small businesses, such as those represented at the meeting, will not be held to the same standard as, say Google or HSBC or PWC.

As long as we take a reasonable and proportionate approach, then even if we get something wrong and someone complains, the regulator is more likely to say we should change our policy or practice, than to land us with a large fine.

Mark then took us through the essentials: understanding what personal data is; what principles underpin the regulations, and what sequence of steps we should take to develop appropriate and proportionate policies and practices.

All those who attended found it a very useful, and surprisingly (!) interesting morning, and we are most grateful to Mark for sharing his expertise with us.

(Cross-posted from the CCNet Blog)