23/04/2015 § 4 Comments
I am trying out my poetry on an unsuspecting world! This comes out of reflecting on the whole cult of “leadership” in business and organisations.
Strangely, desiring followers
diminishes you as a leader.
Since leadership is about knowing yourself,
tapping into the wellspring of life deep inside you,
and being true to that.
It’s about trusting that if you cleave to your truth,
followers, if followers are needed, will appear,
as may critics, false friends and true opponents.
If you desire followers,
it’s a distraction from your inner inquiry,
it stokes the ego, not the truth.
True leadership is not something you can do.
It’s something you surrender to.”
10/03/2015 § 1 Comment
This morning, Madonna’s song “Material girl” kept replaying in my head: “Cos we are living in a material world and I am a material girl.”
What does it mean, to live in a material world? To me, it means a world where we pay a disproportionate attention to what we can touch, feel and see, and downgrade things like feelings, love and other subtle energies that we can’t see. It means we value possessions and external beauty and discount things like creativity, courage, compassion and connection.
One of the ways in which this manifests is in our drive to create artificial versions of everything. Artificial flowers over the years have become steadily more life-like – I’m frequently fooled into thinking a flower is real only to find when I try to smell it or touch it that it lacks the essential vibrancy of a living thing. In films cartoons are becoming more life-like and films with people in them are becoming more cartoon-like, with computer generated images becoming more and more clever and common. Dolls too are becoming more and more life-like.
On the face of it, much of this is relatively innocuous – what’s wrong with having an artificial flower that brightens up the home? If someone is fooled by it, does it really matter? Yet there are other areas of life where this move to mimicry is far more unsettling. I think particularly of our food. There are reports that food companies are becoming more sophisticated in mimicking the texture, taste and feel of naturally occurring foods. As the Guardian reported last year, “Since the end of the second world war, a vast industry has arisen to make processed food taste good. During the past two decades the flavour industry’s role in food production has become so influential that many children now like man-made flavours more than the real thing.” This is in effect an experiment at massive scale. When I was young in the 1970s it was common to hear talk of the food of the future being simply pills. Most of us dismissed such stories as fantasy – eating just pills would be too boring. So instead we are being presented, on our supermarkets shelves, with “food” every bit as artificial as a pill, but designed to fool us into thinking it is natural. Can we live and thrive on it? Who knows.
Of course the industry won’t admit that there is anything wrong with fooling people. Apparently “consumers” (that horrible, demeaning label for people who buy things) would prefer not to know what really goes into their food. Hence there is lots of resistance to proper labelling – there have been huge battles in the US over labelling genetically modified (GM) products, and this will come here to Europe if we bend and allow them in to our supermarkets shelves.
The most unsettling thing about this is what drives the industry to do this. It’s always bold to make assumptions about people’s motives – people are complex and rarely have just one motive for anything. However it seems pretty plain that the prime motivation for companies like Monsanto and the food manufacturers is to maximise profits. It’s one thing when this applies to artificial flowers. But when it comes to the food we put in our bodies, it is quite another thing. And if you think that there is nothing wrong with the food “industry” being motivated primarily by profit, just think how you would feel if you went into doctor’s surgery and saw a sign saying “Our prime purpose is to maximise our profits.” Would you be willing to trust those doctors with your health? Would you not wonder, when they sent you for tests, whether the tests were necessary or useful? So how is it that we are trusting profit-motivated large companies with our food? So much of our food systems are controlled by large multinationals – up to 90% of world trade in grains is in the hands of just 4 companies, 66% of food and drink sold in the UK in 2011 was sold by 4 supermarket chains, filling the shelves with branded products produced by yet more large companies. We have no real choice.
Yet that’s not true. We always have a choice – it is just not always visible to us. Not only can we choose to shop in smaller retailers, and to buy organic and fair trade goods (much of which is run by social enterprises, for whom profit is merely a means to an end, like any good doctor). At a deeper level, we can remind ourselves of what the mystics tell us, that all we see and touch is maya – an illusory material world. The only true reality is the one that we cannot see and touch. Superficially we can be fooled, for a while. It is part of our journey, to let ourselves be fooled, taken in by maya. But eventually we wake up and realise that we have all been kidding ourselves – that an artificial flower no more meets our need to marvel at nature’s beauty than a blow-up doll can take the place of a human companion. That man cannot live on bread (or amyl acetate, amyl butyrate, amyl valerate, anethol, anisyl formate, benzyl acetate, benzyl isobutyrate, butyric acid, cinnamyl isobutyrate – all milk shake ingredients!) alone. That love is more real and more powerful than all the combined forces of the largest companies in the world. And that if enough of us wake up, no power on earth can stop us. :-)
07/01/2015 § Leave a comment
Richard is a criminal barrister,
hanging around with rapists, drug dealers, wife-beaters, shoplifters.
Then comes home to kiss his wife.
Tim is an architect,
spending his days tramping around building sites,
negotiating with clients, contractors, planning officials,
and his evenings poring over plans,
Jonathan counsels those in despair.
“What’s my life for? they ask him.
David hardly leaves the house,
communicating with global drug companies (no, not those sort of drugs)
from his home in the pretty Hampshire village.
Nick spends his time with sick and dying children,
and parents who are worried and maybe guilty.
There are people who spend their waking hours in pig or chicken “factories”,
enfolding themselves in protective clothing to keep out the horror.
Some mix concrete all day, or clean drains,
others shuffle paper, not really sure what for,
except they are paid, and can play in the band on Friday night.
Others are out at sea, reeling in fish
and the odd shark or dolphin.
Or on an oil rig, cut off from the world for months.
Many go to work to stare at screens
then come home and stare at more screens.
Looking at others’ lives,
they refuse to look at their own.
In this world of work
we can hide from the world,
from our families, from ourselves.
From the fear, the emptiness, the sheer pain of living.
Or we can be with it all. Through our work we can become.
Work can cut us off from life, or connect us to it more powerfully.
It is our choice…
16/12/2014 § Leave a comment
“Hello Mr Andrews, this is Amanda from the [ABC] Building Society.” The voice on the phone is charming. “This is just a courtesy call to see if you got our recent mailing.” “Yes thank you” I respond politely. “Do let me know if you’d be interested in increasing your borrowing with us.” the voice continues. “ If so, I can pass you through to our mortgage adviser.” “If I do want to borrow money, you will be my first port of call.” I assure her. The voice takes this as a no, and politely terminates the call.
Do we really need more growth? It is more than 40 years ago since the Club of Rome produced “Limits to Growth”, forecasting that if we carried on as we were, promoting economic growth as a primary aim, global collapse would inevitably come at some stage. Recent research shows that many of the forecasts made in the original report, about population, pollution levels, resource constraints and so on, are looking rather accurate.
And yet as a society we continue to repeat the mantra that what we need to fix the problems caused by excessive growth (social fragmentation, ecological devastation, spiritual unease) is more growth. With the honourable exception of the Greens, all political parties across the spectrum continue to push this (“growth is our priority” said Ed Miliband in his first speech as Labour Party leader).
And how does this push for growth manifest itself? Very often in unexpected forms. It is the alluring packaging of the fair trade chocolate bars. It is the earnest and caring mothers on the PTA stall at school, asking if you will donate some sweets or toys so that they can sell them back to your children and pay for more computers at school. It is those clever people at Amazon saving you the huge hassle of having to click more than once when you want to spend some money online. It is the charming Amanda, or Dawn, or David, calling you to make it as easy as possible for you to increase your overdraft. You won’t feel a thing, honest! Just sign here.
I like it when, in those secret agent movies, the deadly spy is someone unexpected. The Bond movies have worked this one to death – there is always some beautiful woman who turns out to be a martial arts expert and can kill you with a single blow to the neck. There must be a bittersweet quality to being killed by an assassin you are attracted to. This is what we are being killed by, slowly but surely. Sweetness.
08/12/2014 § 2 Comments
My wife works in the NHS, the biggest employer in Europe. The NHS, providing free health care to all, has been a remarkable achievement. But there are many signs that pressure is building within the NHS at all levels – staff are unhappy and stressed (in my wife’s team alone, more than a quarter of the staff are absent with long-term sickness), finance is increasingly tight, more and more legal claims are being brought against doctors. Every now and then the system breaks down somewhere and horror stories emerge of badly neglected patients. Politicians are coming under increasing pressure to do something.
I was speaking to Cathy recently, a colleague of Dasha’s, who has worked within the system for more than 30 years, and asked her how she deals with all this. Her response was, in effect, “So long as I have a good team, I don’t mind.” She works in a team of 20 people who provide care in the community and she likes and respects most of the people she works with and that’s enough for her.
Organisations of any reasonable sort of size (let’s say over 30 people) can be crudely divided up into “tops”, “middles” and “bottoms”. At the top are the controllers, pulling the levers of power and hoping that they will get the response they intend further down the organisation. They tend to be strong on left-brain thinking, analysis and planning and they like to feel in control. Since it is pretty much impossible to really ever be in control of an organisation (you can certainly influence it but control it – never!), they are also quite good at pretending to themselves and others that they are in control. You can’t really blame them for this – the owners, the distant people who appoint them, expect them to be in control so they are obliged to pretend. One of the problems with this is that it gets in the way of them realising that they need information from the bottom in order to know what it is they are trying to control. Smart people at the top know that without this information they are worse than useless.
At the bottom we have the doers – people like Cathy. This is often the most satisfying place to work. If you have a good team around you, you can often ignore (most of the time at least) problems in the wider system. Their job is to get the work done within the constraints handed down by those above. They tend not to spend much time thinking ahead, or on strategy or big picture stuff – if they do, it can just get in the way of them doing their work in the moment. Yet they do need information about the big picture, in order that their work makes sense as part of the patchwork, and so that they can coordinate with others at the bottom to avoid duplication or gaps.
Then there are those in the middle – the multi-taskers. They have three critical functions. One is as a communication medium. They facilitate vertical communication, so the tops know what is happening at the bottom and the bottoms know where they fit in the system. Since the tops and the bottoms tend to think differently, they also speak different languages so the middles need to speak both languages. To communicate effectively, they also need to be good at filtering, sifting and distilling information – it is no use to the few at the top if the middles simply relay up all the information from the many at the bottom – the tops will quickly be overloaded. So the middles need to be good at extracting the essence and passing that up, and passing back down whatever comes from on high, translated so it makes sense in the local environment inhabited by the bottoms. Middles also have to be effective in horizontal communications – speaking with other middles to ensure that there is coordination across the organisation.
The second principle function of a middle is to appoint, monitor, supervise, inspire, hold to account, mentor and in general “manage” (there are so many complex and often hidden meanings in that simple word) the bottoms.
The third function of a middle (as indeed of tops and bottoms too) is to monitor, hold to account, and general manage themselves in their own tasks. This may be the hardest and most important of the lot.
Not surprisingly, the supermen and superwomen who work as middles in large organisations tend to get stretched, and the larger and more complex the business, the more stretched they get. It is rare to find a middle who can even do one of these critical and, let’s face it, usually very demanding, functions really well. To expect them to do all three well is fanciful. The way large organisations, whether private or public, tend to deal with this is to add more and more middles into the equation, promoting some of them to supervise the others. This can improve things for a while. After all, as studies have shown, almost any intervention from above can have a short-term positive effect, mainly it seems because those below like to think those at the top are paying attention to them (in one study, lights in a factory were turned up and the result was a measurable improvement in production productivity. At the end of the study, the lights were turned back down again by mistake and productivity improved again!). But since such an approach doesn’t address the fundamental problem, mostly what you get is a bigger wage bill (and the middles cost a lot more than the bottoms, though of course not nearly as much as a top) and often less efficiency, because the system gets more complex the more layers you add. What’s more, the organisation gets filled with professional managers who understand the theories of being a middle better than they understand the actual work of the organisation. This can be okay if they spend a lot of time with the bottoms, but because they have elevated salaries, many of these professionals feel it is beneath their dignity to spend a lot of time with the workers – so they hang about with other equally un-informed middles.
As far as I can work out, this is more or less what’s been happening in the NHS. People like Cathy carry on with their jobs but more and more they get weighed down by the pressure from the middle. I would love it if someone would measure how many managers have been added in the NHS in the last 20 years, as a proportion of the whole, and what the impact on patient care and efficiency (both important measures) has been.
An innocent outsider reading this might begin to wonder “Do we really need the middles?” This previously heretical thought is starting to occur to more and more tops (and indeed to middles and bottoms).
A talk at the RSA couple of weeks ago highlighted one of the most successful examples of taking this idea and pursuing it with rigour. Buurtzorg is a not-for-profit healthcare provider in the Netherlands. There is not a single manager in the place – instead it runs itself as multiple self-organising teams comprising 10 people each, who have broad responsibility for their own finances, scheduling and other key decisions. They do have “coaches” who fulfill the vital communicating function which is normally the responsibility of middles. But these coaches are not managers and they don’t have the power or responsibility that goes with it. Apart from anything else, there are simply not enough coaches for them to be able to pretend to manage anything. Buurtzorg has achieved remarkable success already. The most important indicator is the effects on patient satisfaction, which is far higher than in other organisations performing a similar role in the community. Staff satisfaction is likewise very high. By another measure too, they have been extraordinarily successful – in the space of just 10 years, Buurtzorg has grown from a group of 10 people to an organisation of more than 8,000.
Of course an organisation needs to be adapted to fit its context, and contexts vary massively from country to country, and industry sector to industry sector. So we don’t know how this approach might work, say, the oil sector in Texas, in aerospace in France, in pharmaceuticals in Sweden, or in the transport sector in Japan. But more and more examples are emerging of organisations taking this route to solve the problem of the squeezed middles. W. Gore, Vitsoe, Happy, FAVI, Sun Hydraulics, to name but a few. And this is not to mention open source communities and other on-line (Wikipedia, Flickr) and off-line organisings (Burning Man) that are radically re-thinking the way we organize. I dream that one day this sort of thinking will start to permeate the NHS and other great but troubled institutions.
For this to happen of course, we will also have to answer another question – having dealt with the middles, what you do about the tops? That is a question for another blog post!
04/12/2014 § Leave a comment
The concept of mastery is a very appealing one, isn’t it? No longer subject to the whims of our emotions, or trapped in the rigid logic of our rational mind, we can step into a truly creative space, making choices about how we live our lives. “The master takes action by letting things take their course. She remains as calm at the end as the beginning. She has nothing, thus has nothing to lose.” Tao Te Ching.
But is it for you and me, or is this some mythical state reserved for a small handful of people in history? How can we realistically expect to transcend our limitations, all the influences which seem to tie us down to this mortal plane – our upbringing, our family, our friends, our acquired habits and the rigid social structures which surround us in our society and in our working lives? And what exactly does mastery mean at this time of planetary upheaval, when the challenge of sustainability confronts us like some huge unconquerable mountain, its distant heights obscured by clouds.
Maybe the starting point is to accept the fact that we are all these things, and trying to reject them is just as constraining as blindly accepting them. Choosing to accept who we are, to look ourselves and life squarely in the eye, is a bold and powerful thing to do. It allows us to make more conscious choices starting from where we are, rather than where we sentimentally would like to be. This is part of the mystery of mastery – that the starting point for attaining it is to let go of the need to pursue it. It starts with mindfulness not wilfulness.
Debbie Warrener and I have run a 6 month Mastery in Sustainability course for the last two years, and a new course starts on 4 February. It runs on Tuesday evenings in central London, over 10 sessions. There is a lot of mystery about the course – how it came about, why people are drawn to it and why it works. “Works” is of course a relative concept. Some people find healing “This was one of the most healing trainings I’ve ever done – and that’s saying a lot.” said one participant. Some people love the chance to do some deep work on themselves in a safe space in the company of others. “There were so many wonderful exercises and challenges that offered me an opportunity to do some deeper work on my life.” said another. Many dream of being more powerful in the world, bringing their whole being to making a difference at this time of crisis and transformation, and find the course to be a sort of practice ground – a place to celebrate failure as part of the path to becoming more fully human. “This [workshop I ran] was a huge stepping stone for me, in all kinds of ways. One that I absolutely owe to my participation in the Mastery in Sustainability course.”
Debbie and I have devised the course as a series of exercises, drawing on a variety of sources including deep dialogue, embodied work, spiritual practices, deep ecology and action learning. For us, sustainability is not something to be talked about but to be lived and experienced. Another participant described the exercises as “challenging, moving, thought-provoking, and wonderful. I would thoroughly recommend this course to anyone.”
Is it for you? Only you can know. If you are intrigued or drawn, you can find out more information on the website. Or contact me or Debbie. You can book your place on the course, for a deposit of £60, here. If you want a taste of our unique and unconventional approach, come along to a taster session in London on Tuesday 20th January. You can reserve your place on the taster here.
To conclude with the words of another participant, Mastery in Sustainability is “a fascinating voyage across some stirring seas of self-enquiry that you’ll be pleased you boarded, navigated as it is by two such passionate and caring guides.” I look forward to encountering some of you on the voyage.
20/10/2014 § 3 Comments
I was on the train the other day (in west Wales, a remote part and beautiful of the UK) and met Rita. Rita was, I estimate, around 80 years old and dressed predominantly in sky blue, the sort of blue the Queen would wear. Almost the first words that came out of Rita’s mouth were a complaint about wind turbines ruining the landscape (there has been a rash of them appearing in the area). I am glad to say that I managed not to react to this, or to follow my initial temptation to stay in my own little world, and I ended up having a really good chat with Rita, who turned out to be bright and well-informed and to have strong opinions. She had even been involved in building one of the first computers, at Philips Electronics in Fleetwood in the 1950s.
I spoke to her about my interest in organising. She explained to me patiently that the thing is, men don’t really know how to organise whereas women do, since they have to organise themselves to cook, look after the children and the household. Yet most of our organisations are run by men…
One thing Rita said that stayed with me was that her children and those who come after her won’t be so well off as her generation. I wonder if this is true. I am not someone who buys into the myth of progress, the idea that things are just getting better and better and that it will continue in this way, with the odd hiccup, into some mythical utopian future. But I do believe that we are evolving, not just humans and also all life on the planet (and indeed the planet herself). In the second half of the 20th Century and the start of this, there’s been a lot of wealth around, particularly in rich countries. We have more food, bigger houses and we move about more. We take more drugs, watch more TV and have more information. We have, in short, more stuff. Yet I also note that all this stuff is poorly distributed and in many cases is accompanied by more illness, more stress, more loneliness and mistrust, more drug-taking and more general busy-ness.
So we may be better off in material terms but barely so in terms of well-being. Our acquisitive habits seem to be driven not by our true physical and emotional needs but rather by our need to fit in, to keep up with (but not get too far ahead of) the Jones or Patels. If our society changed to one where everyone had a lot less stuff, would we really suffer? Those who have less often learn to collaborate more and to help each other.
Although nothing is certain, it is at least possible to imagine a world where our material wants are significantly reduced and we all collectively are far more joyful, far more connected and have far more of our real needs met. So I am hoping that Rita is wrong. Yes, inevitably future generations will have less quantities of stuff – this is clear. What is much less clear is what their quality of life will be. So much of our quality of life is dependent on how we relate to others – both in our immediate community and outside it. If we can just get on with each other, and learn to live according to ecological principles, seeking harmony not domination over the planet, then we have a chance of, if not a better life, at least a more joyful one. Don’t we?