It’s Not Your Fault, But It Is Your Problem: The Price of Leadership is Responsibility

Edvard Munch ‘Vampire ii’

'Most people do not really want freedom, because freedom involves responsibility, and most people are frightened of responsibility.'`
Sigmund Freud

My mate Steve was a top Account Man. He was personable and practical, creatively supportive and commercially astute. And he brimmed full of optimism and enthusiasm.
 
So, when our financial services clients commissioned an ad featuring a Hollywood Star, they asked Steve to attend the shoot in person, in order to ensure that everything went to plan.

The Hollywood Star was co-operative, easy-going and warm-hearted.

Her Hollywood Agent, however, was more challenging. Brittle and defensive, she was protective of her boss’s time and sceptical of the Director’s talent. At every twist and turn, she criticised and complained. 

As the production reached its climax, the Hollywood Agent demanded that a whole day’s shoot be rearranged to accommodate her client’s social schedule.

Steve tried to reason with her, explaining that the process was carefully constructed and precisely thought through.

At length, the Hollywood Agent tapped her perfectly-presented nails on the table, looked Steve in the eye, and addressed him in her brusque New York brogue.
 
‘Steve, it’s not your fault, but it is your problem. Get it sorted.’

When Steve later reported these events to me, that particular phrase struck home.

When we’re in a jam, we spend a good deal of time disputing narratives, denying fault, attributing blame. But often these debates are irrelevant. They are merely delaying action, postponing resolution.

'The willingness to accept responsibility for one's own life is the source from which self-respect springs.'
Joan Didion

In my experience the people who succeed in business, and in life in general perhaps, own the problem and its solution. As the management theorist Peter Drucker observed:

'Rank does not confer privilege or give power. It imposes responsibility.'

Eventually the scheduling issues were resolved. The Hollywood Star attended her party, the shoot was completed, and the Steve returned home with a decent ad.

The price of leadership is responsibility.

'When they look at me,
What they really see
Is the love you got me feeling,
Like I'm dancing on the ceiling.
I can hardly breathe,
Because you're all I need.
So when they ask me why I'm smiling like a fool,
I blame you,
Oh baby, I blame you.’

Ledisi, ‘I Blame You’ (C Kelly / C Harmon / L Young)

No. 494

‘As Simple As Possible, But Not Simpler': What I Learned from My Minimalist Muesli

'Complexity means distracted effort. Simplicity means focused effort.’
Edward de Bono

There was a curious chapter in my childhood when I decided to make my own muesli. 

It was the late 1970s. And I recall associating the cereal with all things healthy, natural and European. Sort of Abba, Heidi and Ski Sunday combined in a breakfast bowl.

I set about enhancing a base of oats with some sultanas and raisins I had located in the larder. And then I added some peanuts I bought from Ken’s the Newsagent. Once bathed in a generous dash of red-top milk, my muesli slipped down extremely well.

And yet, after I’d got through the first batch, it occurred to me that preparing the cereal had been quite a bothersome business. All that mess, measurement and surfaces that needed wiping down. (I confess I’ve always been a little lazy in the kitchen.) I wondered if I could achieve the same level of satisfaction by withdrawing an ingredient or two. And so I made the second batch without sultanas. And the third without peanuts. 

Still my muesli was pretty tasty. I congratulated myself on a job well done. With minimum fuss.

It was only when, a few weeks later, my Mum ran out of dried fruit supplies, that my Minimalist Muesli failed to deliver.

‘You’re just eating cold porridge, Jim,’ she observed one morning as she rushed past me on the way to work.

She was right. Somewhere along the road of reduction my Minimalist Muesli had stopped being muesli at all.

'Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler.’
Albert Einstein

In business we often crave simplicity. It is perhaps worth reminding ourselves why we value it so highly. And why we must take care when pursuing it.

The world seems to be getting ever more convoluted and confused. So many partners and platforms; data and decisions; routes to market and radical futures. This complexity reduces comprehension and retards action. We risk being swamped in information, fatigued by change, paralysed by choice.

'There is a point of complexity beyond which a business is no longer manageable.’
Peter Drucker

The reason we pine for simplicity at work is that it reduces friction and increases efficiency. It makes things easier to understand, execute and communicate. Properly articulated, simplicity unifies and inspires. It gets us marching in the same direction, to the same drumbeat.

'That’s been one of my mantras - focus and simplicity. Simple can be harder than complex. You have to work hard to get your thinking clean to make it simple. But it’s worth it in the end because once you get there, you can move mountains.’
Steve Jobs

We should celebrate and reward people who can reduce and distil; condense and concentrate; clarify and crystalise. These are precious skills in an ever more fragmented world. Because simplicity is the great accelerator.

We just need to be mindful that there is a point at which simple turns to simplistic. I guess that’s the point at which my Minimalist Muesli recipe became cold porridge.

'Simple and true,
I just don't know
What I'm gonna do without you.
Simple and plain,
And I just don't know
How I would ever say it any other way.
Simple and true,
I still love you.’

Sara Bareilles, ’Simple and True'

No. 396

Me. We

In 1975 Muhammad Ali was invited to talk to a group of Harvard students. Someone in the crowd shouted, 'Give us a poem, Muhammad'. He paused for a moment, looked up and said: 'Me. We'. This couplet competes for the title of the shortest poem ever written in the English language (with 'Fleas. Adam had 'em' and 'I - Why?').

I particularly like Ali's poem because it suggests two fundamental questions: Who am I? Who are we? Sometimes I suspect that these may be the two most important questions of all.

Inevitably one's career is a voyage of self discovery. What are my strengths and weaknesses, my values, my tastes and beliefs? How do I perform, with encouragement and under stress, on my own and in a team? 

But 'who am I?' may be the easier of the two questions to answer. We're nowadays all taught self awareness, self realisation, self expression. We've got 360 degree, two-way appraisals. We've got mindfulness and feedback sandwiches. We live in the Age of Me.

How often do we properly consider 'we'?

In the past 'we' was defined by notions of class, race, region and religion. But it's obviously more complex now. My own answer to 'who are we?' has changed with time and perspective.

We were the swotty kids, the musos. We were Essex and the NME. We were Catholic guilt and post modern irony. We were  suburban soul boys, Prosecco socialists. We were second hand clothes and third XI football. We were pubs with carpet, pies with mash, dancing with feet. We were London. We were the arts people, The Guardian, we were Radio 4.

And similarly my professional 'we' has evolved too. We were John, John and Nigel's team. We were restless spirited and serious minded. We were brand centric, forward facing, creative. We were Bass Weejuns, 501s, MA1. We were Soho, black and steel, MTV in Reception. We were broad and shallow planning. We were work that was funny, clever, beautiful. We were Gwyn & Jim. We were a singing Agency, an Agency that cared. We hung on, we rolled with the punches. We were positive, optimistic, collegiate. We laughed.

On reflection it seems that the happiest times for me were when I had an intense sense of 'we' ; when I felt part of a strong culture with a serious purpose. Peter Drucker reputedly said 'culture eats strategy for breakfast'. I'm sure he was right. Indeed for me culture is strategy.

Perhaps it is a question you should try asking  yourself. Not just 'who am I?', but 'who are we?' Who are my group, gang, team or cohort? Who are my generation? What do we believe in ? What defines us? As an Agency, as a discipline, as a team? What makes us different from previous generations, from everyone else? How will we make an impact? What will our legacy be?

I suspect it may be harder to cultivate 'we' in the modern era, in an age of individuality and empowerment, when our careers are flexible, our loyalties fluid. However, I think there is a point at which the individual and collective intersect. Increasingly any business's commercial and social success will be determined by its ability to realise the full potential of the individuals within it. Realising human capital, creating sustainability in human terms, these are the present priorities. Traditional top-down leadership styles are obviously less suited to this networked age. Modern businesses need to inspire a broad based, integrated culture of diverse leadership styles. Because a leadership culture creates a leadership brand.

Or as Ali would have put it, a little more succinctly, 'Me. We.'

First published in Campaign 02/04/2015

No. 33

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