Revealing the secrets of the boardroom

Developing as a leader, Emotional Intelligence,

Thursday lunch.  My friend Len and I are sharing our thoughts and experiences about working at board level with client organisations.  What are the secrets that reveal themselves as the layers slowly peel away?  Even as I write I find myself scanning so many experiences – of directors who are afraid to give feedback to their CEO about behaviours which limit the effectiveness of the board, of CEOs who were good before circumstances changed and are unable to change to meet the needs of the circumstances, of individuals quietly sidelined in a conspiracy of silence by men and women who don’t want to address the issue of board level incompetence, of people who, at root, know this role is not for them and yet who dare not admit it for fear of the implications of seeing what they know to be true.

Len loves helping senior leaders to engage with problems and issues that look insurmountable.  I love helping senior leaders to improve the bottom line whilst nurturing and maintaining a healthy ecology – personal, team, organisational.  Boardrooms fascinate us both – because (for Len) so many problems look insurmountable which actually are not, because (for me) so often the barrier to improving bottom line results is the ability of individuals to engage with themselves and with each other in ways which make things happen.

In the end, so many of the secrets of the boardroom are human secrets – including the secrets that board members hide from themselves.  When did we tell ourselves that it’s somehow desirable to be anything other than human in the boardroom?  This is not, after all, a fate we can escape.  Addressing challenges in the boardroom involves engaging in a level of dialogue with ourselves and each other that is uncommon in our culture and, at the same time, a pre-requisite of outstanding leadership at board level.  Perhaps, though, this is a subject for another day. 

When heads roll

Developing as a leader

It’s the season of high profile resignations in the wake of the News of the World phone hacking scandal – but are such resignations a sign that the individuals concerned are being held (or holding themselves) accountable?

Rebekah Brooks was amongst the first to go (though, in the view of some, not before time) when she stood down from her role as Chief Executive of News International.  Sir Paul Stephenson followed just days after, resigning from his role as Metropolitan Police Commissioner.  Sir Paul’s resignation was followed just one day later by the resignation of his direct report, John Yates.  In public life, such resignations are not uncommon.  Big news stories are often accompanied by cries of some modern equivalent of “off with his head”.  A waiting game ensues.  Can I hold on to my job or is it time for me to go?  When the head rolls some appetite is satisfied and still, I wonder if such resignations really equate to the true execution of accountability.

One of the reasons I hold this doubt is because such big name resignations can lead us to imagine that failure is a “one problem, one person” affair.  So often it isn’t.  Andy Coulson’s resignation in January of this year from the role of Director of Communications to the Prime Minister happened not because he had done something inappropriate in his new role.  Rather, it followed a long chain of events, including stories of phone hacking under Coulson’s watch at News of the World and David Cameron’s appointment of Coulson in the first place, despite pressure not to.  Coulson’s resignation had the appearance of accountability whilst also appearing to let others off the hook (at least for the time being) whose actions were also questionable.

Another reason why I question whether such resignations equate to the true execution of accountability is because they are rarely accompanied by a full investigation of the facts.  Without this, there is no getting to the root of – and addressing – the problem.  Coulson’s resignation from News of the World, for example, stemmed the pressure – at least temporarily – for a full investigation into phone hacking at the News of the World.  The decision not to investigate more fully looks extremely naive today – and possibly even then.  It’s also interesting to wonder if, in the wake of Coulson’s resignation from the post of Director of Communications to the Prime Minister, David Cameron got off rather lightly.  As long as there is no investigation of the facts, the problem lies dormant and unsolved.

Are Britain’s businesses any different?  I confess that as I ask myself this question I notice many times from my life as a consultant in which there was quiet collusion in ongoing problems in business.  There may be quiet complaints about the failure of senior management to address a problem (even quiet complaints by senior managers) and yet it is a brave man or woman who speaks up.  (As I write this I am acutely aware of the death this week of Sean Hoare, who broke the story of phone hacking at News of the World).  Perhaps it is for this reason that the phrase the fish rots from the head has become such common parlance in business.

True accountability involves many things.  It involves creating clear agreements up front about who will do what and by when.  It involves knowing up front how you will check in on progress and how you will address any problems as they arise.  It involves following through to find out when things are on and off track.  So far, so good.  Crucially, it involves having the courage to hold conversations that are testing for everyone involved when things go wrong and holding them in the awareness that everyone involved in the conversation may in some way be found to have failed.  Creating the environment in which such conversations are possible requires skill and determination.

Even as I write I recognise that there is so much more to be said on this topic.  For now though, I wonder, what is your experience of accountability?  And what challenges do you face in holding yourself – and others – accountable?

Going Gothic

All articles

We did it!  Nine choirs (including three youth choirs), four soloists, a rather large orchestra (circa 120 players, subdivided into smaller orchestras and brass bands) and Maestro Martyn Brabbins:  together, we performed Havergal Brian’s Symphony Number 1, the Gothic Symphony on Sunday, 17th, July, 2011 at London’s Royal Albert Hall.

It’s about thirty years since it was last performed in the UK (and yes, a scattering of singers in our midst sang at that last performance).  It may be thirty more years before it’s performed again.  The sheer scale of the piece (and attendant costs) make it a major undertaking to bring it to the concert hall.  Even in the Royal Albert Hall, the stage has to be extended to accommodate the performers.

No doubt the audience comprises fans of this little known composer and a whole load of “musos” – especially composers, curious about such an audacious piece.  There is a sense of excitement and curiosity at the beginning of the concert.  Even amongst the performers there are many who have not yet heard the whole piece.  The choristers have not yet heard, for example, the first movements of the piece which are purely orchestral.  Nor have we heard the soloists in full.

There are many surprises.  A glockenspiel solo in the early movements takes my breath away.  Surely it’s the percussionist’s dream – an opportunity to show both the full range of the instrument and the skills and panache of the performer as well as to bring this music to its audience.  It would bear hearing again.  Susan Gritton is superb as she sings from the distant heights of the Royal Albert Hall, requiring a steely confidence as well as fine tone.  She has plenty of both.  Even in the midst of the choir I enjoy the stereophonic effects as different singers sing their separate parts.  I am full of admiration and respect for Martyn Brabbins for taking on a challenge of epic proportions.  (In an introduction to the piece by musicians in Brisbane, Australia, entitled The Curse of the Gothic Symphony, one person describes it as “the musical equivalent of climbing Everest, trekking to the South Pole, sending a man to the moon”).

To reach this point is the culmination of a long journey.  As one of the singers, I am aware that I have joined the road after many miles have already been travelled and still, it’s been hard work.  In the end, the response of my colleagues varies, from those who are glad to be done with this abominable piece to the (albeit tiny minority) who are truly elated.  I sit somewhere in between:  I am totally thrilled to have had this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to perform this piece.  It has taxed me, yes.  It has intrigued me, yes.  I would certainly sign up to sing it again, with all its strange quirks.

Above all, I celebrate this rare opportunity to showcase Britain’s rich choral tradition.  Even without Harvergal Brian, this has been a rare opportunity to bring together a dedicated population of amateur singers and we have collaborated with a great spirit of cooperation and respect.

Now though, it’s definitely back to business.  The ladies of the London Symphony Chorus have a break now, and I’m glad of it.  If you’d like to hear the performance you can follow this link to find a recording.  I’ll be resting my vocal chords and – for a while at least – writing about other things.

Reflecting on A Simpler Way

All articles,

It’s Tuesday afternoon as I write and I find myself reflecting on the cycles of nature and how they play out in our work.


Last week, for example, I was at home on Monday, as I usually am, coaching by phone.  The weather was so glorious that I had breakfast in the garden before starting my work.  Later I enjoyed lunch outside in the shade.  I notice how being in nature settles me so that I feel more grounded.  Later in the week the sunshine was followed by rain and a different rhythm to my schedule though the afterglow of a sunny day was with me for several days.


This week, I’m still tired after a demanding weekend.  I was all lined up for a meeting this afternoon, cancelled at short notice.  I get to write this blog posting and to catch up with other tasks.  My body is calling out for sleep… sleep…


The industrial era made machines of us all.  The introduction of mechanisation gave a steady rhythm to manufacturing work and we organised ourselves around the machines that served us.  It was important to start on time, finish on time:  important because the machines needed our care and attention to do their job.


How does this play out in our post-industrial society?  There is a risk that we organise ourselves around needs that no longer exist, measuring our contribution by the number of hours we work.  Anne Wilson Schaef, author of  The Addictive Organization: Why We Overwork, Cover up, Pick up the Pieces, Please the Boss, and Perpetuate Sick Organizations, sees this as a symptom of addiction in organisations and outside of our collective conscious awareness.  Tim Ferriss, author of The 4-Hour Work Week:  Escape the 9-5, Live Anywhere and Join the New Rich, is an advocate for a different way of life and so are Margaret J. Wheatley and Myron Kellner-Rogers who, in their book A Simpler Way, draw parallels with nature to invite us to a life that is less arduous and more delightful.


When we check in with our own rhythms as well as the rhythms of nature we know that there are times when we are raring to go and times when we need rest and restoration.  When we check in with the rhythms of our work we know there are times we need to go flat out to meet a deadline and times when such effort is not needed.  How often, though, do we act from this conscious awareness?  How often do we work hard because, somehow, it’s the done thing, looks good, scores points with the boss… even when, deep down, we know it’s costing us and even know it brings no benefit in terms of the quantity or quality of our output.


I wonder, how do you respond to Wheatley’s and Kellner-Rogers’ call to a life that is less arduous and more delightful?


  

Musings at the start of the week

About Dorothy,

Monday morning.  I’ve been all round the houses this weekend – to a school visit on Friday as part of the Pearson Teaching Awards judging team (and when the visits are national they can be a long way away), to my niece’s Hen Party in Bristol on Saturday (catching up on Friday night with a treasured friend) and then to Birmingham on Sunday to join 599 other singers in our first joint rehearsal of Havergal Brian’s Gothic Symphony, which we’ll be performing on Sunday 17th July, 2011 as part this year’s series of Prom Concerts at the Royal Albert Hall.

So, it’s been quite a weekend!  I wish I could say more about my school visit on Friday and – because I am committed to the judging process and want to maintain confidentiality – I can’t.  My niece’s hen party was a blast as well as a reflection of so much that makes her who she is (and her parents the ones who have and continue to nurture her).  We have a buffet lunch as her guests – circa 35 assorted friends and family – gather in Bristol before going on a treasure hunt around Whiteladies Road, gathering answers in response to a whole load of clues and ending up with afternoon tea, scoring, prizes and much hilarity.  We get changed for dinner before a boat trip and then supper – a rather wonderful and ample supper – in a Chinese restaurant tucked away somewhere near the harbour.  On Sunday morning I catch the first train to Birmingham to sing.  It isn’t early – 9.30am from Bristol – and it isn’t fast, meandering cross country on it’s way to Brum.  Not early – though it seems like it!  The last few days have involved early starts and late finishes and they’re catching up with me.

Our performance next Sunday will be only the 6th performance of Brian’s Gothic Symphony since he completed it in 1951 and tickets have been sold out for some time now.  Why so rarely performed?  Members of the Havergal Brian Society will certainly protest at any suggestion that it is because this music is in any way lacking.  Rather, the symphony requires huge forces (including 6 – 800 singers, 190 orchestral players and soloists) a venue which can house both performers and an audience, funding and a conductor who is sufficiently audacious (or mad) to undertake to conduct such a complex and demanding piece.

As I travel back from Birmingham after our rehearsal I reflect on those people who are prepared to take on something which others have not – or only rarely – dared.  The composer, in sharing his or her work, faces the unknown in terms of the response s/he may get – a response which may change over time.  What may seem mad to some inspires the admiration of others.  And at the time of creation there is no knowing what the life story of a piece may be, including the life-story of the composer’s own relationship with his or her work.

This is, of course, true for us all.  This has been amply illustrated this weekend as the demise of the News of the World follows revelations whose impact reverberates far beyond the empire of Rupert Murdoch.  It seems to me that many people have their hands dirty right now – the journalists who hacked phones, the leaders (Rebekah Brooks, Andy Coulson) on whose watch they acted, the police who took money in exchange for information, the police who decided not to investigate, David Cameron… the list goes on and on.  Our actions follow us long after we have taken them.

The response of some is to look around them, seeking to determine what will be acceptable and taking care to be above reproach.  This strategy is utterly exhausting and largely ineffective – with so many people out there and with such diverse views there is always a judge.  And still, it takes courage to do the best we know how in a given moment, knowing that those who set out to judge may have little or no understanding of our aims and intentions.  The more ambitious the aims, the more we expose ourselves to judgement, to possible failure and perhaps, worst of all, to insignificance.  We all want to make a difference.

Reasons not to be human in the workplace: reason 4

Emotional Intelligence

Recently, I wrote a posting for Discuss HR entitled To what extent is it really OK to be human in the workplace?  My aim was to explore the extent to which we feel able to express ourselves fully and authentically in the workplace and to explore some of the reasons why we don’t.  In this posting I highlight what I’m calling “Reason 4” and expand on it.  

Perhaps a fundamental reason why we struggle to be fully human in the workplace is that we don’t know how.  Many of us, growing up in a culture (any culture) in which we are not sponsored in being fully human in the workplace, may yearn for something different AND we are likely to lack insight and understanding into alternative approaches.  We have, after all, grown up in and absorbed the very culture we are seeking to move away from.


To be fully human is to engage with the full range and depth of our experiences and to know that they are just that – our experiences.  As a broad generalisation, Western cultures sponsor rational thinking and discourage the expression of other aspects of our experience such as bodily sensations (our gut reaction) and feelings.  What’s more, over time, we take this bias to mean that, insofar as we have emotions, sensations etc. which are not rational, there is something wrong with us as individuals.  This is the opposite of the very “rational”, scientific approach we espouse which promotes curiosity about what is – and still, this cultural blindness exists.

Since those from whom we learn come from this background they are not always good teachers when it comes to being fully human.  What’s more, since we come from the same background, we are also indoctrinated in a certain way of being.  This can present a particular challenge for those of us who enter the professions likely to be reading this article – including leaders, members of the HR profession, trainers, consultants, coaches.  Many people are drawn to these professions precisely because (like me) they didn’t thrive in the environments in which they grew up and they want to see something different.  At the same time, they lacked role models from whom to learn and face the risk of hypocrisy as they seek to educate others whilst overlooking (or struggling with) their own limitations.
Learning to do something when we don’t know how and may lack role models to learn from – well, it’s a messy business!  In truth, being fully human is a more messy business than many of us choose to engage in in public.  It involves doing things that don’t work out as we hope and even doing things we later regret.  When we embrace our humanity it’s all par for the course.  When we don’t embrace our humanity we live constantly in the shadow of the belief – our own and others’ – that somehow we should be different.
I wonder, what are your aspirations for being human in the workplace?  For you?  For others?  I’d love to read your comments in response to this posting.

Reasons not to be human in the workplace: reason 3

Emotional Intelligence

Recently, I wrote a posting for Discuss HR entitled To what extent is it really OK to be human in the workplace?  My aim was to explore the extent to which we feel able to express ourselves fully and authentically in the workplace and to explore some of the reasons why we don’t.  In this posting I highlight what I’m calling “Reason 3” and expand on it.

A third reason why it can be hard to be fully human in the workplace is this:  it’s not always fully welcomed by others.  This can be a little circular.  It takes trust, for example, both to share ourselves fully and to receive each other as we share.  As part of my own practice I am a student of Marshall Rosenberg’s Nonviolent Communication and make it my aspiration and my discipline to share my feelings, needs and observations and to make clear requests as well as to seek to connect with the feelings and needs of others.  Recently I fielded a request from a colleague and decided to explore the request with her so that I fully understood it before saying yes or no.  This was received as a criticism which was not my intention.  Suddenly, I found myself seeking to handle a conversation with someone who was acting on an inference (that I was criticising her) as if it were true.

Oftentimes, in the workplace we find that our open and honest self-expression is not received with a glad heart by others.  There are many reasons for this.  Perhaps, for example, the way in which we express ourselves is itself a problem, especially if we put forward our opinion as if it were some universal and ultimate truth (who wants to be on the receiving end of this hidden assertion?)  Perhaps the person who is receiving our thoughts is not open to different perspectives.  Perhaps we want to express our feelings in an environment which discourages acknowledgement of emotions.  Perhaps our sharing triggers difficult feelings in the person with whom we are speaking.

Equally, it’s often true that our fear that our honesty may not be well-received is as much of a problem as any evidence that it isn’t.  As long as we have this fear we are likely to express ourselves indirectly or even not at all.  How many of us, for example, choose to withhold any expression of our emotions at work, even when to do so could provide valuable information – helping those we lead, for example, to share in our excitement about a new project, or helping our line managers to know that we’ve been procrastinating on a task out of fear of failing.

When have you withheld open and honest expression of what’s going on for you out of fear that it might not be well-received?

Reasons not to be human in the workplace: reason 2

Emotional Intelligence
Recently, I wrote a posting for Discuss HR entitled To what extent is it really OK to be human in the workplace?  My aim was to explore the extent to which we feel able to express ourselves fully and authentically in the workplace and to explore some of the reasons why we don’t.  In this posting I highlight what I’m calling “Reason 2” and expand on it.
Yesterday, I wrote about the fears we have of being wrong – a subject I also addressed recently in a posting entitled On being right – or wrong.  Like many, I took my own fears of being wrong into my first job when I entered the workplace.  Later, I learned of a second challenge when it comes to the authentic sharing of our human selves:  it’s actually rather hard work!  
Perhaps the first experience I had of working in an environment in which such sharing was encouraged was as a volunteer, supporting Ian McDermott and his colleagues in training large groups of people in neuro-linguistic programming (or NLP) with his organisation, ITS.  This was set up with the expectation that, as a member of the support team, I would have as much learning opportunity as participants.  As a team member I was allocated a learning partner, for example, and supported both by a team coach and by a team leader.  I used to love the morning “huddle”, in which we came together at the beginning of the day to check in and to prepare for the day ahead.  I felt supported in being myself as well as relishing an environment in which people were looking out for my successes.  This was quite new to me.
At the same time I quickly learned that, as much as it was safe to share what was going on for me, the invitation was always for me to learn.  This was quite different from what I often experienced in the workplace where the invitation was to collude.  This was the difference between “yes, your colleague was in the wrong” and “so what’s the learning for you?”  I came to welcome this approach which led me quite quickly to recognise my love of coaching and still, it required of me a willingness to take responsibility for myself and for the quality of my experience which was new to me and for which, initially, I was ill-prepared.
It’s not difficult to see that Reason 2 is intimately connected with Reason 1.  In a culture in which we widely hold the belief that there is a right and wrong answer to everything, it seems likely that, in order to feel OK about ourselves, we will seek to prove that we are right and that others are wrong.  Talking with our allies about those people we believe are in the wrong is a relatively safe way to maintain our position that we are right.
Being human in the workplace invites us down a different path.  On this path, the invitation is to own our feelings, our experience and our own limitations at a given point in time as well as our strengths and our successes.  It is an approach which is compassionate and which, still, requires commitment, discipline and the willingness to learn.  It is an approach which implies staying on our own side of the street (yes, I wrote about this recently – just follow this link) and leaving others to do their own learning.  Once we have embraced this approach we are constantly in process and inviting new learnings.  It is hard work.
I wonder which approach do you favour?
   

Reasons not to be human in the workplace: reason 1

Emotional Intelligence,
Recently, I wrote a posting for Discuss HR entitled To what extent is it really OK to be human in the workplace?  My aim was to explore the extent to which we feel able to express ourselves fully and authentically in the workplace and to explore some of the reasons why we don’t.  In this posting I highlight what I’m calling “Reason 1” and expand on it. 
I found a first clue as to why we might not feel fully at ease in being human in the workplace in my experience of joining the workplace:  one thing I took from my upbringing was the idea that there was a “right” and a “wrong” answer to everything – and the idea that often I was wrong.  I entered the workplace (as much as the rest of my life) with a fear of learning that yes, I was indeed wrong.  This did not make it easy for me to share my fears and to seek the help and support I needed early in my career.  Another way of putting this is to say, if you are afraid of being wrong AND you fear that being wrong in this particular instance means there’s something wrong with you then the stakes are high when you express yourself honestly:  you risk finding out that you are indeed, fatally flawed.  (Kathryn Schulz talks about this on www.TED.com.  I wrote about her recently in a posting entitled On being right – or wrong where you will also find a link to her talk). 

One factor that contributes to this is our tendency to compare our own inner turmoil with the apparently serene exterior of others.  If you take a moment to imagine two swans gliding across the surface of life whilst frantically paddling beneath the waters, you can begin to imagine what this might be like:  one swan knows he is paddling away under the surface and yet he doesn’t imagine that his mate is doing the same because he cannot see beyond his friend’s serene appearance.  Moreover, for fear of being judged, he is also doing his best to look serene.

And yes, I’m not sure that swans think in this way – though I do know that humans do.  I remember, for example, a conversation I had with friends towards the end of our university studies when I shared how scared I’d been on arrival of not being good enough.  A number of people looked totally surprised – they’d never guessed.  One by one we shared our feelings and realised that, yes, we’d all felt that way and done our best to hide our fears.  We had been afraid to share ourselves fully.  It took many experiences for me to learn, finally, that I was not alone in putting on a brave – but not entirely authentic – face.  For a while, it seemed to me that everyone had it sussed – everyone but me, that is.  I wonder how many others would share similar experiences – if only they dared – of hiding their human face because their upbringing and education has not prepared them to show themselves fully at work.
The implications in the workplace are profound.  The very people who enter the workplace with this fear of being found out (some people call it the “imposter syndrome”) rise through the system to become our most senior leaders.  When this happens, the culture they create supports the idea that there is a right and wrong answer (and, by implication, that they are the owners of the right answer) and this in turn creates a climate of fear as well as organisations whose performance is way below their potential.  The result – if nothing serves to intervene – is a system which perpetuates the problem.
I wonder, what has been your experience in this area?

To what extent is it really OK to be human in the workplace?

Emotional Intelligence

Last week I wrote about how we respond to being “wrong” and I also wrote a posting for Discuss HR called To what extent is it really OK to be human in the workplace?  It seems to me that both postings touch a similar theme.  This is how I started my article:

We all agree (do we?) that emotional intelligence has a significant role to play in the workplace.  Words like “authenticity” and “integrity” are widely used and have a strong appeal with organisations looking to recruit people who display these qualities.  At the same time, in many organisations, people hold the belief that they have to show their best side in order to succeed and invest time and effort into creating a professional mask and identity.  To what extent is it really OK to be human in the workplace?

As early as 1973, Dr. David McClelland published a paper, Testing for competence rather than for intelligence, in which he argued that classic aptitude tests (the type that might, for example, predict performance in school exams) were a poor predictor of later performance in the workplace.  He posited the idea of testing for competencies – those attitudes, traits or behaviours that differentiate the more outstanding performers in a particular job.  McClelland’s ideas have since been widely tested in the workplace even whilst scientists have been making significant discoveries into the workings of the brain.

Daniel Goleman, himself a student of McClelland, has been widely credited with coining the term “emotional intelligence” and his book Working With Emotional Intelligence outlines a model for effectiveness in the workplace which draws significantly on the work of McClelland and others.  Emotional intelligence recognises that our effectiveness in the workplace reflects our ability to tune in and respond to the full range of information available to us, including our own emotions.

You might expect, then, a growing trend towards encouraging authentic self- expression in the workplace.  You might also expect that this would lead to higher levels of engagement at work.  You might even expect that this would be desirable to employers:  higher engagement leads to improved work outcomes as a result of increased discretionary effort.  But is it really so?  Working (as I do) as a coach to senior leaders I notice how often I am party to the sharing by clients of thoughts, feelings, desires that they hesitate to share with colleagues, even whilst they wish their colleagues would understand them better.  Surely there’s some paradox at work when all the research points to the benefits of such sharing and still, it’s not happening?

Reflecting on my own experience, I see some clues as to why this might be so.  I’ll be sharing some thoughts about this in the coming days.  Meantime, I wonder:  what has been your experience of being human in the workplace?