Category Archives: Developing as a leader

What is a sign that you have a bad manager?

Developing as a leader

Some questions are irresistible, such as the question “What is a sign that you have a bad manager?” on the Harvard Business Review discussion group on LinkedIn.  It has been beckoning me for several days and today I responded to it as follows: 

I offer this definition of hell: hell is believing there’s such a thing as a good (or bad) manager.

I’m not a great fan of labelling someone a good or bad manager.  I believe it disempowers us to do so and guides the viewer to believe the situation is static and cannot be changed rather than a function of our experience and something we can take action to address.  Also because it suggests that our experience is purely a function of our manager and his or her behaviour and omits to notice that we, too, are playing a role in our experience.

A key sign that something needs to change is when the person being managed is experiencing some adverse effects as a result of his or her interactions with his or her manager, such as loss of confidence, sleepless nights, risk adversity (when taking more risk is optimal), performance getting worse (and so on…).

It’s easy to look to the manager to make changes (after all, it’s the manager who is paid more, more senior, charged with the responsibility etc.).  However, when we take this view, we are at risk of viewing our manager as the ‘parent’ whose role it is to meet the needs of our ‘child’.  We are all adults in the workplace and we are all fallible even whilst doing the best we know how in a particular moment.

So, as much as I am passionate about my work to support men and women in the workplace effectively to discharge their roles as leaders, I invite anyone who is unhappy with their experience of their manager’s behaviour to notice their own contribution to the situation and to take action to change it.  This often requires learning, sometimes very deep learning.  Looked at from a spiritual perspective, the ‘bad manager’ is a gift to us in our learning journey, even though we may not initially recognise the gift that’s tucked away inside the wrapping.


I wonder, what is your experience in response to this question, both as a manager and as someone being managed?

Bringing the Italian to Britain’s shores

Developing as a leader,

Saturday, 16th April, 2011.  I am at Manchester’s Bridgewater Hall with fellow members of the London Symphony Chorus to sing Verdi’s Otello with Italian Conductor Gianandrea Noseda.

Whilst it’s not the first time I have sung Otello, it is the first time I have sung under Noseda’s baton.  On Monday he joined us in London for our piano rehearsal.  (This is the first time the choir and conductor come together to rehearse the piece before joining forces with the orchestra and soloists for the tutti rehearsals and then the concert itself).  Noseda’s train from Manchester is delayed and our time with him is brief.  It is, though, enough for us to realise that he is going to take this piece at quite a speed and also to experience his use of humour as a way to illustrate the points he wants to make.  This is a rehearsal which stimulates curiosity and excitement.  On Friday, we travel by train to Manchester – just as the City’s football fans are travelling south for a historic encounter in the FA Cup between Manchester City and Manchester United.  We are in good time for our first tutti at the Bridgewater Hall.

Verdi’s music speaks for itself, addressing both light and shade in the turbulent story of Otello and his wife Desdemona.  The early expressions of love between the two are balanced by the dark scenes that unfold as Otello becomes increasingly convinced of his innocent wife’s unfaithfulness and, ultimately, kills her in his rage.   Throughout the story the audience has access to more information than any one of the characters and experiences the discomfort of knowing of Iago’s treachery, of Desdemona’s purity and innocence and of Otello’s susceptibility.  Those of us who know the piece are looking forward to moments of poetry and drama, including the scene in Act 3 when Otello changes from loving husband to a man filled with rage, Desdemona’s response when her husband flings her to the floor in the same Act and, in Act 4, her expression of her premonition of her death and the famous “Willow Song”.

Even in rehearsal the soloists delight.  Barbara Frittoli is convincing in the role of Desdemona and her voice is exquisite.  Clifton Forbis (in the role of Otello) stimulates just a little jealousy amongst the tenors of the chorus for his fine tenor voice.  Lado Ataneli (in the role of Iago) draws attention for his flamboyant acting and equally flamboyant hair.  Any concert performance of opera has limitations and at the same time many moments are carefully staged to convey the drama of the piece.

There is another aspect to our experience for, whilst Noseda is new to us, he is well known to members of the BBC Philharmonic with whom he has been working since 2002 and tonight is his final concert in the role of Chief Conductor.  You would not know this from the way he conducts for, as much as he brings humour – comedy even – to the process of rehearsal, his performance in the concert is totally committed.  (So much so that his vocal expressions remind me of John McEnroe in his Wimbledon days).  At the same time, at the close of the performance I watch Noseda kiss the score from which he has been conducting and embrace some of the key players of the orchestra, and I listen to the response of the audience as they applaud and cheer.  It seems to me that there is an intimacy in Noseda’s gestures which is rarely seen on the concert platform, let alone more widely amongst leaders.

As much as Otello conveys the drama of our human lives, Noseda reminds us that to lead is to commit – to give ourselves fully to something even whilst knowing that we cannot predict the response of others, and in this way to be vulnerable in our visibility.  This is leadership as an act of faith.  And everything that makes us human is with us in this act of leadership, whether or not we dare to own it and to reveal it, willingly, to others.

PS  If you’d like to hear our performance of Verdi’s Otello, tune into Radio 3 at 3pm on Thursday, 2nd June, 2011.

  

Seizing the initiative

Developing as a leader,

One of the attributes – or competencies – of the highly effective leader is initiative.  This manifests as the ability to spot a problem or an opportunity ahead of time and to take action to address it.  Initiative requires a measure of thinking ability (spotting the problem or opportunity) as well as the dynamism to take action.

I was reminded of this recently when reading Sir Richard Branson’s autobiography Losing My Virginity, which contains many examples of this competency.  Branson started his record business as a mail order business, for example, when he realised that students were spending a good deal of money on records and they didn’t like spending them at dreary and uncool retailers like WH Smith.  When the business was almost ruined, in 1971, by a strike by Post Office workers, Branson did not wait and hope but set about opening the company’s first record shop, cutting a deal with the owner of a shoe shop to set up shop on the first floor.

Sometimes, seizing the initiative was itself what brought Branson close to ruin.  This was true when, by accident, he discovered that he could increase his profit margins by buying records for export and selling them within the UK.  Branson was arrested and taken to prison.  His release on bail took place when his mother put up her home as security and Branson learnt an early lesson.  As he put it in his autobiography:  “I couldn’t believe it:  I had always thought that only criminals were arrested:  it hadn’t occurred to me that I had become one.  I had been stealing money from Customs and Excise”.

Branson’s early initiative also reflected his empathy for others.  At the age of just 17, he set up the Student Advisory Centre after helping a friend of his to have an abortion.  He realised that there were many issues faced by students and wanted to provide support.  Much later, the same empathy for others moved him to offer help to get blankets and supplies to foreign workers who had left Kuwait following its invasion by Saddam Hussein.  Shortly after, he was able to leverage his contacts to make it possible to fly women and children out of Baghdad who were amongst the British nationals detained in Baghdad as part of Hussein’s “human shield”.

From a business perspective, my favourite example of initiative from Branson’s autobiography occurred when, in the depths of recession in 1992, the banks refused to lend Virgin the $10 million needed to install small video screens in the back of the seats of Virgin Airways’ small fleet of aircraft.  With a little lateral thinking, Branson contacted Phil Conduit, CEO of Boeing and Jean Pierson at Airbus to ask if they could supply new aircraft with the seat-back videos already fitted at no additional cost.  Both agreed.  Branson then made some enquiries and found that it was easier to get $4 billion credit to buy eighteen new aircraft than it was to get $10 million credit to add the seat-back videos to their existing fleet of planes.

I wonder, where are you seizing the initiative?  And what are the opportunities that are yours for the taking, if only you could spot them and act on them?

   

Are you loving your work? An invitation to heed your life’s calling

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Don’t ask what the world needs; ask what makes you come alive then go and do it,
because what the world needs is people who have come alive.
Howard Thurman

Last week I wrote a posting For Love AND Money in response to conversations I have had recently with people who feel torn between doing what they really love and doing what they think will pay the bills.  I wrote it because I recognise that this dilemma is experienced by many people.

More recently, I came across the quote above by Howard Thurman and I thought, this is too good to miss.  I thought I’d share it with you today along with just a few reading recommendations for anyone who wants to explore what it might be like to do the work you love and to get paid – handsomely, even – to do it.

And before I share these books I want to say a few words to those people I mainly coach:   leaders in organisations.  You can spend all your life as a leader doing work you’re good at and which you enjoy – sort of.  You’ll be adding value and you’ll be paying the bills.  Equally, you can seek out the opportunity to lead in an area about which you feel passionate.  You’ll still be adding value and you’ll still be paying the bills.  At the same time, the ease and joy with which you lead will be far greater and the positive impact you’ll have on those you lead long after you have ceased to lead them will make the hours you work worthwhile.  You get to choose.

Here are just a few recommendations from my own bookshelf:

Richard N. Bolles:  What Color Is your Parachute?  A Practical Manual for Job-Hunters and Career-Changers.  Bolles’ book, which he has updated and maintained over many years, is probably the book for anyone who wants to return to the question of calling and seek out the work they are yearning to do.

Gay Hendricks:  The Big Leap.  I’ve mentioned this book on my blog before.  It’s worth reading just to understand the difference between working in your zone of excellence and working in your zone of genius.

Richard J. Leider and David A. Shapiro:  Whistle While You Work:  Heeding Your Life’s Calling.  What do I want to be when I grow up?  What was I born to do?  These are the questions the authors set out to help you answer in this slim volume. 

M. Scott Peck:  The Road Less Travelled:  A New Psychology of Love, Traditional Values and Spiritual Growth.  I include this book in recognition that the journey towards finding the work we love to do is essentially a journey inwards – a journey of the spirit.

David Whyte:  The Heart Aroused:  Poetry and The Preservation of the Soul.  It may be hard to find a new copy of this book, which offers a poet’s view of what it means to work in the corporate world.  If you feel you need to reconnect with yourself or yearn to maintain connection whilst working in the corporate world this book is for you.

Nick Williams:  The Work We Were Born To Do:  Find the Work You Love, Love the Work You Do.  Williams’ book sets out to help people discover purpose, meaning and passion in their work whilst still paying the bills.  Williams offers twelve principles of the work we were born to do as well as exercises to support you in your explorations.  You can also hear Williams speak by signing up at Alternatives where you’ll be able to access recordings of past speakers.

Is this list exhaustive?  By no means.  It does, though, provide a starting point.  I wonder what this posting evokes in you:  what thoughts and feelings come up when you think of doing the work that you were born to do? 

On the fear of being “found out” at work

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How many of us fear being “found out” in the workplace?  I am not thinking of our fear that any fraudulent activities might be uncovered.  No.  I’m referring to the fear that many of us have that we are not good enough to be doing the job we are doing.  I have heard some people call this the “imposter syndrome”.

If Dr Laurence J. Peter and Raymond Hull are right, it’s likely that the further we travel up the organisational hierarchy the more likely we are to be poorly equipped to do our jobs.  Peter and Hull are the authors of the book The Peter Principle.  Why Things Always Go Wrong.  Their hypothesis – that people rise to their level of incompetence in organisations – has passed into the vernacular and their book, first published more than thirty years ago, is still widely available.

With or without their hypothesis, the fear exists.  As long as we feel this fear it’s hard for us to be authentic in our dealings with others.  Our energies go into wearing a mask which protects us from being “found out”.  Paradoxically, the mask we wear to secure our personal sense of safety inspires fear in others.  The more senior we are, the more this fear spreads throughout the organisations we lead.

I am reminded of Carl Rogers, whose work has been so influential in the world of learning – especially in the field of therapy and coaching.  Perhaps this extract from an article by Rachel Naomi Remen gives insight into the alternatives available to us:

Years ago, I was invited to a seminar given by Carl Rogers.  I had never read his work, but I knew that the seminar, attended by a group of therapists, was about ‘unconditional positive regard’.  At the time I was highly sceptical about this idea, but I attended the seminar anyway.  I left it transformed.


Roger’s theories arose out of his practice, and his practice was intuitive and natural to him.  In the seminar, he tried to analyse what he was doing for us as he did it.  He wanted to give a demonstration of unconditional positive regard in a therapeutic session.  One of the therapists volunteered to serve as the subject.  As Rogers turned to the volunteer and was about to start the session, he suddenly pulled himself up, turned back to us, and said, ‘I realise there’s something I do before I start a session.  I let myself know that I am enough.  Not perfect.  Perfect wouldn’t be enough.  But I am human, and that is enough.  There is nothing this man can say or do that I can’t feel in myself.  I can be with him.  I am enough’.


I was stunned by this.  It felt as if some old wound in me, some fear of not being good enough, had come to an end.  I knew, inside myself, that what he had said was absolutely true:  I am not perfect, but I am enough.

Rachel Naomi Remen, The Search for Healing
in R. Carlson & B. Shield ed. (1989)
Healers on Healing, Los Angeles:  Tarcher, p. 93

I offer you this thought:  that whether you are a man or woman in therapy or CEO of some international corporation you are, like Rogers, human and enough.
I wonder, how does this thought land with you?
   

Losing My Virginity

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Throughout the entire dirty-tricks episode I had been accused of being ‘naive’:  naive to believe that British Airways could behave in such a manner, naive to think that British Airways would ever stop behaving in such a manner, naive to believe that I would ever be able to bring Bristish Airways to court, naive to think for a moment that I could win a court case.  The word ‘naive’ echoed round and round in my head and at some points had almost undermined my resolve to go on.  Sir Michael Angus told Sir Colin Southgate that I was naive to take on British Airways ‘as if it was a Boy’s Own story’;  Jeannie Davis told my parents that ‘Ricky should learn to take the rough with the smooth’;  and even people like Sir John Egan of BAA told me ‘not to shake the money tree’.  Perhaps I was naive in fighting for the justice I wanted;  or perhaps I was just plain stubborn.  But I knew that British Airways’ activities were unlawful and I wanted compensation.  I was determined to make all those people who had dismissed my stance as ‘naive’ eat their words.
Sir Richard Branson
Losing My Virginity 

Lest you’re reeling with horror at the propect of some intimate and personal revelations, let me tell you from the off that I have been reading Sir Richard Branson’s autobiography.  The revelations are his, rather than mine.

Over the years, I have conducted many, many interviews of leaders at senior levels in organisations – for research purposes, to assess people for jobs – and reading Branson’s autobiography reminds me of these interviews.  Why?  Because it’s been my experience that when I interview (or read an interview by a colleague) with someone who is outstanding in what they do, my heart gladdens and some of the individual’s magic rubs off on me.  That’s what I experienced in reading Losing My Virginity.

Branson demonstrates many of the attributes – the competencies – of the successful entrepreneurial leader.  This should come as no surprise, for that’s just what he is.  One passage in the book stood out for me, in which Branson highlights the response of many people around him as he became aware that British Airways were undertaking a whole series of actions to undermine Virgin Airways and took action to bring this “dirty tricks campaign” to a halt.

With the benefit of hindsight and a legal victory in the bag, it’s easy to imagine that Branson’s decisions – the actions he took to invite BA to cease their campaign, his decision, David and Goliath style, to take them to court – were without risk.  Reading Losing My Virginity, however, it’s abundantly clear that this was not true.  Branson showed confidence and conviction in the face of higher and higher levels of risk to his business.  It is also interesting to note that he was driven not only by business imperatives but also by his strong values and on behalf of all the airlines who had also suffered at the hands of this particular Goliath and lost.  Along the way, Branson sought the counsel of some and received the unsolicited counsel of others but in the end, he knew he had to make the best decision he could and live with the consequences. 

The passage at the beginning of this posting captures this for me.  I wonder, what do you notice when you read it?  And when have you acted in line with your values, even when the risks were high?

Are leadership qualities something you are born with? Or can they be learnt?

Developing as a leader

Discussion groups on LinkedIn are a rich resource and there are plenty of them available in the field of leadership – Harvard Business Review, Leadership Think Tank, Trends in Leadership and so on.  Three months ago, a woman called Roseline posted the question “Are leadership qualities something you are born with?  Or can they be learned?” on the Leadership Thank Tank and the discussion is still going strong.  I take a moment to offer the answer below – knowing that I may already have contributed – to this age old question:


Roseline, I wonder if the most significant issue is this: what is the impact of holding a belief either way?


If you believe that leadership qualities are innate, it seems to me that you are, on balance, less likely to invest in developing your own (or others’) leadership qualities. If you believe that leadership qualities can be developed, you are on balance more likely to seek to develop those qualities in yourself and in others who have aspirations to lead.


Personally, I see many examples of people who showed no leadership qualities and had no aspirations to lead until… For example, I see men and women who lose loved ones to a particular illness, or to crime (or… or… or…) who go on to show a certain type of leadership in raising the profile of a particular cause, raising money for research, setting up charities etc.


So I wonder, how would the world be different if we said to ourselves that we all have the capacity to lead (either because it’s innate or because it can be developed) and can call on this capacity when we want to?


And I wonder, what is your view on this age-old question?  I’d be delighted to see your comments in response to this posting.


Real conversations – choosing beliefs that support your communication paradigm

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Recently, I wrote an article about communication for Discuss HR.  In it, I identified a number of aspects of communication.  In this article, I identify some of the beliefs that underpin – and facilitate or impede – effective communication.

In his book, The Human Side of Enterprise, McGregor identifies two distinct theories held by leaders (“Theory X” and “Theory Y”) which in turn are manifest in two different styles of communication.  McGregor’s classic theory highlights how the communication styles of leaders rest on the different beliefs and assumptions that underpin the two different approaches to communication. By paying attention to our beliefs we can check out whether or not they support our chosen approach to communication.

One discipline which has done this very successfully is neuro-linguistic programming (NLP). Borrowing from Alfred Korzybski’s book Manhood of Humanity:  The Science and Art of Human Engineering, for example, practitioners of NLP are taught that “the map is not the territory”. Holding this belief reminds us to differentiate between the facts and our view of the facts and opens up many possibilities.  It is easier, for example, to maintain a sense of connection with someone whose views differ from our own when we are clear in our own minds that the map is not the territory.  This is true even when our partner in conversation appears to be confusing his or her own map with the territory itself.

NLP also offers the belief that “every behaviour has a positive intention”.  Holding this belief invites us to look behind some of the behaviours we find most difficult in others in order to identify and respond to the positive intentions that underpin them.  This belief is also shared with nonviolent communication (NVC) which suggests that every behaviour is designed to meet a need, even whilst recognising that some behaviours are poorly designed to meet that need.  When we combine this belief with a core value of compassion we are equipped both to be present to a behaviour (in ourself, in others) which we do not enjoy and to be curious – what is the need or intention that underpins this behaviour?  If we can see past an ineffective or unpleasant behavioural strategy to the need it is designed to meet, we open up opportunities to identify alternative and more effective strategies.

These are just two examples of beliefs designed to open up possibilities to meet our needs more effectively whilst also supporting others in finding ways to meet their own needs.  It is worth saying that our beliefs are, often, unexamined, sitting outside our conscious awareness.  For this reason it may not be enough to say “I want to adopt this style of communication” since we may not be aware of unconscious beliefs that inform our behaviour and undermine our chosen communication approach.  My mother, for example, still laughs when she recalls a neighbour who – many years ago – used to say to her son “speak proper, or I’ll pie ya!”  By my mother’s standards, the form that this message took was incongruent with its intention.  And of course, it’s fair to assume that any one of us will, at a particular point in time, hold unconscious beliefs that are incongruent with our chosen approach to communication.

I wonder, what beliefs do you hold that inform the way you communicate with others?  Please take time to notice them and – if you’re willing – share them here.

Taken together, the areas I have identified over a number of postings can be translated into ground rules which support communication in line with your chosen paradigm.  I’ll be sharing some examples of ground rules in my next posting.

Real conversations – choosing values that support your chosen communication paradigm

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On Friday, building on my recent article for Discuss HR, I talked about the need to stand close to the fire in the conversations we hold with others.  It is the most difficult conversations, in my view, that test our way of communicating with others.  In this article, I explore some of the values that underpin an approach to communication in which power is shared – what Roger Schwarz, in his book The Skilled Facilitator Approach:  A Comprehensive Resource for Consultants, Facilitators, Managers, Trainers and Coaches calls a mutual learning approach.

Especially when the communication going gets tough – when we address issues that are in some way difficult or sensitive for one or more of the parties involved – we need to root our communication in values that facilitate effective communication.  We may seek to do this as a matter of organisational policy, promoting values across the whole of our organisation.  We may simply choose values for our own communication, knowing that even where certain values are espoused (in organisations, in communities, in families and so on), we do not, ultimately, have control over the choices of others.

One of the most important values, in my view, that underpins the ability to hold real conversations, is compassion.  I view this as the willingness to hold oneself and others as human and to accept everything that this involves.  When I think of John, for example, whom I mentioned in the first blog posting of this series, I am guessing that my e-mail triggered strong emotions in him – what Goleman calls an amygdala hijack.  It was from this place that he responded.  This can be a bit like getting drunk at the office party.  You did it.  Everyone involved knows you did it.  You wish you hadn’t done it.  You all have the choice to ignore it and pretend it didn’t happen, though this is not without consequences over time.  At the same time, restoring trust requires being able to speak about what happened in ways which honour everyone’s needs.  These include needs which are deeply human, such as John’s need for dignity and my own need for empathy as the recipient of John’s e-mail.  Sharing these needs can stimulate feelings of vulnerability unless we have a shared value of compassion.

There is a paradox inherent in holding the value of compassion.  Strip away compassion and it’s hard to hold people – yourself and others – accountable.  For without compassion the message becomes “it’s not OK for you to be this way” or even “because you have been this way, you are not OK”.  Compassion facilitates a value of accountability by saying, I will be present to you and to whatever is alive in you, and I will accept you as you are – and still, I will hold you as capable of taking responsibility for your actions just as I, too, commit to take responsibility for mine.

I have recently experienced this in my own life, having made multiple requests of someone close to me to talk about some behaviours that I have not enjoyed over an extended period of time.  Each time, my request has been met with a “no” and, since I believe in free choice and would not wish to force her to the table, I have had to come to a decision in which I hold myself accountable for meeting my needs.  Am I meeting my needs by choosing to be around someone who behaves, consistently, in ways which do not meet my needs?  No.  Equally, in reaching the decision to spend less time with this person, and to share my reasons with her, I am holding her as capable of making her own decisions (choosing her behaviour towards me, choosing whether or not to discuss our difficulties with the aim of building understanding) and of living with the consequences of her own choices.  It has been important, too, to hold us both in my heart with compassion following this decision.

Roger Schwarz also offers a value of informed choice.  By the time I make a decision like the one I describe above, I expect to have had a number of interactions such that I know certain things for sure and could, with reasonable confidence, infer a number of others.  The value of informed choice invites us to gather and test information before taking decisions.  In your own life, for example, you may be gathering information from a number of conversations about your prospects for promotion – do you have political sponsorship, for example, or is it becoming clear that – no matter your capability and levels of high performance – you are unlikely to be chosen for the role to which you aspire?

The value of informed choice implies asking questions.  For this reason, Schwarz offers a value of curiosity.  Curiosity implies testing assumptions by asking questions and this, in turn, implies a level of self accountability.  To put it another way, curiosity implies testing the mental maps we hold in the world against the territory itself.  This is not only about the “facts” of a case (what the profits in x, y, z region actually are, for example) but also about our views of other people.  If ever you have held a view of another’s hidden motive, for example, without testing it out, you have not exercised the kind of curiosity to which Schwarz refers.

This in turn leads us to a value of transparency – sharing openly and honestly information that you have including information about your own thoughts and feelings.  Transparency is essential in collaborative relationships, since decision-making depends on information and information is shared when we are open, honest and transparent.

Our values are highly significant in our communication with others.  At the same time, it is not only our values that supply the hidden fuel for our personal approach to communication.  Our ability to hold real conversations also depends on holding beliefs that support us.  This is my next area of exploration.

Real conversations – standing close to the fire

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In this posting, I talk about those conversations we have in which we stand close to the fire.  These are the conversations in which we address the most challenging issues that face us.  As I write I am building on my recent article for Discuss HR.


It’s one thing for Sarah to suggest to her CEO that some extra resource might move forward the IT project more rapidly.  It’s another thing for her to share with the CEO that his decision to use his friend as a consultant to the project has proven to be a disaster and has put progress back by three months.  At the same time, sharing this information might be precisely what’s needed to get the project back on track.


Real conversations require a willingness to share and discuss information which may be sensitive for one or more of the participants in the conversation.  It implies being ready to discuss the undiscussable issues that are holding the organisation back.  At the same time, it implies having safeguards in place which make such discussions possible.


The example of Sarah and her boss is just one of many, for we all face the prospect at times of holding conversations which are sensitive for one or more parties.  I am guessing that, as you read, you are readily able to identify times when you are faced with the need to hold a conversation which is uncomfortable for you or which, you anticipate, will be uncomfortable for the other party.  Perhaps you are the manager of someone whose performance is not hitting the mark.  Perhaps you are concerned about the approach your boss is taking to a central problem at work.  Perhaps you face the prospect of making your case to the Board, knowing that the views of Board members are diverse and they have a poor history of collaborating effectively with each other.


Of course, those conversations that require you to stand close to the fire are not confined to the workplace.  Perhaps you want to discuss with your spouse what boundaries you both set in your relationship with your parents-in-law and you know how likely it is that this will stimulate high emotions for you both.  Perhaps you want to discuss boundaries of another kind – the physical boundaries between you and your neighbour – and you know that, whatever the outcome, you will both still be neighbours and will have to live with the consequences of your conversation.  Perhaps you want to talk to your teenage son about the way he is treating his mother whilst still maintaining positive relationships all round.


Standing close to the fire involves addressing issues which are difficult or sensitive, knowing that you cannot predict or control the response of others.  In addition, you bring your own sensitivities of which you may or may not be aware.  To hold the conversation carries, inevitably, an element of risk:  you risk the response of another, you risk the relationship, you may risk your job… in some way, you take the risk that the outcome of the conversation may be worse than the outcome of not holding the conversation.  At the same time, you know that the outcome of choosing not to hold the conversation is, in itself, not a good outcome.


If you want to hold real conversations about real issues – if you want to stand close to the fire – your chosen approach to communication needs to be underpinned by values and beliefs which facilitate this kind of sharing.  This is the subject of my next posting.