Authority, Surrender, Tyranny & Martyrdom
A very clear guide to working with responsibility.
What being responsible means
Part of being clear is knowing what you’re responsible for.
And being clear what responsibility actually means.
You’re not responsible for something because someone tells you to do it.
Or even because you said you’d do it.
Or because you feel guilty if you don’t do it.
You’re responsible for something when you’re the one who is in a position to decide what to do.
Why responsibility matters
A few years back I was asked what one piece of advice I would give to entrepreneurs or changemakers and I found myself saying:
“It’s not the answer to everything, but knowing what you’re responsible for and what you’re not responsible for is really, really helpful.
Because if you don’t have authority to do something and you try to do it, it’s really, really hard.
And if you try to take responsibility for something that you can’t take responsibility for — it’s someone else’s responsibility — it will kill you. It just totally burns you out instantly.
So always happily curiously checking ‘Is this my responsibility?’ and if it’s not, going and finding whose responsibility it is — or just letting go of it — tends to be very helpful and healthy.”
How do I know what I’m responsible for?
What it comes down to is this: responsibility is not a fictional thing. Job titles are fictional things. Brands are fictional things. You can just invent them and assign them to people and change your mind about them moment by moment forever. But responsibility is not fictional. It is a thing you take. And whether you have taken responsibility or not is a factual thing. You either have or you haven’t. And if you have, then there will have been a specific moment when you took it. This morning at 9.27am. Last year, on the first day of autumn. The moment I woke up on my 21st birthday. It’s not a matter of opinion or preference — it’s a matter of historical record.
How does responsibility work?
When you take responsibility for something, you commit yourself to it. You invest yourself in it. And that’s not a fictional thing either. It’s almost a physical act. You might have a vision of something you want to bring into the world: a painting or a new house or anything. And when you take responsibility for that vision (and for realising that vision) it’s as if you take hold of it. It switches from being one of an infinite number of possible visions swirling past in the river of your imagination and becomes the singular version you have set your mind on. When you’ve committed to that one vision, it becomes something that you can use as a reference point. You can look at any course of action and evaluate whether it brings you closer or further away from realising that vision. And — ultimately — only you are able to say whether something will help to realise the vision, because you are the only one who knows which of the infinite number of possible visions you actually chose to take hold of.
And because you’re the one who is holding the vision, you’re the one who is in a position to decide what to do. You are responsible.
Now, that’s not to say you’re the only person who knows anything about anything. Other people might bring a useful perspective. Other people might have specific information that you don’t. Other people might even be able, in a particular moment, to see more clearly than you what you need to do. But they are not responsible. As the person responsible, you can listen or not to listen them (most often, it’s wise to listen to everyone) — but in the end you have to remember that they are not in a position to decide what to do, because they are not the one who took responsibility.
What to do when you’re responsible
When you’re responsible for something — when you’re the one holding the vision — then it is up to you to see clearly exactly what that vision is and to pass on information about it to the rest of the world. Because only you can see it. When it comes to the vision, you are the authority. In that moment where you committed to the vision, you became the author of it. The route by which it might come into the world. (My friend Peter Koenig would call you the source of the vision.)
And responsibility and authority go hand in hand:
- You have authority over what you are responsible for.
- There is no authority without responsibility.
- The amount of authority you have is exactly the same as the amount of responsibility you have taken.
So, when you are responsible for something it is not a matter of being more important. Or more powerful. Or even about being right. It’s about being the one who is in a position to decide. And holding that position and doing your best to make the best call is the whole of the work when you are responsible.
Often, when you’re responsible for something, it’s tempting to let other people decide. Because, really, how dare you stand up and say what has to happen, when all you have to base a decision on is some invisible inner vision that no-one else can see?
But your job as the authority is to speak for the vision. To listen to other people, but to speak for the vision.
And some people are great at sounding authoritative — and it can be extra tempting to let them decide — but it’s vital to check, when faced with someone who sounds terribly authoritative, if they are actually in a position to decide.
“Right. Well, I think what we need to do is…”
You know the way it sounds when someone wants to sound like they’re in charge.
The secret is that there is no such thing as sounding authoritative. At least, not in the sense of it being talking louder than other people and ever so clearly and with a lot of confidence. But there is such a thing as the voice of authority. And the voice of authority, really, is the sound of someone telling the truth. Someone who is able to command attention, not through theatrics, but because it is evident that they are merely describing something they can see clearly in their mind’s eye. It can be a whisper. It can be a mumble. Truth isn’t dependent on volume. And authority isn’t dependent on power.
When you are responsible, your job is to tell the truth.
Your job is to stand for what you know to be true.
What to do when you’re not responsible
When you’re not responsible for the vision, your job is to surrender.
Because you are not in a position to decide.
And sometimes that’s really hard. Sometimes even harder than the job of speaking for the vision is the job of not speaking for the vision.
But it’s a very specific kind of surrender.
If you offer to help someone, then you have to remember that only they will know if what you are doing is helping to realise their vision. So, when it comes to being able to decide about their vision, you have to surrender entirely. But there are plenty of things you shouldn’t surrender.
Part of helping can still be telling them you think they’re wrong. Standing your ground. Bringing your perspective. Even in the most fearsome and forthright way.
Because, just as there’s no such thing as sounding authoritative, there’s also no real way of saying what surrender looks like. To surrender to someone else’s authority only means keeping to the boundaries of what you are in a position to decide. It doesn’t mean being quiet. It doesn’t mean being meek or placid or neglecting what you need or hiding what you think.
In fact, part of surrendering well is knowing the line between what you are and are not able to decide and tending to both sides. So, while you may not ever fully know what someone else needs, you are — ultimately — the only one who knows what you need. And it is your absolute responsibility to stand for that.
Working with authority and surrender
If you know what you are in a position to decide and you are working with someone who knows what they are in a position to decide, then working together becomes an elegant dance between the two.
And dancing well together depends on both parties being very comfortable with authority and very comfortable with surrendering. That is the real challenge. When you see it in action though, it is beautiful. Two people handing decisions back and forth over that invisible line that divides what is mine and what is yours to decide. Able to switch from that mode of working that is appropriate when you are the one in authority (listening to yourself and everyone, but being careful to say and stand for what is true) and what is appropriate when you are surrendered (saying openly what you see — without necessarily knowing if it’s true — and letting someone else decide). When you see the value of those two modes — and you understand why they are appropriate to working in those respective modes — then the work flows.
It is a practice. And it is not easy. But the beginning of the practice is understanding the field of play. Having a vocabulary with which to discuss authority and surrender — and having the opportunity to try it and talk about it.
What happens when we get it wrong
When it comes down to it, work is beautifully simple.
You need to do something.
You see it in your mind.
You take steps that are true to what you see in your mind.
When we do that, everything is simple. And if we don’t need to do something, then we don’t. And if we don’t see anything in our mind, then we take no action. Or we act, knowing that our priority is finding ways to see more clearly.
But all this depends on staying aware of what we are and are not responsible for. And it depends on us knowing how to play those roles — switching between authority and surrender. And it depends on us being comfortable with those roles.
When we are not aware and do not know how to play and are not comfortable, then it is easy for our actions to become disconnected from what we are responsible for. We fall into playing the martyr or the tyrant.
The temptation of the tyrant
The tyrant tries to impose decisions without being in a position to decide. They lack authority, because they have not taken responsibility.
“The thing you need to do is…”
The tyrant speaks as if they know which vision you chose from the infinite number of possible variations that might have floated through your mind. But how could they know?
The tyrant lacks any true authority (because there is nothing behind what they’re saying, because they have nothing to back it up with), and that’s why they over-compensate. They speak loudly. They stand up. They hurry you. They keep their back straight and push their chest out.
The beauty of a voice of true authority though is that it can be curled up in the corner like a dormouse and whisper from behind its hand and still carry more weight than the tyrant.
And the real mischief of the tyrant is not that they’re loud or overbearing or cruel. It’s that they don’t know what they’re talking about.
And the real crime of the tyrant leader is that they mislead people. Because they pretend to know. Because they exhibit the superficial characteristics of someone speaking from real knowledge, it can be tempting to follow them. But, because they’re only pretending, they don’t actually know where they’re going. And that means that everyone who follows them will get lost.
The way to guard against tyranny is to follow well.
The way to guard against tyranny is to know how to surrender.
This gentle art of listening well to what we know and don’t know.
Letting go of what we don’t know and holding on to what we do.
Paying close attention to what is and is not our responsibility.
The complicity of the martyr
The secret of the tyrant though is that it is impossible to be one on your own. It is a relative position. Without martyrdom, there is no tyranny.
Our job, when we go to work, when we act in the world, is to listen inside for what is true — and work from that. And it can be really hard work. In some ways, it’s always easier to listen to the signals from outside.
Which is easier to follow? The confident, out-loud voice of the person standing in front of us? Or the hesitant but persistent whisper of the unheard voice in our mind?
The skill of being clear is the skill of being able to listen inside — in every moment — whilst still being in the world and engaged with what is happening here and now.
This double act of listening — of staying true and staying connected — is the fundamental art. And it takes a kind of effort. When we drop that effort, it can be the easiest thing to fall one way or the other. Listening only to ourselves or listening only to the world.
The tyrant’s power comes from being very much in the world. Withdrawing any investment from inner listening and concentrating entirely on making things happen in the world. Making people do things.
The martyr, on the other hand, concentrates on inner listening at the expense of staying connected to the world.
The tyrant acts as if they are in a position to decide even though they don’t know (can’t know) what the best course of action to take is.
The martyr acts as if they are not in a position to decide, even though they know what the best course of action to take is.
And the consequences of the martyr not speaking up even though they know are just as deadly as the consequences of the tyrant speaking up when they don’t know.
The most important question: Who knows?
There is a difference between an opinion and a vision.
If you take responsibility for bringing something into the world, then you have a vision of what that looks like. And the vision is something that you hold — and then tell people about.
If you haven’t taken responsibility for bringing that thing into the world, then you don’t hold the vision. It’s not your job to. But, because you are not the one holding it, you can offer the gift of perspective. And when you offer the view from your perspective, that’s your opinion. And everyone brings a different perspective and everyone has a different opinion. And the value of opinions is every one may contain a little extra seed of information that will help the vision-holder see more clearly the vision they are holding.
Vision is valuable. Opinion is valuable. And knowing the difference between the two is priceless.
But, when we’re talking about something, how often do we stop and check: who here is actually responsible? Who here is holding the vision? Who here is in a position to decide? How often do we ask who knows?
Too often we just start talking. And, out of politeness or timidity or social convention, we don’t stop and make a point of working out who is responsible for what. Who has authority.
Too often the movement between authority and surrender is entirely unconscious. The conversation bobs along on subtle tides of tyranny and martyrdom, as those who don’t know speak as if they did and those who do know speak as if they didn’t.
And, too often, the decision falls to whoever can speak with just enough of the force of tyranny to hold sway. Just enough that the person who actually has the responsibility to make a decision cedes their position of authority and takes up that of the martyr.
Who is willing to play the tyrant? Who is willing to surrender? Who is willing to step into authority? Who will admit to playing the martyr?
As long as we have no language to talk about where responsibility lies, whoever is most comfortable with playing the different roles will end up taking the decisions.
But, in order for us to work together well, we need to learn the art — and the value — of authority and surrender.
The Spring 2018 course in how to be clear starts on Monday, 9th March.
Twelve people. Six weeks. If you’d like to join, the details are here:
