How Culture Change Happens: A Humble Critique
By the Change Leaders (In this article: Mike Staresinic, Christine Dawood, Mark Clark, Sharon wood, Dave Cooper, Deborah Jones, Mariann Gyorke, Brian Evje, and Chantho Creze)
Introduction
Recently, a group within the U.S. Government shared a paper entitled: How Culture Change Happens: A Roadmap of What Works. With a bold title like that, it’s no wonder a group of change experts wouldn’t consume it and offer a humble critique in response. Change at any scale is often a complex undertaking, and anyone who attempts to plot a course toward positive change is alright by us, even though we might disagree at points. Yet the points (that we arrive at through a sometimes-dangerous process of deconstruction or reduction) are not so important as the whole. And it is on the whole that a model will be judged: is it useful? If so, to what degree? George Box, the English statistician, offers us a truly profound statement on the issue of usefulness: “All models are false,” he said. “Some models are useful.” How useful this “roadmap” is will not be up to us, but only to those who might wield it. With that, we offer what we hope is constructive debate such that those who might put this model (message, demonstrate, align, action, sustain) to work derive even more usefulness from it.
The purpose of How Culture Change Happens, so stated, is to provide a brief explanation of an effective change pathway — the one we noted above. The authors, who seem eminently credible, suggest that we readers will stand on the shoulders of giants and learn from their experiences that we might chart a similar culture-change course. Using their insights as lily pads, perhaps (our words not theirs), we will hop across a tumultuous and often perilous sea of change.
At first blush, this all seems reasonable: delineate a pathway to positive change that works. Then again, owing to our optic of complex systems, words the authors use in the title and elsewhere, like “blueprint” and “roadmap” and “pathway,” tend to give us pause. What’s the fuss, you ask? None of us is a stranger to the well-worn paths of this world, right? Well, that’s the point. Blueprints and roadmaps are linear constructs that take us down a well-traveled road. To get from A to C, you have to go through B — all points we’ve been to before. But change, often, is anything but linear, and safe harbor in the change-port of our choosing is anything but guaranteed. Likewise with pathways: while they are important — they reflect patterns — when it comes to change initiatives they are generally only known in hindsight. The pathway one charts at the outset of a change journey will not likely be the pathway one walked at the end.
Thank the Japanese for their term, Kotodama, which essentially means “word spirit.” In essence, it means that our words are imbued with spirit and have the power to alter reality. For instance, Russian speakers have different words for the color blue that influence their perception: “goluboy” for light blue and “siniy” for dark blue. In effect, they see blue differently than non-Russian speakers. Similarly, Eskimos have numerous words for snow, and as such, they experience snow differently than those who don’t possess such a spirited vocabulary. This is not to say that language determines reality, but it does shape how we perceive reality. And that’s noteworthy. So much so that we are reminded to choose our words carefully when constructing a change narrative, lest we lead people to believe that positive change is indeed a series of well-defined steps we take to arrive at the promised land. Change is decidedly not so straightforward.
We might suggest the language of evolutionary biology when talking about change, not the language of engineering. Words like evolve, adapt, enhance, learn, grow, emerge, interact, and become (resilient). These are terms that are themselves imbued with uncertainty, as is change. But uncertainty also heralds possibility.
The Why: What is Culture and Why Does It Matter?
“Why focus on culture?” the authors ask. Because “culture is the system,” said one interviewee. Ah, now they’re speaking our language — the language of systems. Particularly complex systems, or complex adaptive systems if you like, where words like emergence and its associated phenomenon both confound and delight. But is culture the entire system? Well, no.
No matter how you define it, whether as an anthropologist, biologist, psychologist, sociologist, organizational scholar, or some combination thereof, culture emerges from the system. That is to say, a culture emerges from a diverse group of mutually-dependent actors, all of whom can change and adapt. Now, whether they exercise that capability is another story. But culture is not, per se, the system. Instead, it is a pattern of behavior that emerges from a group as its members interact in the process of performing a particular task or solving a particular problem. Culture operationalized is work: what do we believe about it; what do we value about it; how are the problems solved; and how does the work get done?
What kind of task, you ask? Pick one; it doesn’t matter. If we put people together in a group and hand them a task, a culture will emerge over time — and a relatively short time at that. Culture happens. This fact is neither good nor bad in itself, it just is.
Taking our culture-talk a step further, reflect that different groups of actors perform different tasks, even inside a single organization (sales, marketing, operations, etc.). With that, we might recognize that culture is not a single thing, as we are so often led to believe. Slight variations in culture exist within a single organization because different people perform different tasks in different parts of the company. Culture is thus more like a mosaic, a network of colorful but related tiles (subcultures) that, like the people who comprise them, are mutually-dependent and capable of changing and adapting. Often, one’s mission isn’t so much to change the culture, to bend it to our will, as it is to align those colorful, disparate, task-interdependent tiles to a central task or mission — and thereby reduce complexity in the process, we might add.
If culture is not a single thing, then it’s best not to treat it as such. Again, language matters. Is it change we seek, or is it alignment? While these questions are, to a degree, related, they are not the same.
The Why and What of Culture
In the why and what of culture, the authors suggest that leaders must vigorously communicate culture change. Formal leaders, they contend, should explain why the change is both necessary and good. Reform must be rendered understandable and digestible.
We agree. In part.
Communication, as presented throughout the article, is a rather lopsided, one-way affair. It’s what we call “megaphoning”: assume a lofty perch and shout down to the minions all the reasons why the change will be good for them. Shout louder if necessary. Combine the roles of cheerleader and serious debater into one. And if formal leaders should see in the crowd of followers influential people nodding their heads, whether they have a title or not, or real authority or not, they should coopt them at once. Bring them into the fold, as these people will prove invaluable when it comes to carrying the message and converting their peers.
Hmm …
Effective communication is multi-faceted, and telling, or evangelizing, is only a tiny aspect of it. We don’t want to convert people so much as have them join the initiative, perhaps even shape the initiative. As such, a change narrative is indeed vital. But that narrative, both a script and an act, creeds and deeds, should be constructed from diverse perspectives. A healthy narrative not only achieves a dynamic balance between advocacy (of one’s point of view) and inquiry (into the points of view of others), it also integrates those diverse perspectives to create solutions that are more creative, more colorful, and more powerful than anything a single person or small executive team can conjure. By seeking diverse perspectives, even the disagreeable kind, we increase the probability for buy-in at various scales and, in so doing, invite readiness for change.
In this section, the authors also note efforts by Bob Iger (former CEO of Disney) and others to align their troops using some simple priorities. Bravo! But while focusing disparate groups on common themes is a necessary task, particularly to reduce complexity, the practice is not always synonymous with change (as noted in the previous section). Understand, when one talks about culture change, one is essentially talking about a change in social DNA. Alignment, while related, is not the same as change. Alignment can and should happen with or without a change in culture.
The Who of Change
Here, the authors suggest that change has to be envisioned and lived at the top of the organization and that informal leaders, once conscripted or turned, also have to model the change. Commitment to change, they say, starts at the top. From there, one needs to cultivate change ambassadors, presumably from among those who are influential and who get it.
These are interesting comments. And not entirely wrong but perhaps short-sighted. Forest fires, for instance, don’t start at the tops of trees, unless that treetop is struck by lightning (tantamount to the boss being struck by an idea, which isn’t unheard of). Change can start in any number of places in an organization. Thinking in hierarchical terms, as the authors of this paper do, change often starts at rock bottom, when a person or group of people find a way to successfully solve a problem presented by their environment. What the authors espouse through their case studies is a leader-centric approach to change, albeit one that includes informal leaders “who get it.” Turn them, and they’ll turn the others — that seems to be the sentiment.
Again, this is a lopsided, top-down approach that might only be successful in lopsided, top-down organizations designed to heed orders and accept almost without question a forced compliance model. In such organizations, members often sign contracts and can’t up and quit in the face of toxic or incompetent leadership or a toxic culture. Even if they could up and leave, there’s no other place for them to go. It’s not as if an American submariner or fighter pilot can say, “I’m done here. I’m going to go work for the Russian team because they are more inclusive.” A leader-centric approach is not destined to fail, but it certainly is not destined to succeed, either. Organizations that compete for talent and want to hang on to their talented people, or who value nurturing talent, might want to consider adding elements of a follower-centric approach. Invite opinions — even dissenting ones. Invite co-creation. Invite participation. Invite autonomy. And invite engagement.
The trouble is, the kind of diversity that fosters creative solutions to shared problems, including issues of change, also fosters conflict, which is the paradox of diversity. Top-down organizations are not set up to harness such conflict — to make it a resource rather than a thing to be shunned and avoided. Authoritarian cultures tend to rely on compliance as an easy button for change. Feedback is unneeded and unnecessary. Ironically, one downside to the top-down approach is the lack of alignment it produces. People drag their feet or, in some cases, actively work against the change initiative. To be honest, this can happen in any organization but is more likely in hierarchical ones because employees fail to understand the extent of their collective power. The fact that we don’t see resistance in this paper is because it presents only success stories; it’s an aspirational approach that is fine if read as such. Enjoy. But we should not assume that the model applies generally. Seeing some failures or even hiccups would have been helpful. But we don’t get to see those, which proves to be a significant limitation of the article.
To their credit, the authors do trot out John Hart, former General Manager of the Cleveland Indians, a professional baseball team in the U.S. Hart, we are told, prized cognitive diversity and suggested that leaders should recognize their limitations and seek diverse perspectives. And Iger’s success at Disney, at least in part, was due to his practiced humility. “Here here!” we say. Humility as an act is a powerful form of communication. It sends at least two precise quanta of information: “You can trust me,” and, “I am someone with whom you can work.” In a group, the details are smoother, less noticeable, because the scale is larger. But they are still there, these quanta, saying to those who come in contact with the group, “We are trustworthy,” and, “We work best together.”
But we should be circumspect when talking about individual qualities. Because we humans generally lack a nuanced understanding of interdependencies (which leads to complexity), we tend to focus on attributes or qualities — the things we can see and measure, like IQ. While some attributes are indeed important, relationships between and among people and groups are far more important. In looking to qualities, then, we suggest you look for those that lend themselves to fostering strong relationships built on mutual respect and an active show of care and concern. Humility is chief among those attributes, but so is an openness to feedback (central to the long-term success of all complex systems to include cultures) and a willingness to share experiences, particularly those where we failed or came up short (i.e., vulnerability). And don’t just espouse strong values like egalitarianism and toleration (open-mindedness), do as Einstein suggested and live them. This is something the authors note as well. Don’t be shy: reward these “behavioral” attributes in others, even your bosses, be they Admirals or Igers. And if it’s labels or titles you require, we suggest “learner.” It’s the only one that matters. The rest are for show.
Lastly, as it relates to the who of culture, the authors note the value of moral courage. Trusted leaders, they contend, need to muster the courage to speak up. Loyalty is not found in keeping quiet but in stepping up and speaking out. We agree.
Indeed, courage goes beyond value to recognized virtue, the practice of which can lead over time to virtuosity: we become the things we practice. So why not practice being virtuous? For evidence of this mantra (we become the things we practice), we can tout modern neuroscience or Aristotle. Pick one. But even more important than courage is fostering a work environment where courage is less necessary, where people feel free to speak up and don’t have to muster some superhero-level of courage. This is the realm of feedback, both giving and receiving, and as far as complex systems are concerned, this is where the magic happens. This is where behavioral patterns, like culture, take root. Positive cultures are not a function of positive feedback, per se, just as negative cultures are not a function of negative feedback. Positive cultures are a function of feedback, period. Negative cultures are often a function of its absence. If someone is behaving poorly, even the boss, but never gets that feedback, guess what you will see more of — the poor behavior. Not providing feedback for poor behavior is the same as rewarding that behavior. You will see more of it.
But beware, when you succeed at creating such an environment, one where feedback is welcome, you will hear things you don’t like or agree with or that frustrate the team’s efforts, which presents us with the diversity paradox noted above: diversity is the answer to our challenging problems, but it is also the primary cause of conflict. This article fails to mention the importance of listening to conflicting opinions, much less integrating those diverse — and differing — opinions into creative, inclusive decisions. It suggests only that data should be used to quash such opinions. Ah, that humans could be moved by evidence alone. Alas, such is not the case. If it were, we’d all be evolutionary biologists. Easier in some organizations, then, to push the compliance button. Less conflict. Less mess. And in the world of real change, we contend that you will find less success, too.
The How-To of Culture Change
To successfully change a culture, we are told, one must align values, behaviors, processes, and rewards. Ok, we see the value of this kind of alignment, which the authors call “strategic alignment.” These components, or parameters of an organization (i.e., a complex system), are indeed important. In the complex systems world, we say that systems are known by their behaviors — and so are people (humans are super-systems unto themselves). It makes sense, then, to have as little daylight as possible between the things we say we value and the behaviors we exhibit and incentivize. No hypocrisy. Only those with integrity, or a willingness to learn to become so, need apply.
While the authors are vague on how to foment this alignment, they are not vague on what to do with those who won’t align: get rid of them. That’s certainly one way to create change. But it might not be the best way. For one, we’d like to know why some people resist aligning. There might be something in their stances worth knowing, like the whole team (of lemmings) is headed for the cliff. But they’d rather not say because it’s not their place, or their concerns were not only disregarded in the past but were degraded. Since little or no diversity of opinion will be brooked in some organizations, the non-conformists are seen as antagonists and summarily executed rather than included.
For one second, consider the phenomenon of burnout. We tend to think of it as entirely an individual condition. The individual (often doctors, nurses, and other frontline healthcare workers) cannot cope with the effects of prolonged stress — the individual’s mind is not conforming to the norms of wellbeing. But if we back up a bit and open our aperture, we see that the system they are a part of often fails to set or sustain the conditions or create the environment that would allow the individual to be successful and thrive. Again, because we lack a nuanced understanding of interdependencies — in this case, between the individual and the system of which he or she is a part — the effects of negative (and positive) relationships in the environment escape us. And so we point instead to individuals and their qualities or lack thereof, the things we can readily measure. Instead of saying, “We’re part of the problem,” we say, “You’re the problem.” And we get rid of you.
Just a thought.
One thing we enjoyed in this section, however, was how the authors debunked the tripe about “if everyone is responsible, no one is accountable.” Tell that poppycock to a group of high performers who not only embody shared value and shared experience but shared responsibility and accountability as well. That means shared responsibility for their failures as well as their successes, and for their poor behavior as well as their stellar behavior. This is ownership, humble ownership at that, and depriving people of it, by depriving them of a tangible sense of responsibility and accountability, deprives them in no small part of the meaning they might attach to their jobs. People tolerate poor behavior in their peers, subordinates, and superiors not only because they learned to live with it or like it, or because it’s the only thing they know, as is noted in the article, but because they’ve been led to believe that intervening and giving critical feedback to anyone not directly under them is decidedly not their responsibility. It’s not in their wheelhouse. Only formal leaders have the authority to address poor behavior. And by consequence, only the formal leader’s position is meaningful. The rest of us are here for economic reasons only, while we hold out hope that the dream job falls into our laps or that we survive until retirement age.
This is a pattern of behavior (i.e., part of the culture) seen in outdated, hierarchical organizations where formal leaders believe that they alone must have all the answers. This is one reason, perhaps, why they spend the majority of their time parroting the why instead of spending equal time asking “why not?” Regardless, they see themselves as the ultimate owners of responsibility and accountability. Success is theirs alone, but so, too, is failure (not always, as some bureaucrats are adept at sidestepping responsibility for failure and wouldn’t dream of holding themselves accountable). If this isn’t a recipe for risk aversion, we don’t know what is. Sadly, it’s also a recipe for interpersonal, intra-team, and inter-team competition. This kind of competition, where people compete to be ranked higher than their peers, doesn’t just degrade meaning and purpose but adds heaps of stress on the system (and the people) and decrements resiliency in the process. In such environments, and regardless of what formal leaders might say, failure is almost always treated as bad, learning is stunted, and innovation is forced.
The authors refer to this dribble — if everyone is responsible, no one is accountable — as the pathology of bureaucracies. We might only suggest that it is a pathology of bureaucracies, as there are others, not the least of which is an inability to solve complex problems creatively. This happens for several reasons, one of which is a tendency, conscious or otherwise, to focus on the individual. What does one have to do around here to stay out of trouble and accumulate formal authority and status? Such a focus on the primacy of the individual is far less noted in high-performing teams and cultures, where the focus is on the primacy of the shared problem. These teams ask themselves, “What matters most?” And the answers they collectively come up with are rarely if ever, “I matter most.” Of course, hierarchies still exist in such groups, but they emerge from skill and character, not formal authority — or not only formal authority. He or she with the requisite knowledge, skill, experience, character, and wasta is expected to step up and share in the responsibility, accountability, ownership, and, yes, leadership.
If you want to create positive change and have others join you in it, maybe start with a look at your own accountability system. If you find you have strong peer-to-peer accountability, which is about quality relationships, it’s likely you have a strong, high-performing culture as well.
The Importance of Data in Effecting Change
Continuing with the how-to, the authors point to the importance of using objective, widely available data to create an environment of shared accountability and effect change. Here, we join Karl Popper, the late, great philosopher of science, in removing the term “objective” from all human enterprise. Even if data seem wholly objective, how they were collected and ultimately interpreted is not.
Data can certainly be binary. Take, for instance, the nicotine metabolites found in the blood of non-smoking sailors on U.S. submarines (proponents of change in the article wanted to do away with such smoking and used that data to inform their narrative). Pretty straightforward: nicotine is somehow showing up in the blood of those submariners who do not smoke. Solution: create a healthy environment where they do not have to breathe in someone else’s second-hand smoke. In the follow-up blood tests, if the metabolites are no longer there, you have succeeded. Take a victory lap. And that’s what the U.S. Navy did. Bravo.
While not part of the article, the opposite of binary data is complex data. Consider New York City’s controversial stop-and-frisk policy, whereby any policeman could stop, question, and search any person suspected of carrying a weapon or other “contraband.” In a binary fashion, did the number of searches lead to better policing and a safer city? The answer is a resounding “no.” But it did lead to a lot of young black men being singled out for their skin color. This example of complex data hints at a truism in complex systems: that the world is multiply caused, and that diverse interpretations of data abound and must be taken into account. In other words, bias has to be taken into account.
Nevertheless, we wholeheartedly agree that data are essential, as is information in general. Access to information (or data) doesn’t just enable informed dialogue, it invites it. At a deeper level, perhaps, data speaks to our purpose. At every scale, from the tiny atom to the enormity of the known universe, there are pieces of pertinent information that are vital to our understanding of the world, including the world of change and culture. But those bits and pieces of information — of data — are not embedded in our prodigious brains. We are not born precognitive. To learn, to crystalize the data and make sense of it, we have to engage with the wider world and do so at various scales. At some level, then, engagement is our purpose. And the data we might glean from that multi-scale engagement is manifold. So, too, is the knowledge and understanding we might create from that data.
Data, used well, can also help us temper the specter of uncertainty — or our relationship to that specter, we should say — enabling us to not only set the conditions for a stronger, more vibrant culture to emerge but a more resilient one as well. A resilient culture is one that cannot only bounce back from a shock (self-regulate), it can also reinvent or rebirth itself if necessary (i.e., self-organize or change). This kind of change is tough to comprehend because it does not require a “Dear Leader,” or a head designer, or even a set of committed leaders (as noted in the article) to orchestrate. This kind of change requires only interaction — engagement — with each other and with the outside world. And feedback — can’t forget the feedback. But beware because the sort of culture, or pattern of behavior, that emerges from the interaction is not always predictable, nor will it necessarily conform to the way we think the culture should be. None of this is to suggest, however, that we cannot shape or influence such change. It doesn’t mean we can’t “lead” change. We certainly can. We just urge mindfulness and a degree of reflexivity — to be aware of our biases when we interact with data; that is, to be aware of our relationship to data, especially complex data.
As the authors note, while data can be used to point fingers and place blame, it’s used best (at least in the negative sense) when it indicts the system and not the person. In the positive, data both precedes [and is a product of] discernible, corrective action. Again, in this we agree. Data used wisely is data used well.
Recommendations for Change
“Change-at-scale doesn’t just happen,” the authors tell us. It takes a committed group of leaders to effect change. From their lofty perches, they must message their “why,” using pertinent data to support their position (step 1). But they can’t just pay lip service to the proposed change; they have to demonstrate the change and live it every day (step 2). They have to align people and their behaviors to the organization’s values and key processes or get rid of them (step 3). Next, they must make relevant data and metrics accessible to render change actionable (step 4). Finally, top leaders have to saddle-up for the long haul because sustaining change takes patience (step 5). Along the way, keep pointing out metrics that show progress and ensure accountability. Now, our lily pads are rendered whole and imbued with meaning: message, demonstrate, align, action, and sustain.
Well, as we pointed out above, change in complex systems can and does just happen. Patterns of behavior, like culture, emerge when people interact. No head designer is required, and, again, what emerges from the welter often defies prediction and won’t necessarily conform to our human-made notions of how the world should be or how we thought it was going to be. This is emergence — the fundamental nature of change that underpins the evolution of complex systems and points to built-in limitations to what we humans can know. However … had the authors stated that change in a stable culture (or environment) doesn’t just happen, then we’d readily give our assent.
If you wish to change a stable culture, presumably a toxic or flagging one, you have your work cut out for you. It is no less difficult to change an adult human by altering the expression of his or her DNA than it is to change the organizational culture(s). And since culture is an established pattern (of behavior), it has a past. And it comes with baggage. In effect, culture is the past carried forward — with all that expensive luggage — to the present. And because it’s stable and predictable, it will be there tomorrow, too. Or so we like to believe. We humans love predictability, and, by consequence, we almost universally dis-love change because it is so … well, unpredictable.
To change culture, then, effectively means to change the past. That’s no casual undertaking, but it is possible. In a narrative sense, we can reframe the past and tell a different version of the old story. In an epigenetic sense (the study of how gene expression is modified without altering the genetic code itself), or that of its social science equivalent (how behavior is modified without altering the humans themselves), we understand that while we might not succeed in altering the cultural genes themselves, we can undoubtedly change what gets expressed and what gets rewarded by the cultural environment. We can become natural selectors.
Think of it this way: change requires heat. We want things to start moving around a bit, bumping into each other and glancing off. When such interactions occur, a spark is sometimes produced, a hungry one because then that spark wants to eat. It consumes fuel, which draws in oxygen and generates even more heat, which triggers the flame to consume even more fuel and oxygen. And so the fire morphs and spreads. This is change rendered as a positive feedback loop, where more equals more. In place of the heat, a steady supply of resources — like time, energy, and money, or a spirited narrative — can also propel a single act or spark to repeat stardom. These things, feedback loops, resources, and narratives, can also combine their strengths and work in tandem or in triplet to foster change. And, lest we forget, the earth herself can effect change with the hurling of avalanches and earthquakes, metaphorical and real alike, like market crashes and pandemics that rock us equally. The external environment can also send invasive species in the form of disruptive technologies and new ways of working. Competitors can move in on our territory. Our cash cow can up and die. The environment can offer up myriad variables that can, in turn, combine and interact in ways that leave us, on the one hand, completely unaware of the changes taking place, like aging gracefully (if there is such a thing), and on the other, send us face-first to the canvas in a heartbeat.
So, change does just happen — and at all scales, too. The world is deeply ordered in places, like cultures: ordered arrangements of people — of beliefs, values, and assumptions that then influence and at times determine our behavior. It’s just that no one necessarily needs to do the ordering. And no one necessarily re-orders it either. But we can influence that order. Even if we don’t consciously produce the spark, we can still shape and channel and fan the flames of change.
You know this story …
We see a black woman who refuses to give up her seat to a white man on a bus. We see behind her, in the shadows — at least initially — a group of committed people, some with status and influence and some without, drawing attention and heat to the event, to that which matters. We see them expending resources like money, but also time and energy, and passion. Especially time, energy, and passion. We see them building and sustaining a narrative and acting it out as they create the future. Here and there they run, fanning the nascent flames of change, investing more time and energy, organizing and gaining cooperation and buy-in, not only by “megaphoning” but by listening, not only by offering informed perspective but by inviting it, too, and influencing and shaping, always.
In such a way, lasting movements, like the civil rights movement in the U.S., are born and sustained. Change requires hard work. It requires — and generates — resiliency. And it demands clarity: what matters at what scale. That’s it. No other lily pads needed.
Conclusions (Ours)
Once again, we applaud anyone brave enough to tackle this subject and to share with us their experiences in making sense of change. Why? Because it generates dialogue and engagement, and therein lies the grist. We have suggested that the grist supplied by this article is in the form of aspirational stories and is likely meant for a particular audience — those that are more authoritarian or hierarchical or both. We are not so sure it will prove successful outside of those environments. As with the results of an action research project, even a good one, the findings are difficult to generalize to a broader population. But there is still only one way to find out, and that’s put the “roadmap” to the test.
The paper also comes with some bias. At the very least, we noted a hindsight bias and an outcome bias. The examples, or case studies, used were all successful efforts, which could have been sheer luck, we don’t know. But the authors then look back at the revealed pathway (the roadmap) and lead us to believe that everything was done properly — all the lily pads were touched — en route to achieving the desired results. That’s just highly unlikely. Also, there seems to be a bit of a halo effect going on: the authors look up to the interviewees, perhaps, because of their success and their status, and as such reveal them in a flattering way. We wish they had interviewed the beat cops and the sailors and the ballplayers and the Disney employees. We wish the authors had gotten their feedback. That would be interesting, we feel.
We also objected to the language the authors used, like “roadmap.” We prefer the language of evolutionary biology (a bias of ours). But if that doesn’t suit, then borrow from the culinary arts. We also talk in terms of ingredients and recipes. The ingredients we might include in a recipe for culture change (e.g., inviting participation and dialogue, balancing advocacy with inquiry, modeling and incentivizing behaviors, practicing humility, etc.), whether in a rigid, hierarchical organization or a flat, egalitarian one, are the same. However, the degree to which we might use them — a teaspoon here a handful there — will vary. Try it out and taste it for yourself, we say.
What perplexed us most, however, was not what was in the article but what wasn’t in it: the word “cooperation.” Our understanding of the role of cooperation in human evolution, or evolution in general — or change specifically — is substantially greater than it was even a generation ago. As a strategy for survival, cooperation proves far more important than competition. We solve our most challenging problems, including those of survival and culture change, not through competition but cooperation. Yet cooperation is not mentioned once in this paper, and that is a significant limitation. Work from the top down to create compliance if you must, but work together, from the inside out and the outside in, to create meaningful change.
As a final thought, Brian Arthur, economist, and long-time Santa Fe Institute (SFI) faculty member gave us the only change model we might need. We are not sure he even intended this as a change model, but, like science, it works. And it’s useful. Starting with your “roadmap,” which using the “Arthurian model” would likely be a blank sheet of paper, make sense of what’s going on in your world. Write it all down. Then, explore your options. Gather available data. Maybe conduct some pre-mortems: assume failure and then imagine all the reasons why you failed. Take steps to address those future shortcomings a priori. Next, conduct experiments to gather real-time, context-relevant data. Then, finally, take a deep breath, lower your chin, set your jaw, and prepare to adjust constantly. That means, prepare to change.
As you explore and experiment, you’ll fill in the details of your “roadmap,” replete with wrong turns and surprise destinations. While we do not want to be cavalier about such offramps and misdirections (i.e., failures), on occasion those “mutations” prove to be the best thing that could have happened to us on our journey. Speaking of which, one can journey on one’s own — a solo venture of sorts. But such trips are best taken as a team, we believe, even as a family — change isn’t just good for business. Harness diversity together, we say, en route to creating the conditions for meaningful change to emerge.
