When I first became a parent, I had so many questions and so much self-doubt. Every decision seemed so important and so fraught with risk. What exactly should I be doing when, and why? So like any good student, I went looking for the definitive text book on parenting.
There is an overwhelming plethora of information out there. Every bookstore seems to have an entire section devoted exclusively to books on how to parent.
“How exciting!” I initially thought. “The answers are in these books; I just have to read them — all of them.”
It did not take long to discover that while there were what some would call “answers” to be found in these books, these often directly conflicted with one another.
“Feed your baby on demand” vs. “Acclimate your baby to a feeding schedule.”
“Sleep with your baby” vs. “Never, ever sleep with your baby.”
“Practice ‘baby-wearing’” vs. “Put your baby down, so he gets used to entertaining himself.”
“Pick up a crying baby” vs. “Let your baby ‘cry it out.’”
The list goes on and on. My quest for the “Baby Care Answer Key” proved to be both endlessly frustrating and futile. It took me ten months to finally give up on finding it. By then I was exhausted, but I settled on the following advice.
- Listen to your baby
- Trust your judgement
- You know more than you think you do
Not a very precise set of guidelines, but my children are currently ages 17 and 13, and so far, it doesn’t appear that I have ruined them for life. Can we agree that counts as some semblance of success?
Thankfully, I no longer have the raising of babies to worry about. However, throughout my career as an educator, I have found myself consistently drawn toward leadership. And when I reflect on my development as a leader, and how I have approached this growth, it eerily resembles what becoming a parent felt like.
As a team leader, I feel responsible for the success and health of my team in much the same way that I felt about raising my children. And I feel the weight and worry of potential mistakes in much the same way as well.
Every decision seems so important and so fraught with risk. What exactly should I be doing when, and why? So like any good student, I have been looking for the definitive text book on leadership.
There is an overwhelming plethora of information out there. Every bookstore seems to have an entire section devoted exclusively to books on how to lead.
“How exciting!” I initially thought. “The answers are in these books; I just have to read them — all of them.”
But, of course, just like books on parenting, books on leadership all seem to have different, and sometimes conflicting, advice.
Should leaders strive to hear all voices and work toward consensus, or identify clear goals and push others to achieve them?
Does effective team building happen through activities that help people like and trust one another, or through the struggle and conflict of putting challenging ideas on the table?
Do institutions function best when they are run as top-down or bottom-up?
The answer to all of these questions appears to be, “yes,” … depending on who you ask.
I have read many books about leadership, and each one seems to have its own take on the subject, leaving me with no clear answers. However, these three books stand out as being the most influential for me.
- Daring Greatly by Brené Brown
- Conversational Capacity by Craig Weber
- A Failure of Nerve by Edwin H. Friedman
They are presented here in the order in which I read them. This is notable, as this mirrors the level of personal challenge that I found within them.
Brené Brown’s work was the most accessible for me, as in many ways she “speaks my language.” Craig Weber pushed me to deeper self-reflection and to identifying my growth edge. Edwin Friedman challenged seemingly everything that I thought I knew to be true about good leadership, and in some ways turned it upside down.
It is not possible to fully explore the depth of each of these author’s work here; however, I have attempted to capture some of the most salient points.
In Daring Greatly, Brené Brown defines a leader as, “anyone who holds him- or her- self accountable for finding potential in people and processes.” (185) She indicates that this potential should be channeled into cultivating positive change, or what she dubs, “Minding the Gap.” She defines this as working toward reducing the difference between the Aspirational Values of an institution – those values that we espouse and that represent our best intentions – and the Practiced Values of an institution – how we actually think, behave, and feel.
Brown recognizes that working toward this alignment is a challenging, and potentially uncomfortable, task. She notes that true leadership is scarce because being uncomfortable is a job requirement of the role. She writes, “If you’re not uncomfortable in your work as a leader, it’s almost certain you’re not reaching your potential as a leader.” (211)
Fortunately, although the work may be uncomfortable, Brown provides some insights into how to support teams in the challenges of growth and learning. She describes this as an inherently vulnerable process, as to learn and grow, one must be willing to risk failure. She also examines the critical role of constructive feedback, noting that people are “desperate” for feedback that inspires growth and engagement. (198)
Accepting feedback, growing, learning, and changing are all risky business. In order for people to be willing to take on these risks, they must be supported by healthy organizations.
Brown describes healthy organizational cultures as places where:
- Empathy is a valued asset
- Accountability is an expectation rather than an exception
- The need for belonging is not used as leverage and social control
In the absence of this type of safe space, people will disengage in order to protect themselves – they will stop showing up, stop contributing, and stop caring. This disengagement is a form of institutional crisis. To support leaders in avoiding this scenario, Brown provides this “Leadership Manifesto” for guidance.
In Conversational Capacity, (which I’ve written about previously here) Craig Weber agrees with Brown’s assertion that leadership requires discomfort. He, too, focuses on the importance of managing the human side of teams, but he defines the most critical aspect of this as the development of what he calls conversational capacity. He defines this as “the ability to have open, balanced, nondefensive dialogue about tough subjects and in challenging circumstances.” (15)
From his perspective, a healthy institutional culture “embraces productive conflict and a willingness to disagree, publicly and rigorously,” and is “strong enough to withstand clashing viewpoints and challenging questions.” (19) Weber asserts that it is only through the intentional cultivation of conversational capacity that this can occur, and it is the leader’s responsibility to develop this within the team.
Weber identifies a continuum of responses to challenges, such that minimizing (or low candor) behaviors exist at one end of this spectrum while winning (or low curiosity) behaviors exist at the other. He indicates that the way to develop conversational capacity, or work toward the “sweet spot” found in the center of the continuum, is to work against one’s natural tendency to “minimize” or to “win” in the face of challenging issues.
He notes that when conversational capacity is not well-developed:
- We remain silent when we should speak up
- We argue when we should cooperate
- We downplay our concerns when we should blurt them out (27)
Like Brown, Weber notes that in the absence of conversational capacity, we are risking institutional crisis.
To examine the various ways this crisis can appear, Jack synthesized Weber’s “sweet spot” continuum with the related Heat-Light balance described in Meeting Wise by Boudett and City (which Jack has previously written about here).
Jack created this graphic which examines the ways in which being unbalanced relative to minimizing, winning, heat, and chill can lead to passive-aggression, direct aggression, sabotage, and shut down – each of which are damaging to institutions and pull teams out of the “sweet spot” or the “light” in which effective and positive change can occur.
A Failure of Nerve
Although both Brown and Weber note the importance of leadership for the health of an institution, neither writes in as strong language about this as Friedman does in A Failure of Nerve (which Jack has previously written about here.)
Friedman asserts that when institutions are not functioning well, it is always due to a failure of nerve among its leaders.(2) He describes this “nerve” as self-differentiation – or having clarity about one’s own goals, as demonstrated through a focus on strength rather than pathology, challenge rather than comfort, and taking definitive stands rather than seeking consensus.
He boldly claims that leaders must not be “peace-mongers,” who attempt to “regulate their institutions through love, insight, role-modeling, inculcation of values, and striving for consensus.”(12) He states that working toward consensus leads to sandbagging and sabotage by team members who are not aligned with the leader’s identified goals.
In accordance with this, he suggests that the way to change institutions is to work with the motivated members of that institution rather than focusing on the recalcitrant members. He indicates that by orienting one’s focus toward those who are not in alignment with the institution’s mission and goals, and attempting to get them on board through seeking compromise and consensus, the institution itself becomes weaker.
Friedman suggests that the way to strength is to consistently engage members of an institutional community who operate in alignment with the institution’s mission and goals. By shifting to a focus on strength, rather than weakness, recalcitrant members who want to remain a part of the institution have to adapt to the established community, rather than requiring the institution to adjust to the expectations of the recalcitrant members.
Friedman believes that a lack of self-differentiation among leadership, or in other words confusion around the goals, culture, and expectations of an institution, leads to systemic anxiety. And that this anxiety causes reactivity – both in terms of intense emotionality and dogged passivity – among its members.
Counter to the common understanding of job stress, Friedman believes that it is not unrelieved hard work that is the root cause of burnout, but rather it is chronic, systemic anxiety that is to blame.
Once again, he identifies self-differentiation of leadership as the antidote for chronic anxiety. He calls on leaders to be both present and non-anxious relative to the challenges of their institutions. Noting that while it is easy to be non-present and non-anxious, or conversely, present and anxious, in the face of difficulty, he instead prescribes that leaders become “transformers,” who allow the current of adversity to run through them without getting zapped. They reduce the anxiety of the institution by the nature of their own presence, by their self-differentiation, as defined above.
Friedman explores leadership through a lens that at first glance seems different from anyone else. However, like Weber, he identifies continuums and the need to find the center between the extremes, and like Brown, he focuses on the importance of establishing a safe, institutional space, which he defines as one that is resistant to anxiety.
Friedman prescribes perhaps the most difficult solution, indicating that self-differentiation is demonstrated through finding the balance between these ten indicators or “tensions” during times of institutional crisis.
Each of the above texts focuses on the inherent challenges of leadership and the difficulty of leading well. Each delineates the risks to an institution in the absence of effective leadership. Each indicates that the difference between success and failure lies in the hands of an institution’s leaders. That is a heavy responsibility to bear.
Brown charges leaders with gently guiding others to “dare greatly.” Weber challenges leaders to work to build “conversational capacity” in themselves and others. And Friedman insists that leaders tackle the difficulty of “self-differentiation.”
While none of these books provided me with the clear, definitive, and, dare I say, easy, answers that I have been seeking, each elucidates pitfalls of leadership and provides suggested remedies. Each has informed the way in which I lead.
Like in parenting, I have come to the devastating conclusion that there are no simple solutions, and that there’s no singular right way.
Like in parenting, I’ve come to believe that the following is true:
- Listen to your team (Weber)
- Trust your judgement (Friedman)
- You know more than you think you do (Brown)
So based on that, this summer I spent some time constructing my own model of what I believe to be the fundamental components of good leadership. In my model, each of the bottom layers serves as the foundation for the ones above it, and each is a prerequisite for the success of the subsequent layers.
I’d like to assert that if these six components are implemented with fidelity, leadership will be easy and all will be well within an institution. Unfortunately, I don’t think that’s the case.
As Jack frequently reminds me, “We work with people, and people are messy.” Every team has its own unique set of strengths, challenges, and needs. Every situation is different, and requires a unique response. Although I desperately long for the formula that says, “If x happens, then do y,” and to have that formula elicit a successful outcome every time, this is a utopian ideal that is not rooted in reality.
Leadership is hard, and I have become convinced that it is more about process than it is about product. So I will continue reading books, asking question, mulling things over, and muddling through the messy morass of team development and institutional health. Currently, I have more questions than answers; perhaps someday, the angel of experience will bless me with more answers than questions.