Eight to Late

Sensemaking and Analytics for Organizations

Conversations and commitments: an encounter with emergent design 

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Many years ago, I was tasked with setting up an Asia-based IT development hub for a large multinational.   I knew nothing about setting up a new organisation from scratch. It therefore seemed prudent to take the conventional route – i.e., engage experts to help.

I had conversations with several well-known consulting firms. They exuded an aura of confidence-inspiring competence and presented detailed plans about how they would go about it. Moreover, they quoted costs that sounded very reasonable.  

It was very tempting to outsource the problem.

–x–

Expert-centric approaches to building new technical capabilities are liable to fail because such initiatives often display characteristics of wicked problems,  problems that are so complex and multifaceted that they are difficult to formulate clearly, let alone solve. This is because different stakeholder groups have different perspectives on what needs to be done and how it should be done.

The most important feature of such initiatives is that they cannot be tackled using rational methods of planning, design and implementation that are taught in schools, propagated in books, and evangelized by standards authorities and snake oil salespeople big consulting firms.

This points to a broader truth that technical initiatives are never purely technical; they invariably have a social dimension. It is therefore more appropriate to refer to them as sociotechnical problems.

–x–

One day, not long after my conversations with the consulting firms, I came across an article on Oliver Williamson’s Nobel prize winning work on transaction costs. The arguments presented therein drew my attention to the hidden costs of outsourcing.

The consultants I’d spoken with had included only upfront costs, neglecting the costs of coordination, communication, and rework. The outsourcing option would be cost effective only if the scale was large enough. The catch was that setting up a large development centre from scratch would be risky, both politically and financially. There was too much that could go wrong.

–x–

Building a new sociotechnical capability is a process of organisational learning. But learning itself is a process of trial and error, which is why planned approaches to building such capabilities tend to fail. 

All such initiatives are riddled with internal tensions that must be resolved before any progress can be made. To resolve these tensions successfully one needs to use an approach that respects the existing state of the organisation and introduces changes in an evolutionary manner that enables learning while involving those who will be affected by the change.  Following David Cavallo, who used such an approach in creating innovative educational interventions in Thailand, I call this process emergent design.

–x–

The mistake in my thinking was related to the fallacy of misplaced concreteness. I had been thinking about the development hub as a well-defined entity rather than an idea that needed to fleshed out through a process of trial and error. This process would take time; it had to unfold in small steps, through many interactions and conversations.

It became clear to me that it would be safest to start quietly, without drawing much attention to what I was doing. That would enable me to test assumptions, gauge the organisation’s appetite for the change and, most importantly, learn by trial and error.

I felt an opportunity would present itself sooner than later.

–x–

In their book, Disclosing New Worlds, which I have discussed at length in this post, Spinosa et. al. note that:

“[organisational] work [is] a matter of coordinating human activity – opening up conversations about one thing or another to produce a binding promise to perform an act … Work never appears in isolation but always in a context created by conversation.”

John Shotter and Ann Cunliffe flesh out the importance of conversations via their notion of managers as authors [of organisational reality].  Literally, managers create (or author) realities through conversations that help people make sense of ambiguous situations and / or open up new possibilities.

Indeed, conversations are the lifeblood of organisations. It is through conversations that the myriad interactions in organisational life are transformed into commitments and thence into actions.

–x–

A few weeks later, a work colleague located in Europe called to catch up. We knew each other well from a project we had worked on a few years earlier. During the conversation, he complained about how hard it was to find database skills at a reasonable cost.

My antennae went up. I asked him what he considered to be a “reasonable cost.” The number he quoted was considerably more than one would pay for those skills at my location.  

“I think I can help you,” I said, “I can find you a developer for at most two thirds that cost here. Would you like to try that out for six months and see how it works?” 

“That’s very tempting,” he replied after a pause, “but it won’t work. What about equipment, workspace etc.? More important, what about approvals.” 

“I’ll sort out the workspace and equipment,” I replied, “and I’ll charge it back to your cost centre. As for the approval, let’s just keep this to ourselves for now. I’ll take the rap if there’s trouble later.” 

He laughed over the line. “I don’t think anyone will complain if this works. Let’s do it!” 

–x–

As Shotter and Cunliffe put it, management is about acting in relationally responsive ways. Seen in that light, conversations are more than just talk; they are about creating shared realities that lead to action.

How can one behave in a relationally responsive way? As in all situations involving human beings, there are no formulas, but there are some guiding principles that I have found useful in my own work as a manager and consultant:

Be a midwife rather than an expert:  The first guideline is to realize that no one is an expert – not you nor your Big $$$ consultant. True expertise comes from collaborative action.  The role of the midwife is to create and foster the conditions for collaborative action to occur.  

Act first, seek permission later (but exercise common sense): Many organisations have a long list of dos and don’ts. A useful guideline to keep in mind is that it is usually OK to launch exploratory actions as long as they are done in good faith, the benefits are demonstrable and, most importantly, the actions do not violate ethical principles. The dictum that it is easier to beg forgiveness than seek permission has a good deal of truth to it. However, you will need to think about the downsides of acting without permission in the context of your organisation, its tolerance for risk and the relationships you have with management.

Do not penalize people for learning:  when setting up new capabilities, it is inevitable that things will go wrong.  If you’re at the coalface, you will need to think about how you will deal with the fallout. A useful approach is to offer to take the rap if things go wrong. On the other hand, if you’re a senior manager overseeing an initiative that has failed, look for learnings, not scapegoats.

Distinguish between wicked and tame elements of your initiative: some aspects of sociotechnical problems are wicked, others are straightforward (or tame). For example, in the case of the development centre, the wicked element was how to get started in a way that demonstrated value both to management and staff. The tame elements were the administrative issues: equipment, salary recharging etc (though, as it turned out, some of these had longer term wicked elements – a story to be told later perhaps).

Actively seek other points of view: Initially, I thought of the development centre in terms of a large monolithic affair. After talking to consultants and doing my own research, I realised there was another way.

Understand the need for different types of thinking: related to the above, it is helpful to surround yourself with people who think differently from you.

Consider long term consequences:  Although it is important to act (the second point made above), it is also important to think through the consequences of one’s actions, the possible scenarios that might result and how one will deal with them.

Act so as to increase your future choices: This principle is from my intellectual hero, Heinz von Foerster, who called it the ethical imperative (see the last line of this paper). Given that one is acting in a situation that is inherently uncertain (certainly the case when one is setting up a new sociotechnical capability), one should be careful to ensure that one’s actions do not inadvertently constrain future choices.

–x–

With some trepidation, we decided to go ahead with the first hire.

A few months later, my colleague was more than happy with how things were going and started telling others about it. Word got around the organisation; one developer became three, then five, then more. Soon I was receiving more enquiries and requests than our small makeshift arrangement could handle. We had to rent dedicated office space, fit it out etc, but that was no longer a problem because management saw that it made good business sense.

–x–

This was my first encounter with emergent design. There have been many others since – some successful, others less so.   However, the approach has never failed me outright because a) the cost of failure is small and b) learnings gained from failures inform future attempts.

Although there are no set formulas for emergent design, there are principles.  My aim in this piece was to describe a few that I have found useful across different domains and contexts. The key takeaway is that emergent design increases one’s chances of success because it eschews expert-driven approaches in favour of practices tailored to the culture of the organisation.

 As David Cavallo noted, “rather than having the one best way there can now be many possible ways. Rather than adapting one’s culture to the approach, one can adapt the approach to one’s culture.

–x–x–

Written by K

September 14, 2021 at 4:43 am

To think, to be, to act

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It would have been sometime in late 2013. I was in the midst of exploring the possibility of setting up an analytics development centre for a large, somewhat conservative organization. The location of the centre had yet to be determined, but it was clear it would be a continent and a world away from headquarters.

A senior IT executive from headquarters was visiting our subsidiary. I knew him quite well and we had a good working relationship. He frowned as he caught sight of me across our big open plan area and gestured that he wanted to talk.

Uh oh.

I nodded and walked over to a vacant meeting room on my side.  He followed shortly and closed the door behind him.

Brief pleasantries done, he got to the point. “What’s this I hear about a development centre? What the hell are you up to?”

–x–

Despite out best-laid plans, the lives of our projects and the projects of our lives tend to hinge on minor events that we have little control over. Robert Chia stresses this point in his book Strategy without Design:

“Ambitious strategic plans, the ‘big picture’ approach that seeks a lasting solution or competitive advantage through large-scale transformations, often end up undermining their own potential effectiveness because they overlook the fine details of everyday happenings at ‘ground zero’ level.

At one level we know this, yet we act out a large part of our personal and work lives as though this were not so.

–x–

In business (and life!) we are exhorted to think before doing. My boss tells me I need to think about my team’s workplan for next year; my wife tells me I need to think about the future. Thinking is at the center of our strategies, blueprints, plans – the things that supposedly propel our lives into an imagined future.  

In brief, we are exhorted to make detailed plans of what we are going to do; we are encouraged not to act without thinking.

As Descartes famously wrote, cogito ergo sum, our thinking establishes our being.

But is that really so?

–x–

Gregory Bateson noted the following in his book, Angels Fear:

There is a discrepancy of logical type between “think” and “be”. Descartes is trying to jump from the frying pan of thought, ideas, images, opinions, arguments etc., into the fire of existence and action. But that jump itself is unmapped. Between two such contrasting universes there can be no “ergo” – no totally self-evident link. There is no looking before leaping from “cogito” to “sum”.

The gap between our plans and reality is analogous to the gap between thought and action. There is ample advice on how to think but very little on how to act in difficult situations.

As Bateson wrote elsewhere:

What is lacking is a theory of action within large complex systems, where the active agent is himself a part and a product of the system.

He then goes on to say that Kant’s categorical imperative – “act so to treat humanity, whether in your own person or in another, always as an end and never as only a means – might provide a starting point for such a theory.”

So far, so unsurprising.

But in the very next line, Bateson says something truly intriguing:

It seems also that great teachers and therapists avoid all direct attempts to influence the action of others and, instead, try to provide the settings or contexts in which some (usually imperfectly specified) change may occur.

This line resonated deeply when I read it first because it spelt out something that I had learnt through experience but had not found the words to articulate.

–x–

In contentious discussions, it is difficult to change minds using facts and figures alone. Indeed, the current reluctance to be vaccinated against Covid is a case in point (see this article, for example).What one needs in such situations is to reframe the terms of the discussion. In the Covid case that might be to focus on relative risks in terms that people can understand rather than absolute numbers of people who have suffered serious side-effects of the vaccine.

In general, reframing is about changing the way in which people perceive the problematic issue.  The best way to describe how it works is via an example. Here’s one from Paul Watzlawick’s classic book on change

A police officer with a special ability for resolving sticky situations in unusual ways, often involving a disarming use of humour, was in the process of issuing a citation for a minor traffic violation when a hostile crowd began to gather around him. By the time he had given the offender his ticket, the mood of the crowd was ugly and the sergeant was not certain that he would be able to get back to the relative safety of his patrol car. It then occurred to him to announce in a loud voice: “You have just witnessed the issuance of a traffic ticket by a member of your Oakland Police Department” And while the bystanders were busy trying to fathom the deeper meaning of this all too obvious communique, he got into his cruiser and drove off.

The specifics of what one might do depends on the situation, but the general idea is to appreciate the situation from the viewpoint of the other party and act in a way that helps shift that perspective in an indirect or oblique manner.

This is one of the key principles of emergent design – and more about that in a forthcoming piece.

–x–

Back to the story I started with:

I realized instinctively that much hinged on what I said and – more importantly – how I said. My interlocutor was clearly upset, and I had to ensure that my words did not infuriate him further. He had the power to stop my fledgling project in its tracks with a word or two in the right ears.

“There is no plan to set up a development centre,” I said, looking him in the eye. “All we have done is hire a couple of people here to help with the workload at headquarters.”

“Who has requested help?”

I told him who. He knew that person well and thought highly of him.

“Where do you plan to go from here?” he demanded.

“Like I said, there is no plan. This is just a pilot to see if we can help improve productivity. The idea is to free people in headquarters so that they can focus on the strategic stuff.”

“Just make sure it doesn’t turn into something bigger.”

“Absolutely,” I responded, mustering what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

“OK,” he nodded and walked out. 

I breathed easier; he seemed to be OK with it for now. But even if not, the conversation was still open. More importantly, I had bought myself some time to pay greater attention to the politics of the project over the coming weeks.

–x–

It was only in retrospect that I realized that the interaction described here was pivotal to the success of the project. How so is a story to be told later. For now, the point I wish to make is that the projects of our lives can be planned down to great detail, but their outcomes are often determined by the unplanned micro-actions we take while doing them.

–x–x–

(no identity – courtesy HaPe Gera https://www.flickr.com/photos/hape_gera/2929195528)

Written by K

June 1, 2021 at 6:51 am

Boundaries and horizons

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James Carse once said, “It is the freedom we all know we have that terrifies us.” 

So deep is this terror that we do not want to acknowledge our freedom.  As a result, we play within boundaries defined by fear.

–x–

Some time ago, I bumped into a student who had taken a couple of classes that I taught some years ago. Over a coffee, we got talking about his workplace, a large somewhat bureaucratic organisation.

At one point he asked, “We need to change the way we think about and work with data, but I’m not a manager and have no authority to do what needs to be done.”

“Why don’t you demonstrate what you are capable of without waiting for permission?” I replied. “Since you are familiar with your data, it should be easy enough to frame and solve a small problem that makes a difference.”

“My manager will not like that,” he said.

“It is easier to beg forgiveness than seek permission,” I countered.

“He might feel threatened and make life difficult for me.”

“On the other hand, he might appreciate your efforts.”

“You don’t know him,” he replied.

“If you’re not appreciated, you are always free to leave.  Moreover, the skills you have learnt in the last two years should give you confidence to exercise that freedom.”

“I’m comfortable where I am,” he said sheepishly, “with my mortgage and all this uncertainty in the economy, I can ill-afford any risk.”

I didn’t say so at the time, but thought it unfortunate that he had set boundaries for himself.

–x–

Boundaries are characteristic of what Carse calls finite games: games that are played with the purpose of winning. These are the games of convention, those that we are familiar with. He contrasts these with infinite games: those whose purpose is the continuation of play.

As a corollary, an infinite game has no winner (or loser) because the game never ends.

Finite games are bounded, both temporally (they last a finite time) and spatially (they are played within a bounded region). As Carse notes in his book, “finite players play within boundaries; infinite players play with boundaries.”

And then a bit later, he tells us how to play with boundaries. “What will undo any boundary is the awareness that it is our vision, and not what we are viewing, that is limited.”

–x–

“I’m resigning,” he said, before launching into an explanation. As he talked, the thing that came to mind was the contrast between his attitude and the student’s. 

His explanation was completely unnecessary. I understood.

There comes a tide in the affairs of humans etc…and often that tide is evident only to those who are able and willing to look up and see the possibilities on the distant horizon.

–x–

In contrast to boundaries, horizons are not fixed. As you move towards a horizon it moves away from you. As Carse tells us:

One never reaches a horizon. It is not a line; it has no place; it encloses no field; its location is always relative to the view. To move toward a horizon is simply to have a new horizon.

Much of the talk about lifelong learning (which now has its own Wikipedia entry!) is really about taking a horizonal view of life. It has less to do with “staying current” or “learning employable skills” than with gaining new perspectives.

But that does not mean one has to take in the entire vista in one glance. Some new things…no, most new things, take time.

–x–

“I can’t handle failure,” she said. “I’ve always been at the top of my class.”

She was being unduly hard on herself. With little programming experience or background in math, machine learning was always going to be hard going.  “Put that aside for now,” I replied. “Just focus on understanding and working your way through it, one step at a time. In four weeks, you’ll see the difference.”

“OK,” she said, “I’ll try.”

She did not sound convinced but to her credit, that’s exactly what she did. Two months later she completed the course with a distinction.

“You did it!” I said when I met her a few weeks after the grades were announced.

“I did,” she grinned. “Do you want to know what the made the difference?”

Yes, I nodded.

“I stopped treating it like a game I had to win,” she said, “and that took the pressure right off.  I then started to enjoy learning.”

–x–

For many, success in work…or even in life… is largely a matter of appearances: if one’s career is not marked by a series of increasingly impressive titles then one is likely to be labelled an also-ran, if not an outright failure.

But what is a title? Carse tells us the following:

What one wins in a finite game is a title. A title is the acknowledgment of others that one has been the winner of a particular game. Titles are public. They are for others to notice. I expect others to address me according to my titles, but I do not address myself with them – unless, of course, I address myself as another. The effectiveness of a title depends on its visibility, its noticeability, to others.”

In these lines, Carse makes some important points. Firstly, a title has to be given to us by others.  Secondly, the effectiveness of a title depends on others paying attention to it.  That is, its significance lies in the significance that others give it. This is the reason why titles matter to those who compete for them.

–x–

A couple of weeks ago, I invited an ex-student to give a talk to my machine learning class. As I had expected, he did a brilliant job, introducing the class to some tools that they are likely to find useful the future. But the gold lay in something he said in the Q and A session that followed.

“How do you stay up to date in this field?” a student asked.

“Yes, this is a question I struggled with when I started out, ” said Jose. “Data science is a rapidly expanding field and it is impossible to keep pace with it…but let me show you something.” He navigated to his LinkedIn profile and started scrolling through his list of certifications.

It was a long list.

“When I started out,” he continued, “I constantly felt this fear that I was missing out. So, what did I do? I tried to learn everything I could, collecting a bunch of certifications that I kept adding to my profile. One day, I woke up feeling burnt out and asked myself why I was doing this. The only honest answer was because others seemed to think it necessary and even important. That shook me. I started thinking deeply about what I thought was important for myself, what my purpose is. I realised I did not have one; I was running like crazy down a path set by others, not my own.  That realisation changed everything for me.”

–x–

Life’s too short to play games and chase titles that others deem important. We are free to play our own game and keep playing it as long as we wish to.

Yes, that can be terrifying.

It can also be liberating.

—-xx—-

Written by K

May 3, 2021 at 7:58 pm

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