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Davos Debrief: In Resilience We Trust

“What is interesting and important happens mostly in secret, in places where there is no power,” novelist Michael Ondaatje writes in The Cat’s Table, and it was a strange coincidence that I came across this enigmatic line on the descent down from Davos, the Swiss ski resort that had just convened some of the world’s most powerful men and women for the Annual Meeting of the World Economic Forum.

Power circles

The paradox of Davos is that it is both highly public and highly secretive. Relationships and business transactions are on show, as much as they are taking place in back room meetings and private encounters on the peripheries, far away from the glitz and glamour and where the buzzing doesn’t need buzzwords. Davos is the great equalizer and the great divider at the same time. The hierarchies are both formal and explicit (manifest by the color of your badge), as well as situational and subtle, with small smart mobs forming around the most sought-after, both on- and offsite (“one minute you’re in, the next you’re out”), in emotional roller coaster, funicular, and shuttle rides between recognition and rejection, belonging and alienation.

I came for the second year, and for the second year I was badge-less, attending as a member of my boss’s, Doreen Lorenzo, entourage (full disclosure: I also serve on the Forum’s Global Agenda Council on Values). I observed the program from the sidelines, with the humble but notable privilege of being able to partake in many of the social functions. The only way to bridge the inevitable gulf that opened at the beginning of each encounter, each conversation, was with a condensed version of “my story,” because, unlike that of regular attendees, it wasn’t printed in large letters on a white badge that would have instantly legitimized my identity and affiliation. But I suspect I wasn’t the only one feeling vulnerable. Everyone does in a setting like this, and only those who feel at ease with high levels of social discomfort and fully open up to the sway of serendipity will experience the most meaningful “Davos moments.”

Of which there were many, both fleeting and lasting – from private dinners on the Schatzalp, a mountain top that allegedly inspired Thomas Mann’s famed ‘bildungsroman’ The Magic Mountain; to adventurous bus rides with militant skiers and mildly tolerant locals; and silent periods of total exhaustion, shared with dozens of strangers, leaning over laptops in collaborative pop-up office spaces along the ‘Promenade’ (the village’s main street that serves as a catwalk for all of the Davos cast and colorful characters).

Davos is full of stories, of course; it is a multi-layered conversation desperately trying to keep pace with the constantly evolving memes and shapes of our economies and societies, relying on a lingua franca that is dominated by technology and management jargon, as well as a stubborn belief in rationality and in balanced multi-stakeholder solutions. Only recently has it broadened its vernacular and vocabulary to include the language of art (heart), and to juxtapose our biggest societal challenges with a more personal quest for meaning, understanding that the two are as interwoven as the circles of power in Davos.

Magic mountains

While the session titles of the Annual Meeting program hinted at these greater philosophical questions, they were only the tips of the icebergs. Yet in the best case, when the fault lines from business, technology, science, politics, religion, and culture converged, they revealed another sort of “magic mountain,” simultaneously elusive and concrete, rich with ambiguity and friction. The best sessions created spaces where avant-garde thinking was rooted in popular demand, elevation balanced with grassroots concerns, and profound knowledge was paired with an unshaken and perhaps naïve belief in “betterness” (Umair Haque) and in positive transformation.

Major themes that emerged during the week were those of the “circular economy” and “resilience,” the latter of which had inspired this year’s Annual Meeting’s theme of “Resilient Dynamism”. The ‘circular economy’ seeks to decouple growth from resource constraints by introducing reverse logistics and heightened consumer awareness. It is not a new concept, but due to the mysterious moods of the Zeitgeist and the vocal presence of evangelists such as Ellen McArthur of the Ellen McArthur Foundation, it garnered significant traction in Davos as a new economic innovation for the business mainstream.

Somewhat related, the rise of “resilience” (propelled by widespread acclaim for Andrew Zolli’s and Ann Marie Healey’s book of the same title, whose release uncannily coincided with Hurricane Sandy and therefore immediately received a lot of media play), describes a set of alternative, systemic ways of rebounding to the whim of forces beyond our control. It signifies a new school of economic thinking that favors nimble, highly adaptive systems over more robust, ‘sustainable’ ones, in a response to irrationalities and externalities that elude traditional categories of strategic planning and management. These systems, according to the economist Nassim Nicholas Taleb, amount to a situation of “anti-fragility,” tolerating just enough inherent fragility to quickly recover from “black swans”, or highly improbable external disruptions. In a similar vein, Said business school professor Rafael Ramirez advocated a more “pluralistic” notion of strategy (reminiscent of Stuart Evans’ model of “super-flexibility” that views strategy as a portfolio of ever-changing planes and gears).

Moreover, among many other topics, there were panels on China’s soft power, on meditation, decision-making, “mindfulness,” “transformative art,” “beliefs that bond,” the “culture of economics,” smart cities, “digital norms”, the “art of leadership,” the “happiness factor,” the “moral economy,” and “objects of culture.” There was also a wonderfully optimistic session on the future of online education that impressed on the audience that we are indeed witnessing a revolution – the impetus is radical, the outcome is unclear. The three big “revolutionaries” in this space – Coursera, Udacity, and edX – were represented, but the true star of the panel was 12-year old Pakistani girl Khadija Niazi, who was interviewed by New York Times columnist Thomas Friedman and shared how online classes on Udacity had changed her life.

Civil society and "beautiful organizations"

The broad variety of issues illustrates the Forum’s holistic view of our global economies, understanding them not only as financial markets but as arenas for sympathetic interactions that foster the very social fabric of our societies. This mindset was further bolstered by the ostentatious inclusion of additional and often marginalized constituents: While there were still only 17% female participants (the same quota as in 2011), women leaders such as Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg, Yahoo! CEO Marissa Mayer, and IMF managing director Christine Lagarde counted as the most distinctive voices in the program. The Forum’s Young Global Leaders (leaders under 40) and Global Shapers (leaders under 30) communities were strongly involved in the program (encouragingly, 50% of them are women). And the civil society communities all played a prominent role – for good reason. PR firm Edelman’s 2013 edition of its influential Trust Barometer that surveyed more than 31,000 respondents in 26 markets around the world, released during Davos, indicated that civil society actors enjoy higher trust levels than business and politics when it comes to tackling some of society’s most pressing challenges. NGOs, labor organizations, faith groups, and a range of other emerging actors discussed a comprehensive report on “The Future Role of Civil Society” that the Forum presented in Davos; and the Arts communities, represented by such diverse figures as John Maeda (Rhode Island School of Design), Paulo Coelho, and Eric Whitacre, among others, countered economic logic with creativity and intuition.

With business leaders such as GE’S Beth Comstock they explored how companies can incorporate the arts in their leadership and decision-making frameworks, and whether our economies should expand their definitions of value-creation not just by categories of prosperity, happiness, and well-being (all of which legitimate concerns and arguably viable indicators of economic progress, and as such popular topics in Davos), but also those of aesthetics and transcendence. In this vein, Rafael Ramirez suggested we build “attractive organizations” that create beauty, and proposed an “aesthetical view of management” that is based on Aristotle’s concept of phronesis, which is often translated as “practical wisdom.” He asked civil society organizations, in particular, to create positive visions rather than merely providing efficient solutions to problems, and he called upon them to serve as arbiters of meaning.

Meaning 

Apropos meaning. Emerging as a major theme at Davos, it was mentioned by CEOs, NGO and religious leaders, and academia throughout the five-day program – in sessions on values, civil society, and faith. Elif Şafak, the Turkish bestseller author, made a passionate case for ambiguity and doubt to avoid “living in a polarized world.” She heralded the power of the “grey zone” and suggested we add more commas to our identities (“I am a mother, I am a Christian, I love traveling, etc.”) instead of exclamation marks (“I am a Christian!”). Microfinance pioneer and Nobel prize laureate Muhammad Yunus reminded the audience that education must always include an education of the heart, an education sentimentale, and that rather than just acquiring new skills in pursuit of a career, we ought to learn to grow our capacities as human beings in pursuit of a common purpose, or “the meaning of life.”

It is perhaps no surprise that meaning and spirituality enjoyed such prominence this year in Davos, against the backdrop of a fragmented connected age so volatile that it seems to even lack the one historic watershed moment, the one crisis to agree on (as was the case in previous Davos meetings). In uncertain times, all we have is faith. Both religion and the “faith of the faithless,” the non-institutional spirituality, can serve as major individual and societal transformative forces with the capacity to combine private and public lives. Several panels viewed spirituality as part of our human dignity and demanded we reconcile our predominantly rational systems of politics, science, and business with a “sense of wonder” and a new appreciation of “the divine” in order to improve the state of our world. If spirituality imbues respect for “the other,” empathy, and mutual understanding, then it can indeed help foster our economies’ greatest resource in the connected age – collaboration.

Gianpiero Petriglieri, associate professor of organizational behavior at business school INSEAD and chair of the Forum’s Global Agenda Council on New Models of Leadership, consequently spoke in religious terms when he recommended we embrace “devotion” over the much gushed-about “passion.” Devotion stands for a lasting commitment to a conviction, cause, or belief that is less transient in nature and more grounded in a sense of identity and belonging.

And indeed: “What kind of a person do I want to be?” asked theologian Fr. Christopher Jamison in an Open Forum session on “Is Religion Outdated in the 21st Century?” – it will remain the main question for each of the over 2,500 official attendees, the assembled young and seasoned global leaders, far beyond Davos. Constantly reflecting on it may warrant that we follow these leaders, the so-called “Davos Men and Women,” not only to the next management paradigm or the ups and downs of (ir)rational exuberance, but to the creation of a global economy that is resiliently human and engages our complete selves, with head, hand, and heart.

It makes sense then that an artist, the Brazilian writer Paulo Coelho, was the most retweeted attendee, and in one of his tweets he truly nailed the overall sentiment with practical wisdom: “Davos: either too hot (indoor) or too cold (outside). Like love.”

Image credit: Forumblog

On TED.com: “3 Ways To (Usefully Lose) Control Of Your Brand”

I am super-thrilled that my TED University talk from this year’s TED Global conference that took place in Edinburgh in June made it onto the TED.com homepage this morning. It’s very flattering and, like being on the actual TED stage in person, also a bit nerve-wrecking.

Titled “3 Ways To (Usefully Lose) Control Of Your Brand,” the 6-minute talk explores – as much as that is possible in such short amount of time – how companies can respond to evermore demanding customers and employees who are empowered by hyper-connectivity and the ‘radical transparency’ of social media. Popular belief holds that commitment is fickle, reputation volatile, and loyalty scarce. In short: Companies have lost control – over their workforce, their customers, and as a result, their brands.

But have they really? In my talk, I argue that companies have never been in control, and that they actually have more control over the loss of control than ever before – in fact, they can design for the loss of control…

Also see this great summary on the TED Blog.

...and a related, longer article on design mind (republished by Rotman Magazine)

...as well as a brief reflection on my experience at TEDGlobal…

Walking Like Senna

I walked a Formula One race track last fall in Abu Dhabi, in the blistering evening desert heat. The city of Abu Dhabi opens the track a couple of days a week for bikers and joggers. I, however, was walking, due to a lack of appropriate sportswear, gasping for air, and happy to make it through even just one round. It was a surreal experience, not only because I was the odd outlier amidst hundreds of bikers and joggers, but also because it turned the purpose of the race track on its head – as my own private 'slow movement' against the race of the machines, fundamentally opposing the design intent of the venue. It felt like a meditation that turned the split seconds which typically frame the Formula One drivers’ quasi-automated blink decisions into an extended once-in-a-lifetime moment.

It took me an hour to complete the lap, and I relished every single minute of it. 'Going against the grain,' walking a Formula One track, turned out to be a fitting mental model violation, an almost situationist rebellion against time and space, and therefore a meaningful experience, a trance-like crescendo of happiness.

Speed, like happiness, is relative. Motion, on the other hand, is happiness’ absolute requirement. Motion is what holds it all together. Nations, cultures, organizations, relationships – and bodies. As the wonderful book of the same title suggests, the heart – the quintessential mechanism of motion – is a Sublime Engine, the enabler and ultimate jury of all life: it can stop anytime, for no rhyme or reason, and when it does, there is no more moving on.

It remains a mystery at what point motion becomes speed; perhaps when it exceeds the perceptional comprehension of the human sensory apparatus, when it becomes too fast to be felt, to be made sense of.

A couple of months later, on board an 800 miles per hour sky-rocketing 747 aircraft over the Atlantic, I was watching the documentary, Senna, about the legendary Brazilian Formula One race driver Ayrton Senna. True to its subject, the movie never slows down, and instead of a voice-over narrating the driver’s moved life, it simply races from frame to frame while slowly uncovering the essence of the story: the heart and soul of a passionate genius, a ‘man on a wire,’ full of concentration and determination, and of a fervent passion that’s always on the verge to its dark side, obsession. The devoted Christian Senna was a fanatic who raced to stand still and “just couldn’t quit” until he, as he put it, became a “complete man,” in perfect tune with God; a soul-searcher who touched those close and far from him with his humble but assertive heart that was beating so much faster than most others.

The documentary shows the last moments of Senna’s life, viewed from his car’s onboard camera, the painful elegy of a life that is about to pass every second (generally as professional risk and literally in this very sequence), a slow-motion blues that ends with an abrupt and absurd accident when Senna’s car fails (the exact reasons are unresolved to date) and crashes like a projectile straight into a wall. His death was as fast as his life.

Senna was a one-of-a-kind rebel, and he epitomizes the allure of the contrarian way of doing things your way: walk when others run, stay silent when others talk, be absent when others pursue presence by all means, disappear when others enter. Maybe that’s the ultimate differentiator in our fast-moving, over-loaded, hyper-charged, and ultra-saturated markets, for brands, companies, organizations, and leaders alike: to determine that it’s game over before it has even begun. Reclusiveness as the ultimate exclusivity. And maybe that is the very difference between being smart and being wise: Smart organizations and leaders are highly adaptive and thrive on constant feedback. Smart is fast. But wise is slow. Wise organizations and leaders need time and take it. Time for pause, for reflection. Time for not doing anything. Time to be quiet. Time to find the signal amid all the noise. Time to be the signal.

From Linda Stone’s “continuous partial attention” to FOMO (the Fear-of-Missing-Out) to Jonathan Harris’ long-form storytelling that propagates a “deeper, more reciprocal means of communication than shouting into a disconnected social media void,” from Speed-Dating to Slow-Dating, the Slow Books Manifesto, the Slow Food Movement, Slow Design, Slow Travel, Slow Money, Slow Living, Slow Brands. Motion may enable happiness, speed may accelerate it, but it is the counter-movement that grants us significance – and that, at the end, is the difference between a meaningful life and a life lived in vain.

[image credit: Forbes]

‘The Meaning of Business’ - A Collection of Essays

I’m very happy to announce the premiere edition of The Meaning of Business – A Collection of Essays on New Models of Leadership, Collaboration, and Value Creation that I helped curate.

The texts featured in the debut issue have appeared in frog’s design mind magazine over the past three years, and they include contributions from Chip Conley (founder and CEO of Joie de Vivre Hospitality, and author of Peak: How Great Companies Get Their Mojo from Maslow), Umair Haque (director of the Havas Media Lab, founder of Bubblegeneration, and a writer for the Harvard Business Review), Matthew E. May (author of In Pursuit of Elegance and The Elegant Solution), Dev Patnaik (founder and principal of Jump Associates and author of Wired to Care), Roberto Verganti (professor of the management of innovation at Polytechnic University of Milan, a member of the board of the European Institute for Advanced Studies in Management, and author of Design-Driven Innovation), and Beth Comstock (CMO and SVP of GE). 

The booklet is available in print and online. You can download a pdf copy here:

Download "The Meaning of_Business"

[Special thanks to Megan Lynch for the beautiful graphic design!]

Marketing's Big Plays in 2012: The Year of the AND...

India's leading business daily newspaper, the Hindu Business Line, quoted me in a story on the new challenges that CMOs will face in 2012, based on a contribution to Jessie Paul's excellent Paul Writer marketing blog.

Here's what I wrote (and think):

“In 2012, CMOs will continue to face a fragile world economy, hyper-connectivity, growing complexity, the fragmentation of audiences, and multiple truths. This is why it will be the year of the AND: Innovation AND traditional channels. Marketing AND un-marketing. Big Data AND big intuition. ROI AND imagination. Money AND meaning. Openness AND privacy. Leadership AND leaderless movements. Iron principles AND super-flexibility. And, and, and….”

Embracing Openness

Rotman magazine, the print and online quarterly of the Rotman School of Management, has just released its new (Winter) issue, devoted to the theme “Open.” Openness has been a buzzword for a while, ever since Henry Chesbrough wrote his seminal book on Open Innovation, but, to apply Gartner’s Hype-Cycle terminology, now it seems as if Openness has finally reached a plateau of productivity after going through years of troughs of disillusion.

The Rotman issue is thus timely, and it is wise to (re-)frame the topic as “culture (and economy) of sharing,” as the foreword does:

“The fundamental rules that govern how relationships work between organizations and stakeholders are being rewritten: computation, storage and communication capacity – the basic means necessary to produce information, knowledge and culture – are now in the hands of every connected person worldwide (30 per cent of the world’s population of seven billion people.) The result: a culture of sharing powered by ubiquitous access to information that empowers stakeholders and demands radical transparency.

Unfortunately, many business leaders remain flummoxed in the face of stakeholders empowered by new tools that once seemed unimaginable: blogs, Facebook and Twitter, to name a few. Make no mistake, as your stakeholders become more adept at using these tools, they will demand that you become more open about your activities, and that you engage them in conversations that matter. With one billion new middle-class consumers set to enter the global economy in the next decade, the more you understand the new culture of sharing, the better off you and your organization will be.“

Amongst other contributions, the Openness issue features articles from management guru and Rotman dean Roger Martin and Wikinomics author Don Tapscott, as well as interviews with Charlene Li, founder of the Altimeter Group and author of Open Leadership, and Linus Torvalds, the godfather of Linux. (Full disclosure, it also includes an article I originally wrote for design mind, “Openness or How to Design for the Loss of Control”).

Only if you’re open, you can share and be shared with. And if you share, you shall receive the greatest benefit, the greatest gift of all – someone else sharing something with you: their knowledge, their networks, their passion, their ideas. It is worth noting that the TEDGlobal conference 2012 – committed to sharing “Ideas Worth Spreading” – in Edinburgh will be held under the theme Radical Openness: “The world is becoming increasingly interconnected and open. Radically open – manifesting itself in open borders, open culture, open-source, open data, open science, open world, open minds. With the loss of privacy that it implies, openness carries its own dangers. But it breeds transparency, authenticity, creativity, and collaboration.”

My company, frog, is embracing Openness, too. We share our thinking with more than 330,000 followers on Twitter; more than 60% of our employees engage on Yammer in conversations that range from water-cooler topics to crowdsourced insights research firms would kill for; and design mind, the outlet you’re reading, is an open forum for all of our employees to publish their thoughts. We also recently launched SpeedMe, our own ‘speed-dating’ activity, to faciliate the bonding between new hires and ‘old frogs.’ In the words of our NY-based Associate Creative Director Dino Sanchez: “frog has grown quite a bit over the past year and with all our busy schedules it’s been difficult to keep up with new hires. Creativity is something that hinges on critique and in some cases brutal honesty, so knowing your colleagues and being comfortable with them is essential to a productive process.” Openness needs to be designed for.

At a the recent i7 Innovation Summit near Paris, frog ran a session at the beginning of the conference where we asked the conference attendees to break out into pairs and interview each other based on a questionnaire that we had prepared. Questions spanned the professional (e.g. “When was the last time you fired someone?” or “What was your biggest failure with the greatest learning?”) and the more personal (“What is your favorite movie?” – “What was your biggest lie”? etc.). The pairs had to fill in the answers in poster-size sheets which were subsequently mounted to a huge wall in the lobby, as a sort of “physical Facebook.”

David Rowan, editor of Wired UK, ran a similar exercise at WPP Stream in Athens, and in both instances the exercises were true ice-breakers for the attendees, forcing them to experience the implications of Openness first-hand: How open do I want to be? At what point does Openness become uncomfortable? What do I consider private in public? How much do I have to give in order to receive? Rowan argued that this kind of interactive, public data-mining would benefit any gathering as social interactions are typically more valuable when they’re facilitated by even a basic level of familiarity and trust among strangers. (On a related note, I’ve begun lately to ask job candidates to fill out the Proust questionnaire. Sure, professional qualifications matter the most, but at the end of the day you want to know who the person is you hire because chances are you’ll spend more time with them than with your own family.)

Yet pretending that Openness is just like any other business initiative that you can plan and execute would be disingenuous. It is a massive cultural change and requires a whole new mindset. The real challenges await the advocates of Openness after the first glitch, when things, very openly, go awry, and the conservative minds quickly come out of the closet to stigmatize one-time errors as systematic flaws. With every failure of Openness, the power of those who prefer Control rises exponentially. There is no doubt about it – openness, true, radical openness, hurts. It makes you uncomfortable, vulnerable, weak, and deprives you of the subtleties that came with control – but the benefits are huge. Pick the moments of Openness carefully: they will be your worst enemies and your best friends.

Marketer sind die Feuilletonisten der Wirtschaft

The German Werteindex blog has published an interview with me (in two parts, in German) about values-based-based leadership and how marketers can act as “chief meaning officers” to fight the disentchantment of business.

Part 1

Herr Leberecht, Sie bezeichnen ein “meaning surplus”als grundlegend für zukünftige Markenloyalität. Und während sich unser gesamtes Wirtschaftssystem im Umbruch befindet, rufen sie gerade Marketer dazu auf, diesen Prozess des Wandeln federführend zu gestalten – als Interface zwischen Kunden und Unternehmen. Was ist das Neue an der Idee von “Meaning”? Inwiefern unterscheidet sich dieses Meaning von anderen emotionalen Markenbotschaften?

Ich sehe “Meaning” als ein vorgelagertes oder weitergreifendes Konzept. Emotionale Markenbotschaften sind Instrumente zur Verbreitung von Meaning. Aber die Botschaft ist nicht die Marke. Erfolgreiche emotionale Markenbotschaften berühren den Konsumenten nur dann, wenn der Markenkern für ihn von Bedeutung (“Meaning”) ist. Die unmittelbare Erfahrung der Marke kann (und sollte,  im Idealfall) emotional sein, aber der Markenkern – die Werte, die die Marke verkörpert und der Sinn, den sie stiftet – sind eher langfristiger und übergeordneter Natur. Die beiden Ebenen sind interdependent: Emotionale Momente in der Markenerfahrung verstärken die spirituelle Grundbindung an die Marke, und die bisweilen religiöse Bindung zur Marke (siehe Apple) manifestiert und festigt sich in emotionalen Marken-Momenten.

Aber das Neue am Meaning-Konzept ist nicht der Wertekatalog der Marke. Wirtschaft ist per definitionem kein wertefreier Raum (niemand wusste dies besser als der Moralphilosoph Adam Smith, der ja bezeichnenderweise vor Wealth of Nations eine moralphilosophische Schrift mit dem Title Theory of Moral Sentiments veröffentlichte). Schon immer haben Werte die Entscheidungen von Unternehmen und Organisationen geprägt: vom nach innen gewandten Arbeitsethos – wie arbeiten wir miteinander und behandeln wir unsere Mitarbeiter? – zum nach aussen gewandten moralischen Kodex – wie gehen wir mit unseren Stakeholdern um, und welche Werte liegen unseren Produkten und Dienstleistungen zugrunde? Seitdem zahlreiche Studien aufzeigten, dass Konsumenten “moralische” Marken bevorzugen, haben Unternehmen verinnerlicht, dass die Triple-Bottom-Line-Ausrichtung einen echten Wettbewerbsvorteil darstellt (“doing well by doing good”) und durch Modelle wie CSR (Corporate Social Responsibility) und zuletzt Values-Based Management Werte externalisiert und ethisches Handeln zunehmend als strategischen Erfolgsfaktor in ihr operatives Geschäft integriert. Noch einen Schritt weiter geht der stark wachsende Bereich der Social Enterpreneurship: for-profit Firmen, deren Geschäftsmodell einzig und allein auf der Schaffung sozialen Mehrwerts basiert. Schon jetzt sind 10% aller europäischen Firmen Social Enterprises (mit insgesamt 11 Millionen Angestellten), und die Europäische Union hat gerade eine neue Social Business Policy erlassen, die diesen Sektor weiter stärken wird.

Was das Chief Meaning Officer-Konzept von all diesen Paradigmen unterscheidet, ist, dass es das Unternehmen – und hier Marketing als die treibende Kraft – als den Urheber von “Bedeutung” begreift, der aktiv Moral schafft, und zwar nicht nur als Grundlage und Checkpoint für die Moralität des Geschäftsgebarens, sondern als vorrangiges, philosophisches Ziel der gesamten Unternehmung, jenseits von CSR und Social Enterpreneurship: “The job of leadership today is not just to make money. It is to make meaning”, schreibt der US-Autor und Consultant John Hagel. Meaning ist nicht auf die soziale Verantwortung eines Unternehmens begrenzt, sondern reicht weiter und meint die Produktion von Bedeutung. Diese kann sich in einer intellektuellen, emotionalen, spirituellen oder ethischen Kategorie manifestieren, oder idealerweise in allen gleichzeitig. Unternehmen sind nicht nur ein moralischer Kompass für Konsumbürger und bieten Orientierung; Meaning Officers produzieren selber Moral und stiften Sinn. Sie setzen auf intrinsische Motivation und erweitern die Maslow’sche Pyramide um Meaning – um eine transzendente Erfahrung, die über materielle Bedürfnisse und die Selbstverwirklichung hinausgeht.

Wie können Meaning Officers das bewerkstelligen?

Dies kann durch umweltfreundliches Handeln geschehen, durch das Wahrnehmen von Verantwortung in der örtlichen Kommune oder die Achtung von Menschenrechten, aber eben auch durch individuelle Sinnstiftungen abseits der großen CSR-Themen, wie z.B. die Schaffung von kleinen Ritualen. Ein bisschen ist das wie Religion for Atheists, um den Titel des jüngst erschienenen Buches des britischen Philosophen Alain de Botton zu zitieren, der eine Art Gebrauchsanleitung zur praktischen Re-Spiritualisierung  unserer säkularisierten westlichen Gesellschaft verfasst hat. Chief Meaning Officers kämpfen gegen die “Entzauberung” der Wirtschaft, gegen die Diktatur von ROI und Excel-Tabellen, und gegen Marketing als objektive Wissenschaft. Sie bringen die Kultur zurück in die Technokratie, verbreiten Ambiguität und Geheimnis in einer weitgehend prozessbestimmten, zweckorientierten Arena, und schaffen Erfahrungen von Intimität und Exklusivität in aller Öffentlichkeit.

Diese neue Art von Leadership gewinnt an Bedeutung vor dem Hintergrund der aktuellen Ereignisse – von Lehmann Brothers zur Euro-Krise, dem Arabischen Frühling zu Occupy Wall Street. Wir erleben den Autoritäts- und Vertrauensverlust der traditionellen Institutionen und eine fundamentale Legitimitätserosion des Kapitalismus, und beides sind letztlich moralische Krisen. Konsumenten und Bürger erwarten mehr von der Wirtschaft, aber nicht nur im Sinne von praktizierter Umwelt- und Sozialverantwortung, von “guten” Produkten und moralischer Orientierung. Es geht um die Transformation von Wirtschaft an und für sich, um die ‘raison d’etre’ von Unternehmen, um die “Moral von der Geschichte”. Und da legen es die jüngsten politisch-ökonomischen Entwicklungen nahe, ein radikaleres Umdenken zu fordern. Was ist, wenn der Sinn des Wirtschaftens in der Sinnstiftung liegt? Oder aus der Marketing-Perspektive: Machen Marken nur dann Sinn, wenn sie Sinn machen? Der amerikanische Ökonom Robert C. Solomon argumentiert in seinem Buch A Better Way to Think About Business – How Values Become Virtues, dass das Marktsystem sich nicht durch Effizienz oder Profit rechtfertigen lässt, sondern nur dadurch, dass Menschen vor allem soziale und emotionale Wesen sind. Märkte bieten ihnen einen Mechanismus, eine “sympathetic community”, wie er das nennt, zum sozialen Austausch.

Wer in diesen Communities, diesen Netzwerken, florieren will, muss eine eigene, identifizierbare Kultur pflegen und jede Menge Sozialkapital mit einbringen. Marketing – ganz im Sinne des in jeglicher Hinsicht prophetischen Cluetrain Manifestos von 2001 – ist daher immer eine kulturelle Leistung, ein Diskurs. Chief Meaning Officers sind die Feuilletonisten der Wirtschaft. Sie schaffen die Soft Power, die den langfristigen Erfolg des Unternehmens gewährleistet. Das mag sich in der Tat “soft” anhören, aber in der Network Economy, mit ihrer zunehmenden Komplexität von Beziehungsgeflechten zwischen Konsumenten, Produzenten, Konkurrenten und Partnern, sind Sozialkapital und soziale Intelligenz zu entscheidenden Erfolgskriterien geworden.

Inwiefern sind auch Werbe- und Kommunikationsagenturen gefordert, “Meaning Agencies” zu werden? Was machen Agenturen heute schon richtig? Was machen die meisten noch immer falsch?

Viele machen vieles richtig. Die Branche ist viel smarter als ihr Ruf, und vordergründige pseudo-soziale Kampagnen wie Pepsi’s Refresh Project sind eher seltene Ausrutscher. Wie Wieden + Kennedy für Nike authentische Sub-Kulturen begriffen und behauptet hat, verdient höchste Anerkennung. Toll ist auch die Dachis Group, die den Begriff des Social Business konsequent auf alle Bereiche des Unternehmens augedehnt und eine einflussreiche Plattform aufgebaut hat, die unter anderem den Social Business Index und zahlreiche wegweisende Veröffentlichungen beinhaltet. Oder die Ads Worth Spreading Kampagne von TED (“ads so good you choose to watch!”).

Werbe – und Kommunikationsagenturen sind, glaube ich, insgesamt einen Schritt voraus und haben “Meaning Production” schon lange zu ihrer Domäne gemacht. Allerdings bleiben Agenturen aufgrund ihres beschränkten Einflusses letztlich nur Impulsgeber; die Hauptverantwortung liegt bei den Inhouse Marketing Departments – und die tun sich schwer, von traditionellen Marketing-Konventionen abzurücken, weil in der Konzernzentrale oft der Mut zum innovativen “meaningful marketing” fehlt und ihnen daher das Mandat zum umfassenden Change Management versagt bleibt.

Wo sind die größten Hemmschwellen auf dem Weg zum “Chief Meaning Officer“?

Die größten Hürden für den Meaning Officer sind jedenfalls intern. Da stoßen Meaning Officer naturgemäß auf jede Menge Skepsis, und es ist nicht immer einfach, den Zynismus der eigenen Mitarbeiter, die Kluft zwischen den Glaubensbekenntnissen der Geschäftsleitung und der tatsächlichen Kultur des Unternehmens, zu überwinden. Ein Bekenntnis zum Anderssein, kreative Risikofreudigkeit, der Mut zu sozialem Marketing und der Drang zum Experimentieren sind die Charakteristika des Chief Meaning Officers. Wie Marketing-Guru Seth Godin so schön treffend formuliert: ‚Wer sich nicht der Gefahr aussetzt, wegen seiner Idee gefeuert zu werden, dessen Idee ist nicht wirklich originell.‘ Ich weiß, das ist leichter gesagt als getan, aber Marketer müssen endlich aus der Defensive heraus und selbstbewusster ihre Philosophie vertreten – und anstelle des ständigen Nachweises des Wertes von Marketing neue Werte definieren, einfordern und schaffen.

Part 2

Herr Leberecht, Sie fordern Unternehmen auf, mehr meaning zu produzieren statt neuer Produkte. Den Marketer sehen Sie als zentrales Interface zwischen Kunden und Unternehmen, der den Prozess der meaning production führt.

 Haben Marketer überhaupt ausreichend Einfluss auf die Praxis ihrer Unternehmen in Bereichen außerhalb der Marketing-Abteilung?

Die Irrelevanz-Falle ist allgegenwärtig, aber inwieweit man reintappt hängt vom Selbstverständnis des Marketers ab. Marketing wird ja oft fälschlicherweise als Cost Center gebrandmarkt, als Luxus-Funktion für gute Zeiten, dabei ist es ein kritischer Erfolgsfaktor (wir wissen von zahlreichen Studien, dass der Erfolg oder das Scheitern von Unternehmen stark vom Marketing abhängt) und im Idealfall eine der wenigen Funktionen, die eine ganzheitliche Sicht auf das Unternehmen haben. Das sollten sich Marketers zu nutze machen. Sie sollten Beziehungen aufbauen zu anderen Funktionen und auf (Marken)Kontrolle verzichten, um somit mehr Einfluss auszuüben.

Das einflussreichste Marketing ist Marketing ohne Marketing: Marketing, das sich mehr als ein Netzwerk versteht als eine Funktion. Ich sage meinem Team immer, dass wir unser Ziel nicht erreicht haben, wenn unsere Funktion unternehmensweit an Macht gewinnt, sondern wenn das ganze Unternehmen zur Marketingorganisation geworden ist und wie ein Marketer denkt und fühlt.

Was zeichnet Unternehmen aus, in denen Marketer erfolgreich ganzheitlich gestalten können?

Erfolgreiche CMOs wie Beth Comstock bei GE sind für Geschäftsfeldbestimmung, Produktentwicklung und strategische Wachstumsinitiativen verantwortlich, in enger Zusammenarbeit mit den Business Units. Wie es Comstock vorgemacht hat, sollte Marketing nahe beim Kunden sein, eine langfristige Sicht einnehmen (und sich darin deutlich von Vertrieb/Sales unterscheiden) und als ein Change Agent agieren. Dies trifft insbesondere auf den Bereich Digitale Transformation zu: Ein jüngste Studie von Cap Gemini/MIT besagt, das zwei Drittel aller globalen Konzerne mit der Transformation zum digitalen Unternehmen erhebliche Schwierigkeiten haben. Das Thema Enterprise 2.0 – also der Einzug sozialer Medien in den IT-Mainstream und die Auswirkungen sozialer Technologien im allgemeinen – bereiten Chef-Etagen erhebliche Kopfzerbrechen. Wie Business zu Social Business wird, und nicht nur im Sinne von Social Responsibility, sondern viel weitreichender, im Sinne einer kompletten Neu-Definierung von Wertschöpfung – durch Ko-Kreation mit dem Kunden, Crowdsourcing, radikale Transparenz, usw. – diesen Wandel können Marketer als Meaning Officers entscheidend mit antreiben.

Unterliegen nicht auch Werte und Sinnstiftungen der Gefahr, austauschbar zu werden? Z. B. Umweltbewusstsein ist schon längst kein USP mehr. Welche kritischen Erfolgsfaktoren gibt es ist in der Positionierung von Werten und “Meaning” zu beachten?

Meaning hat kein Verfallsdatum. Die Produktion von Bedeutung kann nicht austauschbar werden, weil sie eigentlich immer austauschbar ist. Es ist ein Template. Mit anderen Worten: Was zählt, ist die Erfahrung, der Moment des Sinnstiftens an sich, das “Unterschiedmachen”. Mit welchen Werten und Ideen das im einzelnen geschieht, sollte jedes Unternehmen für sich entscheiden. Apple steht für die Humanisierung von Technologie, IBM für die globalisierte Nutzung von Technologie im Dienste eines “Smart Planets”, Coca-Cola für Happiness und so weiter. Marken müssen ihre These finden und dann jene Argumente im kollektiven Bewusstsein verorten, die ihnen recht geben.

Aber über diese allgemeinen Markenassoziationen hinaus: Wie produziert man Bedeutung? Was macht Bedeutung aus?  Vereinfacht gesagt, sind das, denke ich, vier Komponenten: Disruption, Seltenheit, Soziabilität und Transzendenz. Disruption bedeutet die Abweichung von der Routine, die Verletzung einer „mental map“, eines standardisierten kognitiven Modells. Zum Beispiel: Das iPhone stellte die mental maps von Computer und Telefon in Frage und verband beide zu etwas Ungesehenem, einer neuen Kategorie, die eine „dritte Bedeutung“ schuf.

Sehgewohnheiten und kognitive Muster brechen – so funktioniert Werbung. Meaning braucht daher noch weitere Dimensionen. Nehmen Sie das Beispiel der deutschen Nationalmannschaft: Hört sich trivial an, aber was würde den EM-Sieg des Teams bedeutungsvoll machen? Nun, zum einen, Seltenheit. Die deutsche Elf hat schon seit 1990 keinen internationales Turnier mehr gewonnen. Meaning ist umgekehrt proportional zum Auftreten von bedeutenden Ereignissen.

Und der Seltenheitswert eines Ereignisses potenziert sich, wenn er teilbar wird, d.h. ein soziales Moment hat. Dies kann auf vier Arten geschehen: durch die Möglichkeit, an Bedeutung teilzuhaben und sie aktiv mitzugestalten; durch das Teilen einer bedeutenden Erfahrung mit anderen (Bedeutung entsteht immer im Austausch mit anderen, ist ein soziales Phänomen – siehe „Fanmeile“); durch Großzügigkeit (wenn man mehr gibt als nimmt, entsteht ein Bedeutungsexzess, ein “meaning surplus”); und durch den sozialen Mehrwert, den Beitrag zur Gesellschaft, zum allgemeinen Wohl oder dem von benachteiligten sozialen Gruppierungen.

Letzteres führt zum Kriterium der Transzendenz: Es kann ein gesellschaftliches Ziel sein, das das individuelle Ereignis überhöht, eine Ideologie, oder eine abstrakte, universale Wahrheit. Bedeutende Erlebnisse deuten immer auf eine übergreifende Vision, eine „dritte Bedeutung” hin. Sie stehen nie nur für sich selbst. Warum wird eine Fussball-WM zum “Sommermärchen” und ein Team zum „Weltmeister der Herzen“? Das ist ja kein reiner PR-Spin, sondern eine echte emotionale Bewegung. Das konnte man auch bei Steve Jobs Tod sehen, als die kollektive Trauer fast schon ekstatische Züge annahm, oder in Obamas vieldiskutierter Präsidentschaftskampagne von 2008, in der sich Hunderttausende von jungen Amerikanern engagierten, weil sie von der Vision von “Hope” – von der Machbarkeit echten Wandels – inspiriert waren. Oder zuletzt Occupy Wall Street. Es gibt einfach diese Momente, die eine tiefe innere Wahrheit in uns bloßlegen.

Chief Meaning Officers behalten alle diese Faktoren – Disruption, Seltenheit, Soziabilität und Transzendenz – bei ihren Aktivitäten immer im Auge. Aber ein fünfter fehlt noch: Echtheit. Nur wenn die Intentionen des Unternehmens ehrlich sind, wird die Authentizität der Marke fühlbar. Ansonsten ist Meaning bedeutungslos.

Wie passt die Entwicklung zu mehr Meaning zur ansonsten ebenso immer öfter hörbaren Forderung nach mehr Meßbarkeit und effektiven ROI?

Zunächst einmal: Ich schenke der geläufigen Formel, dass man nur das managen kann, was man messen kann, keinen Glauben. Im Gegenteil: Die besten Manager sind Experten im Managen des Nicht-Messbaren. Um es noch etwas mehr zuzuspitzen: ROI ist eine Schimäre und in der Regel ein Alibi, um Chefs zufriedenzustellen. Wer keine Ideen und keine Vision hat, der hat eben Zahlen. Verstehen Sie mich nicht falsch, ich bin nicht grundsätzlich gegen die Quantifizierung der Wirkung von Marketing-Programmen. Aber nur, wenn man im Hinterkopf behält, dass diese Zahlen immer nur eine Annäherung dastellen, eine Interpretation, aber niemals eine objektive Wahrheit. Der ROI bleibt zwangsläufig oft “intangible” (Anm. d. Red.: immateriell). Wobei selbst der Sprachgebrauch zweifelhaft ist. Dass die vermeintlichen “tangible assets” (Anm. d. Red.: materielle Vermögenswerte) unter Umständen wesentlich volatiler sind als die “intangibles” hat die jüngste Finanzkrise ja nachdrücklich bewiesen. (Sie hat uns auch daran erinnert, dass ein Grossteil der Buchhaltungswerte eines Unternehmens sich als vollkommen virtuell herausstellen kann.)

Das schöne deutsche Wort der “Wertschätzung” wird immer noch unterschätzt im Vergleich zu den sogenannten “harten” Metrics wie Leads, Funnel Contribution oder Revenue Contribution. Goodwill, Reputation, Customer Lifetime Value (der Wert eines einzelnen Kunden über den gesamten Zeitraum der Kundenbeziehung), soziales Kapital oder “organizational capital” (wie es der US-Finanztheoretiker Baruch Lev nennt) – diese Werte sind meiner Meinung nach wesentlich aussagekräftiger, wenn auch ebenso schwer präzise zu messen.

Hinzu kommt, dass die meisten ROI Messungen meist kurzfristig gedacht und allein auf das Quartalsergebnis oder die unmittelbare Wirkung von Marketingaktivitäten bezogen sind. Aber das Quartal (und wie überhaupt der gesamte übliche Budgetrahmen von einem Jahr) sind recht willkürliche Planungseinheiten, die nur selten mit der Realität eines Unternehmens übereinstimmen. Der Markt steht niemals still, Kunden denken und handeln in unterschiedlichen zeitlichen Perspektiven, und die Investition in Marken, in die Beziehung zu Kunden, in intellektuelle und emotionale Erfahrungen, lässt sich nur schwer formal erfassen. Jeder Marketer, der erklärt, genau zu wissen, mit welchem Effekt er wo investiert, lügt. Der ROI von Marketing ist letztlich immer eine Scheinkalkulation.

Und dennoch machen die meisten Marketingleute das Spiel mit – weil sie durch die Machtkonventionen in ihren Unternehmen dazu gezwungen werden und glauben, sonst ihr Mitspracherecht bei strategischen Entscheidungen zu verlieren. Wer Zahlen hat, gewinnt.

Ich bin mir sicher, dass viele Marketingabteilungen 50% ihrer Zeit damit verbringen, ihre Programme zu evaluieren und ROI Reports für das Management-Team zu erstellen. Stellen Sie sich vor, wie viel mehr sie erreichen würden, wenn sie auch nur die Hälfte dieser Zeit nicht für Reporting, sondern für kreative Marketing-Aktivitäten aufbrächten! Wie viel mehr Bedeutung könnten sie produzieren, wie viel neue Kunden könnten sie schaffen und wie viele existierende Kundenbeziehungen stärken? Ich kenne viele Kollegen, die gezwungen werden, detaillierte ROI Analysen zu erstellen, bevor sie überhaupt Geld ausgeben können – aber dann ist es meistens schon zu spät. Im Zeitalter des Social Web hat das Marketing keine Zeit mehr für ausgiebige Planung – alles was passiert, passiert jetzt. Just do it! Der Marketing-Mix ändert sich jeden Tag. Das einzig konstante sind Experimente – und die Werte, die sich in langfristigen Beziehungen zu Kunden und Öffentlichkeit ausdrücken.

Ein letzter Gedanke noch: Trotz des ganzen Hypes um Big Data und die totale, Echtzeit-nahe Erfassung und Analyse von Kundendaten, sollte man nicht vergessen, dass Daten immer nur reaktives Verhalten ermöglichen; selbst die datenbasierte Zukunftsplanung ist eine Reaktion. Statt auf Big Data setze ich auf Big Intuition! Wer wirklich innovativ sein will und etwas verändern will, vertraut seiner Intuition. Die ist nämlich schneller als alle Daten. Paradoxerweise gilt in der Wissensgesellschaft: Intuition sticht Wissen aus. Chief Meaning Officers wissen das. Sie erahnen Trends, bevor diese messbar werden, vertrauen ihrem (Mit)Gefühl und machen somit den Unterschied aus, der dann in ein echtes Differenzierungsmerkmal mündet. Wer nur Daten analysiert, ahmt das Bestehende nach. Wer selbstbewusst genug ist, um Daten zu ignorieren, kann Verhalten beeinflussen und tatsächlich etwas Neues schaffen. Henry Ford hatte Recht: ‚Wenn ich auf meine Kunden gehört hätte, hätte ich schnellere Pferde produziert‘. Daten helfen uns zu verstehen, wie die Welt ist; Innovatoren und Visionäre aber (und Chief Meaning Officers sind beides!) sehen die Welt, wie sie nicht ist.

 

The Opposite House

Otherness and other pillars of a new moral economy

“So, what is the reason for your existence?” the German professor at a Chinese business school reception in Shanghai asked me, to start a conversation. I felt like ad man Don Draper in the TV series Mad Men when his false identity is unveiled. Who are you really? Caught off guard, I answered: “I’m a marketer.” The conversation moved on, others had wittier sound bites to contribute, and my unease continued. It had been weighing on me since I had put my foot on Chinese soil a few days earlier, and here in this beautiful mansion, confiscated by the government from the corrupt former mayor of Shanghai, it was a steady companion.

You may think that the homogenized cosmopolitan settings of the tier one cities Beijing and Shanghai would seem familiar and comforting to a seasoned Western business traveler like me, but this time the glitzy, uber-capitalist façade did not alleviate my profound sense of dislocation and alienation. I was a stranger and everything was strange to me. This sentiment was exacerbated when I checked into the Opposite House, a chic designer hotel in Beijing’s Sanlitun village district that literally comprises of two opposing halves, each housing generous rooms, connected through a vast space underneath, which is used as both art gallery and lobby. Designed by the Japanese architect Kengo Kuma and catering to the ‘global soul,’ it was meant to make you feel at home in an open, accessible space of kindness, but it did the opposite to me. It manifested the Otherness of my being here, in the heart of this strange city, with other strangers, who, like me, probably had no clue and so, like me, just marveled at the strangeness of it all.

It occurred to me that the Opposite House was a metaphor for some of the issues I had been pondering for the past few months. “The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function,” wrote F. Scott Fitzgerald, and while his words were infinitely wise, I thought that a more intelligent mind than mine may very well hold the two opposites, in Beijing or anywhere, but perhaps even the most intelligent mind would not necessarily be happy in doing so. It’s hard to be happy if you are denied a happy ending, and it’s an unpleasant, arduous task to withstand the temptation to reconcile dual or multiple truths. We are hardwired to believe – and to believe in one truth.

Having just worked through the intricacies of integrating a marketing function and harmonizing two brands (and very different business cultures), I know how exhausting it can be when there is always ‘the other side of the story.’ This ‘other side’ can be the externalization of effects (responsibility), or it can mean putting yourself in someone else’s shoes (empathy). What the other side rarely appreciates is how hard you have worked to be on yours, and how much effort it has been for you to truly believe in it. Whatever it takes then to make you switch sides (or at least recognize the opposite one), it must include some kind of reimbursement for the intellectual and emotional work that went into asserting and upholding your one truth. The grass may or may not be greener on the other side of the fence – the path there, the ‘empathy dividend,’ better be worthwhile. This is true for conflict management at the individual, institutional, societal, and international level: Israel and the Arab world, Shiites and Sunni, Pakistan and India, China and the US, North and South Korea, Occupy Wall Street versus the 1%, and the list goes on – the world is conveniently framed by antagonisms, by dualities that stubbornly resist both reconciliation and the parallel truths that Fitzgerald heralded.

China resolves dualities by grasping Yin and Yang as complementary, interconnected forces, and its defiance of dichotomous moral judgments is not always easy to accept for the Western mind. Henry Kissinger’s views On China are a notable exception to the many books (e.g. Martin Jacques’ When China Rules the World and James Kynge’s China Shakes the World) that have recently examined how an ascendant and increasingly confident China could affect the rest of us. Kissinger seeks to understand China’s place in the world from the conditions of China’s complicated history and rich culture, not through the lens of Western morale. Kissinger does not portray China as hegemonial power but as an introverted nation that aims at protecting its ideal of a ‘harmonious society’ by making calculated offensive moves. He compares them to the Chinese board game Weiqi where the onus is on strategic encirclement rather than the black and white of absolute victory or defeat. Morality, essentially, deals with the question of how we treat the Other – the one who is not identical with us. Empathy, or even sympathy, is its foundation. With respect to China, this raises the question: To what extent can you leave your comfort zone, your moral center of gravity, to understand the Other before your absolute truth becomes relative, your ethical behavior situational, and your moral compass rudderless?

Moreover, a concept of morality based on Otherness presumes the Cartesian continuum of Ego and Self. But what if the line between Self and Other is fuzzy? In his writings, the British moral philosopher Derek Parfit (who became famous through his teleporter thought experiment and was recently portrayed in this stunning New Yorker article) rejects the integrity of personal identity and instead proposes a reductionist view of human life that renders the Kantian concept of the Self’s moral autonomy obsolete. If parts of your brain cells were to be transplanted into another body, he wonders, what would that do to yours and the other body’s personal identity? Who would be you? Parfit claims there would be two Selves (or none). Consequently, morality, in his view, is meta-personal and non-relational, and can only be derived from universal truths. To him, the loss of the concept of a separate Self is liberating, which puts him him in close proximity to Buddhists, who identify and recognize themselves in the Other:

“My life seemed like a glass tunnel, through which I was moving faster every year, and at the end of which there was darkness... [However] When I changed my view, the walls of my glass tunnel disappeared. I now live in the open air. There is still a difference between my life and the lives of other people. But the difference is less. Other people are closer. I am less concerned about the rest of my own life, and more concerned about the lives of others.” [Derek Parfit]

Sam Harris’ latest book The Moral Landscape: How Science Can Determine Human Values covers reductionist terrain as well, albeit from a very different vantage point. Harris seeks to constitute moral relevance from the alleged objectivity of scientific findings. But do we really want to entrust science all of our moral decisions? Science is not an authority on morality; it is its very subject. The moral landscape is not as flat as Harris wants us to believe. Or to riff on William Gibson: “Morality is here, it is just not very evenly distributed.”

Steven Pinker, in his recent book The Better Angels of Our Nature: Why Violence Has Declined, argues that the spread of literacy led to a “circle of empathy,” propelled by many rights movements of 20th century that brandished immoral behavior as anti-social and by doing so accomplished to largely ban it from Western societies. If you look at the Occupy Wall Street movement – as nascent as it may appear – one wonders if we may see a similar social norm-shifting phenomenon emerge in the corporate world. Writer and Techonomy conference curator David Kirkpatrick wrote a poignant piece on how the new social power we witnessed in the Arab Spring may lead to a corporate revolution, and indeed one may wonder: Will the American Fall usher in the demise of the corporation as we know it?

Trade is an arbiter of peace, as Pinker argues. Collaboration and inclusion produce morale, an effect that is amplified by the tremendous amount of social capital generated by social media and in particular through the principle of reciprocity at work on social networking sites. Facebook, through this lens, can be viewed as the biggest morale producer of our times, not in the sense of giving to charities or supporting causes one click at a time – the so-often-derided ‘clicktivism’ – but through rich interactions and an appreciation and experience of Otherness that is made possible through the voyeurism emanating from the transparency of individual behaviors at public display.

On the other hand, hyper-connectivity may yield the opposite effect: When everything and everyone is connected all the time, will the individual moral Self be neutralized by a seamless collective that absorbs Otherness into Sameness? In this vein, Eli Pariser argues that the Social Web is a self-selecting Filter Bubble, and that rather than experiencing the Other, we’re just experiencing an increasingly narrow projection of ourselves, so that our social graph, based on our web history of purchases, clicks, friends, and likes, will ultimately become congruent with the social universe of One. Then our lives and the lives of others will be identical, and even with our identity spread beyond our Selves, it will not occur in the way Parfit envisioned it.

This debate on the Other is the main debate we ought to have in light of the crisis of our economies. A ‘moral economy’ puts the Other at the center of all its activities, and if it truly does, it will no longer need the qualifier ‘moral.’ However, our largely secularized and rationalized economy is struggling to restore its moral and spiritual acumen (see Umair Haque’s musings on The Meaning Organization and my own piece on the Chief Meaning Officer), and simply borrowing best practices from religion as proposed by Alain de Botton’s “Atheism 2.0” (see a good rebuttal here) won’t suffice when what we are really lacking is not a practical “god-free” tool kit but an idealistic and spiritual vision, a social contract that is meaningful at the personal level. Economist Robert C. Solomon described it aptly: “Markets systems are justified not because of efficiencies and profits but because humans are first and foremost social and emotional beings, and markets provide a sympathetic community for social exchange.” Consequently, Brad McLane, in a recent Huffington Post article, makes the case for the role of a “Chief Community Officer,” a leader who can reconcile individual interests with the satisfaction of trusted cooperation (research has shown that trust and trustworthiness produce oxytocin, the “hormone of love”).

Embracing Otherness has been the foundation for business since its inception – business serves the Other, as in the customer, or the stakeholders of today and tomorrow (future generations), but it has gained new relevance. Another, perhaps more important side to it is innovation. Otherness is the very source of innovation. The deviation from the normal, the conventional, and the routine is how new and different ideas are born – ideas that change the world for the better, which at the end of the day is the entrepreneur’s fundamental moral obligation. This is the legacy of Steve Jobs and other “fools” who “saw the world as it is not” – and changed it.

The new moral leadership starts with business school education. Harvard Business School professor Rakesh Khurana therefore asks for a “reprofessionalization of the manager,” so that he can overcome the self-interest-driven homo economicus, the self-inflicted Machiavellian mechanisms of competition and short-term gain, and instead focus again on his true task – to build and nurture long-term cooperative relationships that allow an economy, a plurality of interactions and transactions between trusted and trusting Others guided by shared values, to thrive.

Back to the initial question: what justifies my existence? As a marketer, it is my responsibility to understand the Others and connect them through many parallel truths – even if it’s just for a moment, a flickering desire, a shared passion and experience, or a common purpose. I am an engineer of trust, and I enjoy communicating for the very act of communicating. I can create and cultivate “sympathetic communities” that rely on “woven interactions” rather than “vector communications.” In the best case, I can help build a house of opposites on the basis of the social capital and goodwill generated by meaningful brands that serve as moral stewards, embrace paradox, and balance the dialectic forces of competition and cooperation, codified behavior and open-ended innovation. I am not here to generate impressions; I am here to reward attention with lasting value.

(c) picture by Coolhunting

Designing the Designers

I recieved this following post from Lang Davison, as a response to my response on his (and John Hagel's) book "The Power of Pull." Enjoy!

-- By Lang Davison, Andrew Markell, Kate Markell

Control is every tyrant's dream. It may be the rest of ours, too.

Ernest Becker argued that all human behavior is basically an attempt to control anxiety about death. Management scientists use control theory to model and command their circumstances. Japanese engineers designed elaborate earthquake constructions to protect them from temblors-which were proved an epic failure after the Kobe quake. Authoritarian governments in places such as Egypt and Tunisia believed military control would insulate them from revolt, right up until uprisings forced them to flee.

Control is a holy grail of the human species.

But if control of circumstances has ever really been possible—a dubious proposition, to be sure—it's even less possible in the digital era. As we've argued elsewhere, the 21st century has become swifter, more turbulent, and harder to predict. The “unexpected” is becoming commonplace. Probability distributions are increasingly less normal. Power laws are ever more prevalent. We live in an age of uncertainty.

All the while, power is shifting from institutions to individuals in their roles as consumers and talented employees.

Recognizing the impossibility of control, foresighted thinkers like JP Rangaswami are calling for big institutions to ”learn to design for the loss of control." Tim Leberecht, the chief marketing officer of frog design, recently reviewed the early attempts companies and design firms are making to achieve this design, including: open ideation/crowdsourcing (openIDEO); open strategy (NPR and its ThinkIn on the future of digital media); open branding (Continuum's Transparent Design Project); and open- (source) social networks (Lockheed Martin's Eureka Streams).

From Control to… Control

While these well-intentioned attempts are effective in their own right, they fall short of grasping the fuller implications of a design for loss of control. Many of them, such as the crowdsourcing examples, exchange one more obvious form of control-centralized and hierarchical-for a distributed approach that's controlling in its own right, if more subtly so. Crowdsourcing and similar approaches are primarily interested in eliminating the hierarchical methodology for the production of ideas rather than discovering any new ground upon which to see and inquire about the world. Thus they remain prisoner to old lenses and dispositions that may or may not be congruent with the continually changing world of near-constant disruption around us.

This occurs in part because too often they specify the incoming issues to be solved while failing to ask the more provocative questions that a design for loss of control would seem to require. At the front end of InnoCentive's crowdsourcing approach, for example, companies state the problem they want to solve-and immediately foreclose other possibilities.

To be sure, specifying the incoming question scopes the endeavor so that it can be more efficiently managed. But isn't efficient management itself a re-imposition of control-albeit at a less controlling level than companies who have yet to crowdsource?

Take NPR's ThinkIn, an all day brainstorming session held in the studios of frog design to explore the future of digital media. While impressively innovative at a number of levels-the convening of an exceptional group of executives, designers, and innovators; the live-commentary and streaming through social media channels; the potential for a “brand hijack” in which NPR wouldn't even be involved in the conversation-the ThinkIn failed to ask more primary questions that might help transcend subtly powerful and pervasive assumptions about NPR's strategy. Namely, “Should NPR even exist?”

Don't misunderstand: we're fans of NPR, and think the world would be poorer without it. But shouldn't a discussion of NPR's strategy, if it is to be truly designed for loss of control, start with the most primary questions, such as: what kind of world do we live in now? How does that world operate? What does an organization like NPR contribute to the needs of the world? Asking primary questions helps us avoid taking for granted, at an ontological level, the necessity of NPR and the ways in which it's needed in our world. As we temporarily hold in abeyance our desire to help NPR, we hold ourselves open to a more foundational set of questions. This provides a quite different starting point.

Once we see what emerges in the space cleared by asking primary questions, we can then connect what's revealed to the original intention-in this case rethinking and improving NPR's strategy. We don't jettison the original intention of the exercise but approach it from a starting point that's less controlled by incoming assumptions-one that challenges common sense and conventional “wisdom” and better allows the exposure of anomalies. Wouldn't that be closer to a true design for loss of control?

Einstein's famous dictum declares that no problem can be solved from the same level of consciousness that created it. If we are to design for the loss of control we must confront the possibility that we are operating from the same level of consciousness as the problems we're trying to solve, and our design must help us re-create the basis upon which we ask questions of our world, ourselves, our designs, and our institutions.

A New Interior Design

If our attempts to design for the loss of control in fact substitute new forms of control in place of the ones we have discarded, there's a familiar reason why that might be so. Humans in nearly all our endeavors struggle to embrace new ideas, approaches, practices, and dispositions while letting go of old ones.

Why? Brain science shows that our behaviors, dispositions, and beliefs are hard-wired into our nervous systems. That's why it's so hard to teach old dogs new tricks. A widely cited Johns Hopkins study of cardiac patients who were told to change their lifestyle behaviors or die found that nine out of ten of them couldn't change, even with their lives on the line. Their behaviors were hard-wired into their nervous systems-right to the grave.

Stress makes it all the worse. Humans have a difficult time learning while under stress. And our modern age is anything if not stressful. When we're under pressure, most of us fail to learn the new thing and go back to the old thing instead. Even when we try to design for loss of control we revert back to trying to find the control we've discarded.

As humans, we literally embody our need for control in our neurophysiology. To let it go requires re-mapping our neural circuitry. All of which leads to a profound implication: the design for loss of control is interior to us. We need a new interior design, as it were, if we are to arrive at a true exterior design for loss of control.

Until we remap our neuronal networks we will inevitably revert to whatever's hard-wired into the existing map, no matter how powerful our intention to create a design for loss of control might be, no matter how smart we are, and no matter how diverse a group of accomplished thinkers we bring into the room. In nearly every case we will create a design that tries to re-impose control.

Until this interior design flaw is remedied it doesn't matter how many apparently good ideas we come up with for the world outside of us. Either the design itself will be misconceived or, if it isn't, we'll be unable to embrace and adopt it. We'll go old school instead.

Re-wiring

But how do we re-wire our nervous systems? There are differing points of view about this. Oliver Sacks, one of our most learned scholars on the subject, suggests traveling to new places, learning a new language, or taking up a musical instrument. These activities will no doubt help build new neural connections, but they strike us as rather marginal practices. Can we really re-map our hard-wired neural circuitry simply by learning French? Surely a more intensive approach is required.

Building muscles requires putting our musculature under pressure-through lifting weights, for instance. For anything to evolve, it must be subject to pressure. So how do we put the nervous system under similar pressure? One answer comes from the Chinese fighting arts, which has created a practice specifically designed to put the nervous system under pressure. It's called zhan zhuang, or standing practice. Beginning practitioners of this practice stand with their arms outstretched as if holding a barrel, knees bent 6-8 inches or so, and their feet a bit past shoulder width for 15 to 20 minutes per day. (As practitioners advance the techniques get more involved but remain deceptively simple.)

As we stand, our big muscles begin to fail, and we're forced to recruit smaller, suppler muscles and connective tissue in order to stay in position. This recruitment awakens parts of the nervous system (many of our bigger nerves are in fact mostly composed of connective tissue) that were previously offline. It literally builds new neural pathways in the body while strengthening those that already exist. As standing puts our muscles under pressure it forces us to recruit new ones, and as we do, the nerves embedded in those muscles get recruited too. In turn, new neural pathways improve the brain's ability to integrate complexity.

Biologists have long been aware that external stimuli and information are integrated through the human nervous system-it's the same for all animals. The question is how we integrate those stimuli. Do we go right to stress? Do we remain a prisoner of the past and do what we've always done, even if it no longer fits the reality around us? Or do we have the nervous system capacity needed to integrate new complexity at a higher level?

To design for loss of control in the exterior world we need to have first built the nervous system capacity necessary to tolerate the anxiety and discomfort that comes with letting go of control, to be able to let go of old ways and learn new ones. And we need to be able to integrate the complexity that primary questions inevitably raise.

In the past 15 years we've trained thousands of people how to integrate greater complexity in their nervous systems, from inner-city gang members to entrepreneurs, designers, executives, bankers, IT managers, professors, and nuns. Nearly all of them learned to make new choices, even while under stress. They expanded the capacity of their nervous system to tolerate the discomfort and anxiety that come with uncertainty and loss of control.

And that's the big implication for designers: At its deepest level, design is now about making choices with regard to our bodies. Are we expanding the capacity of our nervous systems? Until we do we will be unable to grapple with the most pressing design question of our era: the design for loss of control. Instead we'll create designs that subtly re-impose control.

Leading designers rightfully see themselves as prime movers in human culture. In many respects they're the history makers. They design the technology, and the spaces. They capture beauty, functionality, and significance-much of what it means to be human. But right now, despite the very real success of the green design movement, designers are essentially missing the point. The most pressing design question today is human design: the design of humans so that we evolve more quickly. By deepening their nervous system capacity, designers may well discover and disclose to the rest of humanity an entirely new field of possibilities, one that better addresses the many species-imperiling crises we face.

For designers, the great challenge of the 21st century is not sustainability or cradle-to-cradle systems or whatever the best solar panel array might look like. It's finding and disclosing new worlds of possibility for the dangers we face, and for making this world truly a paradise on earth. Until we expand the capacity of our nervous systems, this new world will continue to escape us.

Lang Davison, Andrew Markell, and Kate Markell are principals at Exile, a leadership and innovation firm in Portland, OR. Lang is co-author of the book, The Power of Pull: How Small Moves, Smartly Made, Can Set Big Things in Motion (Basic, 2010). They can be reached at www.exileleadership.com.

On Beauty (and Leadership)

“What’s difficult? Creating beauty is difficult, whether it’s the tangible beauty of a brilliant innovation or the intangible essence of exceptional leadership. Beauty exists in an elegant and novel approach to a problem. Maybe it’s captured in a simple device that works intuitively, reliably, and efficiently or in an effective solution—a 'beautiful' solution—to an organizational dysfunction. And it exists in the act of connecting with and leading people.”

From “To Win, Create What’s Scarce" by Seth Godin