The Opposable Mind

by Roger L. Martin

  We discuss each case in small groups for approximately one hour. The purpose is to help class participants diagnose what went wrong in the interaction, how they inadvertently contributed to an outcome that they didn’t like, and how they could have dealt more productively with model clash. At the end of the exercise, we want participants to better understand how they built from directly observable data to higher-order conclusions, and how that sequence might have ended in a productive resolution instead of unproductive conflict. Let’s now look at the actual case of an MBA student, with names and identifying context disguised (see “A Failure to Communicate”).

  A Failure to Communicate

  The author of the following personal case, MBA student Philip, described his part in bringing about a very painful clash. When each participant—including Philip—clung tenaciously to his own model, the outcome bore no relation to the ending Philip had hoped to achieve.

  Purpose of the Encounter

  Immediately after graduating with my undergraduate degree, I started up a small Internet consulting company with two friends who were in similar situations. The time of the following encounter was a little over one year after we started the company. We had done well, in the sense that the company made enough money for us all to live on. However, we all felt as though the company had stagnated over the past few months, that our initial momentum to “be wildly successful” had given way to running the company merely to meet our lifestyle needs, which were very modest.

  We attributed this stagnation to the fact that we hadn’t formally divided up ownership of the company. It was registered as a sole proprietorship in the name of Dennis, one of the three of us. With the company being his sole personal liability, he was unwilling to take the kinds of risky/big moves that Aaron and I were interested in taking to grow the company. Conversely, while Aaron and I had worked very hard initially to build a foundation for the company, we were now unwilling to “give our all” to the company, bringing it to the next level, before we knew that we were going to have an equity stake in any success we might help create.

  The purpose of the encounter was to establish the ownership percentages of the company so that we could go forward with it.

  What I Wanted to Accomplish and How I Hoped to Do So

  I recognized that Dennis was a phenomenally talented guy who took the initial step to found the company, and as a result he could be “first among equals” once ownership shares were formally established. However, I saw the company essentially as a venture of equals and I wanted the ownership shares to reflect this—say, 40/30/30 for Dennis, Aaron, and me (or at least something very close to this).

  I hoped to achieve this outcome by explaining my reasoning and viewpoint along these lines. I thought that skills and time commitment to date of all three of us was prima facie evidence that we all essentially were equals, and that unless we codified this, the company couldn’t move forward.

  What I thought and felt but did not say What we actually said and did

  Me: –I guess the fundamental question we have to address is which model of equity division are we going to approach: one where there is a distinct difference between one of us versus the other two, or one where we’re all generally equal, but with variations that reflect different skills or other contributions?

  Dennis, yes, you’re talented, but get a hold of yourself—you’re not that much more talented. Besides, I’m the one who held this company together while you finished your last year of school. Dennis: I feel as though my contributions to date warrant a fundamentally different level of control from the two of you. Also, as it stands right now, I have 100 percent control over the company. Why on earth would I move myself from the current situation, where I have control, to one where I don’t? What if the two of you decide to gang up on me?

  Me: –As far as your observation regarding relative contribution to date goes, I disagree. I think we’ve all given a hell of a lot to the company, with no one of us head and shoulders above the others. Regarding your observation about giving up control, put yourself in our shoes—that’s the situation that Aaron and I are in right now, only worse! It only takes one of you to “gang up” on the two of us!

  You always have felt as though you’re some kind of “special case,” haven’t you? I knew you were a control freak, but now I’m beginning to see how much of one you are. Dennis: –I am unmoved by your arguments. Since I’m the boss currently, my own opinion regarding worthiness wins. And whatever reasons you and Aaron had for accepting the current situation are your own—I don’t feel as though they apply to me.

  Me: –While I can’t speak for Aaron, I can say that the reason why I’ve been willing for you to be the 100 percent owner to date has been that, up until now, it really hasn’t been an issue of much practical importance.

  Me: –We’re on the cusp of growing the company, taking on much more risk and hopefully getting much more reward than has been the case in the past. If there’s big reward to be had, I want my share. But I think the fundamental issue is what is going to happen next for this company. I feel my talents are needed for this company to move to the next level, and I don’t plan on giving them away without getting a level of equity acceptable to me as a result.

  Dennis, you moron! Do you really think that? Is this just a negotiation ploy, or has your ego detached you that much from reality? Dennis: –I disagree—I think this company can grow without the kind of equity division that you describe, one where I lose control.

  Aaron, you moron! Don’t you realize that I’m fighting for you, too? Aaron: –I think it’s clear now that Dennis isn’t going to move from his position. That’s okay with me. If that’s the way he wants to play it, then that’s the way it will be.

  Oh, I get it. You’re just being a weasel because you’re worried about paying your rent next month. You’ve got zero guts!

  Me: –With this outcome, I don’t believe that this company has a long-term future, and so I have to look to my own best interests to see if something else out there is going to work out better for me.

  Concerns

  Within a month after this meeting, I had accepted a job at a large IT company in another city. Dennis and Aaron continued the Internet consulting business. The business shut down three years later when Dennis went to business school for an MBA and Aaron decided not to continue the business so he could pursue other creative interests. The client list was sold and both Dennis and Aaron profited from this. In the three years the business didn’t grow to a size we originally envisioned, but a few other employees were brought in under various arrangements.

  My concern is this: While I don’t generally expect anything from people other than self-interest, is there any way that I could have approached this situation to have helped the other people involved to appreciate that my position was probably the course of enlightened self-interest? After all, while Dennis won (or at least kept) 100 percent control, 100 percent of not much is still not much. What could I do in the face of this way of thinking? Or am I thinking about this all wrong even now?

  It is easy to see how this interaction would reinforce Philip’s aversion to model clash. An interaction like the one he recounted isn’t likely to instill confidence in achieving a constructive resolution of clashing models.

  According to Philip, Steve prevailed in this conflict by insisting that he didn’t find the situation unsatisfactory and saw no need for change. “What could I do,” Philip asked plaintively, “in the face of this way of thinking?”

  The question may have been rhetorical, but there is an answer: try something other than pure advocacy in the face of an opposing model. Note that neither Philip nor Dennis inquires into the other man’s model (Dennis’s two rhetorical questions—“Why on earth would I move myself from the current situation, where I have control, to one where I don’t?” and “What if the two of you decide to gang up on me?”—are aimed at shutting down inquiry, not opening it up). Each repeatedly advocates the merits of his own model
and shows little or no interest in the logic of the opposing model.

  Both Philip and Dennis, being proud products of Western education, are highly skilled advocates. Each advocates his model vigorously and thoroughly and sees his primary task as gaining the other’s acceptance of his model. In the face of nonacceptance, each advocates more forcefully or refutes what he understands to be the other’s model. They signal to one another that each is completely uninterested in understanding the concerns, assumptions, and salient data that inform the other man’s thinking.

  The dialogue Philip recreates is notable for its increasing emotional heat. Because Philip shares his unspoken thoughts with us, we can see his characterization of Dennis morph from “talent” to “control freak” to “moron” in the space of several minutes. The anger seeps over to the right side of the dialogue box in more inflammatory language (“I don’t plan on giving them away”) and more extreme positions (“so I have to look to my own best interests”). Advocacy fuels the responses that fuel the anger, which fuels more advocacy and more anger, in an accelerating cycle with no good end.

  Because neither man is actively engaged in learning more about the other’s thinking, no creative resolution of their conflict is possible. A creative resolution requires one or the other party in the dialogue to recognize additional salient data and perceive more or different causal relationships. Repeated and intensifying advocacy does not broaden salience, make causality more sophisticated, or facilitate holistic architecture. It crowds out the conditions necessary for creative resolution.

  Assertive inquiry is the tool needed to break the impasse. The conversation would have gone much differently if Dennis could have responded to Philip’s opening statement with something like this: “I understand that you feel that your share of the economic return of the business is too low. Have you given any thought to the issue of managerial control? Do you feel you have too little managerial control over the business, or is your interest primarily financial?” Likewise, Philip could have answered Dennis’s initial response with something like this: “I understand that managerial control is important to you. I have two questions. First, are you agreeing that my stake in the economic return is too low, or am I misinterpreting you? And second, could you tell me more about your concerns about sharing control with Aaron and me?” Both responses combine advocacy—embedded in the restatement of the other’s point—with an assertive inquiry into the salient data and causal assumptions that underlie Dennis’s model.

  This alternative inquiry is valuable in several respects. It opens up a cornucopia of new salient data and causal links that can be mined for creative resolutions. It also paves the way for continued productive dialogue by signaling a genuine interest in Dennis’s views, though they conflict with Philip’s own. And it invites Dennis to inquire into Philip’s thinking, supplying additional energy for crafting a creative resolution.

  It doesn’t actually take a great deal of work to find a creative resolution to the present conflict. Philip’s primary concern is to increase his financial return from the business. Dennis wants to retain managerial control. Those objectives need not be in irreconcilable conflict. A dual-class share structure that left Dennis with majority voting control would satisfy his concerns and still enhance Philip’s financial equity in the business. If both weren’t so focused on defending the validity of their own models, they could see their way through to this resolution fairly easily.

  Personal cases help class participants see that the tool of assertive inquiry can get them past the dead end of unadulterated advocacy. By twinning advocacy with inquiry, participants learn how to give their opposable minds a chance to produce a constructive solution out of what seemed at first to be a conflict with no exit. Tools such as assertive inquiry allow integrative thinkers to give their stances force in the world. And experience, as we shall see in the next and final chapter, enables integrative thinkers to wield those tools with precision, accuracy, and lasting impact.

  C H A P T E R 8

  A Wealth of Experience

  Using the Past, Inventing the Future

  I am always doing that which I can not do, in order that I may learn how to do it.

  —Pablo Picasso

  AS I BROUGHT TO A CLOSE my eight-hour interview with A.G. Lafley, I was deeply struck with the power of well-considered and well-leveraged experiences.1 In walking through thirty-three years of decision-making experience with him, from running a U.S. Navy retail operation to running P&G since 2000, I came to appreciate how Lafley processed and capitalized on his experiences to become a consummate integrative thinker. The most striking aspect was how he used his experiences both to deepen his mastery and nurture his originality, rather than focusing on one at the expense of the other.

  Lafley’s managerial career started in 1972, while he was still in the Navy. Through the sort of fluke that military bureaucracies are famous for, Lafley found himself running the Navy Exchange—the service’s term for the retail stores that service its bases around the world—at the giant Atsugi Naval Base, just south of Tokyo.

  In quick succession after Lafley arrived at the exchange, the base manager had a heart attack and the assistant manager who succeeded him was transferred to a larger exchange in the United States. Suddenly, the self-described “twenty-four-year-old kid” with “zero” business knowledge or experience was managing a retail operation that served the base’s population of several thousand, as well as any U.S. military personnel in the greater Tokyo area who had the inclination to shop there.

  Although he lacked tools or experiences, the young Lafley, with his optimistic stance, sought to build the exchange’s business. He studied his customers intensively, seeking to understand who they were and why they were buying. He learned that when ships’ crews came to Tokyo on leave, they wanted to buy cameras and stereo equipment but could be talked into buying perfume on their way out. He understood that the families living on the base shopped for necessities first, luxuries second. The visitors were just the opposite.

  Lafley also realized that since customers had to show their military identification card to shop at the exchange, he could collect data on which customer populations were buying what goods at what prices and adjust his assortment and pricing accordingly. He recalled with some glee that “we just mined the hell out of the data,” which previously wasn’t even collected.

  Only because Lafley wanted to deepen his mastery of retailing did he accumulate these particular experiences. He systematically collected and mined data so that he could structure and plan his business operation to produce the outcome he sought. When he ran a price promotion, he wanted to be able to predict the effect on sales. When the crew of an aircraft carrier came in for shore leave, he wanted to have the right merchandise in the store for that segment of the customer base. His repeated experiences in structuring, focusing, and planning produced a deep understanding of the context in which his business operated and a high level of effectiveness in producing desired outcomes. In other words, he consciously accumulated experiences that cultivated mastery.

  While Lafley planned, organized, and crunched his data to deepen his mastery, he also worked to build his capacity for producing novel outcomes. This originality often expressed itself in Lafley’s merchandising decisions.

  Most of his store’s inventory was the standard assortment of American brands that would be found in every exchange around the world. But exchange managers were allowed to stock a small amount of locally sourced merchandise. Most managers in Lafley’s position would have defined “local” as the region around Tokyo. But Lafley interpreted “local” to include most of the Far East. He tells of getting to know pilots who sometimes flew cargo runs to Saigon, returning to the base in empty planes. He persuaded the pilots to fly back with a hold full of ceramic elephants from a factory he knew of in Vietnam.

  Lafley circulated flyers around the base advertising the elephants and set them up for display on a football field next to the exchange. The
morning the elephants went on sale, customers started lining up two hours before the exchange opened, and they surged onto the lot the moment they were allowed through the ropes. Within minutes, Lafley was fresh out of elephants. “It was unbelievable,” he recalls with a wry chuckle, “People were running and diving. It was nuts!”

  Another time, Lafley got word from a fellow exchange manager that fuel prices were about to skyrocket because of the first OPEC oil price hike in 1973. In response, Lafley commandeered every mothballed fuel storage tank in the base’s tank farm, hired members of the engineering corps to clean the sludge out of the tanks in exchange for free beer, and bought every gallon of fuel he could get his hands on. When gas prices went up, he was able to sell fuel at below-market rates for several months, driving up the exchange’s customer traffic. He describes that particular adventure as “seize the day stuff.”

  Those and other experiences honed the edge of Lafley’s originality. To make the most of the opportunities before him, Lafley needed to be spontaneous, flexible, and open, willing to experiment and respond quickly to transient opportunities. The ever-shifting customer mix and fast-moving retail environment gave him plenty of practice and strengthened his ability to engage in original thought and action.

  Spontaneity, experimentation, flexibility, and openness aren’t terribly rare qualities in and of themselves. But it’s the mark of an integrative thinker to nurture those markers of originality while at the same time deepening mastery, whose markers—organization, planning, focus, and repetition—are originality’s seeming opposite. From his first days as a manager, Lafley was consciously accumulating experiences that strengthened both capabilities—originality and mastery, not the one at the expense of the other.