The Power of Dialogue

Complex issues require intelligence beyond that of any individual. Yet in the face of complex, highly conflictual issues, teams typically break down, revert to rigid positions, and cover up deeper views. The result: watered-down compromises and tenuous commitment. Dialogue, however, is a discipline of collective learning and inquiry. It can serve as a cornerstone for organizational learning by providing an environment in which people can reflect together and transform the ground out of which their thinking and acting emerges.

Dialogue is not merely a strategy for helping people talk together. In fact, dialogue often leads to new levels of coordinated action without the artificial, often tedious process of creating action plans and using consensus-based decision-making. Dialogue does not require agreement; instead it encourages people to participate in a pool of shared meaning, which leads to aligned action.

Over the past year, The Dialogue Project at MIT has been conducting a series of practical experiments to create dialogue and explore its impacts. While it is still at an early stage, we have witnessed moving and, at times, profound changes in the individuals and groups with which we have worked. For example, labor and management representatives from a steel mill have discovered dramatic shifts in their ways of thinking and talking together. In a recent presentation by this dialogue group, one union participant said, “We have learned to question fundamental categories and labels that we have applied to each other.”

“Can you give us an example?” one manager asked.

“Yes,” he responded, “labels like management and union.”

This particular group has transformed a 50-year-old adversarial relationship into one where there is genuine and serious inquiry into “taken-for-granted” ways of thinking. The steelworkers, for example, recognized that they had far more in common with management than they had previously realized or expected. “We quit talking about the past,” said the Union President.“ We didn’t bring any of that up, all the hurt and mistrust that we’ve had over the last twenty years.” Another steelworker noticed that the category “union” limited him as much as it protected him.“ It’s important to suspend the word ‘union,’” he said.

In another setting, we brought together major health care providers for a city — hospital CEOs, doctors, nurses, insurance agents, technicians, and a legislator — to create a microcosm of the healthcare system. This group has been inquiring into some of the underlying assumptions and forces that seem to make this field so chaotic.

In one session, participants confronted the collective pain felt when assuming responsibility for all the illnesses of a community. One senior physician said, “I am struck by my schizophrenia: the difference between how I treat my patients and how I treat all of you.” This dialogue has begun to surface the underlying sources of counter-productivity inherent in the healthcare system. In the past, people have sought self-protection against such pain, but this has led to costly isolation, misplaced competitiveness, and lack of coordination.

Dia • logos

Dialogue can be defined as a sustained collective inquiry into the processes, assumptions, and certainties that structure everyday experience. The word “dialogue” comes from two Greek roots, dia and logos, suggesting “meaning flowing through.” This is in marked contrast to what we frequently call dialogue — a mechanistic and unproductive debate between people seeking to defend their views. Dialogue actually involves a willingness not only to suspend defensive exchange but also to probe into the reasons for it. In this sense, dialogue is a strategy aimed at resolving the problems that arise from the subtle and pervasive fragmentation of thought (see “Fragmentation of Thought” below).

Physicist David Bohm has compared dialogue to superconductivity. In superconductivity, electrons cooled to very low temperatures act more like a coherent whole than as separate parts. They flow around obstacles without colliding with one another, creating no resistance and very high energy. At higher temperatures, however, they began to act like separate parts, scattering into a random movement and losing momentum.

Particularly when discussing tough issues, people act more like separate, high-temperature electrons. Dialogue seeks to help people attain high energy and low friction without ruling out differences between them. Negotiation tactics, in contrast, often try to cool down interactions by bypassing the most difficult issues and narrowing the field of exchange to something manageable. They achieve “cooler” interactions, but lose energy and intelligence in the process. In dialogue, the aim is to create a special environment in which a different kind of relationship among the parts can come into play — one that reveals both high energy and high intelligence.

The Practice of Dialogue

The pivotal challenge lies in producing dialogue in practical settings. Dialogue poses a paradox in practice. While it seeks to allow greater coherence among a group of people (note this does not necessarily imply agreement), it does not impose it. Indeed, dialogues surface and explore the very mechanisms by which people try to control and manage the meanings of their interactions.

People often come to a dialogue with the intention of understanding their fundamental concerns in a new way. Yet in contrast with more familiar modes of inquiry, it is helpful to begin without an agenda, without a “leader” (although a facilitator is essential) and without a task or decision to make. By deliberately not trying to solve familiar problems in a familiar way, dialogue opens a new possibility for shared thinking.

One story illustrates the power of this kind of exchange. In the late 1960s, the dean of a major U.S. business school was appointed to chair a committee to examine whether the university, which had major government contracts, should continue to design and build nuclear bombs on campus. People were in an uproar over the issue. The committee was somewhat like Noah’s ark: two of every species of political position on the campus. The chairman had no idea how to bring all these people together to agree on anything, so he changed some of the rules. The committee would meet, he said, every day until it had produced a report. Every day meant exactly that — weekends, holidays, everything. People objected, but he persisted.

The group eventually met for 36 days straight. Critically, for the first two weeks, they had no agenda. People just talked about anything they wanted to talk about: the purpose of the university, how upset they were, their deepest fears and their noblest aims. They eventually turned to the report they were supposed to write. By this time, they had become quite close. In the corner you might have seen two people conferring who previously had intensely clashing views. To the surprise of many, the group eventually produced a unanimous report. What was striking was they agreed on a direction, but for different reasons. They did not need to have the same reasons to agree with the direction that emerged.

Levels and Stages of Dialogue

Dialogue requires creating a series of increasingly conscious environments in which a special kind of “cool inquiry” can take place. These environments, which we call “containers,” can develop as a group of people become aware of the requirements and discipline needed to create them (see “Initial Guidelines for Dialogue”). A container can be understood as the sum of the assumptions, shared intentions, and beliefs of a group. These create a collective “atmosphere” or climate. The core of the theory of dialogue builds on the premise that changes in people’s shared attention can alter the quality and level of inquiry that is possible.

The evolution of a dialogue among a group of people consists of both levels and stages. They tend to be sequential, although once one moves through a stage, one can return to it (see “Evolution of Dialogue”). Passing through a level usually involves facing different types of individual and collective crises. The process is demanding, and at times frustrating, but also deeply rewarding.

1. Instability of the Container

When any group of individuals comes together, each person brings a wide range of tacit, unexpressed differences in paradigms and perspectives. The first challenge in a dialogue is to recognize this, and to accept that the purpose of the dialogue is not to hide them, but to find a way of allowing the differences to be explored. These implicit views are often inconsistent with one another. Since we generally deal with inconsistencies in rigid and mechanistic ways, the “container” or environment for dialogue at this stage is unstable.

Dialogue begins with conversation (the root of the word means “to turn together”). People begin by speaking together, and from that flows deliberation (“to weigh out”). Consciously and unconsciously people weigh out different views, agreeing with some and disliking others. They selectively pay attention, noticing some things, missing others.

At this point people face the first crisis and choice of the dialogue process, one that can either lead to the further refinement and evolution of the dialogue environment, or can lead to greater instability. This “initiatory crisis” occurs as people recognize that despite their best intentions, they cannot force dialogue. People find they cannot comprehend, much less impose coherence, on the diversity of views. They must choose either to defend their point of view, or suspend (not suppress) their view and begin to listen without judgment, loosening the grip of certainty about all views (including their own).

2. Instability in the Container

A recognition of this “initiatory” crisis begins to create an environment in which people know they are seeking to do something different. At this point, groups often begin to oscillate between suspending views and discussing them. People will feel the tendency at this point to fall into the familiar habit of analyzing the parts, instead of focusing on the whole.

At this stage, people may find themselves feeling frustrated. Others may defend their views despite evidence that they may be wrong. They may make definitive statements about what is or is not happening, but fail to explore their assumptions or other possibilities. They may see their behavior as a function of how others think and act, and discount their own responsibility for it. Normally all this is either taken for granted or kept below the surface. But in dialogue we deliberately seek to make these general patterns of thought observable and accessible and surface the tacit influences that sustain them.

At this point in the dialogue people begin to see and explore the range of assumptions that are present. They ask: Which are true? Which are false? How far is the group willing to go to expose itself? This leads to a second crisis, namely the “crisis of suspension.” Points of view that used to make sense no longer do. The direction of the group is unclear. Some people experience disorientation or perhaps feel marginalized and constrained by others. Polarization occurs as extreme views become stated and defended. The fragmentation that has been hidden is appearing, now in the container.

For example, in an ongoing dialogue with a group of labor and management representatives from a steel mill, the “same old kind” of conflicts emerged. Some participants felt helpless and defeated, others went “ballistic.” Yet they did not walk out. They stayed to explore the ways in which they had all contributed to the unproductive dynamics. Likewise, in the healthcare dialogue, suppressed conflict, anger, and long-time simmering “myths” about one another began to surface.

To manage the crisis of collective suspension, everyone must be aware of what is happening. Rather than panic, withdraw, or fight, people may choose to inquire. Listening here is not just listening to others, but listening to oneself. And people may ask: Where am I listening from? What can I learn if I slow things down and inquire?

Skilled facilitation is critical at this point. The facilitator, however, is not seeking to “correct” or impose order on what is happening, but to show how to suspend what is happening to allow greater insight into the order that is present. The facilitator might point out the polarization and the limiting categories of thought that are rapidly gaining momentum in the group.

3. Inquiry in the Container

If a critical mass of people stay with the process beyond this point, the conversation begins to flow in a new way. In this “cool” environment people begin to inquire together as a whole. New insights often emerge. The energy that had been trapped in rigid and habitual patterns of thought and interaction begins to be freed.

When we facilitated a dialogue in South Africa, people began reflecting on apartheid in ways that surprised them. They were able to stand beside the tension of the topic without being identified with it. Similarly, in the healthcare dialogue, it was at this point that people began to discuss their status as “gods” and stopped blaming others in the “system” for the difficulties they saw.

As people participate, they also begin to watch the session in a new way. One participant from a group of urban leaders in Boston compared it to seeing the inside of their minds performing together in a theatre. People become sensitive to how habitual patterns of interaction can limit creative inquiry.

This phase can be playful and penetrating. Yet it also leads to crisis. People begin to feel the impact that fragmented ways of thinking has had on themselves, their organizations, and their culture. They sense their isolation. Such awareness brings pain — both from the loss of comforting beliefs and by exercising new cognitive and emotional muscles. The “crisis of collective pain” is the challenge of embracing these self-created limits of human experience. It is a deep and challenging crisis, one that requires considerable discipline and collective trust.

4. Creativity in the Container

If the crisis of collective pain can be navigated, a new level of awareness opens. People begin to sense that they are participating in a pool of common meaning because they have sufficiently explored each other’s views. They still may not agree, but their thinking takes on an entirely different rhythm and pace.

At this point, the distinction between memory and fresh thinking becomes apparent. People may find it hard to talk together using the rigid categories of previous understanding. The net of their thought is not fine enough to capture the subtle and delicate understandings that begin to emerge. People may find they do not have adequate words and fall silent. Yet the silence is not an empty void, but one replete with richness. Rumi, a 13th century Persian poet, captures this experience:

“Out beyond ideas of right doing and wrongdoing There is a field I will meet you there When the soul lies down in that grass The world is too full to talk about.”

In this experience, the world is too full to talk about; too full to use language to analyze it. Yet words can also be evocative — narratives that convey richness of meaning. Though we may have few words for such experiences, dialogue raises the possibility of speech that clothes meaning, instead of words merely pointing towards it. I call this kind of experience metalogue, meaning “moving or flowing with.”

Metalogue reveals a conscious, intimate and subtle relationship between the structure and content of an exchange and its meaning. The medium and the message are linked: information from the process conveys as much meaning as the content of the words exchanged. The group does not “have” meaning, it is its meaning. Loosening rigid patterns of thought frees energy that now permits new levels of intelligence and creativity in the container.

Dialogue is not intended to be a problem-solving technique, but a means to explore the underlying incoherence of thought and action that gives rise to the problems we face. It balances more structured problem-solving approaches with the exploration of fundamental habits of attention and assumption behind traditional thinking. By providing a setting in which these subtle and tacit influences on our thinking can be altered, dialogue holds the potential for allowing entirely new kinds of collective intelligence to appear.

William Isaacs is the director of The Dialogue Project, which is a part of the Organizational Learning Center at MIT. He is currently conducting research on dialogue and organizational learning in corporate, political, and social settings around the world.

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Breakdowns in human interaction and communication play a pivotal role in organizational life. In the case of Monsanto and American Home Products, the CEOs of the two companies had very different approaches to leadership. One spent his lunch hour playing basketball with employees. The other refused to move to the company’s new headquarters, preferring to stay in touch with key employees by email. The two leaders gradually began to question each other’s motives and moves. For instance, when one of the chairmen recommended a candidate for CFO, the other circulated a memo asserting that this man would never fill the role. Each felt that the other was undermining him and the company. They eventually proved unable to work together, and the merger fell through.

Sometimes apparently successful mergers also quickly show signs of strain. Eight months into their venture, Citigroup, the new amalgamation of Travelers Group and Citicorp, fired James Dimon, the man who acted as peacemaker between, and was assumed to be the heir apparent to, this firm’s two co-chief executives. Dimon was widely respected; his departure came not as a result of poor performance but, as one manager put it, “corporate politics.”

Executives interviewed later said that the collapsed Monsanto and American Home Products deal was “not in the best interests of the shareholders” and that Dimon’s surprising exit “was the best thing for the business.” Yet this kind of talk covers up more honest accounts about what happened. According to reports, the leaders in each of these situations hit awkward conflicts about a range of substantive issues: ultimate control in a “co-CEO” scenario, membership of important executive teams, and the timing of integrating disparate cultures and businesses. In the end, these people failed to find a way to talk and think together effectively to resolve these difficult issues.

Although we all may not be dealing with strained or failing multibillion dollar corporate mergers, we are probably quite familiar with such difficulties in communication and trust and the way these can dramatically affect organizational performance. So how do we create environments that can transform these difficulties into successes?

This article explores how “dialogic leadership,” an approach that has evolved from the core principles from the field of “dialogue,” can lead to the creation of environments that can dissolve fragmentation and bring out people’s collective wisdom.

The Concept of Dialogue

In the new knowledge-based, networked economy, the ability to talk and think together well is a vital source of competitive advantage and organizational effectiveness. This is because human beings create, refine, and share knowledge through conversation. In a world where technology has led to the erosion of traditional hierarchical boundaries, and where former competitors (such as Exxon and Mobil) contemplate becoming bedfellows, the glue that holds things together is no longer “telling” but “conversing.”

The term “dialogue” comes from Greek and signifies a “flow of meaning.” The essence of dialogue is an inquiry that surfaces ideas, perceptions, and understanding that people do not already have. This is not the norm: We typically try to come to important conversations well prepared. A hallmark for many of us is that there are “no surprises” in our meetings. Yet this is the antithesis of dialogue. You have a dialogue when you explore the uncertainties and questions that no one has answers to. In this way you begin to think together – not simply report out old thoughts. In dialogue people learn to use the energy of their differences to enhance their collective wisdom.

Dialogue can be contrasted with “discussion,” a word whose roots mean “to break apart.” Discussions are conversations where people hold onto and defend their differences. The hope is that the clash of opinion will illuminate productive pathways for action and insight. Yet in practice, discussion often devolves into rigid debate, where people view one another as positions to agree with or refute, not as partners in a vital, living relationship. Such exchanges represent a series of one-way streets, and the end results are often not what people wish for: polarized arguments where people withhold vital information and shut down creative options.

Although it may make logical sense to have dialogue in our repertoire, it can seem illusive and even a little quaint. Yet the fact remains that every significant strategic and organizational endeavor requires people at some stage to sit and talk together. In the end, nothing can substitute for this interpersonal contact. Unfortunately, much of our talk merely reinforces the problems we seek to resolve. What is needed is a new approach to conversation, one that can enable leaders to bring out people’s untapped wisdom and collective insights.

Human beings create, refine, and share knowledge through conversation.

“Dialogic leadership” is the term I have given to a way of leading that consistently uncovers, through conversation, the hidden creative potential in any situation. Four distinct qualities support this process: the abilities (1) to evoke people’s genuine voices, (2) to listen deeply, (3) to hold space for and respect as legitimate other people’s views, and (4) to broaden awareness and perspective. Put differently, a dialogic leader is balanced, and evokes balance, because he can embody all four of these qualities and can activate them in others.

An old story about Gandhi illustrates this concept well. A man came to Gandhi with his young son, complaining that he was eating too much sugar. The man asked for advice. Gandhi thought for a moment and then said, “Go away, and come back in three days.” The man did as he was asked and returned three days later. Now Gandhi said to the boy, “You must stop eating so much sugar.” The boy’s father, mystified, inquired, “Why did you need three days to say that?” Gandhi replied, “First, I had to stop eating sugar.” Similarly, dialogic leadership implies being a living example of what you speak about – that is, demonstrating these qualities in your daily life.

Four Action Capabilities for Dialogic Leaders

The four qualities for a dialogic leader mentioned above are mirrored in four distinct kinds of actions that a person may take in any conversation. These actions were identified by David Kantor, a well-known family systems therapist (see “Four-Player Model”). Kantor suggests that some people move – they initiate ideas and offer direction. Other people follow- they complete what is said, help others clarify their thoughts, and support what is happening. Still others oppose – they challenge what is being said and question its validity. And others bystand – they actively notice what is going on and provide perspective on what is happening.

Watching the actions people take can give you enormous information about the quality of their interactions and can indicate if they are moving in the direction of dialogue or discussion. For instance, in a dialogic system, any person may take any of the four actions at any time. Although people may have a preferred position, each individual is able to move and initiate, to follow and complete things, to oppose, and to observe and provide perspective. None of these roles is better or worse than the others. They are all necessary for the system to function properly. As people recognize these different roles and can act on this recognition, they begin to create a sequence of interactions that keeps the conversation moving toward balance.

In a system that is moving away from dialogue, people generally get stuck in one of the four positions. For instance, some people are “stuck movers”: They express one idea, and before that idea is established or acted upon, they give another, and another, making it difficult to know what to focus on. But perhaps most revealing of non-dialogic interactions are the ritualized and repetitive interactions that people fall into that systematically exclude one or more of the positions.

In the Monsanto merger process, for instance, the two CEOs became locked in a dynamic where one would initiate an action, and the other would oppose and neutralize it, leading the other to push back even harder. The conflict eventually escalated to the point where it sabotaged the deal.

An intense move-oppose cycle between two high-powered players like this one often prevents others from fulfilling their roles as “bystanders” and “followers.” The bystanders, who can see the ineffective exchange, often become “disabled,” imagining that no one wants them to identify what is happening. So the knowledge they carry is lost. At the same time, people who might otherwise be inclined to follow one side or the other to help complete what is being said tend to stay on the sidelines, for fear of getting caught in the cross-fire. The result is that the interaction remains unbalanced.

The quality and nature of the specific roles can often cause difficulties. For example, opposers are generally branded as troublemakers because they question the prevailing wisdom when people would prefer to have agreement. For this reason, others often tune them out. This failure to acknowledge the value of the opposer’s perspective leads them to raise their voices and sometimes increase the critical tone of their comments. In such cases, people hear the criticism, but not the underlying intent, which is almost always to clarify, correct, or bring balance and integrity to the situation.

A dialogic leader will often look for ways to restore balance in people’s interactions. For instance, she might strengthen the opposers if they are weak or reinforce the bystanders if they have information but have withheld it. Genuinely making room for someone who wants to challenge typically causes them to soften the stridency of their tone and makes it more possible for others to hear what they have to say. Reinforcing and standing with those who have delicate but vital information can enable them to reveal it. The simple rule here is: Pay attention to the actions that are missing and provide them yourself, or encourage others to do so.

Balancing Advocacy and Inquiry

One central dimension in a dialogue is the emergence of a particular balance between the positions people advocate and their willingness to inquire into their own and other’s views. Professors Chris Argyris and Don Schön first proposed the concepts of “advocacy” and “inquiry” to foster conversations that promote learning (see their book Organizational Learning, Addison-Wesley, 1978 for a fuller explanation). In the vast majority of situations, advocacy rules: People are trained to express their views as fast as possible. As it is sometimes put, “People do not listen, they reload.” They attribute meaning and impute motives, often without inquiring into what others really meant or intended. This was evidently the case in the merger situations described above. Bellicose advocacy stifles inquiry and learning.

The four-player model further reveals the relationship between advocacy and inquiry (see “Balancing Advocacy and Inquiry”). To advocate well, you must move and oppose well; to inquire, you must bystand and follow. Yet again, the absence of any of the elements hinders interaction. For instance, someone who opposes, but fails to also say what he wants (i.e., moves) is likely to be less effective as an advocate. Similarly, someone who follows what others say (“tell me more”) but never provides perspective may draw out more information but never deepen the inquiry. Thus, the figure “Balancing Advocacy and Inquiry” reveals another way to track the action in a conversation and offer balance into it.

Four Practices for Dialogic Leadership

Balanced action, in the sense named here, is an essential and necessary precondition for dialogue. But it is not sufficient. Dialogue is a qualitatively different kind of exchange. Dialogic leaders have an ear for this difference in quality and are constantly seeking to produce it in themselves and others. I have found that there are four distinct practices that can enhance the quality of conversation. These four correspond well to the four positions named above.

For instance, you can choose to move in different ways: by expressing your true voice and encouraging others to do the same, or by imposing your views on others. You can oppose with a belief that you know better than everyone else, or from a stance of respect, in which you acknowledge that your colleagues have wisdom that you may not see. Similarly, you can follow by listening selectively, imposing your interpretation of what the speaker is presenting. Or you can listen as a compassionate participant, grounding your understanding of what is said in directly observable experience. Finally, you can bystand by taking the view that only you can see things as they are, or you can suspend your certainties and accept that others may see things that you miss. In order to make conscious choices about our behavior, we need to become aware of our own intentions and of the impact of our actions on others.

There are four practices implied here — speaking your true voice, and encouraging others to do the same; listening as a participant; respecting the coherence of others’ views; and suspending your certainties. Each requires deliberate cultivation and development (see “Four Practices for Dialogic Leadership”).

Listening. Recently, a manager in a program I was leading said, “You know, I have always prepared myself to speak. But I have never prepared myself to listen.” This is because we take listening for granted, although it is actually very hard to do. Following well requires us to cultivate the capacity to listen – rather than simply impose meaning on what other people are saying. To follow deeply is to blend with someone to the point where we begin to participate fully in understanding how they understand. When we do not listen, all we have is our own interpretation.

Equally important is the ability to listen together. To listen together is to learn to be a part of a larger whole – the voice and meaning emerging not only from me, but from all of us. Dialogues often have a quality of shared emergence, where in speaking together, people realize that they have been thinking about the same things. They are struck when they begin to hear their own thoughts coming out of the mouths of others. Often decisions do not need to be made; the right next step simply becomes obvious to everyone. This kind of flow, while rare, is made possible when we relax our grip on what we think and listen for what others might be thinking. In this situation, we begin to follow not only one another, but the emerging flow of meaning itself.

Respecting. Respect is the practice that shifts the quality of our opposing. To respect is to see people, as Humberto Maturana puts it, as “legitimate others.” An atmosphere of respect encourages people to look for the sense in what others are saying and thinking. To respect is to listen for the coherence in their views, even when we find what they are saying unacceptable.

Peter Garrett, a colleague of mine, has run dialogues in maximum security prisons in England for four years. He deals with the most serious, violent offenders in that country on a weekly basis. Together, they have produced some remarkable results. For instance, prisoners who will not attend any other sessions come to the dialogue. Offenders who start off speaking incomprehensibly and who carry deep emotional wounds gradually learn to speak their voice and to listen. Peter carries an unusual ability to respect, which reassures and strengthens the genuineness in others. This stance enables him to challenge and oppose what they say, without evoking reaction. I asked him to share the most important lesson that he has learned in his work. He said, “Inquiry and violence cannot coexist.” True respect enables genuine inquiry.

Suspending. When we listen to someone speak, we face a critical choice. On the one hand, we can resist the speaker’s point of view. We can try to get the other person to understand and accept the “right” way to see things. We can look for evidence to support our view that they are mistaken and discount evidence that may point to flaws in our own logic. This behavior produces what one New York Times editorial writer called “serial monologues,” rather than dialogue.

On the other hand, we can learn to suspend our opinion and the certainty that lies behind it. Suspension means that we neither suppress what we think nor advocate it with unilateral conviction. Rather, we display our thinking in a way that lets us and others see and understand it. We simply acknowledge and observe our thoughts and feelings as they arise without feeling compelled to act on them. This practice can release a tremendous amount of creative energy. To suspend is to bystand with awareness, which makes it is possible for us to see what is happening more objectively.

For instance, in one of our dialogues with steelworkers and managers, a union leader said, “We need to suspend this word union. When you hear it you say ‘Ugh.’ When we hear it we say ‘Ah.’ Why is that?” This statement prompted an unprecedented level of reflection between managers and union people. Our research suggests that suspension is one of several practices essential to bringing about genuine dialogue.

Voicing. Finally, to speak our voice is perhaps one of the most challenging aspects of dialogic leadership. “Courageous speech,” says poet David Whyte in his book The Heart Aroused, “has always held us in awe.” It does so, he suggests, because it is so revealing of our inner lives. Speaking our voice has to do with revealing what is true for each of us, regardless of all the other influences that might be brought to bear on us.

In December 1997, around a crowded table in the Presidential Palace in Tatarstan, Russia, a group of senior Russian and Chechen officials and their guests were in the middle of dinner. Things had been tense earlier in the day. Chechnya had recently asserted its independence through guerrilla warfare and attacks on the Russians. They had shocked the world by forcing the Russian military to withdraw and accede to their demands for recognition as an independent state. The Chechens were deeply suspicious of the academics and Western politicians who had gathered everyone in that room; the Chechens feared that they were Russian pawns intent on derailing Chechen independence. The Russians, for their part, were fearful of adding further legitimacy to what they considered a deeply troubling situation.

And yet, despite all this suspicion, after a few hours people began to relax. At the first toast of the evening, the negotiator/facilitator of the session stood up and said, “Up until a few days ago, I had been with my mother in New Mexico in the States. She is dying of cancer. I debated whether to come here at all to participate in this gathering. But when I told her that I was coming to help facilitate a dialogue among all of you, in this important place on the earth, she ordered me to come. There was no debate. So here I am. I raise my glass to mothers.” There followed a long moment of silence in the room.

Dialogic leaders cultivate listening, suspending, respecting, and voicing

It is in courageous moments like these that one’s genuine voice is heard. Displays of such profound directness can lift us out of ourselves. They show us a broader horizon and put things in perspective. Such moments also remind us of our resilience and invite us to look harder for a way through whatever difficulties we are facing. When we “move” by speaking our authentic voice, we set up a new order of things, open new possibilities, and create.

Changing the Quality of Action

Dialogic leaders cultivate these four dimensions – listening, suspending, respecting, and voicing — within themselves and in the conversations they have with others. Doing so shifts the quality of interaction in noticeable ways and, in turn, transforms the results that people produce. Failing to do so narrows our view and blinds us to alternatives that might serve everyone.

For instance, in the Monsanto merger story, the CEOs did not seem to respect the coherence of each other’s views. Each one found the other more and more unacceptable. Although we do not know for sure, it seems likely that they did not reflect on perspectives different from their own in such a way that enabled them to see new possibilities. The paradox here is that suspending one’s views and making room for the possibility that the other person’s perspectives may have some validity could open a door that would be otherwise shut. By becoming locked into a rigid set of actions, these leaders ruled out a qualitatively different approach — one that they could have made if they had applied the four dialogic practices described above.

Dialogic leadership focuses attention on two levels at once: the nature of the actions people take during an interaction and the quality of those interactions. Kantor’s model is a potent aid in helping diagnose the lack of balance in actions in any conversation. By noticing which perspective is missing, you can begin to reflect on why this is so and quickly gain valuable information about the situation as a whole.

Dialogic leadership can appear anywhere, at any level of an organization. As people apply the principles outlined above, they are learning to think together, and so greatly increase the odds that they will build the expansive relationships required to build success in the new economy.

William N. Isaacs is the president of Dialogos, a Cambridge, Massachusetts-based consulting firm, and is a lecturer at MIT’s Sloan School of Management. This article is drawn from his new book, Dialogue and the Art of Thinking Together, to be published in May 1999 by Doubleday.

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Many of the issues that we deal with in our consulting work are more like what Russell Ackoff calls “messes” than clearly defined problems. For Ackoff, a mess is a “complex system of interacting problems.” You can’t touch one problem without affecting the others. Deciding how to depict a problem system can involve a great deal of work.

To enable us to obtain clarity around the problems that our clients face, we have developed an approach that combines some of the key tools of Soft Systems Methodology (SSM), developed by Peter Checkland and his colleagues at Leicester University, with those of system dynamics (SD). SSM places considerable emphasis on “sense-making” helping groups of people develop common understandings of intricate systems. SD’s strength is its rigorous modeling tools that are useful for providing insight into how the system produces the problem behavior. By combining some of the techniques of both disciplines, we attempt to capitalize on the strengths of each and integrate the so-called “soft” and “hard” approaches into a comprehensive system of inquiry.

Understanding the Current World

In a complex system, especially one inhabited by people, there is always more than one way of perceiving the world and many possible paths for moving forward. For that reason, the first step is to try to grasp the multiple realities that exist within the environment in which our clients operate. It is not enough just to accept that people have different opinions; it’s important that we understand those various perspectives and give them all a voice before we start nominating areas for change.

First, we need to know what is actually going on in the system — the key activities. Second, we must establish the roles that people play in that system. Finally, we must determine how those players make decisions. Understanding these activities, roles, and decision processes enables us to get a “rich picture” of the current system and how it operates.

Rich pictures are graphic representations of how people see the situation, its main stakeholders, and the key issues that must be resolved.

Developed by Peter Checkland, these sketches are useful for capturing the complexity of the multiple, interacting relationships in a system and encourage people to look at the whole rather than break it down into its component parts too early in the analysis. When working with people in a problem situation, drawings offer an excellent starting point for a conversation about how different individuals and groups view the organization’s functioning. They also help stir people out of habitual ways of discussing the issue at hand.

Rich pictures thus offer a way for people to tell stories about the world in which they live and work. In one example, a city council in New Zealand had become concerned about the gap between its vision, which it had spent a lot of time and resources developing with its citizens, and what was happening on a daily basis and during the annual planning and budgeting process. An internal team came together to try to address this disparity. One of the team’s early outputs was the rich picture shown in “Achieving the Vision in Local Government,” on page 7. These initial pictures are usually developed in response to three simple but powerful questions:

What is actually going on in the system that relates to the issues at hand? Who is involved and what roles do they play?

How are decisions made?

This picture shows the team’s view of what really happened as the city council tried to fulfill its vision for the city. The faucet represents the flow of resources into the city. Through the decision-making process, the flow gets split so that most of the money and attention ends up in the internal “glass” of administration costs and programs pushed by the current group of elected representatives. Only a few “drips” find their way into new initiatives that are directly focused on achieving the vision.

This picture reflected the view that the needs of the council as an organization and the political agendas of individual councilors drove much of what the group actually did. The optimistic, sunny view of the city promulgated in brochures and council documents, shown as “State of Our City (Today),” is balanced by citizens’ frustration with the chasm they perceive between them and the corridors of power. This misalignment is shown by the gap between the plug and the power source, which represents the limited ways in which citizens can get involved in decision-making processes.

Defining a problem is often no easy matter.

The focus here isn’t on artistic merit but simply on how people can use pictures as representations of the systems in which they operate. These kinds of sketches allow participants to explore and describe their world without any preordained framework placed upon them. Pictures can capture the system as a whole and provide a frame of reference that people can respond to by saying, “I don’t see it that way. This is how I would draw it.”

The results of the process can be quite surprising. For example, a rich picture that started from a discussion of the outputs of a strategic planning team soon developed into a depiction of unit, management, and board relationships. This shift led to a major redefinition of the role of the strategic planning unit and how it operated within the organization.

Another important feature is that drawing these kinds of pictures requires no special skill or talent. Because pictures are a visual rather than a verbal means of communication, senior staff, who generally have well-developed skills in presenting their perspective, are less likely to dominate the conversation. Furthermore, the very nature of pictures makes it easy to focus on the relationships between parts of the system—a key aspect of having a systemic perspective.

Understanding the Desired World

Once the group has created a drawing that reflects a common view of the current reality, the next step in defining the problem is to explore why the system exists. Peter Checkland calls this a “root definition” of the system (see “Root Definition”).

While Checkland uses these definitions to increase understanding of the current system, we employ them to tease out what people think the system should be doing. When the team that developed the rich picture “Achieving the Vision in Local Government” completed this task, they wrote the following root definition:

“This is a system to enable the council to achieve its vision for the city by linking together all the plans within the organization in order to ensure that the activities throughout the council are clearly aligned.”

Comparing this root definition with the rich picture of what was actually going on revealed a number of important issues:

• The council was not effective at ensuring that most of the revenues were utilized for initiatives directed at achieving the vision. As pointed out earlier, most resources (the glass) went toward basic infrastructure and initiatives being pushed by the current crop of elected representatives while comparatively few resources (the drips) were directly aimed at fulfilling the vision.
• There was a gap between the council’s perspective of how the city operated and that of the citizens.
• The citizens of the city were disconnected from the council, preventing them from having significant input into decision-making processes. Each of these issues was then developed into a behavior over time graph.

Providing a Context

Based on these insights, the council then undertook a major review of expenditures and started the process of realigning investments to more accurately reflect the vision. The behavior over time graphs provided a focus for the review and for a system dynamics computer model. Because of this process, when management and elected representatives saw patterns of financial expenditure as they played out in the model, they understood the context within which it was developed.

If we are to be truly systemic in our thinking, we need to ensure that our use of systems thinking tools is grounded in understanding all facets of the problem at hand. If we simply focus on creating a model without first exploring the many perspectives that may be present, we are in danger of applying systemic processes to reinforce linear thinking. Rich pictures and root definitions provide effective means of exploring our mental models and defining problems before rushing headlong into what could be an inappropriately focused modeling effort.

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There are dozens of books on the topic of difficult, crucial, challenging, important (you get the idea) kinds of conversations (at the end of the articles, I list several). Those times when you know you should talk to someone, but you don’t. Maybe you’ve tried before and it went badly. Or maybe you fear that talking will only make the situation worse. Still, there’s a feeling of being stuck, and you’d like to free up that stuck energy for more useful purposes.

What you have here is a brief synopsis of best-practice strategies: a checklist of action items to think about before going into the conversation; some useful concepts to practice during the conversation; and some tips and suggestions to help your energy stay focused and flowing, including possible conversational openings.

You’ll notice one key theme throughout: You have more power than you think.

Preparing for the Conversation

Before going into the conversation, ask yourself some questions:

1. What is your purpose for having the conversation? What do you hope to accomplish? What would be an ideal outcome? Watch for hidden purposes. You may think you have honorable goals, like educating an employee or increasing connection with your teen, only to notice that your language is excessively critical or condescending. You think you want to support, but you end up punishing. Some purposes are more useful than others. Work on yourself so that you enter the conversation with a supportive purpose.
2. What assumptions are you making about this person’s intentions?You may feel intimidated, belittled, ignored, disrespected, or marginalized, but be cautious about assuming that that was the other person’s intention. Impact does not necessarily equal intent.

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3. What “buttons” of yours are being pushed? Are you more emotional than the situation warrants? Take a look at your “backstory,” as they say in the movies. What personal history is being triggered? You may still have the conversation, but you’ll go into it knowing that some of the heightened emotional state has to do with you.
4. How is your attitude toward the conversation influencing your perception of it? If you think it is going to be horribly difficult, it probably will be. If you truly believe that whatever happens, some good will come of it, that will likely be the case. Try to adjust your attitude for maximum effectiveness.
5. Who is the “opponent”? What might he be thinking about this situation? Is he aware of the problem? If so, how do you think he perceives it? What are his needs and fears? What solution do you think he would suggest? Begin to reframe the opponent as a partner.
6. What are your needs and fears? Are there any common concerns? Could there be?
7. How have you contributed to the problem? How has the other person?

Four Steps to a Successful Outcome

The majority of the work in any conflict conversation is work you do on yourself. No matter how well the conversation begins, you’ll need to stay in charge of yourself, your purpose, and your emotional energy. Breathe, center, and continue to notice when you become off-center—and choose to return again. This is where your power lies. By choosing the calm, centered state, you’ll help your opponent/partner to be more centered, too. Centering is not a step; centering is how you are as you take the steps. (For more on centering, see The Magic of Conflict and the “FAQs About Conflict” listed at the end of the article.)

Step #1: Inquiry

Cultivate an attitude of discovery and curiosity. Pretend you don’t know anything (you really don’t), and try to learn as much as possible about your opponent/partner and her point of view. Pretend you’re entertaining a visitor from another planet, and find out how things look on that planet, how certain events affect the other person, and what the values and priorities are there.

If your partner really was from another planet, you’d be watching her body language and listening for the unspoken energy as well. Do that here. What does she really want? What is she not saying?

Let her talk until she is finished. Don’t interrupt except to acknowledge. Whatever you hear, don’t take it personally. It’s not really about you. Try to learn as much as you can in this phase of the conversation. You’ll get your turn, but don’t rush it.

Step #2: Acknowledgment

Acknowledgment means showing that you’ve heard and understood. Try to understand the other person so well you can make his argument for him. Then do it. Explain back to him what you think he’s really going for. Guess at his hopes and honor his position. He won’t change unless he sees that you see where he stands. Then he might. No guarantees.

Acknowledge whatever you can, including your own defensiveness if it comes up. It’s fine; it just is. You can decide later how to address it. For example, in an argument with a friend, I said: “I notice I’m becoming defensive, and I think it’s because your voice just got louder and sounded angry. I just want to talk about this topic. I’m not trying to persuade you in either direction.” The acknowledgment helped him (and me) to recenter.

Acknowledgment can be difficult if we associate it with agreement. Keep them separate. My saying, “This sounds really important to you” doesn’t mean I’m going to go along with your decision.

Step #3: Advocacy

When you sense that your opponent has expressed all her energy on the topic, it’s your turn. What can you see from your perspective that she has missed? Help clarify your position without minimizing hers. For example, “From what you’ve told me, I can see how you came to the conclusion that I’m not a team player. And I think I am. When I introduce problems with a project, I’m thinking about its long-term success. I don’t mean to be a critic, though perhaps I sound like one. Maybe we can talk about how to address these issues so that my intention is clear.”

Step #4: Problem-Solving

Now you’re ready to begin building solutions. Brainstorming and continued inquiry are useful. Ask your opponent/partner what he thinks would work. Whatever he says, find something that you like and build on it. If the conversation becomes adversarial, go back to inquiry. Asking for the other’s point of view usually creates safety, and he’ll be more willing to engage. If you’ve been successful in centering, adjusting your attitude, and engaging with inquiry and useful purpose, building sustainable solutions will be easy.

Practice, Practice, Practice

The art of conversation is like any art—with continued practice, you acquire skill and ease. Here are some additional hints:

• A successful outcome will depend on two things: how you are and what you say. How you are (centered, supportive, curious, problem-solving) will greatly influence what you say.
• Acknowledge emotional energy— yours and your opponent/partner’s— and direct it toward a useful purpose.
• Know and return to your purpose at difficult moments.
• Don’t take verbal attacks personally. Help your opponent/partner come back to center.
• Don’t assume your opponent/partner can see things from your point of view.
• Practice the conversation with a friend before holding the real one.
• Mentally rehearse the conversation.

See various possibilities and visualize yourself handling them with ease. Envision the outcome you’re hoping for.

How Do I Begin?

In my workshops, a common question is “How do I begin the conversation?” Here are a few conversation openers I’ve picked up over the years—and used many times!

• I have something I’d like to discuss with you that I think will help us work together more effectively.
• I’d like to talk about ___________ with you, but first I’d like to get your point of view.
• I need your help with what just happened. Do you have a few minutes to talk?
• I need your help with something. Can we talk about it (soon)? If the person says, “Sure, let me get back to you,” follow up.
• I think we have different perceptions about ___________. I’d like to hear your thinking on this.
• I’d like to talk about ___________. I think we may have different ideas on how to ___________.
• I’d like to see if we might reach a better understanding about ________. I really want to hear your feelings about this and share my perspective as well.

Write a possible opening for your conversation here: ______________________________ ______________________________ ______________________________ ______________________________ ______________________________ ______________________________ ______________________________ ______________________________ ______________________________

Good luck!

Judy Ringer is a conflict and communication skills trainer, black belt in aikido, and sole owner of Power & Presence Training and Portsmouth Aikido. To sign up for free tips and articles, visit http://www. JudyRinger.com.

The post We Have to Talk: A Checklist for Difficult Conversations appeared first on The Systems Thinker.

Contrary to popular opinion, real change happens in small disruptive shifts, not through overarching change management programs. A top-down, systemic, structured approach can be useful for implementing a specific initiative. However, lasting and sustainable culture change can only take place through the impetus of people from within the organizational ranks.

“Creative disruption” is the initiation of small movements, the opening up of new avenues of consideration and perspective. This path is qualitatively different from a structured change approach. It creates the foundation for the acceleration and more efficient execution of formal organization change. At the same time, it nourishes the innate human capacity for discovery, curiosity, and reinvention.

Intersection with Change Management

Not all changes are created equal. Some may focus on a significant shift in behavior or skill. Others target the amorphous organizational culture, with all its inherent complexities and challenges. While admittedly an oversimplification, large-scale organizational change typically involves both of these elements. Nevertheless, most initiatives are attached to a specific project implementation, such as a restructuring or enterprise software implementation. Rarely does one find a CEO willing to support, financially or otherwise, a stand-alone project specifically and explicitly designed as a “culture change.”

Creative disruption addresses both the technical and human elements of change by building an organization-wide capability in inquiry, listening, and collaborative problem solving.

A large-scale change that fails to adequately consider both technical and human elements is destined for the trash heap. The technical elements are those that involve the tangible aspects of the change—the “what.” Within a restructuring project, for example, these would include reporting relationships, business processes, and technological requirements. The human elements are the things people need to do differently—the “how.” These typically include skills, behaviors, and attitudes.

Creative disruption addresses both the technical and human elements of change by building an organization-wide capability in inquiry, listening, and collaborative problem solving. It is not about doing; it is about being. It’s a willingness to let go, if only temporarily, of preconceived assumptions and beliefs about how your organization operates. It’s the courage to inquire about others’ beliefs and assumptions, particularly those that get in the way of real change. It’s the skill in asking questions about possibility and change, and the patience in listening to the response. It’s the initiative to take action within the momentum generated from an inquiry into the possibility. Finally, it’s a cycle of continuous reflection and learning.

This new perspective starts with each individual making a choice to participate. Once ignited among a core group of people, the stance of creative disruption becomes part of the organizational fabric. Change becomes intentional and implementation of technical changes becomes a creative challenge rather than a reaction to a problem.

This process is not one of disruption for the sake of disruption. It is not a reactionary approach, based on misguided intentions and a myopic view of growth. The path of creative disruption starts with the conviction of creation. What can we collectively bring forth that is currently not here? What are the possibilities we haven’t yet explored for creating more powerful results? These questions are framed with the larger context of the organizational vision or serve as the starting point for creating one.

The Power of Inquiry

Inquiry lies at the heart of creative disruption. Through asking probing questions, people and teams can intentionally and creatively disturb and improve the systems in which they work. The focus is not to unearth problems that need to be resolved but to explore new possibilities. Why do we do things this way? Are we getting the results we aspire to with this process? What are we trying to create?

Within the larger context of change, inquiry helps people become aware of how their own belief systems are affecting their individual and organizational results. But there’s a danger—it is extremely difficult to attempt to shift how someone views the world. Using inquiry as a tool to expose others and somehow make them aware of their own shortcomings is, at best, ineffective. A more effective approach involves initiating divergent conversations around a vision for creative change and possibility. As people within the organization practice this capability, they become aware of the possibilities inherent in their own natural curiosity and creativity.

Listening for Possibility

There’s little value in building an organizational capability around inquiry unless you listen to the collective responses. Heartfelt and earnest listening is both immensely important and extraordinarily difficult. When myriad distractions are vying for our already strained attention, the value of listening can be elusive.

The single biggest challenge to genuine listening is the ongoing stream of internal conversation that invigorates our beliefs and assumptions. That internal conversation consists of experiences, biases, assumptions, and distractions. The essential first step in listening is learning to become aware of that internal conversation. Once aware, we can begin to quiet the noise that keeps us from listening for new ideas and perspectives.

Disrupting the system requires an ability to listen to what’s happening within that system. Listening opens doors to possibilities that may otherwise stay hidden. Targeted inquiry is an important element in the path of creative disruption, and it only comes about through the diligence of listening.

Being Purposeful and Deliberate

Learning requires practice, reflection, and a “slowing down.” Too often, we jump from one problem to the next, one conversation to the next, one idea to the next, without ever stopping to deepen our understanding. We lose out by not having the space (literally and figuratively) to reflect, ask questions, listen, and learn. In the quickening pace of our world, we must make being purposeful and deliberate a discipline in support of generative conversation.

Cutting a Path

So what can you do today? Starting with yourself, begin to cut a path of creative disruption. Inquiry and listening, done with integrity, are contagious. Practice them with a passion and intensity that will ignite a creative movement forward across your organization.

Here are some strategies to consider in cutting a path:

• Start with You. Check your own assumptions and beliefs about change. What’s getting in the way of your creating the results that matter for you and the organization? Shift your orientation from one of constant reaction to problems to one of creative possibilities. Ask yourself, “What can I create from where I am today?”
• Look for Opportunities to Disrupt. Too often a dysfunctional process or system stays that way simply because nobody steps forward to ask targeted questions. Ask questions, and listen with good intention. Create space for others to ask questions, and listen when examining existing processes and systems. Sometimes all it takes for change to take hold is for one person to initiate a creative process of exploration.
• Build the Capability for Powerful Conversations. Design and deliver learning experiences based on inquiry, listening, and other tools that facilitate the disruption of systems. These sessions should focus on increasing knowledge and awareness of how our beliefs and assumptions can impact the results of our conversations and, hence, our organizational results. Create experiences that let people practice these new skills in a safe environment.
• Create Space. Interrupt the cycle of reaction. Create space (literally and figuratively) for people to begin to have conversations about things that they care about and are important to the organization. Integrate times for reflective conversation within an existing leadership development or other learning program. Build cross-functional “disruption” teams to ask targeted questions about existing processes and cultural norms.
• Integrate the Tools of Creative Disruption into Existing Change Programs. Ensure that key players involved in any large-scale change are well versed in the skills and tools of creative disruption. Whether it’s a shift in a technical process or an initiative targeted at the human side, inquiry will enhance the successful implementation of the change and build organizational capability for the long term.

Mark Dillard (mdillard@bucknell.edu) has over 15 years of experience in the area of learning and organizational development. In his current role at Bucknell University, he has responsibility for designing and delivering learning programs and consulting services to the campus community. Prior to moving to higher education, Mark was an Organization Effectiveness Manager with the Coca-Cola Company in Atlanta, GA. He has a master’s in Industrial/Organizational Psychology from Valdosta State University.

The post The Path of Creative Disruption: A Foundation for Sustainable Change appeared first on The Systems Thinker.

In any conversation we can be high or low on advocacy and we can be high or low on inquiry. This gives us a two-by-two diagram:

High/Low Advocacy and Inquiry

• High advocacy/low inquiry is one-way communication—even if both people are doing it! It can be useful for giving information, but doesn’t enhance understanding of diverse perspectives or build commitment to a course of action. Advocacy that imposes the speaker’s views on others usually creates compliance or resistance.
• High inquiry/low advocacy is one-way in a different sense: The speaker does not state his or her views. It can be useful for finding out information, but can create difficulty when the speaker has a hidden agenda and/or is using questions to get the other person to “discover” what the speaker already thinks is right.
• Low inquiry/low advocacy also flows in one direction: People watch but contribute little. This approach works when being an observer is useful, but it can create difficulty when people withhold their views on key issues.
• High advocacy/high inquiry fosters two-way communication and learning. I state my views and I inquire into yours; I invite you to state your views and inquire into mine.

Moving up the Learning Curve

Balancing advocacy with inquiry is necessary—but insufficient— for ensuring learning. For mutual learning to occur, the quality of advocacy and inquiry is also critical. Saying, “That’s a stupid idea. Were you born that way?” is both a statement and a question, but it doesn’t promote learning. The Ladder of Inference is one tool that can help guide high-quality advocacy and inquiry.

• High-quality advocacy involves providing data and explaining how you move from these data to your view of the situation.
• High-quality inquiry involves seeking others’ views, probing how they arrived at them, and encouraging them to challenge your perspective
• Balancing high-quality advocacy with high-quality inquiry makes significant learning possible for all players.

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Applying archetypes such as “Shifting the Burden,” “Fixes That Fail,” and “Limits to Growth” to a specific problem can be a confusing and difficult process, especially if you believe there is one “right” way to use them. We can actually talk about using the archetypes in three different ways:

1. as different lenses;
2. as structural pattern templates;
3. as dynamic scripts (or theories).

By distinguishing between these different types of use, we can focus on increasing our capability in any one of the three ways, rather than being frustrated by trying to do everything at once. In this article, we will focus on using archetypes as lenses for gaining different perspectives on an issue.

I’ll See It When I Believe It

Many of us at one time or another have said “I’ll believe it when I see it,” suggesting that we have more faith in things that we can see and touch. If, for example, there are 100 cases of beer in inventory, you and I can count them and both agree on that number. On the other hand, if we ask why we have 100 cases, our opinions will likely be very different and may be colored by our personal beliefs.

For example, if I think the 100 cases of inventory are a result of poor production scheduling, I will tend to find evidence to support that view. Or, if I think that individual error is responsible for overstocking, I will focus on finding individuals to blame rather than look for any larger systemic forces that may be at work. We don’t believe what we see as much as we see what we believe. Because we can easily fall into this trap, having tools such as the archetypes to help us look at broader systemic issues can be helpful for expanding our perspective.

Seeing Through Systemic Lenses

In many ways, using an archetype is like putting on a pair of eyeglasses. If we look at a situation through the lens of the “Shifting the Burden” storyline, we will ask different questions and focus on different things than if we were using the “Tragedy of the Commons” archetype. It is not a question of which is “right,” but, rather, what different insight each archetype offers.

Using the archetypes as lenses requires a basic understanding of the main lessons, key elements, and outcomes or high-leverage actions that are embodied in each archetype (see “Systems Archetypes at a Glance,” August 2011). This level of understanding allows us to go into a situation, identify potential storylines at work, explore their implications, and gain some initial understanding of the problem under study.

Boat Buyback Dilemma

For example, consider the problem of fish depletion in coastal waters. In order to address the dangers of overfishing and eventual depletion of certain species, the U. S. government launched a pilot program to buy boats back from fishermen.

The overfishing problem has all the classic features of a “Tragedy of the Commons” archetype (see “Too Many Boats on the Horizon,” September 1994). A large number of players are competing for a single resource. The incentive is for each individual fisherman to catch as many fish as possible. However, the combined total of their efforts will eventually hurt everyone, as fish stocks become depleted. The irony of the situation is that despite the devastation in the long term, it is in no individual’s interest to stop fishing in the short term. The leverage in a “Tragedy of the Commons” structure is to have a single governing authority manage the commons. From this perspective, the boat buyback program can be seen as an appropriate role for the government as resource manager.

TRYING ON DIFFERENT EYEGLASSES

If we look at the same situation through the lens of another archetype, however, we can see some other potentially relevant issues. For example, we know that the storyline of a “Shifting the Burden” archetype is that a problem symptom cries out to be fixed. In such situations, we have a tendency to implement a solution that alleviates the symptom in the short term rather than to invest in a more lasting solution. Implementing a quick fix reduces the pressure to examine the deeper structures that may be at the root of the problem.

From this perspective, we might be concerned that the government bailout will send the signal that Uncle Sam will provide a safety net whenever the fishing industry develops over-capacity. Therefore, when fishing stocks replenish, fishermen may be less concerned about taking risks and expanding their fleet. Over time, the fix may become so entrenched that it will turn into a permanent Band-Aid that will shift the wrong kind of responsibility to the government. In this case, the “Shifting the Burden” archetype reveals how the short-term solution shifts the burden of risk and over-extension from the individual to the government.

Productive Conversations and Deeper Inquiry

The buyback example illustrates how the archetypes can be used to gain different perspectives on an issue. Rather than spending time figuring out which archetype best matches your particular situation or trying to get your arrows to go in the right direction, you can use the archetypes to begin a general inquiry into the problem.

To see which lenses may be relevant, try using the questions listed in the accompanying sidebar to see what insight each archetype can add to your problem (see “Trying on Different Eyeglasses”). Once you have selected the most pertinent archetype(s), you can use those archetype(s) to develop action plans that will address the problem systemically.

Looking at the world through the lenses of archetypes puts our primary focus on systemic structures and not on individuals. This is particularly important at the initial stage of problem diagnosis, because it enables you to engage people in the process more easily without triggering defensiveness. This process of “trying on” different stories leads us to ask different kinds of questions and, ultimately, enables us to have more productive conversations.

Daniel H. Kim is co-founder of Pegasus Communications, founding publisher of The Systems Thinker newsletter, and a consultant, facilitator, teacher, and public speaker committed to helping problem-solving organizations transform into learning organizations.

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