Strategy. Innovation. Brand.
Snails and Innovation
What does a huge snail have to do with innovation? It’s all about the platform.
The jungle – much like a coral reef – is an incredible platform for innovation. It creates an environment with billions of niches where flora and fauna can grow and evolve. There’s no particular plan, just a grand variety of nutrients. Ultimately, we get a cornucopia of life that we never could have predicted, even including a snail as big as your hand. (That’s Elliot’s hand in the photo, by the way, in the jungle of eastern Peru).
What’s the lesson here? We need to create more jungle-like platforms if we want to spur innovation. Platforms don’t have to be hot and steamy but they have to be rich in “mental nutrients” – food for thought. One of my favorite platforms, for instance, is the land-grant college system in the United States. It started small but grew into a “jungle” engendering a welter of useful (and sometimes bizarre) ideas and innovations.
On the other hand, if we tried to create a huge snail, we would inevitably fail. The trick is to create the platform that allows the snail to evolve naturally. Let’s focus on building jungles, not snails.
Cuddly Capitalism and Innovation
Cuddly, yes. But are they innovative?
Is there a difference between “cuddly capitalism” and “cutthroat capitalism”? If so, which one produces more innovation?
These may sound like completely academic questions that we can safely ignore but I think they set up a debate that’s about to become heated. Specifically, does America need to maintain cutthroat capitalism to save the world economy through innovation?
The debate began when three economics professors (from MIT, Harvard, and Paris School of Economics) published an article arguing that America’s cutthroat capitalism makes us a more innovative country. Further, our innovation is needed to lead the global economy. If we weren’t so innovative, the rest of the world would stagnate.
The article contrasts cutthroat capitalism to the “cuddly capitalism” found in the Nordic region. As the authors note, “Nordic societies have much stronger safety nets, more elaborate welfare states, and more egalitarian income distributions than the US.” The price – according to the authors – is a decline in innovation. The US is “widely viewed as a more innovative economy”.
Further, the cuddly capitalism of the Nordic region is essentially subsidized by the cutthroat capitalism of America. If it weren’t for American innovation, the Nordic regions wouldn’t have dynamic economies capable of supporting welfare states. If America tried to move toward cuddly capitalism, we would simply stall the world economy. Therefore, America needs to maintain and further develop cutthroat capitalism to save the world.
It’s an interesting argument and a fascinating article but is it true or is it just academic hot air? Essentially, the authors assert that the independent variable is the type of capitalism – cuddly or cutthroat. The dependent variable is the degree of innovation.
The article does a pretty good job of defining cuddly versus cutthroat capitalism. On the other hand, it never operationalizes the dependent variable, innovation. It merely asserts that the US is “widely viewed” as more innovative.
Is it true that America is more innovative than Nordic countries? I’m not so sure. Back in February, I wrote a post on geography and innovation based on Brookings Institute data. Brookings defines innovation more rigorously; it’s related to the number of patents filed. In terms of patents per capita, the league table reads (in order): Sweden, Finland, Switzerland, Israel, the Netherlands, Denmark, Germany, Japan, USA. America, the cutthroat capitalist, is in ninth place and well behind such cuddly capitalists as Sweden, Finland, and Denmark.
Of course, the number of patents is not the only indicator of innovation. Indeed, one of the slippery issues of innovation is that it’s very hard to operationalize. But using patents per capita as a proxy for innovation seems far better than assuming that America is more innovative simply because it is widely viewed to be more innovative. The authors present an interesting argument but they need a better definition of the dependent variable if they want to be taken seriously.
Is Happiness Authentic?
Navajo or Rothko?
I’ve been worried about the word “authentic” recently. I just don’t understand what it means any more. In fact, I’m worried that it doesn’t mean anything.
Oh, I get what “authentic” means when applied to an object, particularly an art object or an antique. Let’s say, for instance, that you just bought an “authentic Navajo saddle blanket”. Presumably that means a Navajo wove the blanket in a traditional style. If a gringo had woven a similar blanket using traditional techniques, it wouldn’t be “authentically” Navajo.
What if a Navajo decides to become an abstract expressionist and weaves a blanket in the style of Mark Rothko? Is that still authentically Navajo? It’s an interesting comparison because – if you look at blankets as art – Navajos may well have been the first abstract expressionists. So is the saddle blanket depicted here authentically Navajo, or authentically abstract expressionist, or an authentic precursor to Rothko?
It gets even weirder as we apply “authentic” to people. Self-help enthusiasts tell me that I should be my “authentic” self. Well, OK … but who else would I be? Is my “authentic” self somehow different from the self that I’ve grown so comfortable with over the years? Is it somehow trimmed or edited?
And how does my “authentic” self relate to reality? I’m the product not only of my own efforts but also of many years of bumping into other people. Like a stone in a river, I’ve been shaped by millions of interactions with other people. Is that shaping process part of my “authentic” self or should I just ignore it?
And what does “authentic” mean when it’s applied to literature? I’ve heard authors, especially novelists, described as “an authentic voice of XYZ”. Then I read their books. They’re depressing. In fact, here’s what “authentic” novels seem to have in common: They’re about poor people or outsiders. They’re pessimistic. They rail against the establishment (or just rich people in general). They’re angry. Has a happy novel ever been described as “authentic”?
Don’t get me wrong — some “authentic voice” novels are superb. For instance, I think Vilhelm Moberg provided an authentic voice of the 19th century Swedish diaspora in his novel, The Emigrants. It’s an epic story about people who must choose between famine and emigration. It’s about poor people; it’s pessimistic; it’s depressing. It’s also great.
But why are only sad, depressing, pessimistic novels described as authentic? Is there something inauthentic about happiness? Denmark is often described as the happiest country in the world. Does that mean that Danes are inauthentic? (Well, there’s always Hamlet – was he more authentic than modern Danes?) Similarly, could you write a novel with a happy ending and call it “authentic”? Or, as one critic put it, is a happy novel just “too working class”?
I’ve decided not to use the word “authentic” until I get a better handle on what exactly it means. In the meantime, I have a simple question: Is “authentic” authentic?
Epistemological Modesty
Rational or emotional?
I used to be a rationalist. I enjoy math and statistics and I always thought that any problem could be rationally (and quantitatively) parsed, if only we could frame it correctly. The issue, as I saw it, was not our quantitative, logical tools but rather the slippery ambiguity of our language. If we could only make our language as precise, logical, and, yes, quantitative as our tools, we could make huge strides in understanding our world and solving the problems of living together.
Although I enjoy languages, I thought numbers were better. Numbers are precise, rational, and universal. Language, other the other hand, is beautiful but also sloppy. It’s so difficult to convey certain concepts and emotions. You have to approach them elliptically, as novelists do rather than head-on as mathematicians do.
I also assumed that rational thought was superior to all other forms of thought. If only we could be rational and banish emotions from our decision making, we would be far better off.
Now I’m not so sure. The more I read about our brain and the way we make decisions, the more I’ve adopted epistemological modesty (EM). EM is one of those ideas that is fairly easy to understand but more difficult to adopt as a way of thinking and living.
Epistemology asks a simple question: how do we know what we know? I used to think that the best (perhaps the only) way to truly know something was through rational thought and logical deduction. I also thought that rationalism would ultimately – sometime in the distant future – allow us to know everything.
I was very sure of my position. Now I’m much more modest. EM (also known as epistemological humility or relativism) suggests that: 1) there are multiple paths to knowledge, and; 2) there are limits to our knowledge – even teenagers can’t know it all.
I used to think that rational thought was the best way to make decisions. It turns out that most of our decisions are made without any conscious thought whatsoever. Our subconscious does the work. Our best decisions are often based on emotions rather than logic. In fact, there’s a growing body of evidence that we don’t use logic to make decisions at all. We use logic to justify decisions. We use emotions to make them.
As I become more modest in my approach to knowledge, I also wonder whether rationalism doesn’t sometimes cause our problems rather than solve them. Our business schools teach a very rational approach to business. Just put it into a spreadsheet and you can manage it successfully. Yet, as business thinkers ranging from Peter Drucker to Paul Nutt point out, most of our business decisions are just plain wrong. Perhaps it’s because we’re too much in love with the rational, quantitative, and logical approach.
In my critical thinking classes, I teach that the first thing to do in making a decision is to step back and look around. Consider multiple alternatives rather than just one. Perhaps it’s time to do the same thing with the way we think. Let’s step back and think about our thinking. Let’s not assume that there’s one right way to think. By being epistemologically modest, we may just think our way to a better place.
Dealing With a Swarm of Bees
Born to Sting
The second-term curse seems to be biting Barack Obama especially hard. With three simultaneous “scandals”, the opposition smells blood and, yes, they’re already talking about impeachment.
So, what can the President do? How can he limit the damage? If I were his communications director, what advice would I give?
First, imagine what you would do if you were attacked by a swarm of angry bees. Would you go on the offensive? Would you attack them? That’s probably a very, very bad idea. The best you can hope for is to contain them, put on some protective clothing, and limit the number of times that you get stung. (This is a great analogy and I adapted it from Marilyn Buckner’s work).
Here are some tips:
Appoint one (and only one) spokesperson – the more spokespeople you have, the more likely it is that the public will perceive contradictions.
Tell the truth even if it makes you look bad — Better to look bad but honest rather than bad and dishonest.
Don’t blame the opposition – even if they’re being hypocritical. You’re not in a position to point fingers. For instance, President Obama might say, with a roll of the eyes, “Wait. The Tea Party claims tax-exempt status because they’re non-political? Are you kidding me?” That might be emotionally satisfying (heck, it may even be accurate) but it only inflames the bees. The goal is to do the opposite.
Don’t blame the media – it only inflames the bees.
If there’s more to the story, say so – the press is great at digging up dirt in a slow, drip, drip, drip fashion. Rather than being tortured over time, get it over with. Tell the whole story and get out in front of the process.
Explain how you’ll fix the situation – remember that you can only win an argument in the future tense. So, develop a plan, reality test it, and present it. It’s important to do this quickly but it’s even more important to reality test it. If it’s a half-baked plan, the bees just get angrier.
Don’t drag your feet – it’s important that the public perceives that you’re doing something. Have a sense of urgency. Appear active.
Don’t hide – you may not feel like coming out for a daily dose of abuse but you need to. You’re going to get abused no matter what. Better to be abused while looking stalwart rather than to be abused while looking cowardly.
Heads must roll (most likely) – it’s sad but true that good people are going to get hurt in the process. But, hey, that’s politics. The bees will demand a sacrifice. Delaying the inevitable only makes it worse.
It’s not an easy process. Your emotions will likely tell you to act in ways that will only damage your position. Michael Levine, a Hollywood PR wizard who has supported some spectacularly stupid stars, probably says it best: “Go fast. Go humble.”
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