Vulnerability and Leadership

<p><i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Banquo#/media/File:Banquo.jpg"></a></i></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b9breHGDnxk/X5BANyOInnI/AAAAAAABPtE/jZP00JOxZWg7RtxnTs_fPfs7tC-6jew_gCLcBGAsYHQ/s734/Th%25C3%25A9odore%2BChass%25C3%25A9riau%2B-%2BMacBeth%2Bseeing%2BBanquo%2527s%2Bghost.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="734" height="524" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b9breHGDnxk/X5BANyOInnI/AAAAAAABPtE/jZP00JOxZWg7RtxnTs_fPfs7tC-6jew_gCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h524/Th%25C3%25A9odore%2BChass%25C3%25A9riau%2B-%2BMacBeth%2Bseeing%2BBanquo%2527s%2Bghost.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Banquo#/media/File:Banquo.jpg">The Ghost of Banquo</a></span><span style="text-align: left;"> by Théodore Chassériau, 1855 (public domain - Wikipedia)</span></i></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Banquo#/media/File:Banquo.jpg"><br /><br /></a></i><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>"When we were children, we used to think that when we were grown-up we would no longer be vulnerable. But to grow up is to accept vulnerability... To be alive is to be vulnerable." </strong></em></strong></em></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— Madeline L'Engle</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br /></p><p>The three most humbling words a leader can say are: "<b><i>I was wrong.</i></b>"</p><p>It might seem disempowering or admitting to not knowing everything. But that's part of leadership. We're human and we're not always correct.</p><p>There's a myth that leaders are supposed to seem tough, confident, and infallible—almost superhuman at times—and never admit a failure.</p><p>Who doesn't like a leader who can withstand the buffets and blows that are send their way? We like to think those who protect us are themselves impervious to harm. But even the strongest heroes can be vulnerable. Achilles' heel. Superman's kryptonite.</p><p>There's a remarkable thing about this, though: when we discover these character flaws, it doesn't sour us on our heroes or make us turn our noses up in disgust. On the contrary, these weaknesses make us more sympathetic to them.</p><p>Our admiration grows because we realize they're willing to assume responsibilities that no one else will, <em>despite</em> those flaws.</p><h4>Read on to understand why vulnerability matters, a lesson from Shakespeare, and how to incorporate vulnerability into your leadership style.</h4><div><br /></div><div><hr /></div><p><br /></p><p>If you've been here or read the back issues, you'll know we've been talking about <strong><a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/p/humility-or-futility">humility</a></strong> and <strong><a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/p/why-does-truth-matter-anyway">truth</a></strong> in the past weeks.</p><p>Two important takeaways from those essays:</p><ul><li><p><strong>“Humility is attentive patience.”</strong></p></li><li><p><strong>Truth is a down payment on loyalty.</strong></p></li></ul><p><strong>Vulnerability is at the intersection of truth and humility</strong>.</p><p>To be vulnerable is to be honest and to discard your arrogance.</p><p>Not an easy thing to do if you're a leader who has been blessed with success after success, or one who appears to have all of the traditional hallmarks of strength.</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>"Most of us admire strength. It's something we tend to respect in others, desire for ourselves, and wish for our children. Sometimes, though, I wonder if we confuse strength with other words—like </strong></em><strong>aggression </strong><em><strong>and even </strong></em><strong>violence</strong><em><strong>. Real strength is neither male nor female; but it is, quite simply, one of the finest characteristics that any human being can possess."</strong> </em></strong></em></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— Fred Rogers</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p>Take Macbeth as an example. Shakespeare's tragic general who would be king. In <a href="https://youtu.be/HZnaXDRwu84">his soliloquy in Act V</a>, he admits:</p><blockquote><p>"Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,<br />Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,<br />To the last syllable of recorded time;<br />And all our yesterdays have lighted fools<br />The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!<br />Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,<br />That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,<br />And then is heard no more. It is a tale<br />Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,<br />Signifying nothing."</p></blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/HZnaXDRwu84" width="560"></iframe></div><br /> In this scene, Macbeth's crimes are catching up with him and he knows his actions were for naught. His confidence gone, we see Macbeth at his most honest and vulnerable in the entire play.<p>When one considers the journey that Macbeth undertook—from war as a general in King Duncan's army to the prophesies of the witches to Banquo's death and his apparition—it's humbling to see him admit that it wasn't worth it. Macbeth admits his mistakes and ultimate failure, as a lesson for the rest of us.</p><p>It's tempting to continue to throw good money after bad. To double down on incorrect assumptions in order to save face. But sometimes we have to learn the hard way.</p><p>You're not paid to be the smartest person in the room.</p><p>It took me a while to realize this while I was at Ford, leading social media and digital communications. Ostensibly, I knew more about that topic than anyone at the company. However, there was plenty of room for others to contribute. I missed that in some cases and may have come off as arrogant. And I regret it.</p><p>It's okay to say "I don't know." Or "I need help." That's not a weakness—it's a strength.</p><p>Why does vulnerability signify strength? For one, it shows our honest efforts to improve, as we admit mistakes and look for input to move forward.</p><p>More importantly, being vulnerable shows courage and curiosity, which are admirable traits. Traits that signify we're open to building relationships with others rather than living in our own bubble.</p><p><br /></p><p></p><h2><strong>How to embrace vulnerability in your leadership style</strong></h2><ol><li><p><strong>Be honest</strong>. Even when telling a story, <a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/p/why-does-truth-matter-anyway">truth matters</a>.</p></li><li><p><strong>Acknowledge your mistakes</strong>. Admitting it is the first step; you should also <a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/p/whens-the-last-time-you-heard-a-proper">apologize when you're wrong</a>.</p></li><li><p><strong>Say when you need help</strong>. You're not expected to know everything. Give others a chance to show their expertise and grow in their roles as well.</p></li><li><p><strong>Build relationships</strong>. Colleagues and coaches can help on your unending journey of self-improvement. Look for others who have been there or who can offer an outside view.</p></li></ol><p><br /></p><p>We're all dealing with our own challenges, in times of uncertainty as well as in normal circumstances. Leadership means providing a clear and calm direction despite any obstacles, and being vulnerable can help you navigate the less certain times, showing your willingness to work together with those whom you let in.</p><p>Being vulnerable means being human.</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><em>If you <strong><a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/subscribe" style="color: #280170; text-decoration-line: none;">become a subscriber</a></strong>, you'll get part 2 of this exploration of leadership and vulnerability, including three timely links, three timeless stories, and a recommended book and podcast.</em></p><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><i>This originally appeared in the October 21 issue of the <a href="http://timelesstimely.com/" style="color: #280170; font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Timeless & Timely</a> newsletter. </i></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;"><iframe frameborder="0" height="320" scrolling="no" src="https://scottmonty.substack.com/embed" style="max-height: 450px; max-width: 100%;" width="480"></iframe></div><div><br /></div>

Vulnerability and Leadership

The Ghost of Banquo  by Théodore Chassériau, 1855 (public domain - Wikipedia) "When we were children, we used to think that when we wer...

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Why Does Truth Matter, Anyway?

<p><em></em></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H9GYRK92UKY/X4c36Cqw92I/AAAAAAABPdM/AUQmtQodu_ANC-JAj1-k7V35RvywT33rQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1265/Gerard%2Bde%2BLairesse%2B-%2BHermes%2BOrdering%2BCalypso%2Bto%2BRelease%2BOdysseus%2B1670.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1265" height="518" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H9GYRK92UKY/X4c36Cqw92I/AAAAAAABPdM/AUQmtQodu_ANC-JAj1-k7V35RvywT33rQCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h518/Gerard%2Bde%2BLairesse%2B-%2BHermes%2BOrdering%2BCalypso%2Bto%2BRelease%2BOdysseus%2B1670.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><em style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:%27Hermes_Ordering_Calypso_to_Release_Odysseus%27_by_Gerard_de_Lairesse,_c._1670.JPG" target="_blank">Hermes Ordering Calypso to Release Odysseus</a></em><span style="text-align: left;"> by Gerard de Lairesse, 1670 (public domain - Wikimedia Commons)</span></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><em><br /><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>“When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”</strong></em></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— Arthur Conan Doyle, 1890</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br />Why should truth matter to executives?</p><p>After all, these are individuals who can (and have) misled the public by spinning the facts, duped investors by overplaying a hand, and duped authorities by cooking the books.</p><p>Again and again we see examples of the market rewarding those who play fast and loose with the facts. Until it doesn’t. Theranos. WeWork. Nikola.</p><p>It’s easy to construct a sexy story—to get people to believe something they already <em>want</em> to believe. A miracle testing process. High value of coworking spaces. A competitor to an electric vehicle company.</p><p>But pull one thread and the entire story begins to unravel, revealing more about the founders and the operators than previously known, resulting in investors asking the questions they should have asked all along.<br /><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>“Murder cannot be hid long; a man’s son</strong></em></strong></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>may, but at the length truth will out.”</strong> </em></strong></em></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— William Shakespeare, 1599</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br />When my parents raised me, they impressed this upon me: If I got in trouble (in school, around the neighborhood, etc.) they wanted to hear it from me first. If they found out from a third party, then I’d be in trouble for the coverup, in addition to the original infraction.</p><p>The truth always comes out.</p><p>Always.</p><p>The truth may not be pretty. It may not put you in the best light. But accepting it, embracing it, and sharing it will make you stronger, both in perception as well as in character. If done with integrity, embracing the truth will give you long-term credibility.</p><p><strong>Truth is a down payment on loyalty.</strong></p><p>Loyalty from your customers, from your employees, from your investors—from anyone you build a relationship with. It’s a long game, though. Relationships always are. </p><p>But loyalty doesn’t come from transactions; loyalty comes from being able to trust someone from repeated actions over time. Such feelings are built, not made.</p><p>Another way of thinking about truth is through transparency. A little transparency can go a long way.</p><p><strong>Honesty </strong>leads to transparency.</p><p><strong>Transparency </strong>leads to trust.</p><p><strong>Trust </strong>leads to loyalty.</p><p><strong>Loyalty </strong>means less turnover.</p><h4><strong><span style="font-size: medium;">Honesty —> Transparency —> Trust —> Loyalty</span></strong></h4><p><br />You don’t have to reveal your secret ingredients, your patent, or your code. But if you take your audience along on the journey with you, they'll appreciate your honesty.</p><p>If you need to change your pricing, packaging, product design, or anything else that’s going to affect the consumer, communicate it clearly and honestly.</p><p>Think about the way we see food. In the 1960s and 1970s, the food advertising industry took a turn. It used to be a free-for-all — using motor oil for syrup, Crisco as a stand-in for ice cream, etc. — all of the tricks that photographers used to try to make food look extra appealing in pictures.</p><p>That is until Heinz decided to break up Campbell’s stranglehold on the soup industry. The Heinz folks filed a complaint with the FTC, revealing that Campbell’s <strong><a href="http://www.todayifoundout.com/index.php/2019/07/that-time-campbells-put-marbles-in-their-soup/">put marbles in bowls of soup</a></strong> to make it look more appealing. </p><p>You see, Campbell’s knew that the solids in their soup would stay at the surface and therefore make the soup seem more hearty, when supported by invisible marbles just beneath them. </p><p>The lawsuit was successful, resulting in food advertising regulations that require more attention to realistic presentations.</p><p>Now, this may have never affected the consumer, who was blithely unaware of being hoodwinked. But it leveled the playing field for food manufacturers, forcing them to create products that lived up to their advertisements.<br /><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all</strong></em></strong></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>                Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”</strong> </em></strong></em></div><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><em>— John Keats, 1819</em></p><div><hr /></div><p><br />Truth has been debated by philosophers for millennia. What is truth? Aristotle, Plato, Socrates, the Stoics all had views on the essence of truth.</p><p>Today, you can hear the overly-enlightened talking about “<em>my</em> truth,” as if they’ve cornered the market on what truth is. Perhaps a better phrase for “my truth” would be “my perception,” for your truth infers that it’s personal based on what you’ve experienced.</p><p>If we are to coexist in a society, whether it’s through business, politics, or just <em>life</em>, common facts are essential. We need experiences and observable realities that we share.</p><p>This is the essence of history. And it’s the difference between the recorded past and the remembered past, as Lewis Lapham put it: </p><blockquote><p>“The recorded past is a spiked cannon. The remembered past is live ammunition—not what happened two hundred or two thousand years ago, a <em>story</em> about what happened two hundred or two thousand years ago. The stories change with circumstance and the sight lines available to tellers of the tale. Every generation rearranges the furniture of the past to suit the comfort and convenience of its anxious present.”</p></blockquote><p>In <a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44477/ode-on-a-grecian-urn" target="_blank"><em>Ode on a Grecian Urn</em>,</a> Keats looks at this inanimate object, with its scenes from ancient Greece, imagining what was happening those thousands of years ago, <a href="https://www.faena.com/aleph/articles/beauty-is-truth-truth-beauty-revelations-from-john-keats/#">as he stands in the British Museum</a>. </p><p>The ancient moment is frozen in time, captured as an Instagrammable moment, but on the external portion of a funerary urn, rather than on a black mirror. But Keats reflects on his own thoughts, from his own time, and gives the urn new meaning today.</p><p>The true value of history is not just to give us a journal and timeline of our past, but to give us lessons we can take into the present. This is why originalism is scoffed at by historians.</p><p>Currently, we have a Supreme Court nominee who is claiming to be an “originalist” in her view of the Constitution, saying “That means that I interpret the Constitution as a law... I understand it to have the meaning that it had at the time people ratified it. That meaning doesn’t change over time and it’s not up to me to update it.”</p><p>But all it takes is a quick view of Thomas Jefferson’s own writing to understand what the Founding Fathers intended:</p><blockquote><p>“But laws and institutions must go hand in hand with the progress of the human mind... We might as well require a man to wear still the coat which fitted him when a boy as civilized society to remain ever under the regimen of their barbarous ancestors.”</p></blockquote><p>Homer’s epic poems and the Bible are part of a tradition, first oral, then written, creating a common set of stories for society. While the tales are set in a particular time, their lessons are universal, allowing us to apply them still today but in the context of a vastly different world.</p><p>They work because human nature has remained constant and because we have more in common with ourselves and our ancestors than we might think.</p><p>This is what storytellers do. They capture our common experiences and create tales that trigger emotions within us. We laugh or cry, feel shame or pride, exhibit sympathy or grief, create ideas or actions.</p><p>We do this because stories are based on things that are discernible. Things to which we can attest. In other words, the truth.</p><p>The sooner you can be honest with your audience, the faster you’ll be on your way to loyal followers.<br /><br /></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><div><hr /><p style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><em>Please <strong><a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/subscribe" style="color: #280170; text-decoration-line: none;">become a subscriber</a></strong> and join us back here on Friday for part 2 of this journey toward truth, where I'll have three timely links, three timeless stories, and a recommended book and podcast — all related to truth.</em></p><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><i>This originally appeared in the October 14 issue of the <a href="http://timelesstimely.com/" style="color: #280170; font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Timeless & Timely</a> newsletter. </i></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;"><iframe frameborder="0" height="320" scrolling="no" src="https://scottmonty.substack.com/embed" style="max-height: 450px; max-width: 100%;" width="480"></iframe></div></div>

Why Does Truth Matter, Anyway?

Hermes Ordering Calypso to Release Odysseus  by Gerard de Lairesse, 1670 (public domain - Wikimedia Commons) “When you have eliminated the i...

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Humility or Futility

<div style="text-align: left;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oDGVZtLeqWg/X33_fahRTSI/AAAAAAABPYU/NokFmZmxds47qvDFSP544lvVZDzfNMqBgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1280/Karl%2BBeutel%2B-%2BSea%2BTrials%2Bof%2BRMS%2BTitanic%252C%2B2nd%2Bof%2BApril%2B1912.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="636" data-original-width="1280" height="318" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oDGVZtLeqWg/X33_fahRTSI/AAAAAAABPYU/NokFmZmxds47qvDFSP544lvVZDzfNMqBgCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h318/Karl%2BBeutel%2B-%2BSea%2BTrials%2Bof%2BRMS%2BTitanic%252C%2B2nd%2Bof%2BApril%2B1912.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h6 data-pm-context="[]"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><em><a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Sea_Trials_of_RMS_Titanic,_2nd_of_April_1912.jpg" target="_blank">Sea Trials of RMS Titanic, 2nd of April 1912</a></em> by Karl Beutel, 2008 (public domain - Wikimedia Commons)</span></h6></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="text-align: left;"><h6 data-pm-context="[]"></h6><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>“Humility is the most difficult of all virtues to achieve; nothing dies harder than the desire to think well of oneself.”</strong> </em></strong></em></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— T.S. Eliot, 1927</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br />Take a quick etymological journey with me, if you will.</p><p>And no, I don’t mind if you consult a dictionary or Google before we leave.</p><p>Etymology is, of course, the study of the origins of words. Not to be confused with entomology, the study of insects.</p><p>One of the reasons I know this is because I once took a class on etymology as part of my classics curriculum. At the time, I was pre-med and thought it would be helpful to understand how Greek and Latin influenced words I'd be seeing and using throughout my career.</p><p>While I ended up on the business side of medicine rather than the clinical side in the early part of my career, the course was a boon to my vocabulary. Which made a recent linguistic discovery with respect to this week's topic all the more surprising to me.</p><p>I was thinking about the concept of humility and leadership. Humility is an underrated trait in leaders.</p><p>I mean, no one brags about humility, right?<br /><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>“It’s hard to be humble when you're as great as I am.”</strong>  </em></strong></em></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— Muhammad Ali, 1974</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br />Alright, no one brags about it <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QCsNunGnqE0&ab_channel=blizard7500">seriously</a>.</p><p>With the ubiquity of social media, we're probably accustomed to self-promoters and would-be leaders telling us how great they are. The stereotypical “type-A” personality that is associated with leadership, for better or worse, is filled with the opposite of humility.</p><p>And what is the opposite of humility?</p><p>Simply put, it’s pride.</p><p>One of the Seven Deadly Sins (in case you're keeping track, the others are lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, and envy), pride is often considered the worst of the bunch, the father of all sins.<br /><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>“Pride leads to every other vice.”</strong> </em></strong></em></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— C.S. Lewis, 1952</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br />Pride is closely associated with two other terms, the Greek <em>hubris</em> and the Latin <em>vanitas</em>. The Greeks viewed hubris as placing oneself above the gods, denigrating their standing and authority. Today, we view hubris as pride accompanied with arrogance.</p><p>We of course recognize vanity, or an inflated image in the eyes of others, as the descendant of vanitas. But here's the thing about the definition of <em>vanitas</em>. It also means ‘emptiness,’ ‘falseness,’ or ‘futility.'</p><p>That was the first time I had heard futility used in relation to pride or hubris, and it reminded me of a story.<br /></p><p><br /></p><h2>A Familiar Tale of Hubris</h2><p>We all know the tragic tale of the <em>Titanic</em>. It’s a story that could have written itself: the largest moving object in the world, the most technologically advanced ship ever, and man's hubris flying in the face of God and nature.</p><p>“God himself could not sink this ship,” Captain Edward J. Smith uttered at one point. So much ironic material for so many books, plays, and films to come.</p><p>The novel <em>Futility</em> picked up on these very themes. Author Morgan Robertson chronicled all of the workings of the ship:</p><blockquote><p>“She was the largest craft afloat and the greatest of the works of men. In her construction and maintenance were involved every science, profession, and trade known to civilization. On the bridge were officers…being the pick of the Royal Navy. The same professional standard applied to the personnel of the engine-room, and the steward's department was equal to that of a first-class hotel.</p><p>“The bridge, engine room, and a dozen places on her deck the 92 doors of nineteen water-tight compartments could be closed in half a minute by turning a lever. These doors would also close automatically in the presence of water. With nine compartments flooded the ship would still float, and…this steamship was considered practically unsinkable.”</p></blockquote><p>He got all of the ship’s stats right, or nearly right, as well: 800 feet long, 75,000 horsepower, and on her trial trip had steamed at a rate of 25 knots an hour.</p><blockquote><p>“Unsinkable—indestructible, she carried as few boats as would satisfy the laws. These, twenty-four in number were securely covered and lashed down to their chocks on the upper deck, and if launched would hold 500 people. She carried no useless, cumbersome liferafts; but—because the law required it—each of the 3,000 berths in the passengers’, officers’, and crew’s quarters contained a cork jacket, while about twenty circular lifebuoys were strewn along the rails.”</p></blockquote><p>You know how it ends. The ship, on its way from Southampton to New York, collides with an iceberg in the middle of the North Atlantic one starry April night. It then sinks with thousands of souls aboard.</p><p>It’s a morality tale we've all heard, rich in irony and steeped in tragedy.</p><p>Only Robertson’s book wasn’t an eyewitness account of the sinking of the <em>Titanic</em>.</p><p>His book, <em><strong>Futility</strong></em>, was originally titled <em><strong>The Wreck of the Titan: Or, Futility</strong></em>.</p><p>No, he didn't get the ship’s name wrong. You see, he wrote his tragic novel predicting the advances of transportation and warning of the inadequacies of maritime regulations — about a fictional ship called the <em>Titan</em>, nearly identical in every way to the <em>Titanic </em>— in 1898.</p><p>A full fourteen years before the <em>Titanic</em> set sail.<br /><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><br />Now, what does all of this have to do with leadership?</p><p>At its core, leadership is about relationships. Expertise, delegation, time management—all necessary functions of the executive—are nothing without relationships.</p><p>Relationships are the bedrock to creating the foundation of working together. Without good relationships, we can’t develop our teams, we can't build great products, we can't earn trust from all of our stakeholders.</p><p>And you can’t develop relationships through vanity, pride and hubris. You need humility.</p><p>Servant leaders are called to serve others with your talent and skills: customers, board members, your direct reports whom you're training. It’s an exercise in humility.</p><p>And along the way, you’ll run into some challenges. You're going to find that you need to listen more. You’re going to make mistakes.</p><p>And as you do, remember this: three of the most humbling words a good leader can say are:</p><h3 style="text-align: center;"><em>“I was wrong</em><strong>.”</strong></h3><p>Sometimes that might mean acknowledging that you might not the right person for the job.<br /></p><p><br /></p><h2><strong>A Case Study in Humility</strong></h2><p>This is an amazing example of just such leadership in action.</p><p>I had the great fortune to serve as an executive at Ford Motor Company. It’s an iconic brand — one started by Henry Ford in 1903. And when I took the job in 2008, I realized just what a special place it was, with Henry's great-grandson Bill Ford in the Executive Chairman role.</p><p>But how he got there was another story.</p><p>Henry Ford is one of the icons of 20th century business. When Steve Jobs (another icon) passed away in 2010, his name was mentioned along with Henry Ford and Thomas Edison has having had an indelible impact on the world.</p><p>When Bill Ford joined the company out of college, his father, William Clay Ford, Sr. said, “<em>You know, you will have to be better than everyone else because of who you are</em>.” (Source: <em><strong><a href="https://amzn.to/35FAjf3">Once Upon a Car</a></strong></em> by Bill Vlasic, p.19)</p><p>He was right. Bill had to overachieve because the perception would be that he was entitled. He had to prove himself.</p><p>And he did just that, overachieving. He joined the board at age 31 and just 11 years later in 1999, he was elected Chairman.</p><p>But the late ‘Nineties and early ‘Aughts were tough times for Ford. The CEO at that time was <strong>Jacques Nasser</strong>, an energetic Ford executive who had been with the company for 30 years and also had a sizable ego.</p><p>Bill Ford fired Nasser in 2001 and took the CEO role, to much acclaim. It had been more than 20 years since a Ford family member led the company, and it was still family-owned.</p><p>The next five years would prove a challenge, with rising costs of raw materials and fuel, as well as pressure from Japanese automakers. The CFO, <strong>Don Leclaire</strong>, kept leadership apprised of the mounting pressure. The company was exploring a tie-up, selling portions of the company to private equity firms, and other extreme measures to avoid bankruptcy (the family ownership would be voided in such a case).</p><p>Then in the summer of 2006, Leclaire informed Ford that it had eighteen to thirty-six months of cash left. The situation was dire. (Source: <em><strong><a href="https://amzn.to/35HZP3B">American Icon: Alan Mulally and the Fight to Save Ford Motor Company</a></strong></em> by Bryce Hoffman, p. 53)</p><p>At that point, Bill Ford, the great-grandson of the company's founder, made one of the most critical decisions in his life: <strong>he would step aside as CEO</strong>, telling one of his directors,</p><p><em><strong>“No single individual can run this company effectively under the current circumstances. I need help. Help me get that help</strong></em><strong>.”</strong></p><p>When you consider the reputation of U.S. automakers at the time as myopic and egotistical (deservedly so), this was a remarkable move from a self-aware leader. That it was a descendant of Henry Ford made it all the more shocking.<br /><br /></p><h3 style="text-align: left;"><strong>“The most remarkable operating executive in the country”</strong></h3><p>That was Bill Ford’s reaction was after meeting Alan Mulally for the first time. (Vlasic, p. 146) Alan was CEO of Boeing’s commercial aircraft division at the time, and it took quite a bit of wooing to convince Alan to leave the aeronautics industry.</p><p>Alan was eager, energetic and earnest. He had a charming demeanor: jubilant, familiar, and always asking questions. And he quickly assessed the situation, saying “<em>I think you need clarity. You need real clarity of the plan, clarity of communication</em>.” (Ibid.<em>,</em>p. 149)</p><p>Alan always had a way of taking a complex situation and creating a simple way of thinking about it — that clarity that he mentioned to Bill. But in my experience, Alan’s simplification never made you feel as if he was talking down to you. He was always bringing you on a journey with him.</p><p>For someone who had successfully run a major division of a company like Boeing and ran a global icon like Ford, Alan had plenty of reasons to have an ego. And yet, he was more humble than anyone I've ever met.</p><p>When I expressed how proud I was to work for him and what a great job he was doing, he’d always demur with, “Scott, it’s an honor to serve.”</p><p>Servant leadership. Always.</p><p><br /></p><h2><strong>The Really Neat Part</strong></h2><p>Henry Ford had once been the chief engineer at Edison’s main plant in Detroit. He considered Thomas Edison a mentor, and later they could become colleagues: two visionaries who, through their innovations, changed how the world looked and worked. But, as the saying goes, “vision without execution is just hallucination.”</p><p>And the execution is exactly what Bill Ford was struggling with before hiring Alan. Bill had always been a visionary. It's extraordinary to watch him think and animatedly talk about the possibilities that the future brings. His <strong><a href="https://www.ted.com/talks/bill_ford_a_future_beyond_traffic_gridlock?language=en">TED Talk</a></strong> in 2011 was ahead of its time, addressing many of the mobility opportunities that are here today.</p><p>But Bill needed someone to execute on that vision.</p><p>He found it in Alan, who said: “<em>I kept thinking: a compelling vision, a comprehensive strategy, and then relentless implementation. That's our plan</em>.” (Vlasic, p. 155)</p><p>But Alan knew that it wasn’t enough to have a vision; he needed the visionary by his side to keep the momentum going.</p><p>Again his humility came to the surface as he gave a condition for his employment:</p><p><em><strong></strong></em></p><blockquote><em><strong>“I won't take the job unless Bill stays as chairman. Bill has the name. I'm sure he has the magic with the employees, and probably with the dealers. He can do things I wouldn't be able to do because of who he is and the way he is</strong></em>.” </blockquote><p></p><p>That's exactly what happened. Alan took the CEO role on September 6, 2006 and he and Bill Ford announced the partnership to the world.</p><p>It was a partnership in emotional intelligence. In servant leadership.</p><p>In humility.</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><em><br />Please <strong><a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/subscribe">become a subscriber</a></strong> and join us back here on Friday for part 2 of this journey toward humility, where I'll have three timely links, three timeless stories, and a recommended book and podcast — all related to humility.</em></p><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><i>This originally appeared in the October 7 issue of the <a href="http://timelesstimely.com" style="color: #280170; font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Timeless & Timely</a> newsletter. </i></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;"><iframe frameborder="0" height="320" scrolling="no" src="https://scottmonty.substack.com/embed" style="max-height: 450px; max-width: 100%;" width="480"></iframe></div></div>

Humility or Futility

  Sea Trials of RMS Titanic, 2nd of April 1912 by Karl Beutel, 2008 (public domain - Wikimedia Commons) “Humility is the most difficult of ...

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The Bully Pulpit

<p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QmfYeHRNPBY/X3QnAoW9-cI/AAAAAAABPPY/e6s5h0eovkYf40G-_MDU-ISPJ3wwUuMeACLcBGAsYHQ/s1405/John%2BSinger%2BSargent%2B-%2BTheodore%2BRoosevelt%2B1903%2Bcropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="955" data-original-width="1405" height="436" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QmfYeHRNPBY/X3QnAoW9-cI/AAAAAAABPPY/e6s5h0eovkYf40G-_MDU-ISPJ3wwUuMeACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h436/John%2BSinger%2BSargent%2B-%2BTheodore%2BRoosevelt%2B1903%2Bcropped.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="https://artsandculture.google.com/asset/theodore-roosevelt/nwGYWpQA9PqKWQ?hl=en&ms=%7B%22x%22%3A0.5%2C%22y%22%3A0.5%2C%22z%22%3A8.108475402986924%2C%22size%22%3A%7B%22width%22%3A3.8657048867344814%2C%22height%22%3A1.2374999999999994%7D%7D" target="_blank">Theodore Roosevelt</a></i> by John Singer Sargent, 1903 (public domain - Google Arts Project)</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /> </p><h6 data-pm-slice="1 1 []"></h6><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>“If the facts are against you, argue the law. If the law is against you, argue the facts. If the law and the facts are against you, pound the table and yell like hell.”</strong> </em></strong></em></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>― Carl Sandburg</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br />Have you ever had to deal with a bully?</p><p>It's not fun.</p><p>Not like in the "Oh, this is boring, let's find something else to do" kind of not fun.</p><p>As in you're thinking about the aggressor all day, trying to find ways to avoid him (and yes, it's usually a <em>him</em>), coming up with things you might say to put him off, or even mapping out how you might handle yourself if things get physical.</p><p>It's terrifying, exhausting, and downright debilitating.</p><p>Last night's presidential debate immediately brought this to mind. Anyone who's ever had to deal with an abuser of any kind in their life — a boss, a spouse, a partner, a schoolmate — likely felt a sense of <em>déjà vu</em>.</p><p>There was interrupting, lying, <a href="https://twitter.com/shannonmstirone/status/1311125561515765760">gaslighting</a>, refusing to back down, interrupting, countering with no facts, blustering, and did I mention interrupting?</p><p>It was a classic narcissist who didn't have good arguments (just listen to the response to the first question — it sounded like a schoolchild who didn't do the homework and was just tap-dancing around the question using the same minor talking points repeatedly in two minutes).</p><p>In a situation like this, the narcissist simply needs oxygen. He needs to vent — to let out the rage he feels that someone would <em>dare</em> oppose him — <em><strong>HIM</strong></em>! It's unthinkable, and in his mind, there is no space to occupy the empathy and counter-thinking that a debate requires.</p><p>You can't debate with a narcissistic abuser. You just can't.<br /><br /> According to the <em>DSM-5</em> (<em>The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Volume 5</em>): “Vulnerability in self-esteem makes individuals with narcissistic personality disorder very sensitive to ‘injury’ from criticism or defeat.”</p><p>He has no empathy for you, no ability to listen to your side and weigh your facts against his. All he knows is what he wants and needs. And that's to be right, above all else.</p><p><strong><a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2019/10/george-conway-trump-unfit-office/599128/?utm_source=share&utm_campaign=share">The narcissistic sociopath</a></strong> puts his needs ahead of everything else. Everything.<br /><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><p style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>"But if a man's efficiency is not guided and regulated by a moral sense, then the more efficient he is the worse he is, the more dangerous to the body politic. Courage, intellect, all the masterful qualities, serve but to make a man more evil if they are merely used for that man's own advancement, with brutal indifference to the rights of others."</strong> </em></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— Theodore Roosevelt, 1910</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br />He eventually wears you down, because you're too exhausted to fight back. The torrents or avalanches of lies keep coming, machine-gun style, piercing you, washing over you, making you fight against the momentum until it's too much for you and you just give in.</p><p>That's how a narcissistic bully wins. Not because he has the better argument. But because he has the stronger will to win.</p><p>And it's winning that matters. He doesn't care about reaching a mutual agreement or finding common ground. It's about winning at all costs. Life is a zero-sum game where winners and there are losers. Give no quarter. Cede no ground.<br /><br /> This comes from a lifetime of neither being held responsible nor refuted; from a career wherein he was an industrial dictator who didn't have a board to whom he reported, nor a performance review process to hold him to account.</p><p>In short, the dream career of a narcissist.</p><p>This is far from what we need in exemplary leaders—particularly those who represent our country. The world is large, yet we're all interconnected and rely on each other's sense of morality and decency.<br /><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>"The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is piled high with difficulty and we must rise with the occasion. We must disenthrall ourselves and then we shall save our country."</strong> </em></strong></em></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— Abraham Lincoln, 1862</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br />As a microcosm, think about how COVID has been handled between states. There's no overarching federal plan, therefore each state is left to its own devices. The virus doesn't respect state borders. And yet we're addressing it as if it's a sovereign entity.</p><p>The same goes for your teams. The entire company — from the C-suite to the front-line workers — needs to embrace the same vision and the same language.</p><p>It's reminiscent of a story about Christopher Wren, the world-renowned architect. <a href="https://www.bartleby.com/73/458.html">The story goes</a>:</p><blockquote><p>"He was walking unrecognized among the men who were at work upon the building of St. Paul’s cathedral in London which he had designed. <br /> “What are you doing?” he inquired of one of the workmen, and the man replied, <br /> “I am cutting a piece of stone.”<br />As he went on he put the same question to another man, and the man replied,<br />“I am earning five shillings twopence a day.”<br />And to a third man he addressed the same inquiry and the man answered,<br />“I am helping Sir Christopher Wren build a beautiful cathedral.”</p></blockquote><p>That man had vision. He could see beyond the cutting of the stone, beyond the earning of his daily wage, to the creation of a work of art—the building of a great cathedral. And in your life it is important for you to strive to attain a vision of the larger whole."</p><p>Collective vision and a desire to move ahead together. How likely do you think it was that Wren was a narcissist? We actually have an answer from the man himself.</p><p>He didn't want a portrait or statuary of himself after he died. He is buried in a corner of St. Paul's Cathedral, and the inscription on his tomb reads:</p><h4 style="text-align: center;"><em>“Si monumentum requiris, circumspice." ("If you seek a monument, look around.)</em></h4><p>He knew that his work would carry his reputation forward. Not a statue or other personification of his mortal being.<br /></p><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: left;"><b>Bully, Again</b></h2><p>But back to the original topic: bullies.</p><p>You've undoubtedly heard the term "bully pulpit" before. What does it mean to you?</p><p>It's frequently associated with Theodore Roosevelt, the 26th president of the United States, who is also well known for his foreign policy "speak softly and carry a big stick; you will go far."</p><p>Many people hear "bully pulpit" and envision a leader as one who commands attention and therefore can use the power of the pulpit to make their point known, doing so by getting on the proverbial soapbox and verbally browbeating their opposition, simply because they have the floor. In other words, they can bully people into submission because they have a larger platform.</p><p>Does that seem to align with what you thought?</p><p>If so, I'm sorry to tell you you're wrong. I wouldn't be surprised if you thought that, though. Because the leader behind the pulpit for the last four years has indeed been a bully, as he was last night (despite his wife's #BeBest campaign).</p><p>The bully pulpit does indeed give the occupant of an office (whether it's political, industrial or familial) the opportunity to speak out on any issue. That's one of the benefits of leadership. By virtue of your position, the leader commands attention.</p><p>Leaders have the opportunity—nay, the responsibility—to speak up for virtuous reasons, not nefarious ones.</p><p>It's one of the reasons I'm outspoken on my social channels about the indecency, ineptitude, callousness, and corruption that are visible nearly every day. Some people have counseled me to keep my opinions to myself, but I feel a sense of duty to speak up because of the size of my platforms and because there are those who don't have a voice. It's my bully pulpit.<br /><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>"The fiery trial through which we pass will light us down in honor or dishonor to the latest generation. We, even we here, hold the power and bear the responsibility."</strong> </em></strong></em></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— Abraham Lincoln, 1862</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br />"Bully" in this case traces its roots to that phrase that Teddy Roosevelt used freely. "Bully!" he'd often say to someone who gave him great news. If they accomplished something splendid, he'd say, "Bully for you!"</p><p>Thanks to T.R., the bully pulpit has meant using your powers for good, not for evil. It's a rallying cry to bring the assembled people together, to create a common vision, and to forge ahead in solidarity.</p><p>In his famous "<a href="http://www.worldfuturefund.org/Documents/maninarena.htm">The Man in the Arena</a>" speech at the Sorbonne, Roosevelt reflected on our needs to transform from the more base instincts to intellectual and spiritual ones:</p><blockquote><p><strong>"As the country grows, its people, who have won success in so many lines, turn back to try to recover the possessions of the mind and the spirit, which perforce their fathers threw aside in order better to wage the first rough battles for the continent their children inherit. The leaders of thought and of action grope their way forward to a new life, realizing, sometimes dimly, sometimes clear-sightedly, that the life of material gain, whether for a nation or an individual, is of value only as a foundation, only as there is added to it the uplift that comes from devotion to loftier ideals."</strong></p></blockquote><p>T.R. wasn't satisfied with such platitudes; he drove his point home in what was expected out of each of us and from our leaders:</p><blockquote><p><strong>"With you here, and with us in my own home, in the long run, success or failure will be conditioned upon the way in which the average man, the average women, does his or her duty, first in the ordinary, every-day affairs of life, and next in those great occasional cries which call for heroic virtues. The average citizen must be a good citizen if our republics are to succeed. The stream will not permanently rise higher than the main source; and the main source of national power and national greatness is found in the average citizenship of the nation. Therefore it behooves us to do our best to see that the standard of the average citizen is kept high; and the average cannot be kept high unless the standard of the leaders is very much higher."</strong></p></blockquote><p>The quality of our leaders determines the quality of our citizens (or employees, or children). They see the example we set and emulate our words, actions, and eventually our thoughts.</p><p>Now think again about what you saw last night.</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>"Self restraint, self mastery, common sense, the power of accepting individual responsibility and yet of acting in conjunction with others, courage and resolution — these are the qualities which mark a masterful people. Without them no people can control itself, or save itself from being controlled from the outside."</strong> </em></strong></em></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— Theodore Roosevelt, 1910</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br /></p><p>Who represented what you'd like to see in your fellow citizens, in your colleagues, and in your children? Whose relative patience and good humor was something you'd encourage in those who look to you for guidance?</p><p>And whose behavior was obnoxious, abusive, petty, demeaning, and puerile, filled with excuses, blame, false acclaim, and talked excessively without saying much?<br /><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>"The phrase-maker, the phrase-monger, the ready talker, however great his power, whose speech does not make for courage, sobriety, and right understanding, is simply a noxious element in the body politic, and it speaks ill for the public if he has influence over them. To admire the gift of oratory without regard to the moral quality behind the gift is to do wrong to the republic." </strong></em></p><p style="text-align: right;"><em>— Theodore Roosevelt, 1910</em></p><div><hr /></div><p><br />Think about those qualities destined to serve as a guide for your fellow citizens, employees, children, and grandchildren.</p><p>Who is the "bullier" choice?</p><p>Who would Teddy Roosevelt have been proud to recognize as a Man in the Arena?</p><p>As he said in his final sentence of that speech in Paris:</p><p></p><h4 style="text-align: left;"><em><strong>"Long may you carry yourselves proudly as citizens of a nation which bears a leading part in the teaching and uplifting of mankind."</strong></em></h4><em><strong><br /></strong></em><p></p><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div><hr /><br /></div><p style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">I’ll be back on Friday with with a follow-up piece on decency and compassion, along with links, stories, and recommendations. I hope you'll sign up for those updates by becoming one of my <strong><a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/subscribe" style="color: #280170; text-decoration-line: none;">paying subscribers</a></strong>. </p><h2 style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Open Sans", serif, sans-serif; font-size: 22.4px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><div style="font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><div><i>This originally appeared in the September 30 issue of the <a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/" style="color: #280170; font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Timeless & Timely</a> newsletter. Paying subscribers get this plus an additional essay with three timely links, three timeless stories and a recommended book and podcast each week. You can choose the option that suits you best:</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe frameborder="0" height="320" scrolling="no" src="https://scottmonty.substack.com/embed" style="max-height: 450px; max-width: 100%;" width="480"></iframe></div></div></h2>

The Bully Pulpit

Theodore Roosevelt by John Singer Sargent, 1903 (public domain - Google Arts Project)   “If the facts are against you, argue the law. If th...

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The Role of an Advisor

<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ENkuaGOrRkM/X2t4aJVXRVI/AAAAAAABPIs/tnkGyTaIAfQDk-JnAmMnMQa1NioLkQ8MACLcBGAsYHQ/s1280/Wilhelm%2BMarstrand%2B-%2BDon%2BQuixote%2Band%2BSancho%2BPanza%2Bat%2Ba%2BCrossroad%252C%2B1847.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="860" data-original-width="1280" height="430" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ENkuaGOrRkM/X2t4aJVXRVI/AAAAAAABPIs/tnkGyTaIAfQDk-JnAmMnMQa1NioLkQ8MACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h430/Wilhelm%2BMarstrand%2B-%2BDon%2BQuixote%2Band%2BSancho%2BPanza%2Bat%2Ba%2BCrossroad%252C%2B1847.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em style="font-size: small; font-weight: 700; text-align: left;"><a href="https://www.scottmonty.com/2020/09/the-role-of-advisor.html">Don Quixote and Sancho Panza at a Crossroad</a></em><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: 700; text-align: left;"> by Wilhelm Marstrand, 1847 (public domain - Wikimedia Commons)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div><div><br /><hr /></div><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><br />"It is very lonesome at the summit!"</strong></em></div><em><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>"Like a man's life, when he has climbed to eminence."</strong> </em></div></em><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><em>— Nathaniel Hawthorne, 1860<br /><br /></em></p><div><hr /></div><p><br />Since humans first began telling stories to each other, we've been enamored with heroes.</p><p>From early epic poems like <em>Gilgamesh</em> in second millennium B.C. Sumeria and <em>The Iliad</em> and <em>The Odyssey</em> in 7th century B.C. Greece, we've allowed our imaginations to wander and to live vicariously through the lives of fictionalized heroes.</p><p>These beings of light and air do things we find ourselves incapable of doing. They succeed where we can't. They give us hope when there is none.</p><p>Consider how the legendary General Motors speechwriter and first editor of <em><a href="https://bakerstreetirregulars.com/the-baker-street-journal/">The Baker Street Journal</a></em> Edgar W. Smith described the admiration of devotees of Sherlock Holmes:</p><blockquote><p>"[H]e stands before us as a symbol – a symbol, if you please, of all that we are not, but ever would be. His figure is sufficiently remote to make our secret aspirations for transference seem unshameful, yet close enough to give them plausibility. We see him as the fine expression of our urge to trample evil and to set aright the wrongs with which the world is plagued. He is Galahad and Socrates, bringing high adventure to our dull existences and calm, judicial logic to our biased minds. He is the success of all our failures; the bold escape from our imprisonment."</p></blockquote><p>Isn't this something we do with most heroes in history and literature? We admire their courage. We stand in awe of their wisdom. We celebrate their <strong><a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/p/persistence-pays-off">resilience</a></strong>.</p><p>We wonder if we could be like them, or some part of them, if only for a moment, fleeting and fanciful as it might be.</p><p>We return to these stories again and again, finding them as comforting and comfortable as an old sweater, pulled on with the ease of muscle memory, warming our hearts.</p><p>Our heroes are often both distant yet relatable. Their special powers or the situation in which we find them may be unattainable or unrealistic, but if we look closely, we find glimpses of humanity—perhaps foibles and flaws—that give us hope that one day we might improve our own lot.</p><p>These brief snatches of their fallibility are gifts bestowed upon us by individuals who play an important but understated role in our heroes' lives: their sidekicks.</p><p>Perhaps "sidekick" is an imperfect word to represent their role. Sidekick connotes an inferior or a hanger-on, a buddy or buffoon rather than an equal.</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>"It may be that you are not yourself luminous, but you are a conductor of light."</strong> </em></strong></em></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— Arthur Conan Doyle, 1901</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br />Thanks to his portrayal of Dr. Watson in 14 Sherlock Holmes films in the 1940s, <a href="https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0115558/?ref_=fn_al_nm_1">Nigel Bruce</a> permanently damaged the reputation of the <em>sine qua non</em> of sidekicks, taking a respected medical man and devolving him to the genus <em>Boobus Britannicus</em>.</p><p>Holmes wasn't the most warm-hearted of literary heroes, and his extreme intelligence comingled with his curt manner, drawing a further distinction between himself and his colleague. He managed to utter some back-handed compliments, but at the same time he indicated how essential he considered the man whom he called "my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson."</p><p>And thus, elevating his flat-mate to colleague status, Sherlock Holmes conferred upon his sidekick a more significant role.</p><p>Advisors keep us grounded. They act as a sounding board, listening as the leader bounces theories off of them and simply thinks out loud. Trusted advisors provide counsel, keeping leaders on a path that connects their execution to their vision. They're a source of encouragement and commiseration, when a leader doesn't have equals in an organization to turn to.</p><p>Turning to literature, here are some examples of what such counsellors-cum-confidantes do for their colleagues.<br /><br /></p><h4><strong>They keep us focused.</strong></h4><p>Sherlock Holmes knew that he had a powerful ally in Dr. Watson. He was not only his biographer (and therefore public relations man), but he added a perspective that Holmes himself couldn't appreciate by himself. From a storytelling perspective, Conan Doyle gave us a narrator to whom we can relate. We admire Holmes's powers, but we identify with Watson's voice.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>"I am lost without my Boswell."</strong> </em></p><p style="text-align: right;"><em>— Arthur Conan Doyle, 1891</em></p><div><hr /></div><h4><strong><br /></strong></h4><h4><strong>They remind us of the importance of establishing, developing and maintaining relationships.</strong></h4><p>Speaking of Boswell and relationships… James Boswell was the famous biographer of Samuel Johnson, the lexicographer, writer, and distinguished man of letters. He was odd to some and heavily focused on his work. But he realized the power of relationships, and his friendship with Boswell was essential for telling his story more widely. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>"If a man does not make new acquaintance as he advances through life, he will soon find himself left alone. A man, Sir, should keep his friendship in constant repair." </strong></em></p><p style="text-align: right;"><em>— Samuel Johnson, 1755</em></p><div><hr /></div><h4><strong><br /></strong></h4><h4><strong>Advisors help keep our egos in check.</strong></h4><p>The vivacious and idealistic Don Quixote was perfectly complemented with the everyman  Sancho Panza. This humble squire kept his don rooted in practicality, making his point with his humor, application of proverbs, and earthy wit. At times, we all need to be reminded that humility is an endearing and powerful attribute of leaders.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i>"</i></b><span style="text-align: left;"><b><i>Modesty is a virtue not often found among poets, for almost every one of them thinks himself the greatest in the world</i></b></span><b><i>." </i></b></p><p style="text-align: right;"><em>— Miguel de Cervantes, 1615</em></p><div><hr /></div><h4><strong><br /></strong></h4><h4><strong>They teach us to be patient teachers, lifelong students, and servant leaders.</strong></h4><p>When Robinson Crusoe was stranded on an isolated island, he thought he had all he needed: shelter, supplies, food. And yet, he came to realize that he missed companionship. Upon meeting a savage who had also been stranded, he gave him the name Friday and began to teach him the English language and hunting skills, among other things. It took weeks and months to make headway, but he stuck with it.</p><p>At the same time, Crusoe realized Friday had much to teach him as well. He learned everything he could from his newfound companion, from topography to culture, and his own backstory. Even though he was white, he grew to accept that he could serve Friday as much as Friday could serve him.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>"I had been so near obtaining what I so earnestly longed for—somebody to speak to, and to learn some knowledge from them."</strong> </em></p><p style="text-align: right;"><em>— Daniel Defoe, 1719</em></p><div><hr /></div><p><br /></p><p>Heroes get most of the attention, yet their companions fill roles that make them essential not only to the heroes, but to us as well. They are confidantes and advisors, scribes and consciences, colleagues and consiglieres.</p><p>And to those around them, they are storytellers. They translate the actions of leaders to lessons we can take to heart.</p><p>However, they don't just show up on your doorstep or arrive through a cold call or email. Advisors who are worth every penny are those whom you trust. A trusted advisor is the one whom you'd call with a concern at two o'clock in the morning. The one who isn't afraid to tell you you're wrong. The <a href="https://www.smartbrief.com/original/2020/08/who-speaks-truth-your-power">last person in the room</a> before you make the decision.</p><p>Every leader needs an <b><a href="https://www.scottmonty.com/p/consulting.html" target="_blank">advisor</a></b> and confidante.</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><br /></p><p></p><p>I’ll be back on Friday with another essay and links to helpful resources for <strong><a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/subscribe">paying subscribers</a></strong>. Are you one yet?</p><h2 style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Open Sans", serif, sans-serif; font-size: 22.4px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><div style="font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><div><i>This originally appeared in the September 23 issue of the <a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/" style="color: #280170; font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Timeless & Timely</a> newsletter. Paying subscribers get this plus an additional essay with three timely links, three timeless stories and a recommended book and podcast each week. You can choose the option that suits you best:</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe frameborder="0" height="320" scrolling="no" src="https://scottmonty.substack.com/embed" style="max-height: 450px; max-width: 100%;" width="480"></iframe></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></h2></div><div><br /></div>

The Role of an Advisor

Don Quixote and Sancho Panza at a Crossroad  by Wilhelm Marstrand, 1847 (public domain - Wikimedia Commons) "It is very lonesome at the...

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Digging Deep for Determination

<p><em><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iaQVi6c_6SI/X2JLy9ZxWQI/AAAAAAABO7A/o60CDIZsbfQy0py9OsulLseIXi9aUrMMQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1200/Jacques%2BLouis%2BDavid%2B-%2BIntervention%2Bof%2Bthe%2BSabine%2BWomen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="1200" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iaQVi6c_6SI/X2JLy9ZxWQI/AAAAAAABO7A/o60CDIZsbfQy0py9OsulLseIXi9aUrMMQCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h480/Jacques%2BLouis%2BDavid%2B-%2BIntervention%2Bof%2Bthe%2BSabine%2BWomen.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><em style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Intervention_of_the_Sabine_Women#/media/File:F0440_Louvre_JL_David_Sabines_INV3691_rwk.jpg" target="_blank">Intervention of the Sabine Women</a></em><span style="text-align: left;"> by Jacques-Louis David, 1799 (public domain - Wikipedia)</span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></em></p><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>"Never give in, never give in, never, never, never, never—in nothing, great or small, large or petty—never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense."</strong> </em></strong></em></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— Winston Churchill, 1941</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br /></p><p>Life can throw a lot at you from time to time. So much that it can seem overwhelming, or that you're constantly moving from defeat to defeat.</p><p>How are you supposed to keep going in situations like this?</p><p>In the last two weeks of Timeless & Timely, we've covered <a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/p/good-grief">grief</a> and its stages—how to work through it and help others; and <a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/p/lifes-labor-lost">loss</a>, or more particularly job loss. Two themes that encapsulate what the year has delivered to many people thus far.</p><p>People are hurting. These may be your employees, former colleagues, friends, and family members. There are struggles happening around the world, both graphic and muted, whether we watch them unfold, turn a blind eye to them, or are simply unaware that they're happening.</p><p>Even in good times, life can be a struggle. There's no guarantee that everything goes your way. That's just how it works.</p><p><br /></p><h3><em>It matters less that you succeed, and more how you respond to challenges.<br /></em></h3><p><br /></p><p>Or, as the quote that is commonly misattributed to Winston Churchill goes, "Success is all about going from failure to failure without losing enthusiasm."</p><p>Churchill should know: while he is highly regarded for leading Great Britain through World War II and standing up to Hitler, he suffered a series of defeats in the preceding 30 years, including overseeing the disastrous Gallipoli Campaign in the Great War and making economic decisions as Chancellor of the Exchequer that pushed England into a depression. This led to him taking some years off from government, but he continued to write and to speak, and he was made Prime Minister in 1940, when he was 66 years old.</p><p>Tides turned after the war, his party was voted out, and Churchill lost the Prime Ministership. After his leadership ensured victory. How's that for national gratitude? But he returned in 1951 to lead the country again as the Cold War took root. He was 77 years old.</p><p>It was at these critical times in history—in the midst of crises—that Churchill found his strength. He summoned his power of oratory to stir he fellow citizens to solidarity and action.<br /><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>“Our inward power, when it obeys nature, reacts to events by accommodating itself to what it faces—to what is possible. It needs no specific material. It pursues its own aims as circumstances allow; it turns obstacles into fuel. As a fire overwhelms what would have quenched a lamp. What’s thrown on top of the conflagration is absorbed, consumed by it—and makes it burn still higher.”</strong> </em></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— Marcus Aurelius, </em>Meditations</div><br /><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br />For other leaders, the journey and the struggle is more personal than public. Take Harland, for example. He was born on a farm in Indiana and was only five years old when his father died. He dropped out of school at 14, took odd jobs as a farm hand but hated it. So he tried being a streetcar conductor. No luck there either.</p><p>When he was 16, he talked his way into the Army by lying about his age, but didn't make it past his one-year enlistment. So he went into blacksmithing. He failed at that too.</p><p>So on it was to the railroad, where he became a locomotive fireman. He actually enjoyed that, got married at 18, and on the day his wife told him she was pregnant, he got fired. He bopped around from job to job, studying law by correspondence course, selling insurance, selling tires, running a ferryboat…</p><p>Eventually he settled into running a gas station in 1930. Not glamorous work, but respectable enough. And steady—which is what his wife was looking for, particularly as he was in his forties. In 1937, he began cooking for weary travelers who happened upon his station on U.S. Route 25, eventually building a 140-seat café.</p><p>Just as things were turning Harland's way, the café was destroyed by fire in 1939. Undeterred, he rebuilt the café across the street and added a motel. But it was the addition of one critical thing that changed everything for him. He began cooking his pan-fried chicken in a pressure cooker, reducing the amount of oil needed and sealing in flavors and moisture.</p><p>Have you guessed where this is going yet? Not so fast: we're not done with his setbacks yet. </p><p>Meanwhile, his wife had taken his children and left him, and by 1947, they divorced. Fortunately, his mistress was running the café and business was booming. In fact, the reputation of this little roadside café was spreading, with Duncan Hines writing it up in his <em>Adventures in Good Eating</em> guide to restaurants. </p><p>But all that soon changed with the relocation of the U.S. Route 25: his properties were literally in the middle of U.S. 25E and U.S. 25W, but authorities created a new U.S. 25E one mile north, in order to allow better access to the road from the forthcoming Interstate 75. Which meant less traffic for the filling station and restaurant.</p><p>In 1952, Harland—Harland Sanders, that is—decided to take his secret recipe of 11 herbs and spices of his "Kentucky Fried Chicken" and franchise it. He didn't want to build additional Sanders Café locations; he franchised the recipe to an existing restaurant in Utah. As the highway construction completed in 1955, Colonel Sanders saw the writing on the wall: traffic dropped, and at 65, he was getting on in years. He closed the café and began collecting $105 a month in Social Security.</p><p>The old colonel wasn't done, though. What would have been retirement for most other people at that age was when he was just getting started. He got into the franchising business in earnest, making personal visits to every restaurant he wanted to sell his recipe to, often sleeping in the backseat of his car and personally cooking for restaurant owners and employees to sell his recipe.</p><p>When he was 74 years old, Sanders sold the corporation to investors and became the brand ambassador for $2 million. By the time he died in 1980 at the age of 90, Colonel Harland Sanders was worth over $1 billion.</p><p>Sanders and Churchill could each have thrown up his hands and walked away from things after being dealt such serious defeats. While we remember them both for extraordinary contributions to their respective fields, by the time they reached retirement age, they had a string of failures that would have left them otherwise obscure figures in history.</p><p>They knew they weren't done yet. At 65 and 66, respectively, they knew they had more to give. Observant, reflective, and courageous, they had a vision of what success looked like and would not let defeat deter them.</p><p>The Colonel and the Prime Minister applied their own unique styles and powers of persuasion—through cooking, writing and interlocution—to sell their ideas to groups that were otherwise predisposed to ignore them.</p><p>You might think that being in their sixties and seventies, their faculties were diminished, but the opposite was true. </p><p><em>Because</em> they suffered a lifetime of setbacks they had the powers of patience, empathy, insight, and wisdom to know that they had much more to offer.</p><p>They were determined that we should see that.</p><p>So, that project you fumbled, that job you lost, that relationship that went south: how are those looking to you now?</p><p>Dig deep. Your next success is just around the corner. This isn't even close to being your final act.</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><h2 style="font-family: "Open Sans", serif, sans-serif; font-size: 22.4px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><i>This originally appeared in the September 16 issue of the <a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/" style="color: #280170; font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Timeless & Timely</a> newsletter. Paying subscribers get this plus an additional essay with three timely links, three timeless stories and a recommended book and podcast each week. You can choose the option that suits you best:</i></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;"><iframe frameborder="0" height="320" scrolling="no" src="https://scottmonty.substack.com/embed" style="max-height: 450px; max-width: 100%;" width="480"></iframe></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></div></h2>

Digging Deep for Determination

Intervention of the Sabine Women  by Jacques-Louis David, 1799 (public domain - Wikipedia) "Never give in, never give in, never, never,...

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Life's Labor, Lost

<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RqSGN6Y641Q/X1jm9dA8RYI/AAAAAAABOzo/gau15XNzxsQR5_TLlFWwJxXidmChGN9ggCLcBGAsYHQ/s1589/Louis%2BLaguerre%2B-%2BAllegory%2Bof%2BIndustry%2Band%2BIdleness%2Bc-1693.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="924" data-original-width="1589" height="364" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RqSGN6Y641Q/X1jm9dA8RYI/AAAAAAABOzo/gau15XNzxsQR5_TLlFWwJxXidmChGN9ggCLcBGAsYHQ/w625-h364/Louis%2BLaguerre%2B-%2BAllegory%2Bof%2BIndustry%2Band%2BIdleness%2Bc-1693.jpg" width="625" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Allegory of Industry and Idleness</i> by Louis Laguerre, c. 1693 (public domain)</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>"Toil is man’s allotment; toil of brain, or toil of hands, or a grief that’s more than either, the grief and sin of idleness."</strong> </em></strong></em></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>—Herman Melville, 1849</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br />Do you have a job that you love?</p><p>If you do, count yourself lucky. These days, we might not have that luxury, as some people are thankful to have any job that helps them pay the bills during the pandemic.</p><p>Last week, you'll recall that <a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/p/good-grief">we talked about </a><strong><a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/p/good-grief">grief</a></strong> and how we're all sharing a personal yet public feeling and grappling with ways to support each other. With so many people out of work lately, it's likely they're mourning a job loss and struggling to make sense of things.</p><p>Today, we'll look a some of the numbers related to employment, the nature of jobs in a changing environment, the dignity of work and purpose, and how we might look out for each other — as well as some information about the image above. In Friday's subscriber-only newsletter, we'll go deeper into purpose and link it to how we live our lives. You'll also get links to articles, long-reads, a book and podcast, and more. Be sure to <a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/subscribe">subscribe to get it</a>.</p><p class="button-wrapper" data-attrs="{"url":"%%checkout_url%%","text":"Subscribe now","class":null}"><br /></p><p></p><p>Here in the United States, we just celebrated Labor Day — the unofficial end of summer, one last chance to put your toes in the sand, enjoy a lazy cookout, or just lay about before heading back to work or school.</p><p>For some people, there is no return to work. With unemployment currently at 8.4 percent (source: <a href="https://www.bls.gov/news.release/pdf/empsit.pdf">Bureau of Labor Statistics</a>), the country is still hurting. Still, it's better than where we were in April, at 14.7 percent unemployment (<a href="https://www.bls.gov/opub/ted/2020/unemployment-rate-rises-to-record-high-14-point-7-percent-in-april-2020.htm#:~:text=Unemployment%20rate%20rises%20to%20record%20high%2014.7%20percent%20in%20April%202020&text=The%20unemployment%20rate%20in%20April,available%20back%20to%20January%201948">BLS</a>).</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h3-xQ00m8dw/X1iEp9cK1KI/AAAAAAABOzM/go2jaeyDhe8BXw1yEX9XAsykSKG_2YY-QCLcBGAsYHQ/s1160/chart.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1160" height="539" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h3-xQ00m8dw/X1iEp9cK1KI/AAAAAAABOzM/go2jaeyDhe8BXw1yEX9XAsykSKG_2YY-QCLcBGAsYHQ/w625-h539/chart.png" width="625" /></a></div><div><em><strong><br /></strong></em></div><div><div><hr /><br /></div><em><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>“I never remember feeling tired by work, though idleness exhausts me completely.”</strong> </em></div></em></div><div><em><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— Arthur Conan Doyle, 1890</em></div></em></div><div><em><br /></em></div><div><hr /><br /></div><p>These tens of millions of people who are out of work have been, as manufacturers would put it, idled. Yes, this is a lamentable thing, but it gives us opportunities as well. From sourdough starters and projects around the house, to personal fitness and relationships we neglected, we can place our attention on things that we didn't have time for. Or perhaps that we fled from.</p><p>Sven Birkerts, editor of <em><a href="https://agnionline.bu.edu/">AGNI</a></em>, diffuses the negativity related to idleness:</p><blockquote><p>"Idleness has been branded the obverse of industry, a slap in the face to all healthy ambition. So-and-so is a layabout, a ne’er-do-well, an idler. But for all that, we have not made the word unbeautiful; there is a light at the core, to be remarked, gleaned from the righteous attributions of the anxiously busy…It is the soul’s first habitat, the original self ambushed—cross-sectioned—in its state of nature, before it has been stirred to make a plan, to direct itself toward something. We open our eyes in the morning and for an instant—more if we indulge ourselves—we are completely idle, ourselves. And then we launch toward purpose." ("<a href="https://www.laphamsquarterly.org/lines-work/mother-possibility">The Mother of Possibility</a>," Lapham's Quarterly, 2011)</p></blockquote><p>More on purpose in a moment.<br /></p><p><br />This idea of idleness as an opportunity is encouraging and the most recent unemployment numbers are a step in the right direction, but the reality is the economy is still hurting.</p><p>More than that, <em>people</em> are hurting.</p><p>Have you noticed how we talk about the economy as if it's just made up of products and data? Trade deals, percentages, jobs, rising and falling with the tides of industry. But what about the human beings that make up these figures?</p><p>Those 500 jobs that had to be furloughed? Those are 500 families that now have to worry about their future. The 14.7 percent unemployed? Those are tens of millions of Americans that may not be able to make rent.</p><p>Lewis Lapham called it out in "<strong><a href="https://www.laphamsquarterly.org/lines-work/servant-problem">The Servant Problem</a></strong>":</p><blockquote><p>"Purse-lipped and solemn, the commentators for the <em>Financial Times</em> and MSNBC mention the harm done to the country’s credit rating, deplore the trade and budget deficits, discuss the cutting back of pensions and public services. From the tone of the conversation, I can imagine myself at a lawn party somewhere in Fairfield County, Connecticut, listening to the lady in the flowered hat talk about the difficulty of finding decent help.</p><p>"The framing of the country’s unemployment trouble as an unfortunate metastasis of the servant problem should come as no surprise. The country is in the hands of an affluent oligarchy content with Voltaire’s reading of its rights."</p></blockquote><p>Lapham wrote that in 2011, but he may just as well have written it yesterday. The numbers in our economy show a move away from the servant class to the knowledge workers that's been creeping up on us for 40 years: over that time, the percentage of GDP that manufacturing accounted for <strong>fell from 21 percent to 11 percent</strong> as of last October — the lowest since 1947. (<a href="https://www.industryweek.com/the-economy/article/22028495/manufacturing-is-now-smallest-share-of-us-economy-in-72-years">Infoweek</a>)</p><p>The industry that makes up Wall Street—finance, insurance, and real estate (FIRE)—alone accounted for a fifth of the total economy, making it the largest industry by contribution to GDP. That's <strong>a rise from 14 percent to 20 percent</strong>. (<a href="https://www2.deloitte.com/us/en/insights/economy/spotlight/economics-insights-analysis-07-2019.html">Deloitte</a>)</p><p>We have become a society that relies less on hands and more on brains.</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>"I believe in the dignity of labor, whether with head or hand; that the world owes every man an opportunity to make a living." </strong></em></strong></em></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— John D. Rockefeller Jr., 1941</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br /></p><p>It's impossible to separate the physical from the mental in our success as a species; indeed, one has relied on the other. Yuhal Noah Harari traced the development of our early neural networks in <em><a href="https://amzn.to/2w7ax6p">Sapiens</a></em>, noting how our tools eventually caught up with our intellect.</p><p>Despite our advance into the Information Age, we still require the outputs of physical labor. Our phones, our houses, our transportation, despite encroaching automation, still require human hands to touch them. We might be tethered to an assembly line or a keyboard, but our job is to serve a purpose, whether it's our own or someone else's.</p><p>This is a fundamental drive of human existence: to live for a purpose.</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>"An unemployed existence is a worse negation of life than death itself, because to live means to have something definite to do—a mission to fulfill—and in the measure in which we avoid setting our life to something, we make it empty. Human life, by its very nature, has to be dedicated to something."</strong> </em></strong></em></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— José Ortega y Gasset, 1932</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br /></p><p>Simone Weil recognized the importance of purpose in work: that it links us to being <a href="https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/questionofgod/voices/weil.html">part of something greater than ourselves</a>. Knowing that we're contributing to society in some tangible or meaningful way can help us deal with the hardships that may accompany our work. Fundamentally, if someone has a job, it imbues them with purpose and gives them that dignity that Rockefeller talked about.</p><p><br />Given the shift in numbers from manufacturing to FIRE jobs as stated above, combined with the pandemic, we're at a treacherous point in the development of work. The anthropologist David Graeber, who died last week, had a premonition of this when he wrote one of his landmark works in 2013: "<a href="https://www.strike.coop/bullshit-jobs/">On the Phenomenon of Bulls**t Jobs</a>": </p><blockquote><p>In the year 1930, John Maynard Keynes predicted that, by century's end, technology would have advanced sufficiently that countries like Great Britain or the United States would have achieved a 15-hour work week. There's every reason to believe he was right. In technological terms, we are quite capable of this. And yet it didn't happen. Instead, technology has been marshaled, if anything, to figure out ways to make us all work more. In order to achieve this, jobs have had to be created that are, effectively, pointless. Huge swathes of people, in Europe and North America in particular, spend their entire working lives performing tasks they secretly believe do not really need to be performed. The moral and spiritual damage that comes from this situation is profound. It is a scar across our collective soul. Yet virtually no one talks about it.</p><p>Why did Keynes' promised utopia—still being eagerly awaited in the '60s—never materialise? The standard line today is that he didn't figure in the massive increase in consumerism. Given the choice between less hours and more toys and pleasures, we've collectively chosen the latter. This presents a nice morality tale, but even a moment's reflection shows it can't really be true. Yes, we have witnessed the creation of an endless variety of new jobs and industries since the '20s, but very few have anything to do with the production and distribution of sushi, iPhones, or fancy sneakers.</p><p>So what are these new jobs, precisely? A recent report comparing employment in the US between 1910 and 2000 gives us a clear picture (and I note, one pretty much exactly echoed in the UK). Over the course of the last century, the number of workers employed as domestic servants, in industry, and in the farm sector has collapsed dramatically. At the same time, ‘professional, managerial, clerical, sales, and service workers’ tripled, growing ‘from one-quarter to three-quarters of total employment.’ In other words, productive jobs have, just as predicted, been largely automated away…</p><p>But rather than allowing a massive reduction of working hours to free the world's population to pursue their own projects, pleasures, visions, and ideas, we have seen the ballooning of not even so much of the ‘service’ sector as of the administrative sector, up to and including the creation of whole new industries like financial services or telemarketing, or the unprecedented expansion of sectors like corporate law, academic and health administration, human resources, and public relations. And these numbers do not even reflect on all those people whose job is to provide administrative, technical, or security support for these industries, or for that matter the whole host of ancillary industries (dog-washers, all-night pizza delivery) that only exist because everyone else is spending so much of their time working in all the other ones.</p><p>These are what I propose to call ‘bulls**t jobs’.</p><p>It's as if someone were out there making up pointless jobs just for the sake of keeping us all working. And here, precisely, lies the mystery. In capitalism, this is precisely what is not supposed to happen.</p></blockquote><p>And with the pandemic, nature is hitting the great reset button (particularly in the U.S.), where there are swathes of jobs that have been eliminated, possibly never to return. It's as if the virus is calling B.S. on what society has become, and is creating that oft-uttered "new normal" that has less to do with work habits than it does a bombed-out retail world.</p><p><br />On a recent visit to a mall to make a return, I walked by shuttered storefronts and restaurants, thinking of how many of the managers, servers and attendants were out of work as a result. When I arrived at the intended location, I found the store had closed without fanfare.</p><p>Those jobs were gone in part because of the already fragile retail industry, but also because of significant shifts in foot traffic, thanks to remote work. But it's not just those jobs: it's everything related to them — mechanics and gas station owners that see fewer cars as a result; daycare facilities that don't need to staff up, due to at-home parents; dry cleaners that see a drop in volume because we're all in Zoom-friendly outfits that we wash at home.</p><p>There's a vast underbelly of the economy that's linked to the jobs that Graber identified. It's a <strong><a href="https://marker.medium.com/remote-work-is-killing-the-hidden-trillion-dollar-office-economy-5800af06b007">hidden trillion-dollar office economy</a></strong>, and it makes me wonder whether those related jobs will ever return. What if they don't? What is our responsibility as a society?<br /><br /></p><p>Almost exactly 117 years ago, Theodore Roosevelt had ideas about society as he gave his "<a href="http://www.memorablequotations.com/SquareDeal.htm">A Square Deal</a>" speech to farmers at the New York State Agricultural Association, in Syracuse, New York (September 7, 1903). His words mirror the clarion call of a March essay on these pages ("<a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/p/individualism-has-no-place-in-a-pandemic-915">Individualism Has No Place in a Pandemic</a>"), striking at the heart of our duty to our fellow humans and respect for life, particularly in times of great challenge:</p><blockquote><p>The welfare of each of us is dependent fundamentally upon the welfare of all of us , and therefore in public life that man is the best representative of each of us who seeks to do good to each by doing good to all; in other words, whose endeavor it is not to represent any special class and promote merely that class's selfish interests, but to represent all true and honest men of all sections and all classes and to work for their interests by working for our common country. We can keep our government on a sane and healthy basis, we can make and keep our social system what it should be, only on condition of judging each man, not as a member of a class, but on his worth as a man. It is an infamous thing in our American life, and fundamentally treacherous to our institutions, to apply to any man any test save that of his personal worth, or to draw between two sets of men any distinction save the distinction of conduct, the distinction that marks off those who do well and wisely from those who do ill and foolishly. There are good citizens and bad citizens in every class as in every locality, and the attitude of decent people toward great public and social questions should be determined, not by the accidental questions of employment or locality, but by those deep-set principles which represent the innermost souls of men.</p><p>In the history of mankind many republics have risen, have flourished for a less or greater time, and then have fallen because their citizens lost the power of governing themselves and thereby of governing their state; and in no way has this loss of power been so often and so clearly shown as in the tendency to turn the government into a government primarily for the benefit of one class instead of a government for the benefit of the people as a whole. Again and again in the republics of ancient Greece, in those of medieval Italy and medieval Flanders, this tendency was shown, and wherever the tendency became a habit it invariably and inevitably proved fatal to the state. In the final result, it mattered not one whit whether the movement was in favor of one class or of another…</p><p>It is not enough to be well-meaning and kindly, but weak; neither is it enough to be strong, unless morality and decency go hand in hand with strength. We must possess the qualities which make us do our duty in our homes and among our neighbors, and in addition we must possess the qualities which are indispensable to the make-up of every great and masterful nation — the qualities of courage and hardihood, of individual initiative and yet of power to combine for a common end, and above all, the resolute determination to permit no man and no set of men to sunder us one from the other by lines of caste or creed or section. We must act upon the motto of all for each and each for all. There must be ever present in our minds the fundamental truth that in a republic such as ours the only safety is to stand neither for nor against any man because he is rich or because he is poor, because he is engaged in one occupation or another, because he works with his brains or because he works with his hands. We must treat each man on his worth and merits as a man. We must see that each is given a square deal, because he is entitled to no more and should receive no less.</p></blockquote><p><br />We are still in precarious times. There's a pandemic afoot, a national election looming, and many people hurting. The path forward is unpaved and uncertain.</p><p>With leadership in the spirit of Roosevelt's, we'll find our courage and conviction and harness them to our brains, our hands, and our hearts.</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><h2><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: 400;"><i>This originally appeared in the September 9 issue of the <a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/" style="color: #280170; font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Timeless & Timely</a> newsletter. Paying subscribers get this plus an additional essay with three timely links, three timeless stories and a recommended book and podcast each week. You can choose the option that suits you best:</i></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: 400; text-align: center;"><iframe frameborder="0" height="320" scrolling="no" src="https://scottmonty.substack.com/embed" style="max-height: 450px; max-width: 100%;" width="480"></iframe></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: 400; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: 400; text-align: left;"><br /></div></h2><h2 style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">One Last Thing</h2><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: 400; text-align: left;"><p data-pm-context="[]">If you’re working remotely and you feel a sense of disconnect, a need to compare notes with other people, a place to address leadership skills that are unique to this environment, you’ll want to check out <strong><a href="https://remotely.global/what-we-do-services-membership/">Remotely</a></strong>, a new professional development network. It’s designed and run by people I’ve known and trusted for a decade and a half, and I’m on the Leadership Council.</p><p>I’m offering an exclusive <strong>50% discount</strong>—you won’t find a better deal anywhere else—for <a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/subscribe">paid subscribers</a> of Timeless & Timely. If you want in, I’ll be sharing the details in Friday’s newsletter.</p><p><br /></p></div></div><br />

Life's Labor, Lost

Allegory of Industry and Idleness by Louis Laguerre, c. 1693 (public domain) "Toil is man’s allotment; toil of brain, or toil of hands...

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Good Grief

<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WKhg4_y2mWY/X1BmNYcDIZI/AAAAAAABOpM/nHgawzPUBwE22vJUCa1oEqFS6qdgKEMXgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1024/Jacques-Louis%2BDavid%2B-%2BApollo%2Band%2BArtemis%2BAttacking%2Bthe%2BChildren%2Bof%2BNiobe.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="794" data-original-width="1024" height="496" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WKhg4_y2mWY/X1BmNYcDIZI/AAAAAAABOpM/nHgawzPUBwE22vJUCa1oEqFS6qdgKEMXgCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h496/Jacques-Louis%2BDavid%2B-%2BApollo%2Band%2BArtemis%2BAttacking%2Bthe%2BChildren%2Bof%2BNiobe.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Niobe#/media/File:Niobe_JacquesLouisDavid_1772_Dallas_Museum_of_Art.jpg" target="_blank">Apollo and Artemis Attacking the Children of Niobe</a></i> by Jacques-Louis David, 1772 (public domain - Wikipedia)</span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><p></p><p></p><hr /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b>"Grief, loss, regret are not the end of the story. They are the middle of the story. Memory does not look backward, it looks forward." </b></i></div><div style="text-align: right;"><i>— Anne Michaels, 2020</i></div><br /><p></p><p></p><hr /><br /><p></p><p>I had some bad news over the weekend.</p><p>A friend of 25 years shared an update regarding an illness she's been battling—news that was startling and unsettling to read. In particular, I was struck by her ability to tackle the subject in a matter-of-fact way, without a plea for pity or intercession, nor with an attempt to side-step reality.</p><p>In a few short sentences, she was able to state the facts, anticipate our emotions, and share her grace and peace about the situation. It was truly one of the most remarkable notes about a pending end-of-life issue I've ever read.</p><p>It was shocking and difficult to absorb the message, but as I've reread it dozens of times, I find myself reassured and in some ways content with the gift she gave to her friends and family with  it. She left us reassured that she has led a full and happy life, that she is at peace with the prognosis.</p><p><br /></p><p>It reminded me of Elisabeth Kübler-Ross's famous model for the stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Clearly my friend is at the acceptance stage, which is strangely comforting at the same time it's sad.</p><p>If you are getting a sense of dichotomy in my descriptions above, it's no mistake. I'm conflicted about how I should feel; perhaps it's simply a matter of grief consisting of competing factors. Grief hits us at times when we're forced to square our hopes with reality. When we need to move forward despite feeling like we have a weight placed on our chest.</p><p>It's as if we're caught between two worlds, forever connected with a warm hug of the past that we knew at the same time we're thrust into the harsh and cold atmosphere of future.</p><p><br /></p><p>One of the most poignant examples of a historic or literary figure suffering grief is in The Iliad. In Book 18, when Achilles is told of the death of his mentor Patroclus, he screams so loudly that his mother hears him across the sea, he tears at his hair, ultimately falls into a deep depression and loses the will to live. He tries to trade his life for Patroclus', bargaining to bring his friend back, before finally accepting the reality.</p><p>It's a cycle of the human display of grief that goes back nearly 3,000 years.</p><p><br /></p><p>In a more modern era, when faced with digital reminders of friends and family members who have died, I can't even seem to get myself to plant my feet firmly in the present. It's with the greatest reluctance that I unfollow a deceased acquaintance's Twitter handle, or delete them from my friend list on Facebook. Their accounts are frozen in time, sometimes reminding me of the lively conversations or memories we shared together, and at other times acting like a growing scrapheap of digital rubble from forgotten temples to friendship.</p><p><br /></p><hr /><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b>"We have created a technology that leaves no place for the dead. It is a realm of perpetual present, a realm of simulation, where the past is as fluid as the future." </b></i></div><div style="text-align: right;"><i>— Anne Michaels, 2020</i></div><br /><p></p><hr /><br /><p>I look at my contact list in my phone, wondering when it's okay to remove a grandparent—that address I visited so many times in my childhood, that phone number I once knew by heart, that postal code that heralded the arrival of a birthday card with a few dollars in it—does the act of clearing them from a digital address book mean I've relegated their memory to the trash bin of my heart?</p><p>My head tells me no, but it's difficult to consider such an act of digital finality as anything but that. It's not like the extra bits and bytes of one entry are taking up vital space on the phone or in the cloud. We have traditions to honor our dead, from funeral masses to memorial services, burial in family crypts to the spreading of ashes in meaningful locations. But what's our process for grieving digitally? Do we even need one?</p><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: left;">Pandemic Grief</h2><p>In the spring of 2020, we were all forced into a situation in which we had to mourn for the loss of the normal: we abandoned our offices, we stopped commuting, family events had to be postponed or canceled, and even funerals were put on hold or limited to parties of no more than ten.</p><p>In the essay "<a href="https://www.laphamsquarterly.org/memory/mortal-soul-moral-soul" target="_blank">Mortal Soul, Moral Soul</a>," Anne Michaels wondered about this collective grief that we're now facing:</p><p></p><blockquote><i>"What does it mean when one's most private, most profound experience, the cataclysm that shapes one's life, is also the most intimate experience of thousands of others? What place can be found for our private grief when set against the losses of entire nations?"</i></blockquote><p></p><p><br /></p><p>There are those who have suffered the loss of friends and family members to this pandemic. In one degree or another, we've all lost something. As a parent, it's been difficult to watch our children deal with the new reality, being separated from classmates while doing virtual learning, hiding their disappointment of not having a graduation ceremony, and missing out on typical rites of passage of young teens. These are small losses next to the families and friends of the 185,000 or so Americans who were taken too early, including some children.</p><p>As a parent, I can't think of anything more devastating than the loss of your own child. We're supposed to grow old, making memories and leading fulfilling lives along the way. When a young and promising life is cut short, upsets the natural order of things.</p><p>When we're left behind as a parent, spouse, friend, or even fellow employee who avoided the furloughs and layoffs, it's not uncommon to experience a unique form of grief called survivor guilt, known to affect certain survivors of combat, epidemics, murder, natural disasters, rape, terrorism, and among the friends and family of those who have died by suicide.</p><p>The pandemic has unleashed not only a virus among your workforce, but aspects of grief as well Whether through depression, loneliness, anxiety, stress, or survivor guilt, it's more likely than not that members of your team may be dealing with grief.</p><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: left;">What To Do for a Grieving Colleague</h2><p>There is no question that grief is real, and has physical as well as mental impacts. You may be able to pick up on this from your team. Indeed, if you're doing regular video calls, you should be attuned to their demeanor, picking up on the nonverbal cues as best you can.</p><p>You don't need to be their therapist, but you do need to be there for them: Simply asking them, "Hey, how are you holding up?" is enough to let them know that you're sensitive to the current situation. Acknowledge it and allow them to have their feelings.</p><p>We've all got different scenarios and we each need to deal with our unique grief in our own way; not everyone processes things at the same pace or in the same manner. Iris Murdoch reminds us:  "<i>Bereavement is a darkness impenetrable to the imagination of the unbereaved</i>."</p><p>If you feel like this is beyond your ability to handle, let them know what resources are available to them, or offer to help them track down what they need.</p><p>If we come together in times of grief, we'll find that it unites us and brings us closer. Having a shared experience—particularly one that is typically private—might seem awkward at first, but it's a gift. A wonderful unifier.</p><p>Sharing grief and showing support for each other when we're down builds trust. It takes vulnerability on the part of those who are suffering, and empathy on the part of those who want to help. Think of those who reached out to you when you were at a low point, and how that made you feel.</p><p>And here we are at that dichotomy again: what was once intimate is now a shared experience, and what was pain and grief becomes joy and trust. What you might call “good” grief. And that’s not the end, either.</p><p>We’re still in the middle of the story.</p><p><br /></p><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><hr /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><i>This originally appeared in the <a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/" style="color: #280170; font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Timeless & Timely</a> newsletter. Paying subscribers get this plus an additional essay with three timely links, three timeless stories and a recommended book and podcast each week. You can choose the option that suits you best:</i></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;"><iframe frameborder="0" height="320" scrolling="no" src="https://scottmonty.substack.com/embed" style="max-height: 450px; max-width: 100%;" width="480"></iframe></div><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p>

Good Grief

Apollo and Artemis Attacking the Children of Niobe by Jacques-Louis David, 1772 (public domain - Wikipedia) "Grief, loss, regret are n...

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