Should You Mix Business and Politics?

<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/-5Tm0kQLYepc/X5mwkblVLOI/AAAAAAABPy4/yAt8snqmOLYx_iZsFhXkBVBv3K2SOF_SACLcBGAsYHQ/s2024/William%2BHogarth%2B-%2BThe%2BHumours%2Bof%2Ban%2BElection%2B-%2BThe%2BPolling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1577" data-original-width="2024" height="498" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5Tm0kQLYepc/X5mwkblVLOI/AAAAAAABPy4/yAt8snqmOLYx_iZsFhXkBVBv3K2SOF_SACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h498/William%2BHogarth%2B-%2BThe%2BHumours%2Bof%2Ban%2BElection%2B-%2BThe%2BPolling.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;">The Humours of an Election — The Polling</em><span style="text-align: left;"> by William Hogarth, 1755 (public domain - Wikipedia)</span></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>“A real leader is somebody who can help us overcome the limitations of our own individual laziness and selfishness and weakness and fear and get us to do better, harder things than we can get ourselves to do on our own.”</strong> </em></strong></em></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— David Foster Wallace, 2000</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p>In the United States, Election Day is November 3rd. I don't need to tell you that—virtually everywhere you go, the internet, airwaves, and outdoor are plastered with reminders. Like the pandemic, it's part of the daily drumbeat of news and of our lives.</p><p>Given that politics commands so much attention, that leaves business leaders with tough decisions about how to stand out and get their messages heard. It also raises a critical question: when (if ever) is it okay to venture into a political issue?</p><p>Politics and religion are like the third rail of conversation. Whether at Thanksgiving dinner with family or in social settings with un familiar faces, it's generally accepted that it's impolite to launch into these topics for fear of offending or alienating someone.</p><p>The same has been true of businesses. When I was an executive at Ford Motor Company—and a very visible one online—I had to stifle any political commentary. The rationale was that we made cars for people of all political affiliations, and my personal views couldn't distract from our main effort.</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>“I am invariably of the politics of the people at whose table I sit, or beneath whose roof I sleep.”</strong> </em></strong></em></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— George Borrow, 1843</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br /></p><p>Businesses are deeply involved in politics, make no mistake. Teams of people make up public policy and government affairs teams, which are tasked with political decisions: how a business treats its community, how it makes decisions that affect the public, and, to put it in more colloquial terms, lobbying.</p><p>These are all necessary functions, as stakeholders in any corporation include the general public beyond its customers. There are laws and regulations that need to be followed, and businesses would no doubt prefer to have an easier time navigating them.</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>“Politics, n. A strife of interests masquerading as a contest of principles. The conduct of public affairs for private advantage.”</strong> </em></strong></em></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— Ambrose Bierce, 1906</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br /></p><p>When it comes to taking a stand on issues or personalities though, it's risky. We'll be talking more about risk in Friday's subscriber-only edition. Be sure to <a href="https://www.timelesstimely.com/subscribe" style="font-weight: bold;">sign up here</a>.<br /><br /></p><p>The challenge is that in our modern political sensibilities and two-party system, we set things up as a binary decision: left versus right, liberal or conservative, Democrat or Republican.</p><p>This is the classic either/or that pits one side against another. If you choose X, you stand against Y. Paper or plastic, with cheese or without, Yankees or Red Sox, gas or electric, good or evil.</p><p>The list goes on, but the juxtaposition of two forces makes it seem as if everything is binary rather than nuanced. The world is rarely that starkly different.</p><p>This positioning appeals to our base instinct that, when given two options, we can easily choose one of them. And it works. Because the flip side is <strong><a href="https://www.scottmonty.com/2019/10/too-much-information.html">too much information</a></strong>.</p><p class="button-wrapper" data-attrs="{"url":"https://www.scottmonty.com/2019/10/too-much-information.html","text":"Too Much Information","class":null}"><br /></p><p>And in business, if you decide to support one side, you're automatically vilified by the other. On our reactionary platforms, we read the headline first and the main article later—or more likely, never. The public digs in and forms its opinion based on limited facts, and in a nuanced situation, there's little room for explication.</p><p>Oh sure, the Twitter thread has evolved, making the platform a potentially more useful tool than the sniper-like @ reply feature alone. I wish threads existed back in my days at Ford.</p><p><em>Aside: here's a useful bit of advice on <strong><a href="https://www.animalz.co/blog/how-to-write-a-tweetstorm/">how to write a tweetstorm</a></strong></em>.</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><h2><strong>How to Take a Stand</strong></h2><p>As the leader of an organization, it is your responsibility to guide your people through crises. In those moments, people look for inspiration. They look for hope. And they notice your character. What you stand for, particularly in moments of crisis, will define who you are.</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>“Anyone can steer the ship when the sea is calm.”</strong> </em></strong></em></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— Pubilius Syrius, c. 40 B.C.</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br /></p><p>When you're responsible for the fate and livelihood of tens, scores, even thousands of people, the pressure is palpable. Which is why it's even more important that you act virtuously. You're in charge, but you're not a king or queen. You're part of a team.</p><p>In <em><strong><a href="https://amzn.to/31TQXHQ">The Spirit of the Laws</a></strong></em>, Montesquieu outlined the stark difference between supporting a monarchy versus a popular government, in particular noting that we need to be more virtuous in the case of the latter:</p><blockquote><p><strong>“There is no great share of probity necessary to support a monarchical or despotic government. The force of laws in one, and the prince's arm in the other, are sufficient to direct and maintain the whole. But in a popular state, one spring more is necessary, namely, virtue.</strong></p><p><strong>“For it is clear that in a monarchy, where he who commands the execution of the laws generally thinks himself above them, there is less need of virtue than in a popular government, where the person entrusted with the execution of the laws is sensible of his being subject to their direction.</strong></p><p><strong>“It is also clear that a monarch, who, through bad advice or indolence, ceases to enforce the execution of the laws may easily repair the evil; he has only to follow other advice or to shake off this indolence. But when in a popular government there is a suspension of the laws, as this can proceed only from the corruption of the republic, the state is certainly undone.”</strong></p></blockquote><p><br />Back in lack 2008 and early 2009, Ford, GM and Chrysler were faced with an existential threat: the global financial and automotive markets were crumbling, and the industry was on the precipice. Only Ford had enough liquidity to survive. The other two of the "Big Three" were asking the federal government for assistance.</p><p>This was the third rail. How was Ford to avoid or embrace it?</p><p>We opted for virtue.</p><p>Ford trekked to Washington twice with its competitors, sitting shoulder to shoulder with them before Congressional committees, not asking for a bailout for itself, but advocating for its competitors and for the larger global automotive supply chain. Ford knew that if either one of its domestic competitors cratered, it could very well take down the entire industry.</p><p>We recalled the words of John Donne in “For Whom the Bell Tolls” from 1624:</p><p><em><strong></strong></em></p><blockquote><em><strong>No man is an island,<br />Entire of itself.<br />Each is a piece of the continent,<br />A part of the main.<br />If a clod be washed away by the sea,<br />Europe is the less.<br />As well as if a promontory were.<br />As well as if a manor of thine own<br />Or of thine friend's were.<br />Each man's death diminishes me,<br />For I am involved in mankind.<br />Therefore, send not to know<br />For whom the bell tolls,<br />It tolls for thee.</strong></em></blockquote><p></p><p>There was something greater at stake in this case. It was about more than just Ford; the concern was for the industry. [<em>Related</em>: <strong><a href="https://www.timelesstimely.com/p/pulling-together-separately">Pulling Together—Separately</a></strong>]</p><p><br /></p><p>When we find ourselves as a crossroads, facing an existential threat that may cause harm to some group of our stakeholders, it's the right time to act.</p><p>The concept of <em><strong>noblesse oblige</strong></em> comes to mind.</p><p>While commonly associated with nobility, it's probably more universally understood as the saying "<strong><a href="https://www.scottmonty.com/2018/05/with-great-power-comes-great.html">with great power comes great responsibility</a></strong>."</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>"From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked."</strong> </em></strong></em></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— Luke 12:48</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br />As a token of your position as a leader, and of a business's standing in the community, if there are issues that may affect them adversely, you have the opportunity—some might even say the duty—to address it.</p><p>Yesterday was the anniversary of the birth of Theodore Roosevelt in 1858. Teddy was a man of action, a man of principle, to whom honor and virtue were everything.</p><p>He stood up to trusts and unions alike, breaking logjams after protracted strikes and unfair practices. He didn't rush into such fracases headlong, understanding that it wasn't the president's responsibility or purview, and he didn't want to create a precedent. But when he did so, he did it with pure intentions.</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>"The man who does nothing cuts the same sordid figure in the pages of history, whether he be a cynic, or fop, or voluptuary. There is little use for the being whose tepid soul knows nothing of great and generous emotion, of the high pride, the stern belief, the lofty enthusiasm, of the men who quell the storm and ride the thunder. Well for these men if they succeed; well also, though not so well, if they fail, given only that they have nobly ventured, and have put forth all their heart and strength. It is war-worn Hotspur, spent with hard fighting, he of the many errors and valiant end, over whose memory we love to linger, not over the memory of the young lord who 'but for the vile guns would have been a valiant soldier.'"</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>As the election season (thankfully) draws to a close, consider how your team is doing amid the drumbeat. As them how they're holding up. Offer an understanding ear and a soft shoulder, regardless of where their political affiliations lie.</p><p>And consider how your own reputation holds up in all of this. Because what you choose to do or say (or avoid) will send a message to your people. And in doing so, you'll give them license to act accordingly.<br /><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>"When virtue is banished, ambition invades the minds of those who are disposed to receive it, and avarice possesses the whole community." </strong></em></strong></em></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— Montesquieu, 1745</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><p><em><br /></em></p><div></div><p><em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Disclosure: Amazon Affiliate link. I get a small commission when you make a purchase.</span></em></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 risk, 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 28 issue of the <a href="https://www.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 style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /></div>

Should You Mix Business and Politics?

The Humours of an Election — The Polling  by William Hogarth, 1755 (public domain - Wikipedia) “A real leader is somebody who can help us ov...

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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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