Читать книгу The mind of a fox - Clem Sunter - Страница 9

Pause here for a second and ponder: “OK, what am I? A hedgehog or a fox?” Whether we like it or not, most senior business people are more likely to be of the prickly variety. Hedgehogs, according to Isaiah Berlin in his celebrated essay The Hedgehog and the Fox, “relate everything to a central vision, one system less or more coherent or articulate, in terms of which they understand, think and feel”. The twentieth-century accent on strategic planning with rigid structures and objectives has made employees march unquestioningly to the same tune. But managerial hedgehogs shouldn’t worry; they share the same characteristics as writers and philosophers of the likes of Dante, Plato, Hegel, Dostoevsky, Nietzsche and Proust. You may ask why there is such a preponderance of hedgehogs in the senior ranks of business today. Well, most senior managers are middle-aged folk who belong to a generation where lifetime employment was the idea. Back in the last century, parents would send their children to respectable schools so that they could qualify to go to respectable universities and thereafter join respectable organisations – for life. From womb to tomb, twentieth-century man was programmed to be a hedgehog. The fact that this world is vanishing fast is leading to a much higher proportion of the younger generation becoming foxes. The 21st century belongs to them.

Nevertheless, what cannot be denied is that, over the last few hundred years, business has owed a great deal to the foxes. These, according to Berlin, “pursue many ends, often unrelated and even contradictory. Their thought is often scattered or diffused, moving on many levels, seizing upon the vast variety of experiences.” In the world of philosophy and literature, full foxy points go to the likes of Shakespeare, Aristotle, Molière and Goethe but, in the commercial sphere, we must not overlook foxy families like the Medicis, the Rothschilds and the Rockefellers.

Bertrand Russell, a fox of considerable stature in British philosophy in the last century, gave a delightful description of how differently hedgehog and foxy philosophers arrive at the truth. Hedgehogs, like the German philosopher Gottfried Leibniz, produce a vast edifice of deduction pyramided upon a pinpoint of logical principle. Foxes draw comparatively modest conclusions from a broad survey of many facts. If a principle proposed by a hedgehog “is completely true and the deductions are entirely valid, all is well; but the structure is unstable, and the slightest flaw anywhere brings it down in ruins”. As against this, a philosophical fox such as John Locke or David Hume makes sure that the base of the pyramid “is on the solid ground of observed fact, and the pyramid tapers upward, not downward; consequently the equilibrium is stable, and a flaw here or there can be rectified without total disaster”.

Interestingly, Immanuel Kant, the greatest philosopher in modern times, who died at the ripe old age of eighty in 1804, was a hybridised version of the two creatures we are talking about – in other words he was a “hedgefox”. In his masterly book, The Critique of Pure Reason, he combined the pronouncements of the rational and empirical schools of philosophy. The former states that, through pure reasoning, you can derive the meaning of existence and everything else in the world from first principles (hedgehog stuff). The other maintains that the only source of knowledge is experience (foxy stuff). Kant drew on both perspectives to come up with his theory of synthetic a priori propositions like “every event has a cause”. He argued that this belief could not be divorced from experience but neither could it be derived from experience. It was part of our inherent nature to believe that every cause has an effect (and vice versa) in that it gives coherence to our perceptions. Hence, the concept of cause and effect transcended experience.

The greatest mind of the twentieth century, Albert Einstein, was also a hedgefox. Like Plato, he believed that you could shed light on the mysteries of the universe by sitting in an armchair and contemplating the problem in a singleminded manner. You could even play thought experiments in your mind and see where they led. However, unlike Plato and like a true fox, he believed that all theories had to be grounded in fact and confirmed by observation. For example, in 1905 he presented his special theory of relativity, which included the famous equation E = mc². It was only in 1945 with the detonation of the atom bomb that the equation was verified. Likewise, in 1916, when he introduced the general theory of relativity, it contained the entirely new concepts of space being curved and light rays being bent in a gravitational field. These were subsequently confirmed in 1919 by observations of how starlight curved around an eclipsed sun. In brief, his two famous quotes sum up his philosophy of life: “God may be sophisticated, but He is not malicious” and “God does not play dice”. As he grew older, his hedgehog side came to the fore with his attempt to develop a unified field theory which explained everything. Then, when he failed, he tried to prove it was impossible. And when he failed to do that either, he worried that no-one else would ever lay the matter to rest!

Einstein’s example implies that, if you are going to be a hedgefox, the prime time to be one is between the ages of 25 and 40. On the one hand, you still retain the arrogance of youth to challenge mainstream orthodoxies; on the other hand, you have experienced something of the world at large to see how diverse it is. Einstein was 26 when he announced the special theory of relativity and 37 when he launched the general theory. It is no coincidence that most of the great advances in physics and mathematics were achieved by relatively young geniuses. The Nobel Prize comes much later on, once the idea has become generally accepted. It must be hard to live with yourself if you were so much cleverer when you were young!

Moving to the East, foxes make use of the Chinese philosophy of Yin and Yang in that they understand the need for balance between the many opposing elements we face in this world. We live in a state of permanent contradiction, wondering whether to be just or merciful; tough or gentle; bold or cautious; competitive or co-operative. Indeed, we’re perfectly happy to carry completely conflicting beliefs in our mind, skipping from one to the other. For instance, when tragedy strikes, we believe in predestination – what will be, will be. At other times, we believe that life is about what we decide to do of our own free will. Is the universe infinite in time and space, or did it start with a big bang and its boundaries are now expanding? One or other view must be right, but they can’t both be right at the same time. Kant called these paradoxes “antinomies”. He used them to justify his rejection of pure rationalism on the one hand and pure empiricism on the other. For a more homely antinomy, consider the wisdom contained in these two old sayings: “birds of a feather flock together” and “opposites attract”. We accept both of them! And then there is the antinomy which lies at the heart of capitalism. Individual companies want to crush the competition in order to maximise their own profits. Yet competition is good for society as a whole.

Foxy judges and juries in particular have to keep opposites in mind as they listen to the persuasive arguments of the prosecution and defence. It is only when they’ve heard all sides of the case that they make a judgement of “guilty” or “not guilty”. Two-party democracies like the American one are supposed to offer alternative versions of the political truth to electors. Lately, the Republicans and Democrats have been awfully alike in their policies. It is only when you have disputes like the Florida recount that the knives really come out with the lawyers in tow. A foxy CEO of Coca-Cola Enterprises had this to say at a university commencement address several years ago: “Imagine life as a game in which you are juggling five balls in the air. You name them – work, family, health, friends and spirit – and you’re keeping all of these in the air. You will soon understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. But the other four balls – family, health, friends and spirit – are made of glass. If you drop one of these, they will be irrevocably scuffed, marked, nicked or even shattered. They will never be the same. You must understand that and strive for balance in your life.” But here’s the rub: success in work usually comes with single-mindedness. Another contradiction! As Business Week said in a recent issue: “The fundamental task of today’s CEO is simplicity itself: get the stock price up. Period.”

In contrast to foxes, hedgehogs view the world through ideologically tinted spectacles which let in no other light besides that which is on the same wavelength as their idea. They’re excellent at selective reporting of the facts. Moreover, because they focus on their idea in isolation, they ignore the critical interdependencies that make up complete systems. Hence, they will often press so hard for an idea that they mess up the workings of the system as a whole. They don’t see the trade-offs, and so they run into the law of unintended consequences where the world is worse off than if they had not intervened at all. This happens particularly with hedgehog-like development agencies who impose their own solutions on local communities rather than finding out what they want in the first place. Ignorance of cultural differences is often at the heart of costly development mistakes. A classic case of the aforementioned law in action was the establishment of irrigation schemes in the Sudan which immediately led to an increase in diseases associated with water-borne bugs. The way the colonial powers drew the boundaries in Africa is hard to beat. On a different front, everybody said that casinos in South Africa would create jobs. They’ve had precisely the opposite effect. Wherever they’ve been erected, they’ve drained the local economy of money as poor people – seduced by the dream of becoming instant millionaires – have frittered away their hard-earned, meagre incomes on the slot machines. Consequently, local businesses and shops have suffered and have had to lay off staff.

Nowhere can a hedgehog’s blinkered approach better be illustrated than in the environmental field. We all know that we cannot allow the environment to be destroyed – it must be preserved for future generations. Equally, we know that economic development is crucial for the improvement in life of the masses of poor people on this Earth. So, somewhere there has to be a compromise, as the phrase “sustainable development” implies. Neither deeply green hedgehogs who only press the environmental button nor dark blue hedgehogs only interested in economic growth have the answer. In fact, the best definition of sustainable development comes from a Norwegian fox, Gro Harlem Brundtland, who popularised the phrase in the first place. Not only was she Prime Minister of Norway, she also chaired the World Commission on Environment and Development which published the Brundtland Report in 1987 entitled Our Common Future. In it, sustainable development was defined as: “Development which meets the needs of the present generation without compromising the ability for future generations to meet their needs.” Beguilingly simple, but it says it all. Subsequently, more detailed definitions have been published, but they do not come close to this single pearl of wisdom. However, when all is said and done in the environmental debate, foxes acknowledge that extremists can advance the boundaries of knowledge through the Hegelian approach of thesis and antithesis leading to synthesis. Somebody has to push the edge of the envelope on either side to set new standards for the middle ground.

Tiger Woods, for a different reason, can also be nominated as a philosophical fox. He is a student of what the Japanese call Kaizen – a striving for continual improvement to the extreme point of testing something until it breaks and then analysing why it broke. The results are thereafter assimilated into future designs and applications. In a similar way and like the navigators of old, the scientific method demands that a scientist, after establishing a hypothesis, continually tests it to disprove or reject it. If the hypothesis survives the trauma of testing, it is embraced as probable fact. As Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s famous detective, Sherlock Holmes, once remarked to his faithful assistant Dr Watson: “How often have I said to you, that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?” What he was possibly suggesting is that eliminating what one can’t do provides a more revealing insight into what is possible. By approaching the cognitive process in the Sherlock Holmes way, we will not only be more accurately informed but also make more effective decisions. Often the best way of choosing your favourite person or thing is to start at the bottom and reject your obvious dislikes. Then you gradually work upwards until you’re comparing your top two preferences to make your final decision.

Cluedo, the popular detective game, illustrates Holmes’s point perfectly. The way to win the game and identify the murderer of the owner of Tudor Close is to eliminate all the other suspects. If Colonel Mustard didn’t do it with the candlestick in the conservatory, then it might have been Miss Scarlett with the dagger in the study – and so on. Another example is this well-known riddle: if you come to a crossroads and meet two locals, one of whom always tells the truth and the other one always tells lies, and you don’t know which is which, what question do you ask to ensure that you get to St Ives? The answer is: “What would the other fellow say if I asked him?” Whichever person you asked, you would know that the answer is false, discard it and take the opposite route. As Holmes would say: “It’s elementary, my dear Watson.” In the quiz show Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? it is as important to be adept at eliminating wrong answers as it is to have a feel for the right one, especially when you’re close to the million!

Foxy parents get their young children to do something by telling them not to do it. In a similar vein, Nelson Mandela once gave a very foxy definition of leadership:”A leader is like a shepherd. He stays behind the flock, letting the most nimble go on ahead, whereupon the others follow, not realising that all along they are being directed from behind.” So once again, are you a hedgehog or a fox? Or maybe a bit of both? If you’re the last, you’re lucky to be so special. In the business world, hedgefoxes play the crucial role of bridging the gap between hedgehogs to whom they easily relate and foxes for whom they act as corporate crusaders.