More on Resilience in Complexity

My friend Bob Stilger is very committed to change and leadership in Japan. He’s been that way for 40 years. He often works in support of “Future Centers.” They are networks of communities and other organizations that are exploring a deliberate and desirable future together, particularly after the triple disasters — tsunami, nuclear accident, and earthquake — of 2011.

In 2013 Bob offered a TedX Talk on the primary theme of his work Resilient Communities: Calling Communities Back to Life. The video itself has an ironic and comedic edge, given the technical difficulties that occurred while he was presenting. Yet Bob just kept adapting, just as he was advocating through the content and stories of his talk.

Bob described several qualities that add to a system’s resilience. They are what people can do, particularly when there is trauma. At one level these appear to be individual actions and strategies. Of course. But they are also community actions and strategies. They are community practices. Community practices that when expressed repeatedly and with randomness, create an overarching culture of resilience. I believe this is at the heart of what Bob is supporting.

Enjoy the simplicity of these. I do. Then watch the Ted Talk. Bob has a way of naming starting points that interrupt the patterns of paralysis that can often occur in complex systems. They are invitations to get going and do something, but not just reactive anythings. They have coherence with a larger intention of systems change.

  • be yourself
  • do what matters
  • stand up and continue
  • stand together
  • try stuff; experiment and learn
  • embrace ambiguity
  • enjoy it

Where Does Movement Come From in Complex Systems?

A friend tells me of being on a weekend vacation with extended family. He is in his fifties, like me. His extended family includes his parents, his kids, four or five siblings with their spouses. Lots of nieces and nephews. “How was it?” I ask. “Mostly good,” he tells me. Then he shares the challenge he saw of getting everyone on the same page. “Everyone wants to do something. Everyone prefers to do it together. It’s impossible for everybody to agree on anything. We end up paralyzed. We end up frustrated. It happens this way all of the time.” He laughs when he tells me. The truth is often funny.

Chances are you have found yourself in a large group a time or two that, like my friend’s extended family, struggles to move together. A working team can’t agree on an approach. Your kids can’t agree on how to spend some weekend time together. A community event planning committee becomes separated in their differences. I believe the struggle in each of these is for enough unifying coherence among many people. The struggle comes from a natural value of shared experience. Belonging. I also believe the struggle is from misunderstanding of what moves a complex system.

Now, granted, my friend’s family, like mine, might be more complicated than complex (in the spirit of Dave Snowden’s distinctions). But I relate to the kind of frustration my friend shared. I don’t believe that movement in complex systems comes from everybody being on board for everything. It’s a nice platitude to “have all of our ducks in a row.” But everyone doesn’t do everything. And further, it isn’t endless debate for the perfect solution that moves people.

I believe, rather, that movement comes from offerings. “My kids and I are going bowling. Anyone who wants to join us is welcome.” “I am going for a hike. Anyone who wants to join me is welcome.” “I would like to focus on the invitation to our community event. I like doing that. Join me if you like.” There is an “all on board” quality to these statements. It just isn’t imposed upon the all-in shared activity. It is in the assumption that if all are doing what they want, with invitation for others to join, movement among many people happens. Stuff gets done. Contributions are made. People feel satisfied. The offerings hold the energy.

DSC00508This summer I learned this principle with friends who live in Belgium. Me, my spouse, and her two kids were staying with these friends for a couple of days of our holiday. Our friends are developing what might become a retreat center and property. It involves restoring an old home, the farm building attached to it, and practicing permaculture on the land. Our friends have an operating principle for themselves and guests. “Do only what you have appetite for.” They mean it. They live it. This applied to choice of social experience, to when and how late to sleep. It applied to working in their gardens and home. There was a freedom in this that I loved. And, even better, a living example of people who were willing to challenge a principle of how movement happens in complex systems. They trust and support impulse and offerings. There is not need for imposition or obligation.

Open Space Technology (OST) is another way that has helped me to see this principle of movement in complex systems. In OST self-organized working groups convene based on passion (appetite) and invitation (offering). It is not an imposed agenda to get everybody doing the same thing. It is a shared overarching intention under which anyone is welcome to convene a conversation or working group. When people are invited to name and host what is important to them, it is my experience that people are energized. People offer themselves because they have appetite. Offerings help the system to evolve, or even emerge into a next version of itself.

There is more for this topic. More to explore. But these will be for another day or another conversation. Or another extended family weekend.

 

Tweets of the Weeks

In Complexity All Stories are True?

Like many, last spring I became fascinated with the story of Malaysia Airlines Flight 370. Alarmed. Concerned. Sympathetic. Sorrowful.

The flight was an international passenger flight leaving from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, and scheduled to arrive in Beijing, China. The flight was lost. Incredulous as this sounds in an age of advanced radar and satellite imagery, the flight was lost. There were 239 people on board.

Did it crash into the sea? Was it hijacked? Was it a terrorist attack? Did it explode? Speculation on news programs ran rampant for a number of months after the disappearance. Though this disappearance led to the largest and most expensive search in aviation history, that continues now, no evidence has been found or shared to confirm any of several possible stories about what really happened.

The unexplained disappearance of this plane strikes me as being rather complex. Without intending to overlook the basic tragedy of 239 lives lost, most likely, there is a key learning for me from this event that is related to complexity. Is is that in complex circumstances, all stories (OK, many stories) remain simultaneously true. There can be much posturing about a preferred story, and the selective attention to data that supports that story, but it remains that all stories are true. None of the stories can be disproven.

Let’s back up a bit and link this to participative leadership.

In the Cynefin Framework developed by Dave Snowden, there is an important distinction between four environments: simple, complicated, complex, and chaotic.

In a simple environment, one story tends to be true. A causes B. It’s very linear. Little discussion is needed to confirm the narrative. Smoking causes lung cancer.

In a complicated environment, a few stories are true. There is still linearity. A more involved algorithm perhaps, but the narrative is still clear. Smoking increases the chance of lung cancer. So does exposure to secondary smoke. So does exposure to a polluted quality of air.

In a complex environment, all stories remain true. Meaning must be negotiated. Must be a conversation, in which many narratives are relevant and simultaneously plausible. What promotes good health? Yes, of course, exercise. Yes, of course, a proper diet. Yes, of course, rest. And yes, of course, avoidance of habits such as smoking. Despite these many affirmations, in a broad enough conversation, there will be people that know of others living a long, long life despite the absence of exercise, a proper diet, rest, etc. Despite the habits of smoking, and other patterns that correlate with illness and disease.

Most people relate to complex lives. Wether personal lives, at the job, or in leading levels of transformation. One essential need in these complex lives, is the ability to explore the simultaneous existence of many stories being true. It may play with our brains — after all, it is so nice to impose a simplicity — and create significant confusion and frustration. Yet, the essential capacity is more curiosity, not more certainty supported by blustering boldly. The disposition of being able to pause, to wonder — less blame and fix — is what will walk us more meaningfully and productively in today’s plethora of complex environments.

Recently in speaking with an elder friend that I trust, when I asked how she was doing, she responded, “I don’t take any of it too seriously any more.” I know her well enough to know that she takes many things seriously. It isn’t apathy that she was describing. I believe it was the kind of wisdom that comes with experience, and perhaps age, to not get hooked into impositions of truth. I believe it was the kind of tempering that comes with experience to begin to recognize that story, is so often our choice.