Look mum, no hands.
We live in a ‘we’ based world but this is about ‘me’. Sometimes ‘me’ is important to ‘we’ and maybe even the world. Maybe a sense of self is the route to better togetherness. Fuck, I just got a bit whoo-whoo there. Sorry.
If I had a pound for every way, over the last 38 years of my career, that I’ve tried to sum up what I do, I’d be a far richer man. It’s not that I’m flaky, but over that length of time, things change, needs change, aspirations change, the world changes, people change, learning, knowledge and experiences change, I change, the mission… creeps… become’s more complex, more convoluted, more challenging and, for me at least, more essential than ever because there is much more at stake.
I’ve tried to state what I do as a positioning — I create change in the way people think, I create strategic differentiation, I am a problem solver, I engineer social impact, I create patterns, organisation and understanding out of chaos, I am the bringer of (often uncomfortable) truths. I bring people together (please don’t call me a weaver).
Or as a job title — I’m a grand strategist (Q; ‘Whats the difference between God and a grand strategist’? A; ‘God doesn’t think he’s a grand strategist’ — boom-fucking-boom), social strategist, organisational strategist, private detective, visionary, futurist, change agent (argh), systemic thinker, madman (I used to worry that I was mad but now I know that it helps and I’m cool with that).
I’ve even tried describing it as a complex strategic philosophy and methodology — Future Conduct (I’ve got a shitload of models to prove it and none of them matter).
So much noise.
I’ve tried writing (I’m dreadful at writing) about the world I live and work in and how change is forcing us all to rethink. I’ve written about the strategic extremes that I am obsessed with — the intimacy of lived, living and liveable human experience, the social injustices that people are forced to live with/in, the systems that cause trauma for many and the systemic nature of meaningful transformation. I’ve contributed to hundreds of discussion groups; and led a fair few, and I’ve philosophised about various aspects of purpose definition, vision, collaboration, strategy, leadership, real lives, people, organisational change, organisational strategy, culture, propositions, operations, citizen and social impact strategies, true value, true meaning.
I’ve tried to be a grown up but I really can’t mask my childlike curiosity and my rage… and my joyful zest for life. For many, I talk too much, get too enthusiastic, want to play too much and I don’t understand why the grown ups just want to jump to an end game — outcomes.
I’ve tried to sum up what I do through the lens of the effect I’ve had — whole new reasons for existing, massive organisational growth, wholesale change in leadership thinking, new operational behaviour, territories and culture, new market leading products and services, new positioning, new teams and cross-team, cross society collaborations and new perspectives on complex, vital issues of place and on societal contribution.
It turns out that playing and listening and talking can lead to much more substantial and sustainable outcomes than jumping to outcomes ever can. It’s a paradox. I can prove ROI as both return on investment and impact.
I’ve even tried summing it up with a wry smile and the phrase “it’s magic”.
Taking the stabilisers off. Shaky.
All of these things have worked to the point that they have resonated with enough awesome and varied people to grow a bit of a reputation, keep me off the streets (just) and provide a highly exciting and rewarding career but, paradoxically, none of them have been adequate because, whilst true, they hide the essential truth. They don’t get to the core, the higher purpose of who I am and why I get out of bed every day. The essential truth has always been there, initially (when I was a kid) bright and pure but slowly getting buried over time.
The reason why is, of course, blindingly obvious. I have been trying, trying too hard and inevitably failing, to think objectively about me. I was trying to explain myself, sell myself, justify myself for the benefit of others (and myself) in language that necessarily suited the times and the needs; and that gave me the holy grail of some sense of worth and place. But, by trying to convey what I do in these ways, I was tying myself up in ever more complicated knots (just like everyone else) rather than focusing on the really important stuff like who I am and what I stand for and why people should find this useful, valuable even, to them. I was getting further away from my true self, my true beliefs, my roots and my passions.
What I have done - and this is a cardinal sin for anyone trying to figure out how to understand the complex world they, their teams, their organisations and their stakeholders (fuck, I just wrote ‘stakeholders’) and audiences are in — and how to find something meaningful for all of them - is to try and do it myself.
No matter how objective I think I am about others, I am never going to be objective about me. I’m never going to have a truly balanced view and I’m never going to look at my world from the outside in even though I do that every day when looking at the world and everyone in it. I’m never going to think about me without being influenced by my own priorities, preferences, vested interests, needs, fears and biases — and influenced by the slight barrier that I believe I am a massive fuckwit. This is human nature. We all do it (well, maybe not the ‘fuckwit’ bit) and by doing it ourselves, we will never find the objective and best answer.
Steadying hands.
A good friend of mine summed it up (summed me up) within moments of me finally letting him into my frustration, my thinking or non-thinking. He summed me up in 6 words. He’s good like that. I am good like that — for everyone else. He said “Well, you are an ideas guy” and it was like a firework going off. So obvious, such a revelation, so true, so big, so necessary, so buried in all the years of nonsense speak, analysis and need to prove value.
Being an ideas guy was, is and always will be the centre and the spine of everything I do and, more importantly, everything I am. It is the ideas that have been the beginning, middle and end of absolutely everything I have done in my career — my life. It is the ideas that make me both insufferable (for sure) and fascinating! (I hope) to my wife and family. Ideas are my head and my heart, my rational and emotional self, my place, my pride and my joy. I love saying “Why wouldn’t we do that?” out loud, sometimes in front of others. I can’t help it. I then earnestly try to answer my own question. I spend more time trying to break my ideas than I do having them in the first place.
When I’m trying to reflect quietly, privately, on what I have achieved in 40 professional years, when I’m trying to justify my worth to myself let alone others, I turn to the ideas and to the effect they have had. When I’m trying to think about the future, it is ideas that fly to the front of mind. It is the ideas and ideals of others that inspire me and influence everything else that interests me — history, art, music, movements for change, invention, society, the stories of lives — I find myself trying to imagine the idea that must have started everything else that followed — the origin. When I see a vision, or a strategy, I imagine the way it must have been created and the ways it was brought to life, kicking and screaming. When I see an innovation, initiative, programme, product or service, new or established, I try to see back to the original need that led to the original idea, and then see why and how it evolved to where it is today. I see ideas everywhere and about everything. It’s like living with white noise.
Why (the most important bit) and how ideas are conceptualised, what influences them, how they are evaluated, how they are implemented and executed, how they are shared and adopted, how they are protected, how they are developed and where they have to impact are all vital, but generating the ideas and building the rationale (the case) for them is and always has been my driver and my passion — no matter what I said on the tin.
Look mum, no hands.
So, speaking personally, here I am, 42 years after walking into Art School as a starry eyed and scared wannabe creative, going full circle. Back then, I was taught how to think, how to have great ideas. And like a man returning from an odyssey, I’ve now arrived home. I’m outing myself. I’m an ideas guy, pure and simple (well not so simple and definitely not so pure).
All the other stuff — all the knowledge, all the experiences, all the clients, all the war stories and past glories, all the knocks and failures and all the platitudes, count for so much. I’m proud of almost all of them and grateful to others who seem to know me better than I know myself.
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I’m proud of my methodology ‘Future Conduct’ and being a pioneering social strategist (I fight every day to get grand strategy fully understood). I’m proud of all the presentations, talks, pontifications and put downs. I’m proud of the necessary complexities of changing whole organisations, of the diplomacy and manoeuvring and I’m proud of the angst ridden days and exhausting nights trying to find ways of making good ideas stay good in the face of intelligent and really dumb opposition and profound barriers. I’m proud of the workshops and taking the paths of most resistance. I’m proud when innocent bystanders, organisation leaders and colleagues say “how did you do that?” when I gain consensus and advocacy from previously resistant and fragmented groups. I’m proud of the robust, agonisingly typed strategy documents and the wide eyed, excited clients (even the ones who started out being sceptical) when they realise the opportunities that have been presented to them, for them and the people they touch.
I’m proudest of all of the proof — when clients tell me that things have profoundly changed and valuable progress has been made because of my ideas. From now on, rather than explaining why this has happened from a complex and strategic perspective I shall simply say “well, that’s what robust ideas do” and “look where this idea could take you” and “Why wouldn’t we do that?”.
And now, for me and a bunch of amazing people, the only ideas that count are ‘The Great Unfuck’ and ‘Dancing with Monsters’ and the ways that The Undaunted and the undaunted, citizens one and all, can be empowered to shape discourse, their future and our collective future. I’m still a grand strategist (fuck yeah) but now I’m not trying to justify myself to anyone. I am just going to be… and do.
It’s time for my favourite poem. ‘Me’ by John Hegley — and it goes like this –
‘Me
Me
Me
Me
Me
Me
Me
Me
Me
Me
Me
Me
Me
Me
Me
Me
Me
Me
Me
Me
Me
But that’s enough about me’.
