by Ross Leadbetter
The traditional campfire has a natural draw. In my experience, a warm campfire is a simple invitation to gather around and talk.
Systems tools and processes are natural gathering points as well. Like a campfire or a friendly game of cards, they create a 
purposeful visual focus that is concentrated enough to be productive while social enough to allow constructive, generative conversation.
Having a group gather around a large piece of paper on a table or a whiteboard on a wall and draw out a story or concept using causal loops or behavior over time graphs creates a loosely coupled, productive dynamic. The drawing is centered and thus a focal point. It is also impartial and non-emotional--it is a simple diagram that people work and rework together to construct a meaning that everyone can share.
A systems diagram prompts discussion and action, and it stays around well after the words have been spoken. It is a reminder--a visual cue--that helps people remember what was said and what will be done as a result.
Why is this visual aspect of systems thinking so important? If I asked you what your car looks like, you would not see a paragraph that explains your car; you "see" your car, then you put that information into words; then you send those words out across the void between us; and I intake the words to create a picture. With luck, my mental picture will look like the car you are trying to get me to see. This is one reason that visual tools, such as causal loop diagrams, can be useful--they give us a way to graphically depict our thoughts and ideas so others can clearly see them.
The visual nature of systems thinking tools is naturally aligned with best instructional practice and simple psychology. It corresponds with the language of our brains and our communication. And what is an organization if it is not communication between members? What is teaching and learning if it is not communication?
To learn more about systems thinking tools and concepts, click here to receive a free current issue of The Systems Thinker newsletter.
Ross Leadbetter has taught every grade from kindergarten through adult. He has been a principal and vice principal at the high school and elementary levels, and has taught English, acting, mathematics, social studies, and other subjects. He is currently a consultant. Ross is the author of The Edu.Systems Approach to Instruction and The Synergy in Life System: A Practical Life Guide. This blog post is adapted from his website.
by Janice Molloy
Where are new ideas born? While some develop through formal processes and innovation think tanks, throughout history, many of the most transformative notions have arisen from informal conversations over a glass of wine or cup of coffee in a café, living room, or neighborhood pub. In this way, sewing circles and "committees of correspondence" played a role in the birth of the American Republic, and debates that took place in cafés and salons helped spawn the French Revolution.
A methodology known as the World Café captures the best qualities of these kinds of "conversations that matter." Over the course of several hours, people move between groups, cross-pollinate ideas, and discover new insights into the questions or issues that are most important in their life, work, or community. As a process, the World Café can evoke and make visible the collective intelligence of any group, thus increasing people's capacity for effective action in pursuit of common aims.
The World Café website includes many articles and other resources about the process. Now, two short videos provide an overview of the World Café and the seven principles that guide the experience. Hosted by Samantha Tan, who has spoken at the Pegasus Conference a number of times, the videos serve as an excellent introduction to an important and useful tool.
Watch these videos and tell us your experience with the World Café and other conversational methodologies. When are they useful? Under what circumstances should they be avoided?
Janice Molloy is content director of Pegasus Communications, managing editor of The Systems Thinker newsletter, and program director of the annual Systems Thinking in Action conference.
By Judy Ringer
As I was heading through the crowded hotel lobby toward my last conference session at the recent Pegasus Conference, thinking of a zillion things, including making the bus to the airport, I happened to pass Yoichi. I stopped briefly to thank him one more time for his generosity in volunteering to be my partner for the Aikido demonstrations in the workshop I gave. Skilled, kind
, and adaptable, Yoichi was the ideal uke, the partner who attacks, receives the throw, and falls, over and over again.
I stopped in that way I have of not actually stopping. I mean, I pause physically, but my body and mind are on the way to the next thing I have to do. But Yoichi really stopped. Yoichi was centered in that moment--he was with me completely--and his presence stopped me, too. It was like waking up. I was at rest and present with another human being.
I thanked him as planned; he received my gratitude gracefully and thanked me as well for the opportunity to engage. As we exchanged words, we also exchanged ki--energy, life force. The moment was brief, and the moment was ki.
As this season of holidays unfolds, with all we have to do and be, my wish for you (and me) is that we remember it's not how much we do but who we are, and that we are.
As you say hello to the loved one you haven't seen in days, months, or years, stop and be there, as Yoichi was there. When your friend or coworker asks for a moment of your time, stop your internal dialogue and make them the center of attention. Become single minded.
Your presence is the greatest gift you can give.
Judy Ringer is the author of Unlikely Teachers: Finding the Hidden Gifts in Daily Conflict. She provides conflict and communication training throughout North America with unique workshops based on mind-body principles from the martial art Aikido, in which she holds a black belt. Click here for more information.
By Janice Molloy
What words do we use to describe a team that's functioning well? Whether we realize it or not, we often use musical terminology. We say we're "in unison," making a "concerted" effort, "attuned" to each others' concerns, and, at our best, "harmonious." In a sterile office environment, it may seem difficult to draw substantive parallels between our work groups and a professional orchestra. Yet conductor Roger Nierenberg has gleaned lessons about collaboration and leadership for businesses and other organizations from the inner workings of a world-class musical ensemble.
Several years ago, I was lucky enough to take part in an unusual workshop that Nierenberg offers, called "The Music Paradigm." (Nierenberg has recently written a book, Maestro: A Surprising Story About Leading by Listening, based on this work.) When participants enter the room, they encounter an orchestra, its members clad in formal performance garb, waiting to play. Executives are encouraged to sit side-by-side with musicians.
The program begins with a brief concert. It turns out that a symphonic performance serves as an ideal laboratory for studying organizational dynamics: Observers can easily view the entire system; communication is transparent; and the connection between behavior and results happens immediately.
Nierenberg points out that, like a business, an orchestra has an "org chart": Each "division"--such as strings, woodwinds, brass, and percussion--is divided into "teams." The strings division consists of five teams: first violins, second violins, violas, cellos, and double basses. The audience compares the results when the orchestra plays normally and when one of the teams is out of sync or missing altogether. This experience dramatizes the interdependence of the group as a whole and the importance of each team to the quality of the final "product."
To illustrate the impact of different leadership approaches on performance, the orchestra plays the same selection in several ways: as they normally would with a conductor, without a conductor, with the conductor carefully controlling every aspect of the performance, and with a "guest conductor"--someone from the audience. Even the untrained ear can perceive variations in the style and tone of the different scenarios.
When asked to perform without a leader, the orchestra plays accurately, but the music lacks emotion and pace. When Nierenberg micromanages the performance, the group sounds stilted and flat. When the inexperienced conductor stands in, the performance is tentative and uneven. But when the maestro confidently wields the baton again, the musicians respond with a lush and expansive rendition.
In describing their experiences under a controlling leadership style, the musicians report that the group may be together in terms of timing, but they give less emotionally and feel less able to make their own unique contributions to the overall effort than in the other scenarios. The leader's dominant style blocks the flow of information, isolates the players from their network of colleagues, and squelches their creativity.
Nierenberg describes the group's performance without a conductor as "business as usual." In the absence of guidance from the podium, the players turn their eyes to the concertmaster and listen to each other with greater intensity. In this way, they manage to work together remarkably well.
That observation raises the question: If an orchestra can function successfully without a leader, then what purpose does a conductor--or general manager, president, or CEO--serve? Nierenberg suggests that the leader's first job is to provide others with a sense of the big picture. From his or her central position, a conductor is able to see and hear the whole, gather information, and convey that information to the group.
Even more important, a skilled conductor infuses the notes of a musical score with meaning, inspiring the orchestra to perform with richness, depth, and emotion. In this way, Nierenberg argues, strategic, visionary leadership can make a qualitative difference in a team's functioning.
Conductors don't make music directly; the people they lead do. A skilled conductor focuses on enabling musicians to execute their jobs well: revealing things about the music to the players, showing them what's important, and lifting them out of their silos. Likewise, in organizations of all kinds, good leaders elevate people's awareness beyond their day-to-day tasks by articulating a unifying vision and sense of new possibilities.
Janice Molloy is content director of Pegasus Communications, managing editor of The Systems Thinker newsletter, and program director of the annual Systems Thinking in Action conference.
photo: European Union Youth Orchestra
By Janice Molloy
"What we've got here is a failure to communicate." That iconic line from the 1967 movie Cool Hand Luke nicely summarizes a puzzling fact of life: That two well-intended people, speaking the same language, can come away from a conversation with two different takes on what was discussed. Time and again, both in our 
organizational and personal lives, we experience a lack of understanding that hinders both our effectiveness and the quality of our relationships. (Fortunately, though, these miscues don't usually end in a flurry of gunfire, as in the movie.)
A recent book posits that part of the problem may lie in our inability to parse out the appropriate form of conversation for the situation. In The Four Conversations: Daily Communication That Gets Results (Berrett-Koehler, 2009), Jeffrey Ford and Laurie Ford contend that there are four kinds of productive conversations, each with a different purpose. By using these conversations at the right time and in the right way, we can improve our interactions with others and increase our chances for success.
- Initiative Conversations share new ideas, goals, visions, and futures with people who can participate in implementing and making them real.
- Understanding Conversations build awareness and knowledge of a new or existing idea in a way that helps people see how to participate.
- Performance Conversations are requests and promises that generate specific actions, results, and agreements, and pave the way for accountability.
- Closure Conversations support experiences of accomplishment, satisfaction, and value; strengthen accountability; and give people an honest look at the successes and failures on the way to reaching a goal.
According to the authors, in addition to matching the conversation to the circumstance, speakers need to make sure their conversations are complete. They suggest taking a lesson from journalists, who are trained to ask who, what, when, where, how, and why when investigating a story:
- Who is involved?
- What are we trying to accomplish?
- When do we want to accomplish it?
- Where will the resources come from?
- Why is this accomplishment important?
- How will we get it done?
The Fords encourage analyzing our own patterns to determine which conversations and which elements may be missing. The next step is to practice the ones we find most challenging, whether it's making a direct request of someone, explaining why something is important, expressing appreciation, or strengthening accountability. The good news, according to the authors, is that "Changing our conversations will change more than the way we speak. It will change our listening too, so that we will be more responsive to, and perhaps more responsible for, our human environment."
Having experienced my fair share of communication mishaps, I'm ready to add a few more conversations to my repertoire. What about you?
Janice Molloy is content director of Pegasus Communications, managing editor of The Systems Thinker newsletter, and program director of the annual Systems Thinking in Action conference.
By Janice Molloy
[Because of a glitch with our blog hosting service, this post was never distributed to our email subscribers. We are reposting it so they might receive it as well.]
"If you don't feel it, you won't remember it." Author and executive coach Bob Dickman made this provocative stat
ement during a recent conversation, and it has stuck with me ever since. My assumption has always been that an effective argument--especially in the business world--involves a clear, logical presentation of facts delivered in a relatively engaging manner. But research shows that embedding information in the context of a story makes it more memorable and, ultimately, more powerful.
In A Whole New Mind, Daniel Pink states, "Stories are easier to remember--because in many ways, stories are how we remember." Psychologist Jerome Bruner has found that people are 20 times more likely to remember a fact if it is part of a story than not. This is one of the reasons Pink identifies "Story" as one of six aptitudes that are crucial for professional success and personal satisfaction in the world of the near future.
But framing material in terms of a dramatic plot with compelling twists and unexpected turns is only part of the picture. The other element that plays a role in making a tale "sticky" is emotion--hence Dickman's quotable quote at the beginning of this posting. In their book The Elements of Persuasion, Dickman and Richard Maxwell use the following definition: "A story is a fact wrapped in an emotion that compels us to take an action that transforms our world."
Dickman and Maxwell point out that most Americans vividly recall when and where they were when they first heard about the attacks on the World Trade Center, because it was such a shocking and painful event. (I still have a crystal-clear image in my mind of holding my infant son in our backyard and looking up at a brilliant blue sky, silent and still because all air traffic had been grounded.) Researchers have documented many of the biological and chemical processes through which strong emotion makes a memory stand out.
The tricky part, of course, is applying these principles in the hard-boiled world of organizational life. Maxwell and Dickman sum up the business case for storytelling: "Telling them [customers, colleagues, bosses] stories, and listening to theirs, is the best way to promote your products, services, and ideas. . . . Stories are the irreducible core, the fire, inside every business." The key is that, by punctuating our talks and writing with heartfelt examples that illustrate key points, we ensure that the important messages we want to share are understood, absorbed--and unforgettable.
Janice Molloy is content director of Pegasus Communications and managing editor of The Systems Thinker.
photo of fire: Ian Britton/freefoto.com
By Janice Molloy
"If you don't feel it, you won't remember it." Author and executive coach Bob Dickman made this provocative statement during a recent conversation, and it has stuck with me ever since. My assumption has always been that an effective argument--especially in the business world--involves a clear, logical presentation of facts delivered in a relatively engaging manner. But research shows that embedding information in the context of a story makes it more memorable and, ultimately, more powerful.
In A Whole New Mind, Daniel Pink states, "Stories are easier to remember--because in many ways, stories are how we remember." Psychologist Jerome Bruner has found that people are 20 times more likely to remember a fact if it is part of a story than not. This is one of the reasons Pink identifies "Story" as one of six aptitudes that are crucial for professional success and personal satisfaction in the world of the near future.
But framing material in terms of a dramatic plot with compelling twists and unexpected turns is only part of the picture. The other element that plays a role in making a tale "sticky" is emotion--hence Dickman's quotable quote at the beginning of this posting. In their book The Elements of Persuasion, Dickman and Richard Maxwell use the following definition: "A story is a fact wrapped in an emotion that compels us to take an action that transforms our world."
Dickman and Maxwell point out that most Americans vividly recall when and where they were when they first heard about the attacks on the World Trade Center, because it was such a shocking and painful event. (I still have a crystal-clear image in my mind of holding my infant son in our backyard and looking up at a brilliant blue sky, silent and still because all air traffic had been grounded.) Researchers have documented many of the biological and chemical processes through which strong emotion makes a memory stand out.
The tricky part, of course, is applying these principles in the hard-boiled world of organizational life. Maxwell and Dickman sum up the business case for storytelling: "Telling them [customers, colleagues, bosses] stories, and listening to theirs, is the best way to promote your products, services, and ideas. . . . Stories are the irreducible core, the fire, inside every business." The key is that, by punctuating our talks and writing with heartfelt examples that illustrate key points, we ensure that the important messages we want to share are understood, absorbed--and unforgettable.
Bob Dickman will be exploring these ideas in depth in an upcoming webinar, "Getting Heard Above the Noise."
Janice Molloy is content director of Pegasus Communications and managing editor of The Systems Thinker.
photo of fire: Ian Britton/freefoto.com
By Janice Molloy
The recent incident between Harvard professor Henry Louis Gates Jr. and Cambridge, Massachusetts, police sergeant James Crowley has sparked a lively--and sometimes ugly--debate on the state of race relations in the U.S. Even President Obama entered the fray, making an ill-advised comment about the matter and then wisely backtracking. The case illustrates how easily a routine encounter can deteriorate when it involves two people who, because of history and experience, hold vastly different worldviews.
In case you missed it, on July 16, a passerby noticed two men struggling to enter a residence on a leafy street near Harvard University and called 911 to report a possible break-in. It turns out that the men--Professor Gates and his driver--were forcing open a jammed door in the esteemed scholar's home. When Sgt. Crowley arrived to investigate, he asked for Gates's identification to verify that he lived in the house; Gates in turn demanded Crowley's name and badge number. The situation escalated, and the officer ended up arresting Gates for disorderly conduct; the charges were later dropped.
The details of what ensued are still under debate; depending on which perspective you hear, it's either a matter of a white police officer racially profiling a black man, or a black man overreacting to a request by a white cop. What is clear is that each man reacted based on his own preconceived mental framework. In an excellent analysis, "What They Saw During the Gates Arrest," Associated Press columnist Jesse Washington summed up the situation: "Crowley asks Gates to prove he lives there. . . . Gates sees a racist. . . . Crowley sees someone who should be grateful, but instead is yelling and falsely accusing him of being a racist. . . . Neither man understood what the other one saw." And each man felt disrespected by the other.
The "ladder of inference," pioneered by business theorist Chris Argyris, illustrates how and why we leap to knee-jerk conclusions in our encounters with others--and gives guidance 
for climbing back down. In a nutshell, from our observations, we unconsciously and instantaneously select data, based on our cultural norms, background, and other factors. We then add meaning, make assumptions, and draw conclusions--often incomplete or erroneous--about why other people are behaving the way they are. Finally, we take action. From our interpretations of the data, our actions make perfect sense to us, but they may not correspond to the other person's "reality." When two emotionally charged perspectives conflict, the situation can easily spin out of control.
When Crowley and Gates meet over beer at the White House this evening, perhaps they will chat about the recent trades by the Red Sox or commiserate about the steamy weather we've had in Massachusetts this week. But I hope they'll also engage in a respectful exchange about the contradictory worldviews that led each to act the way he did. Maybe by calmly listening to one other and stating their own truths, they'll be able to change the filters with they approach the world. And maybe by witnessing this instance of "beer diplomacy," the rest of us will take lessons for looking before we leap up the ladder in our own encounters.
Janice Molloy is content director of Pegasus Communications and managing editor of The Systems Thinker.
by Sharon Eakes
A profound insight into good listening comes from the deaf. Bruno Kahne, a senior consultant at Airbusiness Academy, was developing a leadership program for Airbus. There he met an executive whose youngest son was born without hearing. Through this connection, Kahne became familiar with the culture of the deaf, their visual, intensely expressive language. He realized that many deaf people have developed communication skills more thoroughly than hearing people, which made them uncommonly effective at getting their point across.
In a radical experiment, he began using deaf people as communication consultants for corporate clients. Some of the simple, but oft-ignored lessons for good listening that came from the deaf are:
- Look people in the eye.
- Don't interrupt.
- Say what you mean, as simply as possible.
- When you don't understand something, ask.
- Stay focused.
Coaching Questions
- How often do you listen as recommended above?
- How do you pay more attention to the other person than to the voices in your own head?
- How do you listen to what is not being said?
- In what spirit do you listen? (To get an answer? To learn? To argue?)
- What can you decide not to listen to? (The news? Gossip? Advertising? Your negative, inner voice?)
- To what person in your life do you feel moved to listen more fully?
Sharon Eakes is a personal and executive coach and chair of the Pegasus Communications board of directors. You can subscribe to her free monthly "mini e-zine," Fresh Views.