Blog

As I am writing this, the US elections have just happened and the vote count is going down to a final few states. If Trump is not re-elected it is a good time to reflect on his time in office, and especially his track record with his team. Did you know that 91% of his core team changed over his term? Whether removed, ‘resigned under pressure’ or simply resigned, that is quite a score. It includes six Communications Directors (including Anthony ‘the mooch’ Scaramucci, who famously spent just 10 days in his role) and nine Chiefs and Deputy Chiefs of Staff. Can you imagine working for a boss like ‘the Donald’? Or perhaps you do? What would it do to your behaviour? Would it make you say what you think? Go out on a limb? Or would you play it safe, only doing what you are told, and saying what you believe the boss wants to hear? I have been discussing – and working on - team safety for years now, especially in the context of self-managing teams. If the onus is on you, as a team, to discuss and manage performance, make decisions on what you could do better, on whether to hire new colleagues, and on many other less and more important matters, being able to speak your mind and discuss matters openly are pretty essential. You would need to feel safe to be able to raise – sometimes difficult – topics without fear of it affecting you personally or the dynamics within the group. It turns out this feeling of safety affects not only self-managing teams. As it happens it is regarded a crucial factor when it comes to team performance in general. When Google researched extensively what made the difference between teams’ performance under Project Aristotle (https://nyti.ms/3eAaORa), it came down to how team mates treated one another. It didn’t matter how bright the team members were, or whether they would hang out in their spare time, how strong their leader was, or how well-structured their meetings. It transpired that two key factors made the difference. Firstly, in good teams, members spoke generally in equal proportions of time. Whether in series of monologues depending on the topic, or in lively discussions on each didn’t seem to matter. But at the end of the day, everyone would have spoken for roughly the same amount. If one person or a few people dominated, the collective intelligence of the team appeared to decline. Secondly, the good teams appeared to score higher on emotional intelligence. They were able to sense how other team members were doing based on subtle clues, such as the tone of their voice, their facial expressions and other non-verbal signs. And acted upon it. Less effective teams scored substantially lower on this dimension. It is interesting to note these two traits, especially for an organisation like Google, composed largely of software engineers who you would perhaps not automatically associate with scoring high on emotional skills. Another thought that springs to mind is how our Covid-induced working from home practice, using Zoom and other remote working technology, affects these two aspects. We all know how more difficult it is to have a free-flowing conversation on conference calls, and to make sure that everyone is involved. And it is even harder to gauge how everyone is doing emotionally, as subtle clues are largely lost on the small screen and natural water-cooler conversations are no longer available. These two aspects (of shared talking time and emotional attentiveness) are actually two important building blocks of what has become known as ‘psychological safety’. A concept identified and described by professor Amy Edmondson of Harvard Business School, psychological safety is broadly defined as a climate in which people are comfortable expressing and being themselves. It is the belief that the work environment is safe for interpersonal risk taking. It refers therefore to the experience of feeling able to speak up with relevant ideas, questions or concerns. Now your initial response to this might be: surely this is not a big deal, I am a grown-up and not afraid to speak my mind?! However, when you think about it, there are countless examples where the short-term gain of not speaking up (“I may embarrass myself to my colleagues if I’m wrong”, or “I know the boss won’t like this and I don’t want to end up on the black list”) is very tempting versus the longer term potential of avoiding an issue or creating an innovative solution … that may not even materialise. That these human instincts are very strong can be illustrated by examples of professionals not even speaking up in cases where matters of life and death were at stake, such as the KLM-Pan Am disaster at Tenerife in 1977 or the Columbia space shuttle catastrophe in 2003. In her book ‘The fearless organization’ Edmondson describes how truly high-performing teams display high psychological safety AND set high standards. They manage to deal with the challenges of a complex and volatile world by collaborating openly and learning and innovating as they go along. In her twenty years or research and practice, Edmondson has identified how norms of workplace silence affect psychological safety; those unspoken rules of what not to say and when not to say it. She also shows how psychological safety supports learning in the workplace, for instance through error sharing and risk-taking. She discusses how performance relates to psychological safety, as in the Google experience, and makes the case for it as the key to employee engagement. Finally she found that psychological safety relates positively to remote working, the impact of conflicts and how diversity in the workplace results in a more positive climate. So how do you do it then, creating that safe space in which ideas, concerns and questions can be raised and performance can be challenged without it affecting interpersonal relationships? At Netflix, it is a matter of absolute openness in the organisation, so that feedback is immediate, frank and constructive in all directions and between all layers. Decisions are taken there where the information is, at the frontline, within in a context of innovation and risk-taking which accepts that things may not always work out as hoped, but will at least result in relevant learning. Within Buurtzorg, psychological safety is supported through a solution-driven, consensus style approach in decision-making and a team view on performance. Rather than getting bogged down in discussions and analyses of who did what when, this encourages looking forward and buy-in from the whole team. Edmondson echoes some of these approaches. She speaks of: • Setting the stage for psychological safety . This is about defining clearly ‘what good looks like’ in the work you deliver and how you deliver it. Whether it is zero deaths in mining, or learning from placing big innovative bets in creative productions. This includes re-framing each others’ roles. For the boss from know-it-all to condition-setter, and for others from obedient subordinates to valuable contributors. • Inviting participation . This starts with the leadership switching into listening mode and being inquisitive and curious. This can be combined with active mechanisms that allow all parts of the organisation to contribute to the collective knowledge and direction of the organisation. • Responding productively . This consists of making sure that input is visibly appreciated no matter what its nature might be, how failure is seen and treated in the organisation (a moment of learning or of embarrassment?) and how you deal with violations of agreed boundaries. Of course, I don’t really know how team Trump performs. My impression is that Trump values personal loyalty over anything else and enjoys being the ultimate decision-maker. If the latest vote counts are anything to go by, I fear that for many of his team members this is likely to be the end of the road. In that case, I foresee a large number of memoires being published soon, with titles such as ‘My Trump years - What I really thought’. If you are interested in these and related topics, check out our new Trust Works website on www.trust-works.co.uk

Some arrive at the concept of self-management from the desire to improve the service they provide or the product they deliver. Others see it as the key to making work more fun. In their book ‘Humanocracy – Creating organisations as amazing as the people inside them’ Gary Hamel and Michele Zanini argue their case as an antidote to bureaucracy. Part manifesto, part handbook, they are on a mission to help eradicate bureaucracy, not only because it carries a significant cost (a staggering US$2.6 trillion per year in the USA alone, in the authors’ estimate), and is increasingly clogging up the arteries of organisations’ ability to grow and innovate. But equally importantly, because human beings deserve better than to be stifled in their development and influence, seen as a resource first and human second, and controlled by rules and regulations rather than being trusted to do the right thing. So if it is so bad, why is bureaucracy omnipresent? Admittedly, it does deliver to an extent. Replacing it overnight would cause chaos. Most of us accept it as the norm. So, kicking against it requires a special sort of person and a lot of tenacity. Especially as it is complex and interwoven with so many structures and systems, making it hard to get right of. After having set out the case for ‘humanocracy’, that is a system maximising human contribution, and against bureaucracy in part one of the book, part two goes on to provide two case studies of companies that have organised themselves along humanocratic principles. Nucor, the world’s most innovative and consistently profitable steel manufacturer in the USA, has frontline workers who are hands-on involved in innovation and customer relations, as well as the day-to-day production. This bottom-up model, in which the centre is miniscule, operates differently from a typical hierarchical steel manufacturing in five important ways: • Creativity and productivity are financially rewarded at team level • Competence and skills are built for the long run and include business fundamentals • Collaboration is encouraged across business units by creating a community • Commitment and trust is placed in workers first, management second • Courage is rewarded, giving workers the confidence to act. The second case study involves Haier, the much-publicised appliance producer from Qingdao, China, whose unique organisational form consist of a few thousand micro enterprises. Some of these MEs are customer facing, others are production focused, whereas a third category provide support services. MEs are free to work with each other or go outside the company, whatever appears to provide the best value for the customer. In this rendanheyi model the MEs are self-managing business units that have wide-ranging freedoms, through which entrepreneurship and innovation are encouraged. At the same time, an ambitious system of targets and commensurate rewards applies. Hamel and Zanini are careful not to portray these two cases as examples to blindly copy, but rather draw out some lessons that have wider applicability. They derive the principles of humanocracy, which are further explored extensively in part three: how to make employees more like entrepreneurs, how market principles can be applied internally for innovation, resource allocation and performance, how to build a real meritocracy, the powers of community, openness, experimentation and paradoxes. Illustrated by examples from organisations ranging from Alcoholics Anonymous to Amazon, the various principles are convincingly and extensively delved into, and the reader is given practical starting points at the end of each chapter. The authors’ ambition to provide practical handholds is the foundation for the final part of the book. Here, a case study of tyre manufacturer Michelin and its programme of ‘responsabilisation’ illustrates the complexities but also the achievability of the transformation of an existing, large bureaucratic organisation into something much more humanocratic. Even if it has taken them 6-plus years. How, then, to start a process like this yourself, in your own organisation? First, the reader is challenged to put him-/herself under the magnifying glass and asked to consider how human-centric their own behaviours are and what they can change about themselves. If you are a manager of sorts, the next step may be to consider how to get out of the way of your team. Ask them: What am I doing that feels like interference? What am I doing that you could do better? Rather than confronting the bureaucratic beast head-on, you are encouraged to start running lots of experiments and adopt the behaviours of a hacker. This involves you and your team(s) running short experiments aimed at addressing their priority issues, building on what works and discarding what does not. This should create a range of positive results and begins to generate a momentum of its own. How to use that to scale up across the organisation is the subject of the final chapter. Key words here are credibility, community and leadership. Credibility and community play a key role in helping to spread the approach of experimentation (the authors love the term hacktivism). And it is a redefining of what it means to be a leader and how you approach organisational change that will ultimately help determine how far your transformation will go. I really enjoyed this book. Predominantly for its solid content and research-backed data, for its case-studies (which include a fair few examples that were new to me), and for its attempts to provide practical and pragmatic tips. I was actually somewhat surprised about its anti-establishment tone (or rather anti-bureaucratic, but what is the difference really) towards the end. Not quite what I expected from two well-respected scholars associated with LBS, Harvard and McKinsey. Nevertheless, I subscribe to their call to action, even though I felt that the final part of the book was not as well backed-up by practice as the earlier sections. I also felt that the authors’ definition of bureaucracy at times was conflated with one of politics. Of course, these are often intertwined, but I just wondered whether a bureaucracy as proxy for control could have been further explored. In the category inspirational readings for people craving a different approach to organising work, this book certainly ranks highly. No single book will be the ultimate guide to doing this, but its practical considerations will certainly help you to set off on a journey towards creating your own amazing humanocratic organisation.

As most of you readers interested in self-management and self-managed organisations will know, one of the key arguments for a more liberated and supported workforce is that the world in which we operate has become increasingly complex and unpredictable. Some call it VUCA: volatile, uncertain, complex and ambiguous. We may have to accept that trying to capture that world in rules and scenarios will have limited success. Instead, we should try to prepare ourselves and tool ourselves up for being able to deal with an infinite number of possible scenarios. We should trust the creativity and intrinsic motivation of people to fix problems and find solutions, armed with not much more than a number of principles and basic agreements. Queue the oft-used metaphor of the traffic light versus the roundabout: both are there to deal with a simple problem (‘how to safely cross a junction’) with an unlimited number of scenarios involving traffic levels, weather, light, power, etc. But both start from very different premises: The Traffic Light solution assumes that people cannot be trusted to do the right thing. They need to be told what to do. It assumes that complex problems need rules and technology to be solved. And we therefore need a plan for every scenario; if it doesn’t work well, we clearly must have overlooked some of the possible scenarios. The Roundabout solution approaches the problem from a different angle and assumes that people CAN be trusted - and will trust each other - to use judgement and do the right thing. It assumes that complex problems can be solved with simple rules or principles leaving room for judgment. And that many scenarios will unfold but social coordination will be able to tackle them. It is interesting to note that although Traffic Lights are more expensive to run, less resilient (think for instance of a power outage) and register more accidents than Roundabouts, nevertheless the UK has significantly times more traffic lights than roundabouts. The reasons behind this are worth of a blog in itself, but today I would like to go somewhere else with this. Cambridge City Council, already well-known for being cycle-friendly, has recently upped its ambition to enhance the safety and traffic experience for cyclists and pedestrians. Being my town of residence, it didn’t escape my attention that the Council had decided to adopt a new form of roundabout for a busy junction not far from its large regional hospital Addenbrookes. It would be a ‘Dutch style’ roundabout which had been developed - with the assistance of a Dutch engineering firm - based on a design quite common in bicycle-mad Netherlands. It promised priority for people on bicycles and on foot and should be safer and smoother. Imagine my excitement: a roundabout (!) and stemming from my native Holland too! Two years and nearly three times the budget later, the roundabout is here and cynics and proponents have lined up to see how it fares. The first point was scored in favour of the cynics, as within days a driver knocked over a beacon (‘Roundabout closed after hit-and-run by driver’ shouted one of the headlines.) And the discussion is ongoing whether this design is going to deliver on its promises. All this made me think of my own experiences of bringing a foreign (yes: Dutch) success model to the UK, and why we found it to be so difficult to achieve outcomes similar to its original setting. It is an obvious – and laudable - ambition, to see a successful solution elsewhere and wanting to transplant it to your own situation. But there are some easy traps to fall into, which I think are threefold. The first is the trap of simplification. This happens when you see the solution as a mechanistic one and underestimate the (sometimes less obvious) details. It assumes that if we copy the roundabout’s design exactly, then we will get the same outcomes those cloggies have over there. Luckily the Cambridge design team remembered that our roundabouts go clock-wise, so at least they didn’t fall completely in that trap, but have they thought of all the details? Or are there any details that they could or should have added, to compensate for the difference in road users here in the UK, for instance additional road signs to warn users about the unusual situation? In my personal experience when talking about organisational change, this trap is illustrated by organisations that want to establish self-managed teams but overlook what it takes from the leadership and the wider organisation to make these teams work. They introduce some of the structures, provide some training, copy some of the tools. But they overlook the significance of many of the other details. Not deliberately, but simply by underestimating their relevance. Often with disappointment as a result, both for the employees and the organisation involved. The second trap is about the context. Let us first focus on the ‘hard’ context, as in ‘the rules’ or the infrastructure. In the case of the roundabout, in the Netherlands cycling lanes are mandatory. As a result, all road users know where cyclists are likely to appear (OK, anarchic Amsterdam may be an exception to this rule). Also, turning traffic has to give way to ongoing traffic, which applies to pedestrians, cyclists and cars alike. Finally, where signs are absent, bicycles and cars are equivalent road users and can all have priority depending on the setting. Rules like these create certain behaviours and expectations that probably support the well-functioning of the Dutch-style roundabout. In the absence of these behaviours and – mutual – understandings between road users, it remains to be seen whether the roundabout will deliver on its promises in our UK context. How is this trap manifesting itself when introducing the principles of self-management? As an example, let us look at an organisation’s IT systems. They often enforce a range of behaviours that are based on very different assumptions than those that support a self-managed context. They drive certain process steps, demand certain authorisations, and reflect the hierarchical command and control assumptions on which the organisation is based. Without addressing those implicit and explicit rules and assumptions, self-management is hampered and teams are disempowered and obstructed. And finally: culture. You could argue that is essentially context too, but perhaps of a softer kind. In Holland, every car driver is also a cyclist. As a matter of fact, the country has more bicycles than people. As a result, a culture exists of mutual understanding and empathy between road users that perhaps is not quite present (yet) in the UK. This may well play an important role in how a technical solution such as a roundabout ultimately performs. Again, I have seen how culture plays an important role in the success of adopting a model from elsewhere. For instance, introducing trust-based concepts into an organisation that is built on command and control is a long and difficult process. It can certainly work, but there is always a risk that behaviours snap back into their old patterns. Progress made in establishing trust can be easily undone by one undermining decision. It is an easy trap to fall into, and one that is – in my view – the main reason why change of this nature is so difficult. Patience, consistency of behaviour and leading from the top are all crucial elements to get this right. The other day I tried out the roundabout for myself, on the bicycle of course. It looked great: the sun was shining, the new tarmac gleamed and the reddish-pink cycling lanes stood out brightly. Traffic was flowing gently and I got across smoothly and without incident. I was thrilled: another positive day for radical innovation. I want it to succeed. Let’s hope that Cantabrigian road users can prove that culture, context and design can evolve here too and strengthen our case for more trust-based solutions. About Dutch daub: In the 1880s a stream of cheap, poorly painted still-lifes were exported to the US as ‘real Dutch paintings’. They ended up on the walls of many second-rate hotels and restaurants, receiving the accolade ‘Dutch daub’ over time – source: De Dutchionary, by Gaston Dorren Want to know more about this roundabout saga: • Cambridge's Dutch-style roundabout: Why all the fuss? - https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-cambridgeshire-53947440 • Cambridge City Council’s video explaining the roundabout - https://youtu.be/lHLOXRXYQm0 If you are interested in these and related topics, check out our new Trust Works website on www.trust-works.co.uk

I don’t think I have been more excited about a book arrival than this one: ‘No Rules Rules – Netflix and the Culture of Reinvention’ by Netflix co-founder and CEO Reed Hastings and INSEAD Professor Erin Meyer. And that is for several reasons. First: the Netflix story is of course one of great success, only partially helped by worldwide lockdowns encouraging people to seek home-based entertainment, and to learn about its secrets sounded hugely enticing. Secondly, the publicity machine around this launch had provided sufficient glimpses to make me suspect that the Netflix way of working had a lot in common with the ‘self-managed’ organisations that I have a passion for. And thirdly, I loved Erin’s previous book ‘The Culture Map’, both for its content and for its engaging style. High expectations therefore, and as I was installing myself on the sofa for a binge-read of Netflix proportions I was not disappointed... Funnily enough, this is the second book in a row that I am reviewing, that has been co-written by two authors who each give their own perspective. Reed brings the business story and his personal lessons that led to him wanting to set up Netflix very differently from his previous company, as well as how that model subsequently evolved to what it is today. Erin provides at times a more theoretical context, but also a more independent and questioning view based on the more than 200 interviews she conducted in the company as well as her own professional background. That combination works best where Netflix workers are allowed to tell their stories and how they – mostly – embrace how the organisation’s principles work for them, but also how they had to get used to the more radical aspects, especially when coming from very different business cultures. Netflix’ foundational principles are coming down to a combination of Freedom and Responsibility (‘F&R’). The Freedom is expressed through high levels of autonomy, (e.g. employees being able to place big bets on things they believe in, without the need for higher-level sign-off), openness and absence of controls. The Responsibility side of the equation means that great ownership is expected for the decision you take, that frank feedback is given and received as a matter of course, and that your Netflix career is likely to be over if you are no longer considered a ‘keeper’. It all grew from Hasting’s experiences with his first business venture, a software company called Pure Software. Although in the eyes of most of us still a very successful business, Hastings was frustrated with the absence of innovation in the company as it grew larger. From a nimble, fun, entrepreneurial start-up, its success and resulting growth seemed to inevitably lead to more structure, more processes and procedures and a workforce that would suit that ‘safety-first’ environment best. Although the IPO of the company made Reed a wealthy man, he vowed that his next venture would not make the same mistakes. The second defining spark to Netflix’ culture was of a much more personal nature. As he became more and more engrossed in his growing business, Reed’s marriage went down the doldrums. It was during their marriage counselling sessions that he learnt that being able to provide and receive frank feedback was the only way to learn and change. If Netflix was to stay innovative, candour was going to have to be an essential tool. Having set the scene, the book takes us on a journey that tells the story in three parts of how Netflix put F&R in practice and how it evolved along the way. Part One: the first steps towards a culture of F&R . These consist of: 1. Building a great workplace by hiring ‘stunning colleagues’ 2. Increasing candour through frank feedback (with positive intent) 3. Removing controls It is in this section that Reed’s ambition for a top-performing company becomes clear, which he intends to achieve by recruiting top-level employees. Highly talented, diverse people who deliver stellar performance are the foundation stone for everything else. Only then, in the CEO’s view, can you have employees operate in a frank and open environment where giving and receiving feedback is second nature. Netflix learnt how this needs to be guided by clear principles (and training) in order for it to be successful, hence feedback is given and received using a 4A method: Assisting, Actionable, with Appreciation and the freedom to Accept or disregard. For this openness to work, the company needs to set the tone. If you expect staff to treat each other like adults, it starts with the top. So Netflix decided to remove a number of key controls: the travel and expense policy was replaced with ‘Act in Netflix’s best interest’ and the holiday policy was abandoned. Not only did this increase the levels of trust in the organisation, it also led to (generally) better behaviours and reduced the costs involved in the control processes themselves. Part Two: How to take the Next Steps 4. Pay top dollar 5. Open the books 6. Push decision-making to the frontline Where most companies would be suspicious if its employees would talk to the competition or a local head-hunter, Netflix encourages it. It pledges to pay top market salaries, so what better way to test your worth than by speaking to recruiters. This open approach has led to attracting the best creative minds in the sector, and may well explain part of Netflix’ success. Note, though, that this rule applies to the creative employees, not to the operational ones. Building on the theme of openness, Netflix decided to go further and share all financial and performance information with all employees (and continues to do so to this day, even though it is now listed on the stock exchange) to provide all with the context necessary to do their job well. This is accompanied by other symbols and acts of openness, such as the absence of closed offices, the way tough decisions are communicated and how failures are shared. With this in place, employees are able to take ownership for their decisions. They don’t need approval, but they must seek advice from others who may improve the quality of that decision. This does not imply a search for consensus: the employee decides and takes full responsibility. That may sometimes lead to errors, but the lack of speedy innovation and risk-taking is regarded a bigger threat to Netflix’ success than the odd mistake. Part Three: on reinforcing a culture of Freedom & Responsibility , by: 7. Consistently driving the workforce to be top performers: the Keeper Test 8. Go even further with frank feedback 9. Remove even more controls ‘Which of my people, if they told me they were leaving for a similar job elsewhere, would I fight hard for the keep?’ That is the basis for the Keeper Test, a rather ruthless principle that Netflix applies every so often to ensure their workforce retains ‘premier league’ abilities and drive. So much ingrained is this principle, that employees (remember the spirit of frankness) even ask their managers how to make sure they stay on the Keepers list. Merely ‘adequate’ employees are asked to leave (with a generous severance package) so that the organisation can move on with its top performers. Cruel? Quite. I’m sure this is the most controversial of the Netflix practices, and one which would not suit every worker or go down well in many Western European countries. Do you like the Keeper Test? How about giving and receiving 360 performance feedback around the (dining) table with your colleagues? That is the Circle of Feedback practice that has resulted from the culture of openness as the next step in actionable feedback. As Erin rightfully says, it’s probably as attractive a prospect as going to the dentist regularly, but at Netflix they believe it’s worth it. With top-performing employees, you can now lead with context rather than controls, and let decisions be made where the knowledge and ownership are the greatest: at the frontline. At Netflix, any employee can make multimillion-dollar decisions themselves and take full ownership, without sign-off from higher levels. For that to work, all of the above needs to be in place, and the company focuses on setting and consistently communicating the context of where it wants to go. The main role of the hierarchy, therefore, is not to command and control, but to specify the context and support the employee, the ‘informed captain’, in arriving at and implementing her decision. The book’s 10th chapter (Part 4) deals with Netflix’ international expansion (currently 7,000 employees in half a dozen countries and its services available in over 130) and how its culture translates to other parts of the world. Unsurprisingly, from time to time it doesn’t. The stories involved are fascinating in how employees have found their way in dealing with it, and how Netflix found ways to be more open to the different perspectives of its now multinational workforce. Whether it’s about having short factual meetings versus building relationships, or whether feedback is delivered with or without a positive cherry on top, these are highly insightful anecdotes that most of us will recognise one way or another. The learning there is not only for those working in an international context, but also for those considering adopting some of Netflix’ concepts into a very different organisational culture. So what’s the verdict? As a – business – book, this is a highly readable, binge-friendly book, well-written, with lots of anecdotes and personal voices in addition to some theory and various practical tips. It provides a great insight into what has made Netflix into this enormously successful venture and it will make a lot of other business leaders question which practices they can benefit from too. Read through the lens of self-management, and with the experience of working with Buurtzorg, one of the most successful self-managed organisations in the world, I recognised a lot of what Hastings preaches: on feedback and openness, on leading with context, on removing controls. I don’t know whether Netflix could be considered a self-managed organisation, but that is a somewhat academic question. Its practices show that these concepts can work at scale in a highly innovative, highly competitive market and that is an encouragement to those of us who share that conviction. I do have some reservations about the thinking behind some of Netflix’ principles and practices. For one, my experience is that openness and candour can work with any workforce, not just with an elite of highly talented individuals. As Reed admits himself, a framework and training is essential to make this work well, and that goes for any group of employees. Secondly, as Buurtzorg and others prove on a day to day basis, even in non-creative yet high-risk and complex environments, there are strong arguments for reducing ‘rules and process’ and trusting and supporting the workforce instead. Alternative controls and providing the right context often produce better outcomes than control proxies and best-practice straight-jackets. Finally, with ‘trust’ being the essential ingredient for any concept of self-management, I do wonder how well that fits with Netflix’ Keeper Test. It seems to work for them, but I would warn against it being adopted by your average company that lacks the foundation and organisational learning that Netflix built up over many years. All in all this book is a must-read for any progressive business leader. With the insights provided it will be fascinating to see how Netflix will evolve over the coming years. Bring on Season 2! If you are interested in these and related topics, check out our new Trust Works website on www.trust-works.co.uk

Hot off the press I received ‘Moose Heads on the Table – Stories about self-managing organisations from Sweden’ just before I left for a two-week holiday to Greece. Perfect holiday reading, as it turned out to be: engagingly written, meaty enough to keep the old brain occupied, yet lightweight enough to fit nicely in my carry-on bag. Written by Karin Tenelius and Lisa Gill, both of Tuff Leadership Training, the book has a slightly unusual but clear set-up, by sharing Karin’s experiences as a coach, (interim) CEO and owner of self-managed organisations in Sweden, interspersed with methodological musings and practical considerations by Lisa. Karin is an old-hand and passionate advocate when it comes to self-managing organisations. Having been inspired back in the 1980s by Ricardo Semler’s ‘Maverick’, she had her first opportunity to transform an organisation in 1999, when Freys Hotel sought her help. Seizing her chance, Karin set out to make Freys into a self-managing organisation, with the full support of Annika, the CEO at the time, who aimed to energize her workforce. Long-story-short, within eight months the hotel increased its profit by 26% and some hiccoughs not withstanding the whole process was amazingly successful. In the case-study Karin underlines the need for the consultant to adopt the coach role in the entire process. One of the main obstacles was the temptation, both for Annika and Karin, to not fully trust the team to do the right thing. Lisa delves deeper into this and introduces the first of three pillars to becoming self-managing: ‘a coaching mindset and way of being’. We also get to learn about Concordance decision-making, Karin’s preferred decision-making tool for teams. The second case-study involves a small IT consultancy, that approached Karin to become their interim CEO. Not hampered by any IT knowledge, Karin set out to turn around this loss-making company by initially focusing on its poor working climate (pillar number two as it happens). This is where the title of the book begins to make sense: ‘carrying out moose heads’ is shorthand for identifying and addressing the sticky issue in the room. Having supported the team in doing this on various issues, and having averted a crisis moment along the way, the impact becomes visible very quickly. From a substantial loss the previous year, the consultancy ends the year well in the black. The main takeaway here is – again – how to avoid the temptation to step into the position of heroic leader during a crisis. Only by fully trusting people and getting out the way, the seemingly impossible is allowed to happen. Case-study number three addresses Karin’s realisation that the role of the CEO and the owner(s) of the organisation are crucial in the likelihood of self-management succeeding. We are introduced to another small IT company in peril in which Karin is asked to assume the interim CEO role, and on this occasion also becoming the shareholder. Again, Karin focuses on coaching of the team and helping them to realise that they ‘own’ the working climate as well as the results they produce, as long as they consciously choose to do so. This is pillar three: A culture of mandate and involvement, which to me translates as the need for all team members to take active roles and ownership of how the organisation is run and the decisions they take. In other words: there is no place to hide. The company is turned around really rather quickly and becomes profitable once more within a year, after which Karin steps back. Her successor then nearly undoes all of the good work done by the organisation, but a quick intervention (and elimination of said CEO) restores their newfound confidence and performance. Karin realises that good progress can easily be undone by successors’ poorly fitting leadership styles, so decides that by buying companies herself, she would be in a better position to prevent that from happening. Enter case-studies 4 and 5 involving a healthcare company supporting vulnerable families and a telemarketing outfit. By now we are not surprised to read that the teams quickly manage to climb the learning curve and ultimately achieve great results at a much improved working climate. But when one issue is resolved, another one pops up from an unexpected angle. One of the learnings here is about when and how to make tough choices as owner/transformer if the lack of momentum threatens to derail the entire process of transformation. Lisa’s addition focuses on how psychological safety AND accountability are essential to create highly effective teams. A self-managing organisation is therefore anything but an anarchy or free-for-all, and finding the right mechanisms and mindset to make this work is key. The final chapter deals with Karin’s consultancy, Tuff Leadership Training, and how the principles of self-management are applied in her own organisation. The joys and frustrations of making decisions together, accepting differences, striving for continuous learning, and generally of being part of a self-managing organisation turn out to apply to Tuff as much as to any other organisation that has embarked on this journey. Karin’s frankness shines through in this chapter also, and she is not afraid to share not only her learnings but also her personal blind spots. The book concludes with some practical pointers for those readers who are keen to learn more, or want to make a tentative start with their own journeys. Karin and Lisa have explicitly not wanted to write a handbook on how to become a self-managing organisation. I agree with them that each organisation will need to find their own way and their own method, and experiencing what works and what doesn’t is more powerful than anything. However, there is much to be learnt from those of us who have gone there before, and Karin’s frank assessments and Lisa’s reflections and models will be very helpful to many. All in all this is a highly readable book whose lessons, in many cases very succinctly put, resonated deeply with my own. And although Karin’s perspective to the stories often starts with that of the coach, she does not shy away from the harsh realities involved in running a business: making sales, turning a profit, having to make tough decisions. I enjoyed that combination, as well as Lisa’s considerations to put it into context, and I thoroughly recommend the book. If you are interested in these and related topics, check out our new Trust Works website on www.trust-works.co.uk

Consistently in the top ten for patient satisfaction, better clinical outcomes, Employer of the Year awards, AND proven to be cheaper to run. No wonder that many National Health Service organisations and local authorities in the UK were interested in finding out how Dutch community care provider Buurtzorg does it, and how their model can be adopted here.

I am generally not a huge fan of stories about night-time SEAL raids to ‘eliminate’ a terrorist leader, so it was with some reluctance that I picked up this book ‘Team of Teams’ by General Stanley McChrystal. I was intrigued though, as the title had cropped up a few times in the context of organisations turning to concepts of self-management in order to deal with complexity. How could that possible apply to the hierarchical command-and-control world of an army? Luckily, this is much less a book for war geeks and much more for leaders who want to be challenged on how to get the best out of their organisations. Co-written with three experts in organisational change, the General reflects on why he had to totally reinvent how the US armed forces tackled the challenges of fighting an insurgent war in Iraq against the local Al Qaeda branch, and what to it took to achieve that. If you are convinced that the only way to get your organisation to perform is through command and control, be prepared to be challenged. The book describes how McChrystal, in charge of the Joint Special Operations Task Force – the elite of the US armed forces - was outdone by a ragtag army of insurgents. On paper, this shouldn’t have been a contest. The Task Force had the best of everything: arms, training, troops, technology, experience, financial resources. Yet they were losing the war against a flexible, decentralised, shape-shifting opponent who always seemed two steps ahead. The General realised that what his force was built for was not what was needed. They were built for efficiency, he needed flexibility. They were the perfect solution for a twentieth century war, but unsuitable for a twenty-first century insurgency. Like so many of our organisations, modern armies have been heavily influenced by Taylorian thinking (as well as earlier military history) on what makes an operation most efficient. McChrystal reminds us of Taylor’s organisation-as-a-machine paradigm, which led to refining every element to its most efficient form. This reductionist thinking assumes that there is one best way of doing things. Furthermore, it believes that there are some who are paid for decision-making and some for simply carrying out orders. As long as these components work together like a well-oiled machine, the best possible output will surely follow. Which – to be fair – was indeed the case in the days of industrialisation in the 19th and 20th centuries. However, as time has gone on, the world has become increasingly complex, and the book takes some time to explore the difference between being able to address complicated (such as the combustion engine) versus complex issues (such as predicting the weather). A Taylorian organisation, which captures everything in rules, resources and decisions, may be able to tackle the former, it is wholly unsuitable for the latter. Once we have entered a ‘VUCA’ world (volatile, uncertain, complex and ambiguous) a different solution is needed. One where efficiency is not the focus, but effectivity: doing the right thing as opposed to doing things right. In Part 2 the book delves into the world of teams. Why does SEAL training focus more on team building through trust and shared purpose than on physical and tactical skills? Why are airline crew members trained to speak up and take action when needed? Why does diversity improve decision-making and collective responsibility lead to better outcomes? There are clear examples and ample evidence why this is the case and for years the army had benefitted from creating great elite teams. But the author realised that his problems originated in the fault-lines BETWEEN teams. Silos, internal competition and distrust, conflicting objectives and a rigid command structure all contributed to the organisation at large not achieving its goals. The solution: the Task Force had to become a ‘team of teams’, where trust and purpose where the binding forces between teams just like they were between individual team members. Easier said than done of course, and Part 3 takes us along on McChrystal’s journey. As we learn from NASA, the Krasnovian football team and other examples, he describes how he arrived at the conclusion that what was needed was ‘shared consciousness’, i.e. for all parts of the organisation to have a shared, holistic and adaptive understanding of the environment in which they were operating. This required unprecedent information-sharing and therefore trust. To set the tone for this, practical and very visible changes were introduced. For starters, by setting up a Joint Operations Centre in which all parts of the organisation where located together in an open space to encourage information sharing. And through a monthly, worldwide Operations & Intelligence meeting, which brought together anyone who had a possible connection with intel, operations and expertise from around the world that could affect or support the effort to defeat the enemy. By opening up and being generous with people and resources, steadily McChrystal secured the buy-in of all parts of the armed forces as well as the international intelligence and security network and slowly the results became visible on the ground too. Part 4 describes how, now that the operations began to benefit from improved information sharing and greater levels of trust, the General became more aware of the implications for the leadership. No longer did it seem to make sense to segregate decision-making from operations. Up to that moment the chain of command played an essential role in many operational decisions. Paradoxically, the availability of more information and faster communication systems had led to central command taking more and more control. The General came to the realisation that the cost of the delays involved proved higher than that of possible errors. Instead they decided to move to a concept of ‘empowered execution’, allowing frontline operatives to make decisions themselves rather than pushing them up the chain: “eyes on, hands off”. As a result, decisions were not only made much faster, they also improved in quality, as the individual on the ground was much more aware of the local context than his superior ever could be and now more invested in the outcome. McChrystal concludes that for a modern organisation to thrive, we need to abandon the idea that a leader provides all the answers. The temptation to lead as a chess master, controlling every move, must give way to an approach as a gardener, who nurtures, enables and supports. I have worked with a good number of organisations who attempted to become more self-managing and introduce their equivalent of McChrystal’s team-of-teams. One of the most difficult hurdles to take was the hierarchy’s inability to let go and be comfortable with supporting rather than controlling the frontline. It is refreshing and encouraging to read about McChrystal’s challenges as well as his achievements. After all, if the US armed forces can become more nimble, why can’t you? I also enjoyed the General’s reflections on his role as a leader in how to bring about the change. These involved physical elements (changing the space in which the central command operated), behavioural elements (sharing resources, being transparent) and the courage to actively let go. It underlined for me the necessity of leaders’ actions to be congruent with the kinds of characteristics they are hoping to establish in their organisations, especially when adopting aspects of self-management. And for it to start at the top if the whole of the organisation is to be involved. I don’t think General McChrystal would have succeeded if he had been Sergeant McChrystal instead. A good read therefore, thoroughly recommended for those of you seeking inspiration and a sprinkling of confidence that similar outcomes are possible in your organisation.

The initial shock of the Covid crisis and the subsequent lockdown have subsided. Your organisation will have fallen into one of two camps: increased pressures on delivery if you are in the ‘keywork’ arena, or serious money worries if you are not. Or if you are REALLY unlucky - as many in the charitable sector who provide support to vulnerable people have been - you may count yourself in both camps at the same time. While our society begins to unlock and government support will soon start to tail off, your scenarios are becoming clearer, though not necessarily rosier. If you haven’t already done so, now is the time to think the unthinkable and consider all options for your organisation, including merging with a sector partner. In my fifteen years of working with social enterprises and charities I have been asked countless times why there have to be so many of them. By now the UK must have at least 170,000 registered charities and more than 100,000 social enterprises (some overlap possible). Surely many should merge? Wouldn’t that be much more efficient? In my various roles as interim CEO and trustee in the not-for-(private)-profit sector, it was a topic that often returned but equally quickly abandoned. Why was it such a no-go area? I remember the time when my daughter was just a toddler. As I considered the part of Cambridge where I live, I realised there were plenty of good, wholesome families who matched my values and who had some food to spare and probably a space for an extra bed. Nevertheless it didn’t cross my mind to propose that they would perhaps take in my child as well… Surely that would be much more efficient? When opportunities for mergers arise in the private sector, an important incentive will be the financial upside for shareholders and leadership. Of course, when your sole drivers are passion and values, it is pretty hard to give up your baby for the sake of some rational argument. However, we now have a crisis on our hands and this calls for some radical thinking. So although the numbers of not-for-profits may not be a valid reason (imho) for considering whether it is time for your charity or social enterprise to start talks with your equivalent down the road, neither is it a subject that should be avoided at any cost. As a mission-driven organisation, you should always be on the outlook for a better or more sustainable way to fulfil your purpose, and to consider joining forces with a similar outfit should be part of that. I believe there are three considerations why you should put your parental feelings to one side and seriously look into this without delay. For starters, timing is of the essence. In these covid-dominated days this is more relevant than ever, and for some of you the ideal time to start this process has perhaps already passed. But all is not lost. Timing is important for two reasons: You want to explore options from a position of strength, while your organisation is as healthy as it can be even if there are dark clouds on the horizon. That means having a stable team, a good board, decent financials. And some successes under your belt and assets to build on if not to negotiate with. On top of that, it is important to consider that a process like this takes a long time to complete. This does of course depend on your starting point, the speed with which solutions need to be found, the decisiveness of you and your board, etc. But some timelines are out of your control (e.g. the lease on your office) or unwise to rush (for instance the building of a collective vision with the other party). Both arguments lead to the conclusion that you cannot start early enough. Have your shortlist of favourite potential partners in your head, have exploratory conversations with key stakeholders as a matter of course, do your research. And do all this while your platform isn’t quite burning yet. Secondly, if time required is not to be underestimated, then also consider the resources you will need for this process once conversations with a potential partner start in earnest. Once, as a trustee of a mid-sized charity, I was involved in the merger with a similar sized organisation. It took us more than a year and a substantial (think six figures) sum of money to get to the finishing line. Those financial implications contained a whole host of items: lease break penalties, search for and refit of the new office (although after our improved videoconferencing skills who knows whether you will want one), a new name and logo design, legal advice, redundancies, IT refit, the list goes on. But equally importantly, the resource drain on the organisation was substantial too: management and board members’ time to discuss all ins and outs and gauge views of key stakeholders and funders, craft financial projections, align our vision and create a joint direction for the new organisation. All essential activities that take time and energy away from the day job, if you are not careful. And finally, and this comes back to my point about the 2-year old daughter, think about the emotional rollercoaster you are embarking on and how you might guide your organisation through this time. When you have been operating as (quasi) competitors for years, don’t underestimate the time it takes to build mutual trust and understanding with your new bed fellow. It will be crucial to keep your eye on the (purpose) prize and not get side-lined by emotions, frustrations, and general them-and-us-ness. You should also consider how you will be dealing with the feelings of bereavement, involved with bringing your adventure as an independent organisation to an end. Does that come down to just you as ‘the leader’? Perhaps that is where it starts, yes. But don’t think this is a leader’s job only. Why don’t you bring frontline staff into the process early on, and let them co-shape what a new organisation could look like? It would set the tone for the future and address a lot of the helplessness many parts of the organisation usually feel in processes like these. Don’t forget that symbols play an important part in times of change, so if you can set the tone early on by making some clear decisions, show your own vulnerabilities and walk the talk, all that will stand you in good stead when tough asks are made of the rest of the organisation in the months to come. Of course, merger is not the only possible answer. You may go one step more radical and consider being taken over. Or you can use this as an opportunity to take someone over yourself! Or perhaps this is the push to radically transform yourself and consider only delivering that fraction of your current services that deliver by far the biggest value to your customers, but doing it really, really well… I wish you and your team much strength, courage and wisdom in these challenging times. While you are working out what is best for your baby.

Buurtzorg is amongst the more headline-grabbing organisations when it comes to alternative ways of working. Its name meaning ‘neighbourhood care’, the Dutch community care organisation is particularly known for its 900 or so self-managing teams of nurses and care professionals, totalling 10,000 staff (plus 4,000 involved in other services), and just one manager: founder and CEO Jos de Blok. Its fame has spread far and wide not just because of its unusual organisational model, but also due to its remarkable results: top scores in patient satisfaction, repeatedly voted Employer of the Year, AND delivering all this at lower costs than other care providers. No wonder it has featured in many case studies, conferences and books, the most famous probably being Frederic Laloux’ book “Reinventing Organisations”. But what is it like to be working for Buurtzorg as part of a self-managing team? As it happens, my sister Marjan is a community nurse who does just that, so I asked her a few questions. Q: How long have you been working for Buurtzorg? I re-started my career as a nurse about 7 years ago when I was getting a bit bored in my administrative job. I had trained as a nurse straight out of secondary school, but for various reasons had ended up doing different jobs for most of the time. After I started volunteering with a local hospice I realised how much I had missed caring for people, so I did a refresher course on community nursing and then applied with Buurtzorg. At that time I didn’t realise quite how unusual its way of working is, but I have enjoyed it. Q: As a nurse, what do you like so much in the Buurtzorg way of working? Buurtzorg teams are small (our team consists of 10 people) and deliver the full range of care in a small geographical area, whether it’s complex or straight-forward, for a short period or long term. Working in such a small team for a limited number of clients means that we know all our clients well, and they know us. There is a high level of trust, which means we can provide better care. This doesn’t just cover the physical care element, it also includes the mental aspect. We look after the whole person, and by building a good relationship I have noticed that I can contribute so much more to the client and their quality of life. We also have the autonomy and freedom to use our judgment to adjust our involvement as necessary. That sometimes means going from less intensive care to more, or from focusing on the reason why the client was referred in the first place to exploring other areas that would really make a difference to him or her. The breadth of our work I also enjoy: sometimes dealing with clients who need rehabilitation after a hospital stay, sometimes it’s a chronic case, sometimes a client who is terminal. It keeps me sharp. Q: Buurtzorg teams don’t have a hierarchy. How does that work? Teams do have different levels of care professionals on the team, so you could have a few bachelor nurses together with a number of qualified nurses and other care professionals. This determines what you are allowed to do clinically (and sometimes we do carry out highly complex clinical tasks), it doesn’t drive how we operate as a team. All decisions are made together. Some of the more experienced members may take a bit more initiative in our team-based performance reviews or our strategy with other elements of the local care system, but that is not a given. As one of the more experienced team members I enjoy supporting colleagues and passing on my knowledge. Like a few of my team colleagues, I have specialised in end-of-life care, and therefore help team members and also other Buurtzorg teams if and when they need support with palliative cases, and am often 'first responsible' for such clients. Several colleagues on the team bring their own specialisms such as dementia or wound care, etc. We all work as a generalists, but we bring in our areas of expertise where necessary to ensure that our clients receive the best possible care. The fact that we don’t have a manager makes it sometimes harder to come to a decision, but we have a really cohesive team and can usually work it out. And we can make use of the regional coach in case we struggle with something. Q: Have you ever experienced that this team-based approach became a problem? I started off in a different team, and unfortunately the atmosphere there was very different, with a few dominant characters. The fact that I just re-started my career as a nurse didn’t make me feel hugely confident anyway, so I felt uncomfortable in the team. I tried to address it, with the help of the coach, but in the end decided that I was better off in another team. I am very glad I took that step, because I feel I have really thrived since then. Another challenge I have experienced is sometimes the work-life balance. In a small team, for instance when someone goes off sick for a while, it is difficult to not sacrifice too much of your own time to keep things working well. It starts small but before you know it… Q: Can you give me an example of how Buurtzorg’s approach really made a difference to clients? I worked with a client with post traumatic dystrophy. She had been in care for a long time, was wheelchair-bound and had mental health issues. Together with the GP and rehabilitation specialist, we agreed with her to explore whether we could improve this situation, so started looking at reducing her pain medication with the help of a specialist. Our team came to her house three times per week to help with showering etc. and took a conscious decision to keep the pace low to see how the client responded. We then brought in a physiotherapist who started working on rehabilitation, and gradually reduced our care component: she showered herself while we were present, then we were present but in the next room, then we were not present but her son was there, etc. Now this lady can walk again, albeit with the help of a walker. She doesn’t really need the Buurtzorg team, we pop in every week just for a chat and check-in. Pretty soon she probably won’t need us at all. That is what really makes me happy. Another case involved a gentleman with cancer who had ended up in a terminal stage. His wife preferred to care for him herself and called us just to order a bed. I popped round to discuss what else might help. After a good conversation I made various arrangements that were also needed and asked the couple what support they preferred going forward. ‘It would be great if you could call us every Friday to check-in’, was the reply, so that is how we started. After a few weeks his situation deteriorated. Still the wife and daughter were managing to provide most of the care, and I supported where necessary. For instance, I dealt with anything involving the morphine pump. In the final stage, I was there three times a day, and I also checked in with them after the gentleman had died. I love it that we are able to seamlessly adjust the approach and intensity of the care we provide and the role we play. And that we can do this on the basis of a trusting relationship with the client and their loved-ones. Q: How have you and your team been impacted by the corona cris is? Obviously this has been a stressful time. When the crisis approached, we quickly, as a team, decided to change how we operated to reduce the number of contacts with our clients and the number of team members our clients would see. They are obviously often very vulnerable, and we didn’t want to end up being the cause of any infection spreading. That also meant that we assigned three colleagues to be the ‘corona nurses’, who would be the ones looking after known or suspected corona cases. The lack of PPE was an issue also in the Netherlands, so we started making our own. In the meantime, the Buurtzorg organisation had established a central crisis team who supported us in making sense of all the changing protocols, and by sharing good ideas that emerged from teams all over the country. We were lucky that one team member, who is a studying to become nurse practitioner, was part of the crisis team so we had great access to the latest guidance. Jos has also been very vocal in the Dutch national political landscape to influence how community care providers are being supported. Care in the community appeared to be a bit of an afterthought even though we deal with vulnerable people on a daily basis. I feel very well supported by him and my colleagues. Q: All things considered, would you recommend working in self-managing teams? One hundred percent! It is not always easy making decisions in a team, or having to think through how to deal with the next challenge. Sometimes it would be easier to hand that off to a manager who makes issues magically disappear. But the fact that we have the trust and the autonomy to do what is right gives me so much satisfaction! I can see the results almost on a daily basis. The fact that I am able to continue to develop myself, take on different roles in my relationships with clients and colleagues and ultimately see that my contribution makes a real difference is what makes it all worthwhile. It is a model that I think all clients – and nurses - deserve.