The importance of doubt
(Estimated reading time: just over 1 minute)
In matters of theology, doubt is an essential ingredient of a healthy faith. Unswerving certainty leads to entrenched thinking and, ultimately, to bigotry.
But the idea behind this entry was associated with our working environments.
It is my view that whenever we have a big decision to make, we should look for the doubt; seek the uncertainty. We need to pause to allow the questions to surface.
The benefit of doubt is an open mind.
Dan Rockwell (@leadership freak)
We need to explore the options fully. Not discounting anything at first glance.
Is this a recipe for procrastination? Almost certainly! But procrastination can be beneficial. Rushing to a quick, bad decision is much worse than move purposefully to a good one.
Maybe we should spend more time deciding and less time regretting/reworking or mistakes. There’s also a cost to any organsiation of ‘car park’ grumbling about decisions. That is, people agree to the decision in a meeting, then cluster together afterwards to belly ache about it. It’s really a question of where to invest the organisation’s time and energy.
Of course, there comes a point when a decision must be made. How long will depend on the complexity of the issue. But I’d also like to suggest that the more certain we are at the start, the longer we should pause to see what emerges.
And, at that point, I’ll pause to see what emerges.
A puzzle in a picture
(Estimated reading time = 2 minutes)
The idea for this entry came from Malcolm Gladwell’s Revisionist History podcast. I was listening to the episode about ‘The Foot Soldier of Birmingham‘ and half-formed questions were occupying my brain. I’m still not clear about the questions, so it’s not surprising that I don’t have any answers.
What’s the story?
This photograph became an iconic symbol for the civil rights movement in the 1960s. It was taken in 1963, when Martin Luther King visited Birmingham, Alabama. In the photo, it seems like the police officer is setting his dog on a ‘foot soldier’ of the civil rights movement. In fact, the young man – later identified as Walter Gadsen – was an onlooker. He was not part of the civil rights movement. The police officer – Dick Middleton – was restraining the dog.
But the photo – taken by Bill Hudson – was used to show police brutality. Some say that it had a major impact in changing views about the civil rights movement. This seems like a good outcome. But do the ends justify the means? By all accounts, Bill Middleton was a good police officer who treated people equally. Is it right that he should be portrayed as a villain?
Is it right that an incident that was distinct from the protest should be used to illustrate it? What are the responsibilities of the photographer and his editor? Is this an example of fake news?
Much later, this incident was depicted in a sculpture. the details have been changed quite significantly to make a point. The young man is much smaller, the dog more vicious, the police officer more menacing.
Somehow, I feel happier with these changes. For me, the passing of time and the abstract nature of the sculpture lets me know that I’m looking at something that is conveying a message more than showing a specific act.
Is that right? Is my position ethically sustainable? Can my questions about the photo be swept aside when I look at the statue?
Let me know what you think. or what questions this generates for you.
(I also referred to ‘On the wrong side of history‘ while writing this entry.)
The only certainty that age has brought me is the certainty that I am uncertain about everything.
Then, pausing to reflect and think about the next question.
What else would you add to my ‘wisdom list’?
And you’ll find a worked example in this article about the “gay cake” case. Please do the thinking before reaching a conclusion.
(I should acknowledge at the outset that this entry is a bit ‘nit-picky’.)
Yesterday I was at an event, which had a very positive vibe… apart from a couple of wee moments that niggled me. One was a deliberate, provocative act, which I didn’t think was necessary or helpful in the context. The second issue was a question that we were asked to discuss.
As I travelled back on the train, my mind kept going back to it. The question in question was:
What can we do to incentivise them?
I think it was clumsy. Firstly – and pedantically – ‘incentivise’ is an inelegant word. I know this is a matter of taste, but does it really need to be a verb? Secondly, the question infers a ‘them/us’ situation, when we were talking about collaborative opportunities. Clumsy!
More importantly, the question has an underlying assumption that I am reluctant to accept. To assert that ‘incentivisation’ is necessary, implies that actions are only the result of a reward. That is, some form of extrinsic motivation is required to achieve the desired response. Presumably, if incentives are required to stimulate action, ongoing incentives are required to sustain action.
What about looking for intrinsic motivation? What about exploring how the desired collaboration might be achieved through encouragement; explanation; clarifying desired outcomes based on agreed values? What about giving people the credit for ‘giving a damn’?
What about being more careful and thoughtful about the way we ask questions?
Do my daily routines and practices need to fit in with the cultural norms of the organisation? If so, to what extent?
This post is not a rant about the organisation that I work for. It’s more about beginning to explore how far counter-cultural behaviour is acceptable.
This thought first occurred to me when I read Al Pittampali’s ‘Read this before our next meeting’. It was stirred again as I was bowled over by Greg McKeown’s ‘Essentialism”. Now it’s the question is resurfacing as I’m about to jump into Cal Newport’s ‘Deep Work’.
I’m not talking about ethical standards, simply the way everyday business is conducted.
- Do I need to comply with meeting-itis?
- Relish busy-work?
- Fit in with presenteeism?
- Spend every waking hour perusing e-mail?
Given my tendency to non-conformity most of this is hypothetical, but I’d appreciate your thoughts.
You can’t draw anything if you don’t pick up the pen.
So … an initial response.
I don’t understand.
I need to ask ‘Why?’
I need to reflect more.
How to turn anger, indignation, horror, revulsion into peace-filled love?
I’ve been inspired by the response of many from across the world. Here’s a small selection to help me think: