It was the meeting we’d never forget. Our vice-president had finished a quick pep talk and opened the floor. Sure enough, the newbie took the bait, posing the question we were all dying to ask: Why didn’t leadership follow the same rules we did? We collectively cringed as our brave rookie pulled the thread, exposing the negligence and hypocrisy underlying so many decisions. Having suffered tongue lashings for expressing similar doubts, I admired her pluck, even as I lamented her naivete—and likely fate.
You can imagine our vice-president’s response to our heroine’s query. His eyes narrowed, face reddening. His thoughts raced like graffiti across his carefully calculated persona: How dare she question me, I don’t have to answer to her. He quickly shut down the question, issuing the usual platitudes. "This is the way it is." "We have to move forward." "We all want the same thing." And the crowning insult: "This has been a useful discussion." He thought he was sending a message. And he did— just not the one he intended.
Instead he channeled our frustration toward himself. Suddenly, he was part of the problem, if not its embodiment. Some viewed him as a coward, afraid to face the issues. To others, he was a bully who hid behind his title when he couldn’t defend himself. We imagined him in the boardroom, going fetal when his superiors pushed back. And we questioned whether or not he truly understood our concerns, let alone cared about their impact on us. In a word, he was insular, an island unto himself. His short-sighted sureness had narrowed and limited us. As our leader, he set the tone—and our division’s culture had grown as stale and insular as he was.
Many times, you can best judge leaders by how they handle that which is politically incorrect, questions, skepticism, and criticism. Some look to stamp out dissent, chilling openness, creativity, or caution. Others sidestep it, knowing that an immovable bureaucracy and unforgiving job market will discourage serious challenges. The best leaders understand one truism: Silence and its offshoots—disengagement, antagonism, fear, and stagnation—are far more lethal to a culture than uncomfortable discussions are.
The command-and-control culture is still alive and well in many companies. At every level, employees are taught to withhold conjecture and judgment, to give the benefit of the doubt in the face of preselected facts. But a "know your place" mind-set breeds secrecy, encourages indolence, and inevitably heralds abuse. Our vice-president was the product of his insular culture. He viewed himself as the one who always knew best. Everyone else was a means to an end, someone who would naturally accede and fall in line.
Such 19th century thinking was discredited long ago. We live in a decentralized world whose freedom and technology permit millions to express views globally in seconds. We must contend with the transparency brought on by e-mail, blogs, Facebook, YouTube, Twitter, and WikiLeaks. Try as they may, companies can never again bury their issues in-house for long. With rapidly compounding breadth and depth of information, one person cannot possibly stay fully versed in emerging trends and best practices. Now companies grow through an influx of ideas and participants. Too often, that’s what’s missing in decisions: due diligence, input, and debate.
Take our dismissive vice-president. His attitude undermined his message and credibility. Like everyone, he craved certainty, viewing anything contradictory as threatening. Brick by brick, he built a wall founded on fear. Walls are but temporary. They are meant to be torn down when threats pass. How can you tear down an insular culture and reconnect? Consider doing the following:
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