Picture the great
composer Beethoven struggling to write a perfect Fifth Symphony that will stand
the test of time. He starts with a simple theme. Discards it. Starts again.
Revises it. Finally settles upon the famous "fate motive" (Da Da Da Dommmmm!).
Inverts it. Extends it. Rends, amends, and dissects it. All in the context of a
primal thematic struggle: that of light versus dark, hope versus despair, major
versus minor. With great discipline he holds back the trombones, the piccolo,
and the contrabassoon until their triumphal entry on the downbeat of movement
four, when the forces of life and hope blast forth to obliterate the forces of
angst and despair once and for all. As Robert Greenberg says in his fabulous
audiotaped lecture series The Symphonies of Beethoven (The Teaching Co.,
Springfield, Va., 1996), "If you can remain composed [at] the beginning of the
fourth movement . . . then I would check my respiration to make sure I am still
alive. The Fifth Symphony … speaks to us as powerfully today, near the end of
the 20th century, as it did to Beethoven at the turn of the 19th."
Now
imagine asking Beethoven during his toil to perfect the Fifth Symphony, "Ludwig,
why are you working so hard? Your First Symphony has established you as one of
the most popular and successful composers of the day. Your Third
Symphony, Eroica, will stand as one of the great cutting-edge creations of all
time, having shattered the constraints of the classical style. You've already
earned your place in the history books. Why do you continue to push
yourself?" Can you picture Beethoven responding, "Why push myself? Because if I
don't write a better symphony, then someone else will. The competition is
fierce, and if I don't improve, I'll be pummeled by those feisty foreign
upstarts. Change or die. Innovate or self-destruct. Eat lunch or be lunch. It's
not that I really want to reinvent and perfect my work; it's just that in this
world, only the paranoid survive."
I frequently use that analogy to
poke serious fun at the fear mongering that pervades modern management thinking
and writing. You can hardly pick up a business magazine, visit a bookstore, or
listen to a management guru without being assaulted by admonitions designed to
frighten you into action: "You'd better hop to it and [insert favorite
word:change, innovate, improve, reinvent, renew, revitalize, revolutionize,
whatever], or else!"
Don't get me wrong. I'm not advocating that you
stick with the status quo. Nor do I deny the importance of continual reinvention
and self-renewal in a changing world. Yes, the competition will blow you away if
you refuse to improve. And, yes, you will pay a hefty—perhaps even fatal—price
if you operate in denial of external realities. But that is not the primary
reason you should change, improve, create, and renew. I've never seen anything
great and lasting created solely because "otherwise something bad will happen."
As I reflect back on the research I did forBuilt to Last, I'm struck by how
those who built enduring, great companies were driven first and foremost by an
inner creative urge. They would have continued to challenge themselves and push
forward even if they didn't have to. That is not only why they reached the top
but also why they stayed there for so long.
The epidemic of fear
mongering is ultimately debilitating (not to mention insulting), for it presumes
that we are all basically lazy and have little intrinsic drive to create and
improve. Given the choice, would you sit there and vegetate, feeling no urge to
achieve goals, create, or make things better? I doubt it. Yet this absurdly
patronizing belief that fear is our primary motivator has nonetheless infected
too many of us.
I recently met with a CEO to discuss his upcoming speech
about the need for corporate change. His draft for the speech sounded the "We've
got to change, or else!" theme. After listening for awhile, I interrupted him:
"Why do you personally work so hard on changing this company?" He responded
similarly to the way I imagine Beethoven would have responded: "Because we can
be so much better. Because I really want us to be a great company, and I believe
we can be—if we're willing to do what it takes to transform ourselves." "Do you
find your original speech inspiring?" I asked. "Would it inspire you?" "Well—no.
But it would probably scare me into action. I need to give people a reason to
change." "So, then, let me ask you this: How do you plan to measure progress
against the goal of survival, and how will you know when you've achieved the
goal? Do you plan to pause each day and say, 'Well, we've survived another
day—hurrah!'?" To his great credit, the CEO altered his tune to be more in line
with his own personal motivations. Instead of focusing entirely on a "change or
else" theme, he shifted to a "progress toward something greater" theme.
His people found it inspiring. But even more important, I believe they
will continue to feel motivated even after the company reaches a comfortable
level of success—and that is the critical point. Because what's needed is
motivation that'ssustainable. I had a personal experience that helped me
understand that dynamic. Shortly after receiving a teaching award at Stanford, I
began to dread my course. I worried that I could not repeat the performance and
that the quality of other courses would exceed mine. I felt motivated, to be
sure, but it was a kind of motivation that sapped away the sheer joy I normally
felt in teaching.
Around the same time, I was reading about John Wooden,
the UCLA men's basketball coach who led his team to 10 NCAA championships in 12
years during the 1960s and 1970s. It dawned on me that Wooden had never made it
a goal to repeat the previous year's performance—not even if it had been an
undefeated season. He focused his attention entirely on how to improveon the
previous year. Wooden highlighted for me a supreme truth: that excellence is the
residual result of continual creation and improvement for its own sake. Whereas
the fear mongers concentrate on the demoralizing effect of failure, Wooden
capitalized on the inspiring payoff of achievement—the pure, reenergizing glee
that comes from simply creating something new and doing something better.It was
an epiphany that changed my approach. Instead of obsessing about not losing what
I had, I shifted to focusing on making the course better, even if just by a
little bit. It was a liberating shift that restored the joy of preparation that
had formerly guided me. I had fun again! And, most important, the course did in
fact improve. I certainly acknowledge fear as a powerful motivator for all of
us. I'm as subject to it as anyone. But the dark side of motivation by fear is
that it is like a powerful stimulant: it can jolt you for a while, but it also
inevitably leaves you more drained than before.
Wanting to survive—to
merely avoid losing what we have—is not a goal that can motivate over the long
haul. It offers no promise of forward motion, of accomplishment. (You can't ever
finish "not losing" something—until, that is, you're not alive to "not lose" it
anymore.) Indeed, had Beethoven focused primarily on not losing his stature
after the Third Symphony, rather than pushing further, I suspect we would not
have the Fifth or the Ninth symphonies. And Beethoven would not have
becomeBeethoven. So the next time you encounter a "Change or die!" lecture, in
print or in person, remember the words of Royal Robbins, the great rock climber
who pioneered ascents of Yosemite's big walls: The point is not to avoid death -
if you want to do that, simply stay on the ground. The point is to reach the
top, and then keep on climbing.
Copyright © 1998 Jim Collins, All rights
reserved.
No comments:
Post a Comment