Think Again

partner, they were over four times more likely to request a new partner.
Across a range of workplaces, when employees received tough feedback
from colleagues, their default response was to avoid those coworkers or
drop them from their networks altogether—and their performance suffered
over the following year.

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Some organizations and occupations counter those tendencies by
building challenge networks into their cultures. From time to time the
Pentagon and the White House have used aptly named “murder boards” to
stir up task conflict, enlisting tough-minded committees to shoot down
plans and candidates. At X, Google’s “moonshot factory,” there’s a rapid
evaluation team that’s charged with rethinking proposals: members conduct
independent assessments and only advance the ones that emerge as both
audacious and achievable. In science, a challenge network is often a
cornerstone of the peer-review process. We submit articles anonymously,
and they’re reviewed blindly by independent experts. I’ll never forget the
rejection letter I once received in which one of the reviewers encouraged
me to go back and read the work of Adam Grant. Dude, I am Adam Grant.
When I write a book, I like to enlist my own challenge network. I
recruit a group of my most thoughtful critics and ask them to tear each
chapter apart. I’ve learned that it’s important to consider their values along
with their personalities—I’m looking for disagreeable people who are
givers, not takers. Disagreeable givers often make the best critics: their
intent is to elevate the work, not feed their own egos. They don’t criticize
because they’re insecure; they challenge because they care. They dish out
tough love.
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Ernest Hemingway once said, “The most essential gift for a good writer
is a built-in, shock-proof sh*t detector.” My challenge network is my sh*t
detector. I think of it as a good fight club. The first rule: avoiding an
argument is bad manners. Silence disrespects the value of your views and
our ability to have a civil disagreement.
Brad Bird lives by that rule. He has legendary arguments with his long-
standing producer, John Walker. When making The Incredibles, they fought
about every character detail, right down to their hair—from how receding
the hairline should be on the superhero dad to whether the teenage
daughter’s hair should be long and flowing. At one point, Brad wanted the
baby to morph into goo, taking on a jellylike shape, but John put his foot
down. It would be too difficult to animate, and they were too far behind
schedule. “I’m just trying to herd you toward the finish,” John said,
laughing. “I’m just trying to get us across the line, man.” Pounding his fist,
Brad shot back: “I’m trying to get us across the line in first place.”
Eventually John talked Brad out of it, and the goo was gone. “I love
working with John, because he’ll give me the bad news straight to my

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face,” Brad says. “It’s good that we disagree. It’s good that we fight it out. It
makes the stuff stronger.”
Those fights have helped Brad win two Oscars—and made him a better
learner and a better leader. For John’s part, he didn’t flat-out refuse to
animate a gooey baby. He just told Brad he would have to wait a little bit.
Sure enough, when they got around to releasing a sequel to The Incredibles
fourteen years later, the baby got into a fight with a raccoon and
transformed into goo. That scene might be the hardest I’ve ever seen my
kids laugh.