When Structure Replaces Leadership
I used to work for a large advertising agency. After my first year at
the company, leadership decided to implement time sheets. Unlike a
law firm, where a lawyer may be billing their clients for the actual
number of hours of work, this was a way for the company to keep
track of . . . actually, no one really had any idea of the utility of the
time sheets. It was just something we were told to do.
I managed to get away with not filling out mine for months (if
they were tracking how I spent my time, I saw no point in telling the
company I worked 100 percent on the one client to which I was
assigned). Of course, I got in trouble for not turning in my time
sheets. And so, from then on, at the end of every month, I sat down
with all my time sheets and filled them out in one go—in at 9:30
A.M.,
out at 5:30
P.M.
In reality, I often came in earlier and left later.
But who cares. I recall taking my time sheets to my boss for his
signature. He looked them over and commented sarcastically,
“You’re certainly a very consistent worker, aren’t you?” And then he
signed them.
I have to believe that the time sheets were implemented because
something went wrong in accounting. Perhaps a client was
overbilled for work done and demanded that the agency prove that
the senior people who were promised to spend time on their
account actually were the ones who spent time on the account . . . or
something like that. In order to correct the issue in accounting, a
new process was implemented across the company. This kind of
solution is what Dr. Leonard Wong calls “Lazy Leadership.”
When problems arise, performance lags, mistakes are made or
unethical decisions are uncovered, Lazy Leadership chooses to put
their efforts into building processes to fix the problems rather than
building support for their people. After all, process is objective and
reliable. It’s easier to trust a process than to trust people. Or so we
think. In reality, “process will always tell us what we want to hear,”
Dr. Wong points out. “[Process] gives us a green light,” he
continues, “but it may not be telling us the truth.” When leaders use
process to replace judgment, the conditions for ethical fading
persist . . . even in cultures that hold themselves to higher moral
and ethical standards.
Soldiers, for example, believe they hold themselves to a higher
standard of honesty and integrity than the general public. And the
general public thinks so too. However, in their paper “Lying to
Ourselves: Dishonesty in the Army Profession,” Dr. Wong and his
research partner Dr. Stephen Gerras, both retired army officers who
now work at U.S Army War College, discovered systemic ethical
fading as a result of excessive process, procedure or demands placed
on soldiers. Some of the things leadership was asking of their
soldiers weren’t unreasonable—they were impossible. Soldiers were
required, for example, to complete more days of training than were
available in the calendar.
As in the corporate world, pressure to complete tasks comes from
the top down in the Army. However, there is also a huge amount of
pressure that comes from the bottom up. In an effort to stand out,
officers want to appear as if they can do everything and do
everything well. A failure to complete requirements could sully a
commander’s image, earn reprimands and affect promotions.
Submitting a false report of compliance helps keep the system
running smoothly and keeps their careers on track. And because the
punishment for being honest is sometimes greater than for lying,
soldiers are put in a position in which they feel they have to lie or
cheat in order to meet the requirements placed upon them. It’s a
Catch-22.
The result is that it has become commonplace for soldiers to find
creative ways to complete their requirements while feeling that
their high moral standards remain uncompromised. One example
Wong and Gerras give involves the last-minute training
requirements units had to complete before deploying to Afghanistan
or Iraq. Soldiers had to insert their ID cards into a computer to
authenticate their identity in order to complete the computer-based
training. One officer admitted that he would collect all the ID cards
of his nine-man squad, then pick the smartest guy in the group to
complete the training nine times so that everyone could get a
certificate.
Rather than seeing their actions as cheating or lying, many
soldiers saw it simply as “checking the boxes,” “part of the
bureaucratic process” or just doing what “leadership wanted them to
do.” Some didn’t see their actions as unethical at all because they
viewed the demands as so trivial that they existed outside of any
standard of integrity or honesty, like me and my time sheets. It’s
like telling someone we have to cancel plans because of a “family
issue” when in reality there is no family issue; we just want to get
out of the plans without hurting someone’s feelings. And though we
told a lie, because it’s just a little “harmless” white lie, we still
believe ourselves to be honest.
When these seemingly minor transgressions become pervasive in
a culture, however, it is a sign of ethical fading. Remember, the very
definition of ethical fading is engaging in unethical behavior while
believing that we are still acting in line with our own moral or
ethical code. As in the corporate world, if any of the unethical acts
that the soldiers committed were to lead to more severe
consequences that would cause public outrage, it is likely that the
soldiers would indeed be punished (and the rest of the Army
subjected to additional online training to prevent anything like that
from happening again, of course).
There’s a great irony in all this. When we apply finite-minded
solutions to address an ethical fading problem that finite-minded
thinking created, we get more ethical fading. When we use process
and structure to fix cultural problems what we often get is more
lying and cheating. Little lies become bigger lies. And the behavior
becomes normalized.
Lazy Leadership is not a euphemism for bad leaders or bad
people. Just like a person who chooses not to exercise is not a bad
person. Decisions made by Lazy Leadership can often be very well
intended. In the case of the Army, or any large organization for that
matter, leadership may genuinely believe all the extra demands and
requirements they place on soldiers are helpful. But because senior
leaders are rarely subjected to those extra demands themselves,
they may be oblivious to the problems their “solutions” cause.
However, if they were aware of or also subjected to the hypocrisy,
dysfunction or excessive bureaucracy, then like my boss at the
agency, they too could become complicit in the charade. When that
happens, those leaders are likely also engaging in rationalization
and self-deception. And the slope grows slipperier.
If ethical fading can happen in places where integrity is taken
really seriously, like the military, then it can happen anywhere. And
it does. I cannot stress enough how common ethical fading is in our
companies and institutions. However, more structure is not the
antidote to ethical fading. Process is great for managing a supply
chain. Procedure helps improve manufacturing efficiencies. Ethical
fading, however, is a people problem. And counterintuitive though it
may seem, we need people—not paperwork, not training, not
certifications—to fix people problems.
The best antidote—and inoculation—against ethical fading is an
infinite mindset. Leaders who give their people a Just Cause to
advance and give them an opportunity to work with a Trusting Team
to advance it will build a culture in which their people can work
toward the short-term goals while also considering the morality,
ethics and wider impact of the decisions they make to meet those
goals. Not because they are told to. Not because there is a checklist
that requires it. Not because they took the company’s online course
on “acting ethically.” They did so because it’s the natural thing to do.
We act ethically because we don’t want to do anything that would do
damage to the advancement of the Just Cause. When we feel a part
of a Trusting Team, we don’t want to let down our teammates. We
feel accountable to our team and the reputation of the organization,
not just to ourselves and our personal ambitions. When we feel part
of a group that cares about us, we want to do right by that group and
make our leaders proud. Our standards naturally rise.
As social animals, we respond to the environments we’re in. Put
a good person in an environment that suffers ethical fading, and
that person becomes susceptible to ethical lapses themselves.
Likewise, take a person, even one who may have acted unethically
in the past, put them in a stronger, more values-based culture, and
that same person will also act in accordance with the standards and
norms of that environment. As I’ve said before, leaders are not, by
definition, responsible for the results. Leaders are responsible for
the people who are responsible for the results. It’s a job that
requires constant attention because when little things compound,
things eventually break.
Infinite-minded leaders accept that creating a culture that is
more resistant to ethical fading requires patience and hard work. It
requires devotion to a Cause, a bias for will before resources and the
ability to nurture Trusting Teams. It may take longer than a quarter
or a year (depending on the size of the company) to feel the impact
of the investment. And once the ethical standards are established
(or reestablished), they must be guarded vigilantly. If ethical fading
is powered by self-deception, maintaining ethical behavior demands
complete honesty and constant self-assessment. Ethical lapses
happen and are part of being human. Ethical fading, however, is not
a part of being human. Ethical fading is a failure of leadership and is
a controllable element in a corporate culture. Which means the
opposite is also true. Cultures that are ethically strong are also a
result of the culture the leaders build.
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