Category: Corporate Culture & Values

You’d have to have been in a cultural wilderness this last month not to be aware that the two most talked about films of this summer are almost diametrically opposed in their style and substance. That said, the simultaneous release of Barbie and Oppenheimer is arguably a marketing masterstroke, generating thousands of column inches and an equivalent commentary on social media. Interestingly, the critical consensus is that both movies have their merits, with an appreciation of their differing qualities that are encapsulated by the use of the term ‘Barbenheimer’ to describe seeing them both side by side.

This mutual appreciation of two very different offerings has neatly coincided with my own exploration – indeed, growing fascination – with how we create the best conditions for the growth of happiness and well-being. Or, to be more precise, my awareness that despite the criticality of these goals to the quality of our lives, there are no clear and obvious means to measure and calibrate them other than through internal experience. 

Let me try to explain.

For most of my adult life, and certainly my business career, I’ve held in tension two convictions that have guided my actions and my decisions. Indeed, the strain between them and how we might embrace it is the underlying theme of my book of essays, Fair Value – reflections on good business.

Numbers Don’t Lie

The first assertion is that ‘numbers don’t lie.’ This refers to the need for financial acumen, the ability to correlate and interpret data, and an acknowledgment that we have a duty as leaders to respond to reality as it is rather than how we might wish it to be.  

Values are Critical to Performance

The second is that ‘values are critical to performance.’ Indeed, I’d go further and say that in business terms, values and purpose are today more important than the pursuit of pure profit or return on capital or whatever other fiscal measure we might choose to highlight.  

Does either help with Internal Feelings?

Neither of these convictions, however, helps us to accurately measure those goals which arguably matter most of all, such as happiness and contentment, or their counterparts, sorrow, and anxiety.  Almost by definition, these higher-level concepts are abstractions, resisting the specific quantification that a trained statistician so craves. 
Take, for example, my love of PG Woodhouse, an author whose wit and humor have given me (and millions of others) immense pleasure, without his writing ever being highbrow or having claim to the literary genius of, say, Shakespeare or Steinbeck — both of whom I enjoy too.  Is my pleasure from any one of these authors better or more important than the others, and if so, how do we measure that difference?

We All have Preferences 

All of us will have experienced something similar to the example above, for part of being human is the ability to hold preferences, be they for music, architecture, landscapes, foods, or humor…   Just as we have different desires for less tangible satisfactions such as security, contentment, and personal growth.  We know as well that over time, and in changing circumstances, these wishes will evolve and vary, which explains why one day we might choose to watch Oppenheimer and the next take as much pleasure (albeit in different ways) from Barbie.

My key interest here is less philosophic than it is practical. 

Moral Relativism vs Absolutism

In the 2,500 years since Plato, our best minds haven’t found a watertight alternative to what’s known as the problem of relativism. This perhaps explains why the questions I’ve been wrestling with these last few months don’t neatly fit into one article. But despite our lack of objective measurements, the reality is that most of us don’t truly live our lives in a way that assumes all pleasures to be equal, just as we don’t think there’s no difference in mortality between acts of cruelty and kindness.

Business and Moral Relativism

At its core, what concerns me is the real-world problem of how we best manage our businesses and organizations (as well as our family lives and careers) to align with what we might summarize as our ‘happiness and well-being.’  Or, more specifically, how might better promote the variety of perspectives and preferences that make us who we are and yet are so problematic to rank and measure in any objective way? 

 
And finally, there is the question that interests me the most.

As businesses and organizations, can we shift our emphasis towards a greater personal fulfillment and yet stay true to the twin convictions of ‘facing reality’ and ‘values inspired performance,’ which remain key to tangible success?  In other words, can we find a Barbenheimer solution that embraces a greater range of aspirations, existing side by side and making contributions that may not be equal, but are collectively beneficial?  
Cracking that conundrum, it seems to me, would be a real breakthrough for the good.

Originally Published in Fair Value

The face looking at me from the newspaper is perhaps six years old. It’s a young boy in a makeshift tent, mud on his cheeks, hands clasped as if in prayer. The caption tells me he’s lost his home and that winter may take his life. I think it’s his eyes that move me most, speaking of a horror that no child should bear. My palms feel sticky as I pick up the phone, text HELP, and make a donation to the Syrian refugee appeal.

Fundraisers Happen Frequently

Fundraisers like these have become part of the fabric of our lives—they are in our magazines, on TV, and even on posters on the subway. So commonplace are these images that we learn to filter them out. In the newspaper I was reading, there were similar appeals for cancer research, wildlife conservation, homelessness, and victims of domestic abuse. At times, it seems there’s no end to the call on our goodwill. And that should not be surprising, for the urge to alleviate suffering is surely part of our humanity. Indeed, to have no sympathy for the pain of others is a mark of a psychopath. And yet we cannot credibly respond to every cry for help. In the United States, there are estimated to be 1.5 million registered nonprofit organizations, and in the UK, around a third of that number, with similar proliferation of social ventures across the developed world.

Nonprofit organizations as the Third Sector

This “third sector,” as it’s sometimes called, has become a significant part of our social infrastructure and, in many ways, it’s as competitive for our attention as the mainstream economy. We choose our causes, and from the natural disorder of what is effectively a market for our hearts, there emerges a growing wealth of charity in the broadest and most generous sense of that term. Or so the theory goes. The notion of charity as the desire to eliminate suffering is sometimes contrasted with a broader vision of philanthropy and the quest to find lasting solutions for the root causes of our problems. We tend to think of philanthropists as a rich few, often historical figures with a social conscience. In liberal democracies, much of their role is now given over to the state, with nonprofits filling the gaps and addressing more immediate and particular needs.

Government vs. Nonprofit: Charity Source

To my mind, the distinction is somewhat academic. All of us are aware that the problems in Syria or Somalia-or even our neighborhood-are the result of forces that ought to be fixed. But we also know that hungry bellies need feeding, and traumatized children will not survive winter in a tent. Those caught in the crosswinds of circumstance are deserving of both our immediate attention and our efforts to make a greater and longer-lasting change. And, mostly, the two approaches go hand in hand. Very few larger charities are focused only on the here and now, and yet, understandably, they will seek to leverage our more visceral responses to raise funds and build awareness-just as they will lobby the rich and famous, be they individuals, governments, or corporations, for larger donations that offer the promise (and reflected aura) of a legacy difference. But for many of us, all of this can seem somewhat removed, which is surely why so many smaller organizations still thrive in the face of what’s become a quasi-corporate competition for our sympathies. A remark often misattributed to Winston Churchill is, “We make a living by what we get, but make a life by what we give.”

Donations and Volunteering are Different 

It nonetheless contains the truth which lies behind our desire not only to donate cash, which-good though it is-can feel like conscience appeasement, but to volunteer and campaign for causes, which-although they may seem peripheral to others-are closest to our hearts. I recall a colleague complaining to me, not unkindly but in frustration, about the fundraisers at his local school. They were so inefficient, he said; hours spent baking cakes and running raffles, when frankly if everyone who cared had simply donated twenty dollars, they’d have raised twice as much in half the time. He was probably right, but of course, he missed the point of the exercise. We get our children involved in community work as much for the lessons it teaches them as the difference they can tangibly make.

Volunteering Helps a Community

Of course, the definition of community is wider now than ever. For some, it remains rooted in their neighborhood, their church, or school. For others, that sense of belonging might come from their workplace, their hobbies, or their ethnicity. This is a good thing, for the diversity of interests leads ultimately to richer lives for us all and, I would argue, a voluntary sector that better reflects our needs and concerns than any interventionist design could hope to do. This is why, wearing my corporate hat for a moment, we should resist calls for overregulation of the nonprofit sector.Instead, we should encourage involvement and giving of different sorts-awarding tax breaks and stipends to those who volunteer, for example—and promoting new models of contribution that draw on our collective efforts as well as our cash. Throughout my career, I’ve had the privilege to work with many gifted individuals and have seen the progress that their flair makes possible. It’s common for the leaders of many different faiths to ask their followers to gift a percentage of their income but consider the impact if all of us offered a percentage of our talents. For some, that might mean baking cakes-and it’s good that they do—but for an academic say, it could be directing a percentage of their research at social issues, or for executives like myself, advising on strategies and governance.

Volunteering Builds Community 

In the US and the UK, nonprofits are typically seen as a substitute for state funding, but there are other approaches that we can learn from. I’ve already mentioned the roles of the churches and faiths, which are prominent in many cultures. Across much of mainland Europe, there is often a more social-corporate model, with close cooperation and even contracting between the state and charities. In Scandinavia and the Netherlands, where high taxes and high-quality services are the norm, the emphasis is on volunteering and participation.

Modern Philanthropy

The pool of our talent is limitless, and it is here, I believe, where the potential for modern philanthropy lies. Lasting social solutions are seldom designed from above; rather, they evolve through an iterative process of progress and refinement underpinned by care for the outcome. This asks more of us than the adverts and appeals that surround us and requires leaders to step forward and encourage others to do the same. But here’s the thing: it pays us back in spades. Short of utopia, there will always be a role for larger organizations, and thank goodness they are there. But to have a wider, more caring society, we need to bridge the gap between ourselves and those in need with something more tangible than simply texting HELP.

Originally Published in Fair Value

Not Far From my London house is the Charles Dickens Museum, a three-story Georgian terrace where the author chronicled the life and poverty of Victorian England. From here, it’s a short walk to many of his novels’ famous settings: Smithfield Market, the Old Curiosity Shop, and the now-repurposed workhouses that were once a commonplace feature of the city. 

We have come a long way in improving the social conditions that inspired novels like Oliver Twist. Indeed, it’s said that were it ever possible to return to those times, a modern-day visitor would be traumatized not only by the sights but by what they would smell! The sanitary conditions of London were so poor that for several summers in the 1850s, it was described as the Great Stink. 

Imagine for a moment what that must have been like-not in Dickens’s comfortable home but in the filth and hopelessness of the slums which surrounded it. Imagine, too, the bass note of fear that accompanied a life without healthcare, decent education, or fair access to the law where the refuge of last resort was the workhouse, a fate so dreadful that only the desperate ever entered. 

It’s sobering to think that these conditions existed at a time of relative peace and prosperity in what was then the most powerful nation on earth. 

Fairness and Value

That they were tolerated was not so much for want of resources but as a lack of empathy with those who suffered the consequences. Questions of fairness and value were regarded as matters of charity or evangelism rather than deriving from our fundamental rights or the duties of a compassionate state. The dominant social ethic of the time was framed by the idea of the deserving and underserving poor, a belief (from those with power and privilege) that we flourish or fail through our efforts and industry alone. 

Such views are now rightly seen as naive, but we are far from abandoning them. Indeed, since the dismantling of the USSR and the reinvention of China, the Western capitalist model of meritocratic enterprise has relegated more egalitarian alternatives to the fringes. And in many ways, that’s a good thing, for it’s evidentially true that industry and incentive reap both individual and collective rewards. 

Starting Points Matter

The difference today is that we understand the race of opportunity is far from fair-that; while our endeavors make a difference, our starting point has a significant bearing on the progress we are likely to make. This is why we have free and universal education, why we outlaw discrimination, why children are protected from poverty. Modern-day meritocracy recognizes that in a world where rewards are unequally spread, the competition for them should be as equitable as possible—at least, that’s the theory! 

In practice, we all know that inequality, and the burdens that come with it, is still rife. We know, too, that while there is no merit in being born into money, wealth and success follow hand-in-hand, just as surely as social mobility is the devil’s only job for those without privilege. The pursuit of what the philosopher John Rawles called “true equality of opportunity” remains a work in progress, albeit most developed nations have a positive trajectory. 

In sharing these thoughts, I’m deeply conscious that I have fared especially well in the lottery of life’s chances. I like to think that ambition and ability have played their part, but it’s impossible to deny the blessings I’ve had. Psychologists tell us that a significant determiner of our prospects can be something as simple as being read bedtime stories as a child—I came from a house full of books and a family that encouraged me to study; that alone is priceless. I also benefited from an enlightened system of social welfare that provided me with education, health care, and, ultimately, a choice of roads to travel that are a world away from the dead-ends of nineteenth-century London.

Collective Values Matter 

Today, I spend much of my time commuting between the US and Europe. Both are wonderful societies in their way-and we should largely rejoice in what they’ve achieved. But if there’s a single difference between my experience of people’s lives in these two economic powerhouses, it’s the prevalence of residual anxiety that is rooted in inadequate social provision for large numbers in American communities. The most common question my European friends ask me—invariably with a sense of incredulity—is why the US, the richest and most powerful nation on earth, is so reluctant to provide universal, free-to-access healthcare. 

Levels of Compassion Matter

It’s not my purpose or my place to delve too deeply into politics. The reference to health care is more a reporting of the transatlantic attitudinal differences than any polemic on my part. Rather, I’m reflecting on how our collective values have impacts that go so much deeper than our fiscal systems and the scope of the services our governments provide. I call this the fair value equation, measuring the worth of our society in terms not only of what it produces but also of the compassion it shows and the well-being that results. 

The business has much to teach us here. The reflection above might imply there is a conflict between the two goals, but in practice, we know the best companies have the most progressive policies, treat their people with care, and show concern for the environment . . . It’s no coincidence that there are few organizations of this size that operate today without a clear statement of values. 

And furthermore, it’s no surprise that those organizations which found their policies on “true equality of opportunity” have the highest levels of engagement. This isn’t because they pay higher wages, for the relationship between remuneration and employee commitment is weak. True engagement and the discretionary effort which follows comes from a combination of involvement, progression, fair and equitable treatment, and, most importantly of all, a commonly held belief that everyone is a fully valued member of the organization, regardless of their seniority. 

Societies should support their Citizenry

Returning to our governments, if, as societies, we provide less than is necessary for citizens to feel they have a fair stake in their communities, then we should expect engagement of a different sort. History shows us that the biggest threats to our democracies and freedom have come from those who feel excluded-in the despair which follows, it’s all too easy to be persuaded by simplistic solutions that play to our survival instincts. The roots of fascism, nationalism, and what today we call populism lie not in a rational assessment of our best interests but in the sense of hopelessness and the fear which comes with it. 

In Northern and Western Europe, the socio-political model is based (significantly more so than the US) on the provision of universal public services, underpinned by a wide-reaching safety net that, if not exactly eliminating, at least dulls that bass note of anxiety I spoke of earlier. Counter to nineteenth-century thinking; the result is not a loss of incentive or productivity from those at the bottom of the social ladder. Indeed, the countries with the most comprehensive welfare systems have the highest levels of intergenerational social mobility.

We’re in it Together

Meanwhile, the US, far from being the land of opportunity, has one of the poorest records in this regard any enlightened leadership doesn’t mean there are no hierarchies or that remuneration and reward should be equally spread. But it does mean we must recognize the pursuit of success is a joint endeavor and that we flourish most when we nurture the prospects of all. If-on the contrary-we, exclude sections of our workforce, deny them fair, or provide only insecure contracts-then we lose out opportunities on their full potential. In practice, then, the two sides of the fair value equation operate not in conflict but in concert. If our care lacks depth, then commitment will be shallow-but so too the opposite and therein lies our opportunity. 

Pursuing this alternative course can require a leap of faith—not least because there will always be some who seek to game the system. But I’d argue this is a small price to pay, for the alternative is not so much a race to the bottom as a burden that weighs us down as individuals and societies.

To lighten the load, we need surely to share it not as a penance but in the knowledge that unless we do so, gravity will win, and all of us are diminished as a consequence. 

We might be mindful too of the fates of Mr. and Mrs. Bumble, the workhouse-keepers in Oliver Twist. Their hearts were said to be impervious to tears; ‘waterproof’ is how Dickens’ described them. But as the story, and their pursuit of self-interest, unfolds, they “were gradually reduced to great indigence and misery, and finally became paupers in that very same workhouse in which they had once lorded it over others.”