I hate being in front, and I hate being in back and I don't like responsibility, and I don't obey orders.
T. E. Lawrence, in a letter to V. W. Richards, 1918.
At the risk of waxing a bit metaphysical, consider the leadership of T. E. Lawrence: scholar, author, warrior, poet . . . and innovator. There may be a lesson in his life for anyone who is interested in leading meaningful change in the world and creating the conditions necessary for innovation.
Leading innovation and innovators is essentially leading into the unknown. For all our desire and need to create certainty in our businesses and in our lives, the act of creating something new is essentially the act of jumping off a cliff. We cannot predict the future with much clarity, nor can we foresee all of the potential fallout from innovative actions. The world is just too random, too messy, and too chaotic to succumb to the illusion of a consistently predictable causality. Instead, as we consider the act of leading innovation, perhaps we should rely on something else: contradiction.
As a leader, T. E. Lawrence was a study in contradiction, as the quotation above shows. And, as is also obvious, his innovative and high-risk approach to conflict was not something that could be slotted neatly into a general plan of action, even though he operated within the regulated hierarchy of the military world. He was resourceful, creative, resilient, daring and inherently unpredictable at any one point in time. His relationship to military hierarchy, to central commands, to process and to "orders" was one of polite disdain. He was very clear about a particular vision, deeply grounded in the culture in which he operated, and never once lost sight of the larger goal. Without his inventiveness and personal risks, things would have turned out quite . . . differently.
There was, of course, a second element of innovation at play in Lawrence's early 20th century world, and that was the leadership of Edmund Allenby. Leadership does not occur in isolation, but in dynamic interpersonal relationships, oftentimes grounded in personal conflict and disagreement -- sometimes, intense conflict and profound disagreement. The genius of Lawrence was to be in a constant state of innovation and invention, responding to opportunity, learning and change almost hourly. The genius of Allenby was to understand Lawrence and to give him a remarkable level of freedom and autonomy. But the real genius -- the system genius, as it were -- was the interplay of contradiction between the two. The result of this interplay was an innovative and novel set of tactics applied to a conflict situation that was mind-numbingly obtuse and difficult.
The relationship of these two leaders was deeply dependent on the resources and resourcefulness of the other, yet both of them operated independently of the other, and frequently at cross purposes to the other. But, operate together they did: in contradiction. It is the contradiction -- autonomy and independence operating simultaneously with deep inter-dependence -- that fueled their unique innovations and leadership.
But, as critical as autonomy and independence were to Lawrence's innovation and to Allenby's leadership, neither condition mattered as much as their respective high levels of self-awareness, commitment to outcomes, and perseverance. Without a rather clear insight into their own motivations and emotional drivers and their own fears and uncertainties, neither Lawrence nor Allenby could have functioned at such a high level of tolerance for risk and failure. So, as important as it was for them to create a free and autonomous relationship, and to put as few barriers as possible between idea and execution, the real cause of continuous innovation was personal insight and self-awareness.
We can see this in particular in Lawrence, because he left so much behind -- books, poetry, letters, journals. He is an idealist, in contrast to the pragmatism of Allenby. His idealism is reflected in his deep awareness of contradiction, as seen in the above quotation, and in his unwavering commitment to an ideal in the context of war. His idealism, as is the case with many who are innovation-inclined, powered his inventiveness, and gave him the persistence necessary to push ahead in the presence of near-constant failure and frustration.
But without Allenby's pragmatism -- and his inherent need for plans, order, precision and by-the-book execution -- Lawrence would not have been as successful as he was. Lawrence would not obey orders, but Allenby would issue them. Lawrence would not accept responsibility, but Allenby would give him responsibility nevertheless. It is in this tension -- this inherent contradiction -- that innovation and inventiveness occurred. Where there is one without the other -- that is, where there is idealism without a pragmatic foil -- it is likely that only chaos arises. Allenby kept his own counsel, as did Lawrence, and in their conflicted and often contrary relationship, innovation and innovative leadership blossomed.
If this is true - that innovation and leadership are forged in conflict and contradiction, and carry high levels of risk -- an obvious question arises. What is innovation and powerful leadership without a moral code? When stakes are high, risks are high and the potential for harm is high, innovation and disruption and change come with an imperative, a moral imperative. Whether we are talking about war or economic development, large-scale established businesses or start ups, we are well served to remember that innovation for the sake of innovation is not the same as informed, responsible, accountable innovation that has a social purpose. That is, if we decide that change is good, we should probably be mindful of understanding what we are changing from and what we are changing to. And we might want to consider why we want to change. This line of questioning just might imply that there is such a thing as an "innovator's moral code."
And that philosophical hornet's nest deserves space and time of its own. Next week.
