Rethinking Politics and Governance
In Think Again: The Power of Knowing What You Don’t Know, Adam Grant says he struggled with how to handle politics within the context of his thesis. He disbelieves in political parties and cares first to know about candidates’ leadership skills before considering their policy positions. (p. 166) More broadly speaking, his book serves as an invitation to relinquish knowledge and opinions that no longer serve us well. (p. 12) Following that train of thought, this article invites reconsideration of the utility of politics and majoritarianism as the preferred, if not the sole means of establishing and pursuing public objectives.
Part of the problem, Grant says, is cognitive laziness, leading us to prefer the ease of maintaining old views rather than dealing with new ones. (p. 4) Might one such view be that we must defer to elected officials -- with superior leadership skills -- to direct us on matters of mutual interest to society at large? Must such issues be embodied in and constrained by personalities, i.e., candidates for public office? If so, why? Just because voting is preferable to violence as a means of installing and removing leaders empowered to decide for us what will be done? How can we be certain there is no better way to make such decisions?
Personality cults are widely recognized to be bad and often evil. While few political parties might be accurately characterized as such, their power is reflected through individual candidates and the attractiveness of their personalities is a key factor. The distinction between political parties and cults is a matter of degree. In both instances, the outcome is the anointment of favored individuals empowered to direct us as followers.
Moreover, in The Allure of Toxic Leaders: Why We Follow Destructive Bosses and Corrupt Politicians – and How We Can Survive Them, Jean Lipman-Blumen argued we tend to prefer toxic leaders and, indeed, we even create them. Regardless of the degree to which that may be true, is it necessary to rely upon political personalities and defer our responsibilities to them via elections? Might there be a better alternative? Might a bit of rethinking help us identify it?
There is also the issue of the scope of majoritarian dictated leadership. Does voting justifiably confer upon small majorities or even pluralities the right to impose their will upon everyone who disagrees with them, on any and all manner of issues? Is that what leadership and "self-governance" mean? As has been stated by representatives of both major U.S. political parties after winning the White House, elections have consequences. But does electoral might make moral right? Are there any limits on such “leadership”? As Grant implies, is knowing how effectively candidates are able to engage and enrage us more important than the direction in which they aim to take us?
Speaking of morality and righteousness, Grant asserts that we frequently favor feeling right over being right. (p. 18) Moreover, while reserving the right to change his mind, he is emphatically beginning to think that decisiveness is overrated. (p. 22) In support of that hypothesis, he notes “the higher you score on an IQ test, the more likely you are to fall for stereotypes, because you’re faster at recognizing patterns.” Moreover, “the smarter you are, the more you might struggle to update your beliefs.” (p. 24) That assertion rings true because we use our powers of reasoning to rationalize what we believe and have done, after the fact. Most of us are pretty good at it. Some of us are even better. Included among them are successful politicians.
Could it be that we value leaders not only for their decisiveness but also their persuasiveness in reinforcing the righteousness of our beliefs and their actions, without regard to the reality of the results, particularly those that extend beyond the next election cycle? In that regard, Grant says, “if the empirical pattern clashes with your ideology, math is no longer an asset; it actually becomes a liability. The better you are at crunching numbers, the more spectacularly you fail at analyzing patterns that contradict your views.” (p. 25) Might politicians be useful surrogates saving us from having to reconsider our beliefs and take personal responsibility for acting on evidence relevant to our objectives?
Expanding on that point, Grant highlights two biases: confirmation bias, seeing what we expect to see, and desirability bias, seeing what we want to see. Those biases don’t merely preclude us from applying our intelligence but actually weaponize against the truth. (p. 25) In line with that assertion, Bryan Caplan has noted that politics literally runs on social desirability bias, i.e., what looks good to peers rather than what actually works. As such, politics embraces artificial ignorance (A<I>), disdaining information that could help us achieve our objectives.
Grant suggests the process of overcoming our biases begins with intellectual humility. (p. 27) Presumably most of us may be capable of achieving some degree of ego restraint but what about politicians and the process of politics more generally? Isn’t a certain degree of hubris required not only of candidates for elective office but also for us, as voters, to feel justified imposing our will upon each other? Isn’t such self-serving pride magnified by party identification and groupthink? Are the concepts of humility and politics not antithetical by their very nature?
As has oft been stated, figures don’t lie but liars figure. Accusing others of being liars is now common practice not only for members of both major parties but also the news media, who have become as prone as politicians to shading the truth to fit their own narratives. Even if falsehoods are not lies unless the utterer knows they are, can politicians and particularly those who choose to call themselves reporters be excused for magnifying them? More importantly, can we rightfully feel self-justified in excusing ourselves for relying upon biased narratives when voting to enforce our will upon others? It’s one thing to be mistaken but quite another to impose the consequences of our ignorance and false beliefs on each other.
If knowledge is power, Grant avers that knowing what we don’t know is wisdom. (p. 28) However, by that definition, politics and politicians as well as members of the news media are anything but wise. Politically dictated policies entail myriad unintended consequences and nationalized politics incentivize failure to recognize them on a massive scale. What results is the exercise of concentrated conceit, diminishing the realization of widely distributed wisdom. Meanwhile, news media thrive on stories leveraging availability bias to elevate relatively rare but emotionally compelling events while discounting the commonly occurring long-term, unintended effects of emotionally driven actions.
In The Politics Industry: How Political Innovation Can Break Partisan Gridlock and Save Our Democracy, Gehl and Porter have argued that the duopolistic political party rivals collude to enhance the attractiveness of the industry and avoid undermining it. What matters is not results for citizens but maintenance of the status of the political elite. Not knowing, much less sharing reliable program performance data facilitates the operation of the spin machine.
As a measure of that reality, U.S. federal agencies have managed for more than a decade to avoid complying with the law that directs them to publish their performance reports in machine-readable format … and no politician, much less any political party, has called them to account for it. How can such a system be trusted? What justifies confidence in it?
On a personal level, Grant observes that confidence is a reflection of how much we believe in ourselves and such belief is distinct from how much we are wedded to our methods. He suggests we can be confident in our ability to accomplish our objectives while remaining humble about whether we are using the right tools right now. He says that’s the sweet spot of confidence. (p. 46)
When the scope is expanded to encompass hundreds of millions of people, how confident can we be that using elections as a tool to impose our will upon others is truly the best method for achieving common objectives? How can we judge the results if progress against those objectives is neither measured nor reported? Politicians are primarily concerned about reelection, and who can blame them? If they don’t get reelected, they don’t matter. That’s simply how politics works -- in service to The Politics Industry, albeit not We the People.
Grant says we should aspire to attain confident humility, with faith in our capability but understanding that we may lack the right solutions and may even be addressing the wrong problems. (p. 47) Might we be capable of becoming confident enough in our abilities to achieve our objectives in partnership with others who share them? Does a lack of such confidence justify deferring responsibility to others on matters of deep, personal importance to us as individuals? Conversely, does hubris (false confidence) convey the right to impose our will upon those whose deeply held beliefs conflict with our own?
Failing fast and accelerating the cycle of learning from failure is the contemporary zeitgeist. However, Grant says the aim is not to be wrong more often but, rather, “to recognize that we’re all wrong more often than we’d like to admit, and the more we deny it, the deeper the hole we dig for ourselves.” (p. 57) How many politicians might get elected by admitting they not only have been wrong in the past but many of their current views may also be? Are any of them courageous enough to try? Are they not more likely to succeed by demonstrating superior leadership skills in effectively rationalizing their views and sweeping us up in rhetorical flourish to come along for the ride? Is that not the essence of politics?
Grant notes that we are often excited to question ideas and assumptions that don’t matter deeply to us, but when our core beliefs are questioned, we tend to shut down. The term psychologists ascribe to that concept is totalitarian ego. (p. 59) It protects us from information threatening our beliefs and that dynamic is inherent in the political process. As woke culture gains power and influence, politics has become a religion for many people and thus a matter of faith rather than evidence.
Heading in that direction in public life, totalitarianism is the logical end of boundless, ever-growing governance. To avoid that progression in our individual personalities, Grant says we need to detach and “unlock the joy of being wrong.” He suggests two kinds of detachment are particularly useful: detaching our present from our past and detaching our opinions from our identities. (p. 62) Again, however, that is antithetical to the dynamics of politics, elections, and voting.
While Grant admittedly (lazily?) struggled with how to rethink politics, he does point in the right direction by suggesting, “Who you are should be a question of what you value, not what you believe. Values are your core principles in life …” (p. 64) Wouldn’t it be nice if political parties could rely more upon their core values and less on what their adherents happen to believe in the absence of reliable evidence about what actually works and particularly how well it works relative to other alternatives?
In that regard, Grant cites the following observation by Kathryn Schulz, “Although small amounts of evidence are sufficient to make us draw conclusions, they are seldom sufficient to make us revise them.” (p. 67) Again, that is an apt description of the self-serving dynamics of politics. Avoidance of believing every thought that enters our minds is a sign of wisdom, while refraining from internalizing every feeling that enters our hearts is a mark of emotional intelligence. (p. 68) Yet politics thrives on externalizing and accentuating emotion. How can it possibly be a wise, maturely intelligent way to conduct public affairs?
Extending that logic, Grant distinguishes between relationship conflict versus task conflict and cites research evidence that high performing groups begin with low relationship conflict and keep it low. However, that doesn’t impede them from engaging in task conflict by raising alternative perspectives. (p. 79) Indeed, task conflict has been associated with higher creativity and smarter choices. Moreover, he notes “The absence of conflict is not harmony, it’s apathy.” (p. 80) Further expanding on that point, he observes:
Task conflict can be constructive when it brings diversity of thought, preventing us from getting trapped in overconfidence cycles. It can help us stay humble, surface doubt, and make us curious about what we might be missing. That can lead us to think again, moving us closer to the truth without damaging our relationships… Being able to have a good fight doesn’t just make us more civil; it also develops our creative muscles. (p. 80)
Wouldn’t it be nice if politics could work that way? Potentially, it could ... if the parties were capable of constructively questioning the merits of each other’s proposals and candidates could get elected based upon such debate. Those are big if’s, unlikely to be satisfied in the realm of politics. As Grant notes, effective rethinking benefits from the establishment of challenge networks, groups we trust to reveal our blind spots and help us rise above our weaknesses. Their role is to activate rethinking cycles by pushing us to be humble about our expertise, doubt our knowledge, and be curious about new perspectives. (p. 83)
Echoing comments made by Michael Schrage in Shared Minds, Grant says avoiding arguments is bad manners in a good fight club. Moreover, silence disrespects both the value of our own views as well as the ability of others to disagree civilly. (p. 87) Yet in today’s woke culture, disagreement is hardly treated respectfully. Refusing to bow down to the mob risks not only being demeaned but also coercively silenced and cancelled.
Moreover, by definition, politics and elections are about relationship conflict because it is candidates who are elected and the relationship between them determines who wins. Voters commonly face relatively lesser-of-evil, win/lose choices between dueling candidates whose positions are nonnegotiable. Reconsideration would be taken as a sign of weakness.
By contrast, Grant cites research showing that skilled negotiators rarely go on offense or defense but, rather, express curiosity with questions -- presumably in search of win/win solutions. (p. 105) When we reflect on how different circumstances could have led us to different beliefs, we gain humility and may discover unexpected commonalities. (p. 137) Unfortunately, such areas of agreement are of little use in elections. The aim is not to coalesce around commonalities but, rather, to separate the winners from the losers.
And that is particularly sad because, as Grant points out, there are more similarities between groups than commonly recognized. Typically there has been more variety within groups than between them. (p. 139) However, as political polarization inflames passions and drives us apart, that may no longer be true. We seem to be backing ourselves into our respective ideological corners. Research shows that interacting with members of another group reduces prejudice, but the dynamics of majoritarian elections discourage such interaction and reinforce political differences instead. (p. 139) When the stakes are high and the only options are to win or lose, incentives for recognizing commonalities are virtually nil.
Were such incentives present, Grant says motivational interviewing is a good way to enable us to see ourselves more clearly and empower us to change our beliefs and behaviors. It entails three key techniques:
- Asking open-ended questions.
- Engaging in reflective listening.
- Affirming the person’s desire and ability to change. (pp. 146 & 147)
Can we even imagine, much less implement, a politically motivated, majoritarian voting system that embraces those techniques? Does The Politics Industry have any desire to change at all, much less to adopt changes like that? Frustration with the system besets both sides of the political spectrum but might we be wise and humble enough to question, rethink, and change it? If not, what hope might we have that others will do it for us?
Even in 1861, when the scope of government was far smaller, John Stuart Mill characterized voting as "power over others.” Grant notes that when we ignore advice, it isn’t always because we disagree with it. Often we’re merely resisting the feeling of being controlled. (p. 150) Since voting is literally about overriding the will of others and controlling their fate, might we find it in our own self-interest to replace the system that dictates such outcomes?
Furthermore, might reducing the influence of politics restore the luster of expertise, the demise of which Tom Nichols decries in The Death of Expertise: The Campaign Against Established Knowledge and Why It Matter? Do we care enough to try? If experts are aiming to be humbly helpful rather than lording their will over us, why would we not accept their assistance and reward them for it in value-added, market-based exchanges?
The fourth technique of motivational interviewing is to summarize by explaining our understanding of the other person’s reasons for change, checking whether we’ve missed or misrepresented anything, and inquiring about their plans and possible next steps. In short, Grant says, “Our work isn’t done until we’ve helped them accomplish their goals.” (p. 153) Regardless of how much rethinking we might do, isn’t it unfathomable that candidates for political office, much less political parties more generally, might aim to help each other accomplish their objectives, thus ensuring their own defeat? That thought simply doesn’t compute; it is antithetical to the very process of elections.
By contrast, motivational interviewing requires a genuine desire to help others reach their goals. (p. 155) Virtually by definition, politics cannot countenance such motivation and thus is inherently polarizing. In light of the growth of government, that is true not just on issues of actual national significance, like homeland security and national defense, but increasingly on mundane matters of everyday life as well.
Grant cites Kate Murphy’s assertion that we can improve our skills at asking “truly curious questions that don’t have a hidden agenda of fixing, saving, advising, convincing or correcting” and helping to “facilitate the clear expression of another person’s thoughts.” (p. 156) To think that politicians might do that for each other in election campaigns seems laughable, but then again, the focus of Grant’s book and this article is rethinking. So why not recalibrate and raise our expectations?
When people have a chance to express themselves out loud, they often discover new thoughts. (p. 158) Yet good ideas are a dime a dozen; what is rare and thus valuable are good implementations. They require not only good plans but also engagement of the key stakeholders. Strategy Markup Language (StratML) is the international standard (ISO 17469-1) for the documentation of strategic plans. What is now required are good implementations making engagement in partnerships quick, easy, and effective.
Grant suggests others are more willing to listen when we demonstrate that we care about them and their goals. (p. 160) What better way to do that than to make it as easy as possible for them to reflect upon, document, and share their objectives? If we fail to do that, how can we honestly imply that we care? Conversely, unless we clearly and openly document and share our own goals, how can we expect anyone else to understand, much less support them? Simply on the strength of our personalities? Due to the personalities of celebrities with whom we associate in political parties and for whom we vote?
Grant notes that part of the problem of polarization stems from the presentation of extremes. Seeking clarity and closure by simplifying complex continua into binary categories is a basic human tendency. Politics faithfully supports such simplistic bias. Discussing emotional issues as two distinct sides may seem appropriate but we are more inclined to think again by viewing topics through a prism of perspectives. (p. 165)
With reference to the spectrum of issues, evidence suggests that emotional intelligence is beneficial in jobs dealing with emotions but less relevant and perhaps detrimental when emotions are less central. (p. 176) Moreover, in Against Empathy, Paul Bloom says whereas most people associate it with kindness, he thinks of war. (p. 188) Playing to emotions is key in political warfare and candidates who do it best are elected. Indeed, in Stealth War: How China Took Over While America's Elite Slept, Robert Spalding notes that Carl von Clausewitz's famous assertion can be interpreted to mean that politics is a continuation of war by other means. (p. 121) Is that what we emotionally want, much less what we intelligently need?
With respect to the means we use to achieve our objectives, Grant observes that no behavior is always effective in dealing with complexity and all cures have unintended consequences. (p. 177) Yet politics nationalizes unintended consequences and each of them becomes cause for still more politics and ineffective governance. Indeed, as currently practiced, the unintended consequence of the very concept of self-governance is essentially the reverse of the plain meaning of the word. Instead, for politicized minorities, it means subjugation to the will of others -- just the opposite of the misnomer. The result is highly predictable, both in terms of polarization as well as mistrust in government.
Grant cites the moral philosophy of John Rawls, in which the veil of ignorance calls upon us to judge the justness of a society by whether we’d join it without knowing our place in it. (p. 178) In that regard, who among us would happily vote for majoritarianism in the knowledge we’d be on the losing side in every election thereafter?
Contrary to the win/lose dynamics of politics, Grant says what actually works is not perspective-taking but perspective-seeking, talking to people to gain insight into the nuances of their views. (p. 178) For a long time, he believed the best way to make conversations less polarizing was to leave emotions out of them. However, evidence subsequently complicated his thinking. Even if we disagree strongly on social issues, discovery that others care deeply increases our trust. We may still dislike them but we view principled passion as evidence of integrity, rejecting the belief while respecting those who hold it. (p. 179)
While that may be true in terms of casual person-to-person communication, it seems doubtfully applicable to political parties and national politics. How can we respect anyone, much less a process or a political party that routinely imposes consequences upon us with which we disagree? How could such a process be characterized as having integrity? Just because those we believe are misled don’t realize that they are and feel passionate in their ignorance? It’s one thing if individuals and groups impose adverse impacts upon themselves but quite another if they insist upon inflicting them on everyone else as well.
Speaking of those who do that best, Grant says the so-called awestruck effect is better characterized as the dumbstruck effect: “Charismatic speakers can put us under a political spell, under which we follow them in order to gain their approval or affiliate with their tribe.” (p. 192) That is an apt description of not only of cults but also politicians, political parties, and the wisdom of politics and elections more generally.
By contrast, learning cultures thrive under a combination of psychological safety and accountability. (p. 208) Once again, however, those conditions are antithetical to politics, except to the degree that most districts are so biased as to afford safety to the personalities that occupy their congressional seats. How can that be interpreted as accountability? How can we feel safe in the knowledge that conditions we oppose will be thrust upon us? How can we believe the system will attend to our views or, more broadly speaking, the consequences of politically motivated actions beyond the reelection of the politicians themselves?
Grant notes that psychological safety is about fostering respect, trust, and openness so that we can raise concerns and suggestions without fear of reprisal. Emphasis on results often undermines psychological safety. He also notes that we tend to censor ourselves in the presence of experts. (p. 209) To avoid the latter shortcoming, he suggests questioning both ourselves as well as others about how we know what we think we know. It’s a straightforward expression of curiosity that doesn’t prompt defensiveness. (p. 212)
Yet he says changing mindsets isn’t sufficient to transform a culture. While psychological safety may free us to challenge authority, that alone does not motivate us to do so. Beyond that, a specific kind of accountability is required in order to build a learning culture -- one that prompts rethinking of practices. (p. 215 & 216) In performance cultures, Grant says, we may become overly attached to best practices, with the risk they may become frozen in time once they’ve been declared a routine. Might voting be such a practice?
Instead, he suggests it might be preferable to look for better practices. (p. 216) Indeed, one of the enduring principles of the Total Quality Management (TQM) movement is the notion of continuous improvement. While voting is better than violence and may have been the best that could be done in Churchill’s time, might there be a better way to achieve public objectives in the cyberage?
Grant suggests that focusing on results might be good for short-term performance but it can be an obstacle to long-term learning. “When people are held accountable only for whether the outcome was a success or failure,” he says, “they are more likely to continue with ill-fated courses of action.” (p. 217) However, that thought appears to warrant a bit more nuanced rethinking.
For example, how can we learn that our courses of action are ill-fated if we fail to measure and evaluate the results? In the case of politics and government bureaucracy, the greater risk seems to be failure to care about, much less comprehend the long-term consequences of short-term actions aimed to enhance the prospects for winning the next election, never more than two years away.
Indeed, Grant notes, “when psychological safety exists without accountability, people tend to stay within their comfort zone, and when there’s accountability but not safety, people tend to stay silent in an anxiety zone.” (pp. 217 & 218) Those observations are highly relevant within the realm of politics, political parties, and mob rule. Not only minorities but even silent majorities may be cowed.
It is also noteworthy that elections and political appointments create scapegoats, who are individuals held responsible while being doomed to failure due to lack of adequate resources. However, it is no coincidence that political parties and bureaucracy are adept at shielding members of their tribe from accountability. Such mutual self-protection is abetted by the lack of good performance metrics routinely reported to stakeholders in readily understandable terms. Lacking such indicators, narratives can always be spun to deflect blame to others who are not members of the in-group.
By contrast, Grant avers that in learning cultures people don’t stop keeping score. Rather, they expand the scorecard to include processes as well as outcomes. (p. 218) That begs the question, are voting and majoritarianism the quintessential process for achieving public objectives? How would we know if we haven’t tried anything else, while measuring and comparing the results? Are the numbers of votes received by winning candidates the only metric required? Do they provide all that is needed to improve the nation’s economic and social progress in the long-run? Might it be worthwhile to experiment with some other possibilities?
Grant notes that the best time to run experiments is when decisions are relatively inconsequential and reversible. (p. 219) Seldom, if ever, is that the case when decisions are imposed from the top-down in a nation of more than three hundred million people. Moreover, process accountability isn’t merely a matter of rewards and punishments, who benefits and at whose expense. Who has been granted decision authority is pertinent as well. (p. 219) In that regard, over whom and at what scale -- over how much of our economy and personal lives -- should a small, elite group of politicians rightfully reign?
Grant suggests rethinking is facilitated by separating the decision makers from the evaluators. (p. 219) Theoretically speaking, voters have the power to evaluate the performance of elected officials and remove them from office. However, due to polarization and self-segregation, most congressional incumbents represent safe districts and are seldom unseated. Evaluation of their performance is more theoretical than practical. Worse yet, the greatest threat is from extremists within their own party rather than independents or moderates in the other duopolistic party.
Moreover, Federal agencies have failed for a decade to implement section 10 of the GPRA Modernization Act, which would provide the data required to evaluate the results of their programs, and Members of Congress seem not to care. Why should they when such results have little impact on their reelection prospects? Public program performance data is seldom, if ever, taken into account by voters in congressional elections.
The phenomenon of escalation of commitment also comes into play. When we’ve dedicated ourselves to a plan that isn’t going well, rather than rethinking it, we’re prone to doubling down and throwing even more resources at it. (p. 229) Application of the fallacy of honoring sunk costs is virtually certain when the stakes are political and the bureaucracy is unaccountable. That inclination is exacerbated when the money spent belongs to someone else. Taxpayers have relatively little say in the matter.
A related concept -- identity foreclosure -- occurs when we settle on a sense of self with insufficient consideration of alternatives. (p. 230) Political party affiliation is an obvious example, and once the party has made a commitment, turning back would be tantamount to political suicide for any candidate who may wish to rethink it. Better to muddle through the next election in the comfort of the victorious tribe than to worry about the longer-term consequences for society at large, much less the defeated tribe(s).
With regard to longer-term consequences, Grant observes that seeking purpose is a more successful strategy than pursuing pleasure. Enjoyment comes and goes; meaning endures. (p. 238) Moreover, actions create meaning and belonging. (p. 240) Political campaigns are tailor-made for that purpose and their appeal is understandable. So too are both the joy expressed by the winning side as well as the fear and grief borne by the left-out losers.
Pointing in a more hopeful, less polarizing direction, Grant highlights the case of students who felt out of place at his university. Instead of transferring (voting with their feet), they took the initiative and formed their own micro-community. Rather than focusing on happiness, they sought contribution and connection. (p. 240)
Embracing the pursuit of such purposeful connections, the vision of the StratML standard for strategic plans is:
A worldwide web of intentions, stakeholders, and results.
In support of interpersonal rethinking, Grant reiterates the importance of reinforcing freedom of choice, by respecting the autonomy of others and “reminding them that it’s up to them to choose what they believe.” Otherwise they may resist simply to avoid the sense of being controlled. (p. 255) However, such rethinking is antithetical to the purposes of politics and political parties. Politics, voting, and governance inevitably elicit polarization because, by definition, they not only create feelings of being controlled but literally are about exercising control over others. The only questions are matters of scope and degree.
Surely, we should be capable of rethinking the process and doing better than that for most of the affairs of life, shouldn’t we? Might we be wise and capable enough to work together to build apolitical communities of results (CoRs) based upon shared values and common objectives? How will we know unless we try?