Yinyang and yangyin

Does anyone remember In Search Of Excellence? It was the one book that blew my mind when I read it in business school, back in the previous century. Of course, by then it was nearly a decade after publication and the professor used it as an example of fake management science: most of the "excellent companies" were no longer doing so well - and some had failed miserably. Later on, the book was used as typical case of the "halo effect": building narratives to connect exclusively the winning dots and leading to delusional theories about what works and what doesn't.

All this criticism is true of course. And yes, we all have a tendency, a bias, to select information in order to prove our pet theories - that is part and parcel of creativity. This is both how we have new ideas and how we need to rigorously test our ideas later on to parse fragments of truth from the megaliths of our delusions. Be it as it may, I was seduced by the idea of principles of excellence - the idea that, if we could find them, there are some general guidelines to succeed in the face of uncertainty. A way to step forward in the fog of war and the noise of battle.

This search for excellence led me to one exemplar, Toyota, and devoting much of my career to clarifying what makes Toyota unique, what makes it tick and what explains that they keep winning on the long long term whereas other companies have their moment in the limelight when they find themselves in the right place at the right time and then fade away as they implode with all the usual problems of Big Company Disease.

I certainly no longer subscribe to the 7-S McKinsey framework described in the book:

But I believe more than ever that a company needs a framework in order to succeed - a way to know whether it is moving forward or backwards as daily decisions are taken. Of course, my own preferred framework is now the Toyota Production System.

Nevertheless, models aside, I've remained curious about Peters and Waterman's principles. One, in particular, stayed with me:

Simultaneous Loose-Tight Properties

The last of their eight basics. Intuitively, we know that the best is the enemy of the good, that too much of a good thing is a bad thing, that there is always a bridge too far and so on - but, operationally, what does this really mean? The authors are big on values and call it a smart-dumb rule: they claim, back in 1982, that some MBAs could be too smart for their own good and, oh boy, were they prescient - we now see the world MBA financial obsessed perspective has created.

What is Loose-Tight?

Another way to look at this is Yin-Yang. As I understand it, in oriental thinking, Yang is forceful action, it is control, it's bright and hard like a blade edge. Yin is inaction, acceptance, yielding, giving up, it's fluid and deep like a river that digs its path through the mountain.

Yin and Yang are ever changing of course. If yang is the sunlit side of the hill and yin the side in the shadow, then the yinyang balance of the hill will change throughout the day. In fact, we can visualize a pendulum that goes from extreme yang (agressive and unyielding) to extreme yin (passive and inactive.

If you think about reaction that way, you'll notice that, in the West, when we feel yang about a situation, we push the pendulum further to extreme yang. If we control something, we want even more absolute control. We also meet yang with yang. When our ego feel challenged, we attack right back.

Similarly, when yin, we go to extreme yin. When we sense defeat, we give up completely, which turns into a rout. When a situation escapes us, we abandon the field and go and look for greener pastures. When things feel bad, we seldom try to correct them but are quick to label them "hopeless" and are taught "acceptance" or "letting go."

What if? What if the best place is having the pendulum somewhat in the center? Look back at your life and isn't it so that both extreme yang and extreme yin lead to catastrophe? Too much control too strong leads to conflict. Not taking car of iffy situations lead to accidents. Could it be that these crises - and their costly collateral damage - are of our own making?

When a corporate function, say, Finance, or Production, Or Marketing has overall control of decisions, doesn't it want ever more, absolute control? When a leader rises to power and gains control, doesn't she want total control? How does this end? Conversely, if a function is weak, doesn't it accept its weakness and just does as its told, never challenging the stronger players? To disastrous end also.

Maybe that is what simultaneous loose-tight mean in practice. Visualise the yinyang pendulum and teach yourself to react counterintuitively. Face yang with yin and face yin with yang. When you are strong on a point, open your hand and let others do as they will. When you are weak, fight actively to regain some control. Act or don't act to keep the pendulum in its balanced areas. In this way, doing or non-doing are both strong acts, depending on the circumstances.

I realize how unfamiliar this thinking must feel - indeed, I'm not comfortable with it myself. Still, my hunch is that it is the key to a hidden strategic strength - keeping the business in its balanced zone between change and stability, between innovation and heritage. Somewhere where people can strive because they both have exciting projects and wins as well as feel confident and comfortable with their jobs.

Test drive: this morning, where are you facing yang with yang. Where do you feel attacked and want to fight back. Where do you feel frustrated and although you have control, want more control. Or, on the other hand, where are things escaping you and you want to let go completely? Where to you feel things are so back you might as well give up altogether.

Can you change your mind and correct your instinctive reaction? How does it feel?