What are leaders?

We talk about them. We work for them. We aspire to be one of them. Occasionally, we elect them. But seldom do we ask what leaders actually are. After all, animals don’t have leaders. So far as I know, there are no examples of ‘leadership’ anywhere in the animal kingdom outside of the human race.

Does that statement seem hard to swallow? Let’s think over the facts. Gorillas, for instance, don’t they have leaders? They have silverbacks, after all. Nope. They have dominant males. Those males don’t shape the feeding strategy or direction for the group. They just exercise sexual dominance. The decision makers in group behavior tend to be those individuals with the greatest need. Eg: pregnant females or females with young. The same goes for wolves, lions, naked mole rats, you name it. There are loads of examples of sexual dominance, but dominance is uncoupled from group decision making.

Okay, you may say, but consider bees and ants. They have queens that produce all the offspring in the hive. They produce pheromones that mediate a huge amount of hive behavior. Surely, in this case, we have some animals we can point to that exhibit leadership. The answer is still no. And, in this case, Richard Dawkins makes an important point about this in his 1990 book, The Selfish Gene. Namely, that it’s at least as legitimate to think of the workers exploiting the queen as it is to think of the queen leading the workers.

While there is still much discussion about exactly how hive cooperation arises, in the case of bees and ants it’s undeniable that the workers in a hive are more related to each other than they are to any offspring that are produced. Therefore, it’s in many ways the most logical approach to consider the workers as a group that’s using the queen to perpetuate a colony of sisters.

Having no other examples of leadership for nature is unsettling. It leaves us with the horrible challenge of explaining how the invention of leadership has sprung out of nothing in the last few million years.

But wait a minute. If examples of leadership seem so rare in nature, maybe we’re not thinking about leadership the right way. Maybe we’re so used to thinking of leaders through the lens of human interpretation that we’re missing the parallels with other natural systems. What happens if, instead, we turn our model of leadership about? Say, for example, if we look at the example of the queen bee, and see what other, perhaps hidden, parallels actually exist?

To my mind, the answers to this question are striking, and they’ve transformed my recent thinking about business and politics. To explain what I mean, let’s take a human example that hopefully makes the connection clear: Elizabeth II, Queen of England.

Queen Elizabeth occupies what is generally considered to be a powerful leadership position. Heads of state defer to her. Crowds come out to support her. She comes with top billing in governments and religious organizations world over. But what does she actually control? How many decisions that she makes actually affect anyone besides her own family? Arguably, none. Furthermore, Elizabeth has a busy schedule that’s administered by her handlers. She has international appointment bookings that stretch for years, none of which she personally chose. In many ways, our human queen looks rather like a bee.

So why do we call her a leader? The answer is, of course, historical. She’s the descendent of prior rulers who were actually exercising power. And as that power was whittled away and replaced with a democratic system, her symbolic role was retained. That, at least, is the popular answer, and it’s basically useless.

It’s useless because it doesn’t tell us why her symbolic role was retained. If leadership is about exercising control, as we generally assume, why wasn’t the monarchy dumped the moment it became irrelevant? The popular riposte is to say ‘because people liked the monarchy and wanted it to persist’. But this isn’t a good answer either. Why did people want the monarchy to persist. Why do people still want her there now?

I propose that the reason why the queen exists, and the reason why all leaders exist, is precisely because human beings are a lot like bees. We create leaders to exploit.

What I mean by this is that human beings select individuals to fulfill specific social roles. We make room in society for those roles, and we clad those roles in ideas that ensure that we never look too closely at what they truly entail. Why do we do this? We do it to make cooperative behavior more robust.

Cooperation is a tricky business. Anyone who’s spent a few years studying game theory will tell you that. A society of individuals who cooperate with each other is always at risk of being subverted by individuals who cheat, unless they have some strategy for punishing cheaters.

In the case of humans, this problem is even more pronounced. Because we have language, gossip, tool use, and planning, the number of ways to cheat is uncountable, and the number of ways for humans to punish each other is broad and ghastly. In order to survive, human beings have evolved a natural tendency to cooperate automatically, which only ever starts to switch off when conscious thought is brought into play.

In order to mitigate the risk of instinctive cooperation, I propose that humans have evolved social structure that allow us to borrow cheating from others.

Consider two populations. In one, let’s call it Population A, people cooperate automatically, except when they discover someone who is aggressively out for themselves at the cost of others. Let’s call these people ‘defectors’.

In the other group, Population B, people still cooperate automatically. However, when they encounter a defector, they call that person a ‘leader’. They cooperate with that person while still cooperating with each other. They relinquish control of some fraction of the social order to the defector and let them do what they want.

How effective is Population B? That depends on how good their defector is. If their defector is crappy and has no imagination, then Population B suffers. However, if the defector has ambition, Population B finds itself charging over the hill to burn Population A’s village and claim all their food. In this case, Population B wins big-time, even though most of the people in that group are still behaving cooperatively with each other all the time.

There’s a catch here, though. In order to make this work, the people in Population B have to find a way to suspend their sense of fair play while doing or watching some of the shitty things that their defector has recommended. If they don’t, they’re going to have trouble holding onto their identity as cooperators.

So, to make the strategy work, the people in Population B have to be constantly evaluating possible ‘leaders’ from among any defectors who arise. Those who don’t make the cut are drowned in the village well as liars and cheats. Those who do are promoted and eulogized. We tell ourselves that their control over society is inevitable because ‘they’re the ones with the power’, and that their aggressive exercise of will illustrates ‘vision and direction’.

This, I’d say, explains why we have trouble understanding leadership or finding it in other species. We’re looking for what we want leadership to be, not what it is. In truth, we own our leaders. We make them happen. We take individuals whose capacity for cooperation is damaged, and we use them as tools for social advantage.

To my mind, this is an important point to be sharing with the world right now. That’s because the leaders we’ve chosen haven’t done a very good job, by and large, as evidenced by the Arab Spring, the austerity disaster in Europe, worldwide banking scandals, etc.

It’s important for us to remember that our leaders exist because we let them. Their power is, and always has been, exercised by us, because it’s less risky than cheating ourselves. At any time, we can take those leaders and replace them with others we think will do a better job. That’s how society works.

That idea is easy to absorb when it comes to elected officials, but it is at least as true for every banker on Wall St. That’s because wealth is just another form of legitimized defection. Hence, if we don’t like how they’re going about things, we should swap them out. After all, they, just like the queen, belong to us.



Word for the day: Executard

There are certain words that I wish were in the English language, but aren’t yet. Here’s one: executard.

What is an executard? It’s a person occupying an executive role, but who exhibits no obvious signs of political savvy, leadership potential, or decision-making expertise. Now is a great time to introduce this word, as we have the marvelous example of Mitt Romney to ponder.

In Britain, his remarks alienated the leadership of the US’s staunchest ally. In the Middle East, he’s created a political nightmare for himself should he actually be elected, by making lifetime enemies out of groups he’ll need to negotiate with. At home, he’s damaged his own chances with inappropriate remarks about ‘the 47%’. Regardless of which side of the political spectrum you’re on, it’s hard not to wince every time you see this guy blow off another one of his toes.

Consider the implications of this. Mitt Romney was, for many years, an executive at Bain Capital. If he seems so politically club-footed now, how did he ever manage that?

Easy. He managed it because it’s dirt-simple to be both clueless and an executive, though we maintain a cultural myth that these two descriptors are mutually exclusive. In fact, in many cases, clueless executives are inevitable.

Why do I claim this? Because good leadership is hard. Really hard. And there are very many ways to get there that don’t involve working your way up through the sweat of your brow, or raw business expertise.

For starters, all businesses need money to run. And in many businesses, the people who provide the money often want a starring role. Furthermore, the people who want jobs are willing to let them. Nobody wants to think that they’ve put a half-wit at the controls of the corporate plane, so everyone engages in a little myth-building to keep things ticking along. (For anyone who doubts that this can happen, let’s not forget that George W. Bush was a business executive once, before he became the Chief Dismantler of the Free World.)

Secondly, once you have money, it’s easy to make more, because there are lots of people with skills who are ready to help you do that, in return for a cut. Thus, if your money comes from somewhere else, you can coast along as ‘leader’ for years so long as you don’t touch anything, or, as they say in business circles, ‘demonstrate the core leadership skill of effective delegation’.

Thirdly, not everyone who works their way to the top does so by making really awesome business decisions.  I have met and worked with several who found their way there by doing other exciting things, like lying on their resume, being in the right place at the right time, or thinly-concealed crime. Once those people get those prized executive roles, they don’t suddenly become business gurus overnight.

Why does this matter? Because while executards cause a huge amount of damage, people don’t usually want to call them out. It’s usually much safer to leave high-status people alone and do what they ask, rather than pointing out their mistakes. Nobody wants to point the finger unless they end up bearing the brunt of that person’s wrath.

Hence, historically, it’s been preferable all round for everyone to engage in the myth that all executives have talent, and that we should look up to them and admire their skills, regardless of how they got there.

The problem is that now the executards are sinking our economic boat. If we don’t start calling them out, there won’t be any jobs for us to go back to. Every time we let anxiety about our career get the better of us, and fail to call out leadership failure, we create room for our leaders to fail again.

So, for the sake of your job, and your children’s jobs, start holding your leaders to the high standards you need them to attain. Work out who you know who’s an executard, and tell a colleague today.

A way to increase engagement with science?

The public doesn’t interface with science terribly well. The recent article in Ars Technica about climate models is a good indication of that. Why is the public’s engagement in science so limited, and so politicized?

I can think of several reasons right off the bat.

  • Scientists frame their results in the language of the scientific community, rather than the artificially hyperbolic language of the popular press. This creates a kind of disconnect about what’s really been proven, and what the likely implications are.
  • Some people often feel ignorant when confronted with scientific details, and so don’t want to engage as it makes them feel stupid.
  • Scientists are often more interested in doing science than they are in communicating with the public. Outreach comes relatively far down their agenda. Sometimes, even when they do care about outreach, their training leaves them ill-equipped for the media spotlight.
  • Science can touch up against closely-held beliefs about the world that people don’t want to relinquish, regardless of the facts. Science can feel like a threat.

So how do we fix this? My solution, as of this morning, is that we need people in a new role here to fill the gap, and the right media vehicles with which to make it happen.

The new role is that of the celebrity science pundit. (Let’s call them spundits). While you might imagine that these people exist, what I’m proposing is different. For a start, these people are not scientists. They are not experts. In fact, being a professional scientist disqualifies you from fulfilling this role. Instead, these are informed laypeople with opinions about scientific results. The sort of people who might make good spundits are, perhaps, TV personalities who happen to have scientific training, actors who’ve had to learn some science for roles they’ve played, politicians who’ve been involved with science policy, and, of course, bloggers. Ideally they should be witty, outspoken, and telegenic.

Spundits interact with the public by appearing in TV shows, podcasts, etc, in which they make speculations about what they think will or won’t happen in upcoming science experiments. They face off against each other and have opinions much as political pundits do. In essence, they take bets and they talk about their reasoning. Maybe there is actual money, or celebrity forfeits attached. Their job is to frame a scientific discussion in a way that makes it exciting, and which associates informed points of view with personalities that people can identify with.

The job of the scientists in this picture is to act, if you like, as the judges in these contests. They are the impartial custodians of knowledge who actually determine what the right answer is. They give the celebrities a tour around their equipment, and then appear at the end with the magic envelope containing the results.

Why do I believe this might improve social engagement with science? Here are some of the reasons.

  • The public sees that non-scientists can discuss and have opinions about scientific subjects, and that being wrong is okay. Role models who engage with complex ideas are presented as attractive and interesting.
  • The public gets to see that the final arbiter of truth is the experimental result.
  • Scientists get to disconnect themselves from the kind of drama that’s antithetical to what they do and focus on being the cautious seekers of truth–the job they were trained to do.
  • Scientists get socially rewarded for running experiments, (their job), rather than doing cheesy interviews about vague ideas.
  • People get to see flawed expectations about scientific outcomes be demolished with wit, even before the results appear, and consequently get to feel permitted to exercise the same skepticism in their own discussions.
  • Smaller scientific results, rather than grand statements about vague theoretical topics, become the focus of public attention. This is made possible by the fact that the outcomes for the spundits carry the dramatic weight, rather than the ideas themselves. The public also gets to see more of what day to day science actually looks like.

In my mind, I see this almost as a kind of BBC panel game. People with expensive haircuts sit around in leather chairs talking in an animated way about pushing back the frontiers of human knowledge. Each week a different subject is aired. The spundits get to say things like ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, try again’, without appearing to lose any social credibility.

In any case, my key point is this: the people that the public see expressing opinions about science need to be ordinary, untrained, not expert, and still capable of getting the answers right. The alternative is that we continue to treat scientists as a kind of preistly caste endowed with mystic untouchable knowledge. If we do that, the quality of dialog will degrade even further.

The New Rock and Roll

It occurred to me with some horror the other day that software engineering is the new rock and roll. How can I justify such a grotesque statement? Easy.

Consider what rock and roll used to be like when the Beatles and the Rolling Stones were around. A few key groups of people commanded enormous audiences. They attracted huge public attention. They were considered the voice of their generation, were courted by politicians for publicity, and affected entire cultural movements through their decisions.

These days most musicians scrape by on the money they get from performing, or from miserly record contracts they have no control over. They are often selected, vetted, and humiliated by judges like prize pigs while the process is transmitted live on television. Those judges are very often significantly older than the musicians themselves and yet are treated as arbiters of quality. And far from representing something powerful and disruptive, modern pop music most frequently offends the older generation simply by being too bland.

On the other hand, consider tech start-ups. The effect they have on society is frequently massively disruptive. The owners often achieve large cash windfalls. Attention to the products of these companies is often compulsive and faddish to an outlandish extreme. And a large success means instant worldwide acclaim. Most significantly, perhaps, millions of young men are lining up to be a part of the scene, the world over.

Let’s face it, Mark Zuckerberg is this decade’s Mick Jagger. This generation’s big rebellious moment is Zuck turning up to his IPO meeting in a hoodie.

I have spent my life being a nerd, and suffering the consequences of that. So to see nerdism now being so utterly in the spotlight is kind of refreshing and empowering. On the other hand, there’s something a little creepy and cheesy about this turnaround. Is the best form of youth rebellion that western civilization can come up with to work really long hours, do loads of math homework, and deliver a nice product on time?

Yucko, I say. Someone needs to take a stand against it. However, probably not me, as I’ll be too busy developing Android apps.

Battleship Jumps Shark

It seems there’s a new movie called Battleship coming out. Apparently, it’s science fiction. Also apparently, it’s based on the children’s game ‘Battleship’. Also also apparently, it’s bad.

What I find so hilariously wrong with this picture is that in their desperation to make as much money as possible without exposing themselves to any risk, the Mighty Lords of Hollywood have done something very risky that’s likely to lose them boat-loads of cash.

The apparently indisputable movie-business logic goes like this:

  • Only pre-tested brands can be known to make money reliably.
  • Brands that invoke nostalgia have the highest appeal.
  • The optimum demographic for movie viewing is young men, and young men like sci-fi action.

In order to wring ever more dollars out of this tired meta-formula, Hollywood scrapes the barrel of our past looking for things we’ve already bought so that it can sell them to us again. Can anyone else hear the brittle creaking of a strained paradigm here?

In the mean time, my guess is that we can get ready for the following exciting titles.

Mission Impossible–Speak and Spell: Tom Cruise and his buddies have to decrypt spy codes by spelling simple words on a cheerful plastic interface, while dangling on a wire somewhere, in order to save the world.

Simon, The Apocalypse: In order to avert a long-predicted world-shattering apocalypse that makes birds crash a lot, Nicholas Cage has to duel with a psychotic computer that communicates only through patterns of friendly tones and colors.

Hungry Hippos, The Torment Commences: In the first of eight planned films, Daniel Craig leads a ragtag team of survivors through a terrfiying post-apocalyptic wasteland overrun by zombie hippos that eat anyone on sight.

The Facebook IPO: A Tsunami of Meh

Today the BBC news website made me laugh.

Go to the front page, and the headline is ‘Facebook in stock debut rollercoaster’. Click on the link and you see an article that instead says ‘Facebook shares see modest debut‘.

Why is this funny? First, because everyone expected there to be a rollercoaster, because other tech IPOs have done just that, and there wasn’t one. But more significantly, if everyone expected there to be a rollercoaster, then having one wouldn’t have been news. We were supposed to have witnessed a blandly volatile event but we didn’t get one.

The media has grown quite accustomed, it seems, to taking dull events that have the surface appearance of drama and dressing them up as  narratives for our consumption.

When things don’t go as planned, the cracks in the system appear. The headline written before the event doesn’t get yanked. A much better, and truer title would have been ‘Facebook IPO appalls media world with mild performance’.

The Google Safari Thing

This week presented us with another ridiculous story in the ongoing technology wars between Google, Apple, and everyone else.  In case you haven’t seen this news story, here are some handy links: BBC,Wired, and then there’s this twist from PC World.

While in isolation, this story is merely annoying, it serves as a useful illustration of the techno-battle that’s unfolding around us. I’d like to paint a picture of that battle for you. But first, I’ll need to outline what I suspect was actually going on.

I think it happened like this.  Apple came up with yet another clever idea. They put cookie blocking technology into their browser that conveniently hamstrings other peoples’ web service software. This means that people like Google and Facebook can only deliver a second-rate user experience on Apple’s browser. That’s awesome for Apple, because the user experience they want to deliver, that competes with those services, isn’t dependent on their browser in the same way.

At the same time, because the browser feature is ‘blocking cookies’ and ‘protecting user privacy’, the companies trying to deliver those services aren’t going to complain. This is also great for Apple, because their competitors get thrown in the stocks and pelted with fruit if they so much as open their mouths.

So Google and Facebook find a sneaky way around the cookie-blocking software. They don’t tell people what they’re doing, because what they most want the technology for is to tune the ads that customers see, which, let’s face it, isn’t a very popular reason.

Then the inevitable happens: somebody notices. Google is caught with its trousers round its ankles. (So is Facebook, but that’s happened so many times that nobody cares any more.) Microsoft predictably jumps up and joins in the finger pointing after Apple has tapped them on the shoulder, filled them in, and patiently explained the joke to them a couple of times.

What should have happened instead was this: Google should have pointed out what Apple were doing at the start. They should have given the user a choice, and told them why tuned ads are preferable (namely they’re less annoying, and allow them to continue to get services for free). Then they should have trusted the consumers to continue to use their services and taken the risk.

Instead they chickened out. No surprise that Facebook didn’t say a word. That’s their style. Nobody expects them to play nice anyway. But Google were stupid because they’ve set themselves up as the shiny grinning Mormon of technology-land, and altogether nicer-than thou, which makes it dirt-simple for people to point the finger at them.

What’s lame about this situation is that it’s another example of business as usual as these companies claw and scratch at each other to become the dominant hegemonic shitweasel in the pack. What’s interesting about it is that we can see, in miniature, the respective characters of four of the major players.

Apple: Sly and ahead of the curve.
Microsoft: Behind the curve and struggling to emulate the younger kids.
Facebook: Crooked as they come, but nobody cares any more.
Google: Trying to remain nicer-than-thou while resorting to the same dodgy tactics as everyone else.

Here, to make things very clear, is a little strategy guide of what I see as going on:

Apple’s strategy:
* Leverage a lock-in ecosystem to actively cripple any and all competition.
* Use fanboy-lust and sly positioning to make other people look dirtier than themselves.
* Help Microsoft, because whatever they do will be awful, and that will make Apple continue to look like the nice shiny option.
Your visual aid: A dewy-eyed cheerleader with a prison-issue shiv hidden in her Hello Kitty backpack.

Microsoft’s strategy:
* Secure enough financial support to enable strong-arm tactics to work even while market-share dwindles.
* Try to secretly position themselves as partners with Facebook using loud stage-whispers while hoping nobody notices.
* Use patents, licensing, and court-cases to achieve what their software isn’t good enough to do, namely retain their position in the market.
Your visual aid: Half-blind hunchback with a big stick and a face like fire-damaged lego.

Facebook’s strategy:
* Leverage a lock-in website to actively cripple any and all competition.
* Help Microsoft in order to cheaply secure the support of a flailing company.
* Sell-out their own users in order to maintain the market dominance and hope they don’t notice.
Your visual aid: A sleazy teen with a ‘you can’t tell me what to do, Grandad’ smile and a pocket full of cut-price ecstasy he made in his own garage.

Google’s strategy:
* Give up on being nice because it looks like it’s losing money.
* Give up on being objective and data-driven because it looks like it’s losing money.
* Belatedly try to invent a lock-in ecosystem because that’s what seems to be working for other people.
Your visual aid: A Mormon missionary fumbling with the catch on an automatic while not noticing that it’s pointed at his foot.

So who do I think is going to win? Well, unless he gets his act together and works out what he’s good at, the Mormon is probably toast. The hunchback will eventually hit himself on the head with his own stick. The sleazy teen is growing up quick and will soon find it a lot harder to sell his funny pills. The only one among them with any brains is the cheerleader. On the other hand, the cheerleader’s appeal is largely based on having someone else to compare herself to. I wouldn’t be surprised if the winner will be the one player who didn’t even appear in this story. Can you guess who that is? Here’s a hint: they sell everything.

a place for creative chaos