Author Archives: Scott Bowden

About Scott Bowden

Scott Bowden is founder and CEO of Bridgeton West, LLC, a firm consultancy focusing on historical innovation.  Scott previously worked for IBM Global Services and the Independent Research and Information Services Corporation.  Scott has a PhD in Government/International Relations from Georgetown University.

What Mike Tyson and the Stoics Teach Us About Innovation

GUEST POST from Scott Bowden

I spend a great deal of time searching for new ways of thinking about innovation and I must admit that I never thought that I would write an innovation article that included both Mike Tyson’s coach and the ancient practice of Stoicism.

However, after book reviews about these topics I recognized some interesting parallels that are worth exploring. I also have always believed in the value of juxtaposition of contrary ideas as a way of stimulating new thinking, and I assume that the typical reader of this article was at least somewhat curious about the subject matter, or at least curious enough to scroll down and read further to see how these two subjects might possibly align. Although it is tempting to start with Mike Tyson’s coach, I will instead start with the Stoics, saving the most intriguing concepts until the end.

Stoicism

In a recent article in The Wall Street Journal, Massimo Pigliucci reminds us of the relevance of Stoicism to modern day living.  Most of us think of Stoics as emotionless, dull individuals who are inured to the pleasures of daily life, such as Mr. Spock in Star Trek or anyone who maintains a “stiff upper lip” in terms of enduring hardships without complaint. Pigliucci, the K.D. Irani Professor of Philosophy at the City College of New York, writes in his new book, How to Be a Stoic: Using Ancient Philosophy to Live a Modern Life, that Stoicism is worth studying, is “practical and humane,” and “has plenty to teach us.”

Stoicism, he notes, seems to be enjoying a modern renaissance, with people from all over the world set to attend the fourth annual Stoicon conference in Toronto this fall. Pigliucci observes that Stoicism can be traced back to 300 B.C. and its techniques concerning how to live a good life, navigating through ups and downs by maintaining a balanced approach, “have stood the test of time over two millennia.”

Pigliucci selects his five favorite teachings from Stoicism and applies them to modern living. I, in turn, will apply those aphorisms to the challenges faced by the modern innovation practitioner.

Learn to separate what is and isn’t in your power

The second-century teacher Epictetus listed out a number of things that were in and outside of one’s control.  Things within a person’s control included “opinion, motivation desire, aversion, and, in a word, whatever is of our own doing.”  Things not within a person’s control include “our body, our property, reputation, office and, in a word, whatever is not of our own doing.” This is well-trod territory in terms of a statement of the human experience, as evidenced by its similarity to the Serenity Prayer written by the American theologian Reinhold Niebuhr: “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.” Pigliucci sees this as a way for a modern person to render judgment on one’s own efforts in the context of whether those efforts ever had a chance to affect an outcome, thus leading to greater happiness by not beating oneself up over failing to address things one cannot control.

This is sage advice for the innovator, for in our careers we will encounter situations where, no matter how strong our efforts, we will be thwarted by variables that we cannot control. The useful advice from the Stoics is to be aware of these things upfront and document them rather than suffering unnecessarily from the bad outcomes. When launching into an innovation effort, it might be useful to think about variables one might encounter that are beyond one’s control and document those in advance so that when one of those appears it is not a surprise and the innovator is able to overcome the obstacle.

Contemplate the broader picture

Pigliucci writes that the Stoics advocated a concept called “the view from above” that provides a person with a sense of perspective on a situation, focusing on those things that are worth worrying about and those things that one can ignore. This was perhaps best articulated by the Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius, who wrote that “[a]ltogether the interval is small between birth and death; and consider with how much trouble, and in company with what sort of people and in what a feeble body, this interval is laboriously passed.”

A former mentor of mine put this another way early in my career. Sensing my intense frustration at the status of a project, he said that at the end of the day when one leaves the office, it’s acceptable to let the work stay here (pointing to his head), but not here (pointing to his heart). For my former mentor, taking things to heart was a fast path to burning out and prevented one from thinking clearly with the mind about how to solve a problem.

For the innovator, context is important to prevent oneself from becoming overwhelmed with small challenges, and by obsessing wrongly over certain small details, one might miss the bigger picture where a real solution may be found.

Think in advance about challenges you may face during the day

Epictetus is again cited here with an intriguing example of the importance of having a “prepared mind.” He comments that “[i]f you’re going out to take a bath, set before your mind the things that happen at the baths, that people splash you, that people knock up against you, that people steal from you.” In other words, if one anticipates the negatives associated with an activity, then one can absorb them and focus on the beneficial aspects of the activity, which in the case of the bath for Epictetus was achieving internal harmony.

For the innovator, this is a highly under-appreciated approach.  When we are preparing for a workshop or presentation to executives, we tend to focus on the positive aspects of the upcoming session and devote little time to thinking about the possible challenges or obstacles in the meeting, other than perhaps a brief examination of the meeting attendees in terms of advocates and opponents.  Spending time thinking about potential negative occurrences in the meeting can enable the innovator to be better prepared to handle those problems quickly and effectively, thus increasing the likelihood of success for the overall endeavor.

Be mindful of the here and now

In this aphorism, Pigliucci notes, the Stoics focus on leaving the past behind by concentrating on the present. The Roman Senator Seneca provided a succinct summary of this dictum: “[t]wo elements must therefore be rooted out once and for all – the fear of future suffering and the recollection of past suffering; since the latter no longer concerns me, and the former concerns me not yet.” One can do absolutely nothing about the past, and likewise one can do very little about the future, so work efforts should be focused on the present.

For the innovator, this can serve as a reminder to avoid re-treading over past ground (such as a past innovation effort that failed) while simultaneously not becoming too focused on something that is very far in the future, such as a great idea that would take years and years to develop with unproven methods or technology.  A proper mixed portfolio of short-, medium-, and long-term initiatives is the best approach.

Before going to bed, write in a personal philosophical diary

The Stoics saw the time before bed as an opportunity to reflect on the events of the day and to focus on what went well and what did not go well so as to continue the process of self-improvement the next day.  By writing these down, the Stoic can internalize these lessons and potentially speed up the self-improvement process.  Personal journals seem to be something that has gone the way of the horse and carriage in modern times, but the value of capturing thoughts and self-analysis for the modern innovator is very high.

The innovator could use a daily diary in the form advocated by the Stoics in order to capture the highlights and lowlights of one’s daily work.  However, there is an additional benefit to maintaining the journal, particularly in a bedside location.  The innovator may go to sleep while sorting out a particularly challenging problem and, in the middle of the night, may wake up with a sudden insight into how to solve the puzzle.  Having the journal nearby permits the innovator to capture that information accurately and immediately so that he or she can apply the information to work the next morning.

Mike Tyson

Writing in The Wall Street Journal, Brenda Cronin relays important life lessons from Mike Tyson’s manager and mentor, Cus d’Amato. In Tyson’s new book, Iron Ambition: My Life with Cus d’Amato, Tyson tells the story of the well-known boxing manager who had shepherded the careers of great fighters such as Floyd Patterson.  At age 71, d’Amato took on the challenge of turning a rough-and-tumble kid from the streets of Brooklyn into a champion fighter. D’Amato saw Tyson sparring in the ring at age 13 and presciently proclaimed that the young Tyson would one day become a world champion. When Tyson’s mother died of cancer when Mike was only 16, d’Amato adopted him and took him to Catskill, NY to continue his training and make him a part of his family. Although d’Amato died in 1985, Tyson became the youngest heavyweight boxing champion of the world at age 20 in 1986.

In his new book, Tyson recalls a number of life lessons from his coach that he applied to his career and to which he attributed much of his success. As was the case with life lessons from the Stoics, these ideas are definitely worth exploring from an innovation practitioner perspective.

Affirmations

D’Amato saw the importance of psychological training alongside the physical conditioning typically required of athletes.  D’Amato instilled a sense of confidence in his fighters by showering them with encouragement.  Tyson recalled one mantra that he repeated over and over: “[d]ay by day, in every way, I’m getting better, better, better.”  This approach, according to Tyson, took a kid with no self-esteem and transformed him into a champion.

For the innovator, positive reinforcement is important to keep a team motivated as one works through the trials and tribulations of a typical innovation project.  Allowing colleagues to sense progress even when it is somewhat difficult to see can keep spirits high on the team and can keep energy levels in the right place to maximize the work effort.  While this doesn’t mean that one should ignore negative outcomes, it does remind us of the importance of positive affirmation as a motivational device for the team.

Creative Visualization

In addition to positive affirmation, d’Amato also leveraged the visualization technique with his fighters many years before that technique became popular with athletes around the world.  Tyson notes that his mindset was that he had to “see himself […] winning that title.” Tyson states that he “used to fear my win […and…y]ou can let it destroy you and everything around you, like fire, or maybe it can keep you warm.” Rather than letting fears drive behavior, d’Amato wanted his fighters to use that fear to drive them to greater achievements, and by visualizing where they wanted to end up in their performances, they could achieve better results.

For the innovator, fear of failure is a common theme, especially when so many innovation projects fail (are some are even lauded for failing). The innovator periodically needs to visualize successful outcomes to stay motivated. Moreover, forcing oneself to visualize what success actually means may provide insights into how the innovation work should proceed. Often times we enter a project with a vague notion of what a successful outcome would entail, and thus we might miss out on some aspect of the project that would warrant success that we might miss seeing in our work. The more time we spend thinking about and visualizing the end game, the better we will be able to perform tasks along the road to that objective.

Discipline

D’Amato had spent time in the military before his career as a boxing manager and the notion of the importance of discipline never left him. Tyson notes that this military order applied to his entire life in the d’Amato household, including attending school regularly, training daily, and helping out with chores. As Tyson observes, “I was getting on the cover of Sports Illustrated […] and people were taking pictures of me, like I’m this big star.  And as soon as they were finished, I had to sweep the gym and mop it.”

For the innovator, discipline is a concept that may seem anathema to the concept that generating new thinking requires a loose, free-wheeling effort with few boundaries and constraints.  While free-thinking may be useful during an ideation phase, discipline is always crucial to success in terms of capturing details of the ideation session properly and managing projects (schedules, costs, resources) at a level of granularity that will avoid mistakes and improve the chances of success.

Preparation

A final piece of advice from Tyson’s coach is the adage for which d’Amato is perhaps most famous. The statement concerns preparation, and appears frequently as a sports aphorism.  D’Amato stated succinctly that “[e]verybody has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.”  Tyson saw this as a foundation for the relentless focus and work associated with his life with d’Amato. The statement itself is a reminder that it’s not enough just to plan for an event.  Rather, one has to be ready to engage intensively in the event itself and be prepared for the physical impact of the event, not letting that first punch distract one from one’s original plan. Although innovators are highly unlikely to get “punched” in a work effort, the concept at a figurative level is important.

Innovators may spend a great deal of time preparing all the intricacies of a presentation of a new idea to decisionmakers, only to encounter something negative at the outset of the meeting that is the equivalent of a “punch in the mouth.”  Innovators should think about these circumstances in their presentations and be ready with the appropriate response. It’s not enough just to know all the details of one’s proposal; one should also think about other concerns, variables, events, or opinions that could appear in the course of the session.  Proper preparation for these eventualities will increase the likelihood of success for the overall innovation effort.

Conclusion

I did not expect the life lessons from Mike Tyson’s coach to align with those from the ancient Stoics, but upon further analysis there are interesting parallels between these concepts. The easiest way to show these connections is via a straightforward mapping of these ideas:

Stoicism               Learn to separate what is and isn’t in your power

Tyson                    Affirmation

Stoicism               Contemplate the broader picture

Tyson                    Discipline

Stoicism               Think in advance about challenges you may face during the day

Tyson                    Preparation

Stoicism               Be mindful of the here and now

Tyson                    Discipline

Stoicism               Before going to bed, write in a personal philosophical diary

Tyson                    Creative visualization

For the innovator, both Cus d’Amato and the Stoics provide interesting approaches that one can leverage to help generate new thinking.

Sources:

Massimo Pigliucci, “Rules for Modern Living from the Ancient Stoics,” The Wall Street Journal (May 27, 2017), p. C3.

Brenda Cronin, “Lessons from Mike Tyson’s Trainer,” The Wall Street Journal (May 25, 2017), pp. A13-14.

Massimo Pigliucci, How to Be a Stoic: Using Ancient Philosophy to Live a Modern Live (New York: Basic Books, 2017).

Mike Tyson and Larry Sloman, Iron Ambition: My Life with Cus D’Amato (New York: Penguin Books, 2017).

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Serenity_Prayer


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Los Alamos Innovation

GUEST POST from Scott Bowden

Although we often think of nuclear weapons technology as advanced, cutting-edge, and modern, in fact the dawn of the era of atomic weapons was over 70 years ago.  The most current nuclear weapon designs in the U.S. arsenal are 40 years old.

While cutting-edge nuclear weapons research is underway today in terms of minimization of warheads, delivery vehicles, testing simulations, detection devices, materials, and other technologies, the core concept of nuclear fission dates back to the end of the 19th century with research on the element radium undertaken by Marie and Pierre Curie.

In 1909, the chemist Frederick Soddy observed that the energy associated with radioactive elements could be used “as an explosive incomparably more powerful in its activities than dynamite.”  The prominent science fiction author H.G. Wells, writing in his book The World Set Free (published in 1914), expanded upon Soddy’s comments and envisioned a world with nuclear power (to generate electricity) and even atomic bombs that would be used in a world war.

In the spring of 1939, the physicist Enrico Fermi told colleagues in New York that an atomic bomb with a core of radioactive material that would fit in his cupped hands could destroy a city. Fermi would go on to supervise the creation of the world’s first nuclear reactor on a squash court at the University of Chicago in late 1942.

The story of how these ideas evolved from the laboratory to science fiction to reality during World War II has been told many times and my intent here is not to repeat it in detail.  In the early 1940s, several prominent scientists, including Albert Einstein, realized that the energy unleashed in an atomic explosion could be used to develop a weapon of war with immense destructive capability that could change the course of the World War, which was then raging across the planet and causing the death and displacement of millions of people. These scientists sent a joint letter to President Franklin Roosevelt recommending that the U.S. begin a nuclear weapons program.

Letter from Leo Szilard, Edward Teller, and Albert Einstein to FDR concerning the atomic bomb

Fearing that the Nazi regime in Germany was in the process of building their own atomic bomb, the United States initiated the Manhattan Project in June 1942, under the co-direction of the physicist Robert Oppenheimer and Army General Leslie Groves. The top-secret project was headquartered in an isolated area in Los Alamos, New Mexico, and brought in expertise and materials from around the country in a race to develop the new weapon before any other country could do so. The project succeeded in developing and mastering the various technologies needed to build the world’s first atomic bomb, which was tested at the Trinity Site on July 16, 1945, at the Alamogordo Bombing and Gunnery Range in southern New Mexico.

Overview of the Los Alamos Site in the 1940s

I recently visited the Manhattan Project National Historical Park in Los Alamos as well as the Trinity Site, and I would highly recommend both of these sites to anyone interested in science and history.

I’ve analyzed the Manhattan Project from the standpoint of how the leaders of that project leveraged innovation techniques to complete their work in such as astonishingly short period of time.

The Manhattan Project was, in some ways, a massive-scale innovation program that had to create entirely numerous new technologies from scratch. The scientists did not have a detailed roadmap of how to build an atomic bomb, yet they had to complete their work under the enormous pressures of a world war, knowing that every day that passed without them completing their mission, thousands more people around the world would suffer. Moreover, if the Germans or even the Japanese developed an atomic bomb, the results would be devastating for the free world.

Given these intense pressures, combined with the material privations of a country at war, the innovation techniques leveraged by the Manhattan Project are worthy of investigation. To simplify my analysis of their work, I will present several themes concerning the program and provide a modern innovation analogy for each theme. 

Leadership of Opposites

The Manhattan Project was led by two men with dramatically different personas.   Colonel Leslie Groves was the Army Corps of Engineers’ key leader on the just-completed project to build the Pentagon in Washington, D.C., an edifice that for many years would be the largest office building in the world. Groves wanted an overseas combat assignment to continue his career, but instead he was redirected to head the Manhattan Project and given a promotion to the rank of General.  Almost six feet tall and weighing around 250 pounds, Groves was the type of person who “muscled his way through life” and was “[g]ruff and plainspoken,” with little “time for the subtleties of diplomacy.”  His top aide, Colonel Kenneth Nichols, referred to Groves using words such as demanding, critical, abrasive, and sarcastic, but also noted that Groves was intelligent and had “the guts to make timely, difficult decisions.”

Groves took over the project on September 18, 1942 and set about finding a scientist to serve as the scientific director of the project.

Period Photo of Oppenheimer – Minus his Trademark Porkpie Hat

Groves ended up selecting the Berkeley physicist Robert Oppenheimer, who was a diminutive, 128-pound, coughing and chain-smoking genius who was rarely seen without his trademark porkpie hat. Oppenheimer was ambitious and could be arrogant, but his knowledge was without equal.

Oppenheimer lacked experience in running large teams, however, and was more of a theorist in physics rather than an engineer or experimentalist. One friend described Oppenheimer as a “very impractical fellow […who] walked about with scuffed shoes and a funny hat, and […who] didn’t know anything about equipment.”

Statues of Groves and Oppenheimer at Los Alamos Historical Site

Leadership of the Manhattan Project required a combination of intellectual brilliance and operational expertise that it is unlikely would ever have been found in a single person. The sheer difficulty and sophistication of the science involved in the project meant that only one of the most intelligent physicists in the country could lead the scientific arm of the project.

On the logistics side, the fact that the project had to rely so heavily on the military for materials, construction, sites, security, and other aspects created a situation in which a physicist alone, however brilliant, could never have mastered all of the complexities involved in making such a huge project operate efficiently.

For example, the day after he assumed control of the project, Groves made arrangements to obtain 1,200 tons of high-grade uranium ore then, the following day, made arrangements to purchase a site at Oak Ridge, Tennessee that would be used for uranium processing.  Within a couple of weeks, he went on a tour across the country of all the laboratories engaged in uranium isotope separation, where he met Oppenheimer at U.C. Berkeley. One of his colleagues at Berkeley said that Oppenheimer “couldn’t run a hamburger stand,” but he embraced his mission wholeheartedly and became an effective leader of the scientific aspects of the project.

As Kai Bird notes in his biography of Oppenheimer, “[i]n retrospect, they were a perfect team to lead the effort to beat Germans in the race to build a nuclear weapon.”  “If Robert’s style of charismatic authority tended to breed consensus,” Bird continues, “Groves exercised his authority through intimidation.”

Innovation Lesson – The modern innovator is unlikely to have the luxury of splitting up leadership responsibilities between operations/logistics and vision.  For a large-scale project, this might be the case, but most of our innovation work will be on such a scale that the innovation leader has to wear both hats at the same time. The importance of this lesson from Los Alamos is that the innovation leader needs to be cognizant of the fact that one’s work has to cover both areas. If one spends too much time in the theoretical or visionary space, the logistics of the project will be neglected and could result in failure.

Likewise, an innovation leader who spends too much time in the operations and logistics aspects of a project would work to the detriment of the vision of the project.  Interestingly, once Oppenheimer began work at Los Alamos, he realized that he alone could not do both the jobs of the scientific director of the lab as well as the chief of the theoretical division, so he appointed the physicist Hans Bethe to lead the latter so he could focus on the former.

Location, Location, Location

The aphorism about real estate, that location is the most important element of a property sale, is applicable to many other scenarios as well.  In the case of the Manhattan Project, this held quite true. At the start of the project, Oppenheimer was receiving input from teams spread across the country. However, he recognized that “various groups working on fast-neutron fission at Princeton, Chicago, and Berkeley were sometimes just duplicating each other’s work […and] needed to collaborate in a central location.” Groves agreed that a central location could help the teams “come to grips with chemical, metallurgical, engineering, and ordnance problems that had so far received no consideration.”

While the notion of centralizing the teams in one location was largely intuitive, the idea of placing them in a very remote location was perhaps less obvious. The notion of a remote location was critical for security, for it would be nearly impossible to project the secrets of the project if the work were underway in a large city such as Chicago. Chicago had the advantage of hosting Fermi’s large team that had already made progress in nuclear physics, and the city possessed “world-class libraries and a large pool of experienced machinists, glass-blowers, engineers and other technicians” who would be needed for such a project.

Views of the Los Alamos Mesa – Note the Steep Cliffs

The location chosen for the project was Los Alamos, New Mexico, which was a barren site about 40 miles northwest of Santa Fe. The site was a large mesa, surrounded by mountains, with limited access in the form of a single entry road and steep, sheer rocky cliffs hundreds of feet tall protecting its flanks.  Oppenheimer knew the area well as he had ridden horses there when he was younger.

On top of the 7,200 foot-elevation plateau was an 800-acre ranch that was being used as a school for boys. From the ranch, one could see the snow-covered Jemez mountains (11,000 feet) in one direction, the Rio Grande Valley (a 40-mile view) in another direction, and the Sangre de Cristo mountains (13,000 feet) in the other direction.

When Groves saw the site, he purportedly said “[t]his is the place.”  Interestingly, spies from Japan and the Soviet Union ended up penetrating the project nonetheless, though perhaps they gleaned less information that they would have in a more populated setting.

More Views of the Los Alamos Mesa  Views of the Mountains Surrounding the Los Alamos Historic Site  Ashley Pond – Location of Building where Trinity Device was Assembled (known as ‘Ice House’)

Innovation Lesson – Just as location was an important variable in 1942, so, too, is location important for the work we do today as innovation practitioners.

As innovation leaders, we face myriad decisions about how to organize our teams on innovation projects. Working for large, often-global, corporations means that our experts are often widely dispersed across the country and even the planet.

With the prevalence of remote workers, we often lack even office spaces in various cities where we would be able to congregate on a regular basis. We do our best to manage these work efforts using communications tools and techniques, but in the end, I have always believed there is a benefit to co-locating teams who are working on major projects.

Where Los Alamos informs this decision is in terms of the physical aspects of the site. Having visited Los Alamos recently, I must say that the natural setting is absolutely beautiful. The scenery is stunning, almost breath-taking, and I imagine that any visitor to the site in 1942 and after would have been astonished at the natural beauty of the site.

The deep canyons separating the mesa from surrounding areas is clearly protected and almost impenetrable, to the point where any concerns about security would be lowered in priority so one could focus more on the work at hand than on secrecy.

While the site had privations because of its remoteness, including snow in the winter, high winds in the summer, and muddy roads in the shoulder seasons, I would submit that the sheer natural glory of this site would outweigh these challenges.

Being at Los Alamos is uplifting, so I have to think that some of the success of the project was due to this amazing location that was selected by Oppenheimer and Groves.  Even today, the top-secret Los Alamos National Laboratory is still located in the area, though the lab has moved over to the next mesa, where it is again separated from the public areas by a large canyon.

View of the New Los Alamos National Laboratory across the Canyon

As I stood there admiring the site, I could not help but think about how striking this location would have been to a new lab worker in the 1940s. First the worker would take a train across the country and arrive at the Santa Fe station.  He or she would then go to a small office across from the main Santa Fe plaza at 109 East Palace Avenue to a reception area to be processed by the Administrative Secretary Dorothy McKibben.

The road trip out of Santa Fe to the site, about 40 miles, is one of increasing scenic beauty as one approaches the site, with a small, winding mountain road leading to a single security gate for entry. That gate still stands today in a public park as a reminder of the original layout of the town. The message that this would have sent to even the most jaded scientist would be that the work underway here is of utmost importance, and would have likely put the scientist in a proper frame of mind to begin his or her work.

Santa Fe Office at 109 East Palace Ave where New Arrivals to Los Alamos would be Processed

 

Original Los Alamos Main Guard Gate – Now a Public Park

One scientist, James Tuck from England, noted that at Los Alamos he “found a spirit of Athens, or Plato, of an ideal republic.” Other scientists dubbed it an “island in the sky” or “Shangri-La.” 

Bernice Brode, the wife of physicist Robert Brode, wrote longingly of watching “the seasons come and go – the aspens turning gold in the fall against the dark evergreens; blizzards piling up snow in winter, the pale green of spring buds; and the dry desert wind whistling through the pines in summer.”

It was surely a touch of genius to establish our strange town on the mesa top, although many sensible people sensibly said that Los Alamos was a city that never should have been.”                – Bernice Brode

As innovators it is unlikely we will ever have the budget for our project to find work in a remote location as spectacular as Los Alamos. Yet when pulling team members together, we should think about the human spirit and make sure that we do things that can uplift them as they work on the innovation project.

A windowless basement conference room may be readily available for collaboration, but it may not enable the team to perform as effectively as might be the case in a higher floor room with a city or nature view. Something positive happens to people when they are in a place that uplifts them, and as innovators we should take this into consideration when thinking about locations for our projects.

Don’t Forget the Basics

While natural beauty was a key element of the Los Alamos site, Oppenheimer and Groves also understood the need to meet the basic requirements for their team members. They arranged to build an entire, almost self-sufficient city onsite at the central lab location so that team members could focus on their work and not have to feel like they were missing other aspects of life. The site would contain a viable community managed by a city engineer and included quarters for bachelors as well as family homes with electricity, fireplaces, refrigerators, hot-water heaters, and wood-fired stoves.

House of Physicist Hans Bethe 

Innovation LessonIt is said that an Army travels on its stomach, and my experience has been that the most important thing we can do as innovation leaders, at least in terms of meeting logistics, is to make sure that the needs of our team members are taken care of, which means regular breaks, drinks, food, and anything else that people need to stay focused on their work,  By removing these distractions, one could argue that more brainpower is freed up to focus on solving innovation challenges.

Although there were not phones (for security reasons), the houses were similar to what a team member would have in a less remote location. Likewise, the site included servants for housework, a school for children, a library, laundry service, a hospital, garbage collection, a cinema, a cantina, multiple dining facilities, a post exchange, a movie theater, and recreational activities such as hiking and skiing. The goal was to make life as normal as possible so that the team members could focus on the task at hand rather than worrying about other distractions.

Fuller Lodge at Los Alamos Site – Used for Community Activities

Information Sharing

We take for granted today the need to share information across towers, teams, organizations, and, in some cases, even across companies.  In the case of the Manhattan Project, the critical need for secrecy and the military-style leadership of General Groves put a damper on this normal flow of information.  Groves wanted tight control over information and was paranoid about leaks and espionage.

The physicist Ernest Lawrence once paid a visit to the site to speak to a group of the lab’s scientists about an important topic. Before his speech, Groves pulled Lawrence aside and “carefully briefed him on what he was not allowed to say to his audience.”  Lawrence later took his position at the blackboard and proceeded to tell his colleagues that although General Groves does not want me to say this, I will say it anyway.  Eventually Groves relented, acknowledging that “at Los Alamos the rules of science had trumped the principles of military security.”

Hans Bethe pushed the idea of a weekly, open-ended meeting among the scientists across the different towers (experimental physics, theoretical physics, chemistry, metallurgy), to discuss various topics about the project and share information liberally about the challenges each were facing in their areas. The first colloquium was held in April, 1943, and was led by Oppenheimer’s former student, Bob Serber. The session covered the project from end-to-end in terms of the goal of creating bombs using uranium or plutonium that could be small enough to be delivered from an airplane.

For many of the attendees, this was the first time they heard the entire story of why they were there, as the compartmentalization if information had kept them blinded to other parts of the project. Serber went on to provide four additional four-hour lectures that delved into the details of the bomb, including the mechanisms considered to trigger the chain reaction that would start the explosion. These lectures stimulated exactly the kinds of creative discussion that Oppenheimer wanted, and definitely aided the progress of the overall project.

Innovation Lesson – Although we as innovators do not face the types of information secrecy challenges that the Los Alamos scientists faced, we still spend a great deal of time thinking about information security. In some ways, our challenges are different because of the prevalence of cybersecurity challenges. In particular, if we work for large corporations, we have to be extra-careful about protecting information about our innovation work. Simple steps such as not putting critical information in a non-encrypted email, not using public WiFi hotspots, and using screen protectors when working in public areas (such as on a plane), are important habits.

Yet the lesson from Los Alamos goes beyond information security. Rather, it serves as a reminder that even in wartime, information security should not become such a focus that it overwhelms the natural need, within a project, for information-sharing and dialogue across towers or organizations.  There is a balance to be struck in which an innovation leader protects key attributes of an innovation while also sharing just enough data with colleagues to be able to leverage their expertise to move the project forward.

Introduction for New Team Members

As noted above, Bob Serber’s multiple lectures on the project provided a stimulating arena in which the various scientists involved could bounce ideas off each other and discuss the challenges they were facing. Scientists could also gain a better understanding of how their individual tasks fit into the overall project’s objectives.

Yet these lectures also resulted in the creation of something that would benefit every new entrant into the program in the future.  Serber’s lecture notes were typed up into a 24-page summary that was titled The Los Alamos Primer.  New scientists who arrived to start work on the project would immediately receive and be expected to read the material to get up to speed quickly on the overall program. This prevented other scientists from having to stop what they were doing to bring a new team member up to speed.

Innovation Lesson – One of the unique and, indeed, interesting aspects of the career of the innovation practitioner is the speed at which an innovator has to move from idea to idea, or project to project, as part of one’s daily work activities.  It is rare that an innovator would be assigned to work on a single idea for a long period of time. Rather, the innovator has to be able to juggle multiple projects and ideas at the same time.

Another attribute of innovation leadership is the need to bring others into a project or session and get them up to speed quickly, depending on how the idea has progressed over time. For example, an innovation may start out focusing on a particular technology solution but, as the work evolves, it may turn out that the team needs a completely new technology or process to complete the work.  In this scenario, the innovation team would need to bring new expertise into the project quickly and get that person up to speed on the overall program so that he or she could begin contributing to the project without delay.

Serber’s Lecture Notes which became the Los Alamos Primer

The example of The Los Alamos Primer is instructive in that it shows how important it is for a team to have a mechanism to execute this knowledge-transfer work quickly and effectively.  The key is for this information to be at a high enough level to be able to bring a manager up to speed on the project while also being detailed enough technically to instruct a technical expert on the work at hand.  In my experience, I rarely joined projects that had the correct amount of information available for newcomers.

 

The information provided was either at such a high level as to be useless to technical subject matter experts (bullet points or contract-type verbiage), or too technical to be useful to managers and executives (overly complex spider diagrams).  Thus anytime I joined or ran a program, my first task was to work with the team members to prepare this package. Little did I know that I was modeling this against The Los Alamos Primer all along.

Speed Has Its Own Virtue

The Manhattan Project represents one of the fastest, large-scale scientific development projects in world history.  From June 1942, the project took an idea from theoretical physics and turned it into a fully-functional and successfully-tested device by July 1945, merely three years later. The project required the development of entirely new processes in manufacturing, metallurgy, chemistry, ordnance, and physics, and was done under the intense pressures of a global war.  Although in our modern world three years seems like a long period of time, it is difficult to overstate the challenges faced by Robert Oppenheimer and the Los Alamos scientists.

Yet despite the complexity of their work, one element remained constant throughout the project – the importance of speed.  The reason for the importance of speed was twofold.  First, the scientists knew that the sooner they could complete development of this weapon, the sooner they would have the chance to end a war that was killing thousands of people around the world on a daily basis.  Second, the scientists knew that they were in an intense, head-to-head race with Nazi Germany to develop the bomb and that if the Germans obtained the weapon before the U.S. did, the results would be catastrophic.

Given the typical collaboration among international scientists before the war, the Los Alamos scientists knew their German counterparts quite well.  They knew exactly where Germany had started in its atomic research before the war, and they knew the mindset and capabilities of their opponents.

The physicist Isidor Rabi, a friend of Oppenheimer’s from Berkeley, visited Los Alamos in mid-1944 and met with the scientific team to discuss the program.

Rabi noted that “[w]e went over the whole thing again and the history of our own development and tried to see where they [the Germans] could have been cleverer, where they might have had better judgment and avoided this error or that error . . …We finally arrived at the conclusion that they could be exactly up to us, or perhaps further. We felt very solemn. One didn’t know what the enemy had.  One didn’t want to lose a single day, a single week.  And certainly, a month would be a calamity.” 

Rabi’s realization that the Germans were at least neck-and-neck with Los Alamos meant that every minute was precious and that the lab had to continue to focus on speed above all else.

Indeed, in the crucial period of the 1940s in the development of the atomic bomb, the real challenge was not basic information about how to make the bomb. For the most part, scientists around the world understood the core concepts. The real challenge was to create and execute the massive industrial processes required to produce  fissionable material (uranium 235 or plutonium) and to put that material into a device that could be delivered via an aircraft.

In the summer of 1943, Oppenheimer told a Los Alamos security officer that “[t]he danger […] was not that the technical information about the bomb might leak to another country.”  Rather, he continued, “[t]he real secret was ‘the intensity of our effort’ and the scale of the ‘international investment involved.’”  In other words, if “other governments understood the resources America was throwing into the bomb effort, they might attempt to duplicate the bomb project.

Japanese spies had indeed infiltrated the Manhattan Project, but “the intelligence reports reaching Tokyo were evidently of poor quality, since they gave the impression that the Manhattan Project was proceeding slowly; [which resulted in t]he Japanese nuclear experts conclud[ing] that they could take their time.”

Innovation Lesson – We spend a lot of time in our innovation work focusing on speed.  We try to push hard through organizational or bureaucratic obstacles that stand in the way of our success, and one job of the innovation leader is to be impatient and unsatisfied with answers that result in an inordinate amount of time being required for a certain task to be completed, especially a task that is critical to the success of the project.  There is always a balance to strike, though, between pushing for speed in certain areas while recognizing those areas that are worth an additional investment of time.  It is the job of the innovation leader to manage this balance.

Oppenheimer seemed to possess an innate ability to manage this challenge of speed versus thoroughness. One scientist “marveled at how often Oppie seemed to be physically present at each new breakthrough in the project […] and noted that his main influence came from his continuous and intense presence, which produced a sense of direct participation in all of us.”

Hans Bethe “recalled the day Oppie dropped in to a session on metallurgy and listened to an inconclusive debate over what type of refractory container should be used for melting plutonium.”  “After listening to the argument,” he noted, “Oppie summed up the discussion […and although h]e didn’t directly propose a solution, […] by the time he left the room the right answer was clear to all.”

In the scenario of the metallurgy debate, Oppenheimer could have simply deferred to speed and stated a preferred answer then left the room, but that would not have been the best way to continue fostering cooperation and teamwork among his colleagues and would not have allowed them to reach the correct conclusion on their own. Although his presence in the room was a facilitator for a speedy outcome, he did so in a way that was unobtrusive. Yet this sense of balance did not preclude Oppenheimer from taking a firm stand on issues when the success of the project was at stake.

Scale Model of the Trinity Implosion Device

The bomb that was to be used in the first test at the Trinity Site was an implosion device using plutonium that required a set of very difficult-to-manufacture shaped explosive charges (known as lenses) that would concentrate the initial detonation in a manner sufficient to start a chain reaction in the plutonium core. The task to develop these lenses fell to an explosives expert from Harvard, George Kistiakowsky. The Harvard scholar was “opinionated and strong-willed” and had a number of run-ins with his military counterpart, Captain Deke Parsons.

 

Kistiakowsky had been unable to complete a successful manufacturing process for the explosive lenses required for the bomb, and by January 1945, this was an area of growing concern for the project. Captain Parsons at one point asked Oppenheimer to abandon the lenses so the team could create a different technology for the implosion device, but Oppenheimer made the call to stick with Kistiakowsky’s original design. By May 1945, the team perfected the implosion design using lenses, and this was the mechanism that triggered the successful explosion two months later at the Trinity site.

In the end, Kai Bird notes, “[b]omb-building was more engineering that theoretical physics.”

Yet Oppenheimer proved to be “as singularly adept at marshaling his scientists to overcome technical and engineering obstacles as he had been at stimulating his students to new insights at Berkeley.” Hans Bethe summarized Oppenheimer’s impact as follows: “Los Alamos might have succeeded without him, but certainly only with much greater strain, less enthusiasm, and less speed.”  Oppenheimer’s example of balanced leadership, a bit of genius, and a focus on stimulating the bright minds around him, can serve as an example for modern innovators concerning how to increase the speed of their projects.

Implosion Device Ring Detonator

Test the Most Complex Component

In Robert Serber’s overview seminars on the Los Alamos project, there were two different types of atomic bombs that the scientists planned to develop. The first type would use a core of enriched uranium (U-235), about the size of a cantaloupe fruit, which would weigh around 33 pounds.

The second bomb type would use plutonium (produced via neutron-capture from U-238) and would be the size of an orange, weighing only 11 pounds. The U-235 bomb would be detonated by a shotgun-style mechanism in which a slug of uranium would be shot into another slug of the same material, which would generate a nuclear chain reaction and and atomic explosion.

The other mechanism was the implosion model, in which a ring of explosives surrounding a fissile core could be detonated at the same time, compressing the core and initiating a chain reaction. Serber suggested that the final weight of the bomb, including the fissile material and all the detonators, guidance, casing, and other components would be about 2,000 pounds, which would allow it to be easily delivered via an aircraft. In fact, the final bomb to be dropped on Hiroshima weighed a total of 9,700 pounds.

As Bird notes, “[s]ome of the physics of building an atomic bomb were still uncertain, but the real imponderables lay in the field of engineering and ordnance design.”  “Producing sufficient amounts of either U-235 or plutonium,” he continues, “would require a massive industrial effort.” 

Yet once the materials were obtained, the scientists were confident that they could make a bomb.  The scientists were very confident of the shotgun-style approach and decided that they did not need to test that specific device. Rather, they decided that “a test of the [implosion] plutonium bomb was essential before it could be used as a weapon of war.”

Oppenheimer and his team reviewed a list of eight sites and settled on Trinity site in New Mexico, which was part of the Alamogordo Bombing and Gunnery Range.  The site was desolate and secluded and was known by the Spanish name “Jornada del Muerto,” which means “journey of death,” due to the inhospitable (dry, hot, and remote) conditions there.

Trinity Site Landscape – Jornada del Muerto

Oppenheimer concluded that this was the perfect location since it was isolated and secret but still close enough to Los Alamos to allow for easy commuting back and forth.  I visited the site recently and can confirm how isolated the area still is even today, but it is also a strikingly beautiful location, surrounded by desert and mountains.

 

Trinity Site Obelisk Fence Surrounding Site Trinity Site – Background Radiation Level = 0.5 mrem Commercial Cross-Country Flight = 2.0 mrem

Before the final test at Trinity Site, the scientists rigged up another tower nearby and conducted an explosion of 100 tons of TNT to serve as a control for the atomic test (the actual atomic bomb yielded the equivalent of 20,000 tons). This would allow them to compare the yield of the plutonium device against the precise results generated by the static TNT test nearby.

Period photo showing the Trinity Blast (top) and the control TNT blast (bottom)

The scientists also considered an additional safeguard for their test, using a device nicknamed “Jumbo.” Jumbo was a huge steel cylinder 25 feet long and 10 feet high, weighing 214 tons. Built in Ohio and shipped to Trinity Site via train, Jumbo was originally planned as a failsafe casing around the plutonium bomb. The plutonium bomb worked via two explosions: an initial implosion via shaped charges followed by a chain reaction of the plutonium core.  If the bomb worked as planned, Jumbo would be vaporized immediately.

Jumbo Casing at Trinity Site – Note the Overall Size

If the plutonium core did not undergo a chain reaction, then the scientists wanted to use Jumbo to capture the radioactive plutonium to keep it from spreading around the test site. Since this was half the known supply of plutonium in the world at the time, it was important to have a plan to salvage it if necessary, as well as to prevent the spread of the dangerous material around the area.

In the end, the scientists did not use Jumbo because they were confident the bomb would go off as designed, but the steel casing is still on the site today to give visitors a feel for the size of the original device, which would have fit inside the casing. Jumbo is sitting at the site today on its side, and visitors can easily walk through it.

Indeed, one of the most interesting images from the era is a picture of the scientists hoisting the plutonium core from their car at the test site. The scientists had to drive the plutonium from Los Alamos to the Trinity Site, a distance of 221 miles, in the dead of summer.

Plutonium Being Moved from the Car to the Sites

I made that drive the morning of the April 2017 Trinity Site open house (actually I had a head start since I was staying in Santa Fe, for a distance of only 188 miles), and it was not an easy trip in a 2016-model car on modern, high-speed roads. I could not imagine doing this in a non-air conditioned 1940s-era car on two-lane roads.The scientists assembled the bomb using explosive components and plutonium cores from Los Alamos using a pecial set of tools from a kit that was identical to the ones that were in transit to Tinian island in the Pacific, where the bombs to be dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki would be assembled. This was to provide a further test of the tools and processes to be followed in the war zone by trying them out first at Trinity.

Only July 16,1945, the bomb was detonated successfully, creating a shock wave that broke windows 120 miles away and that was felt as far as 160 miles away.  A few weeks later, on August 6, 1945, the B-29 named Enola Gay dropped the untested, gun-type uranium bomb over Hiroshima.

“Little Boy” Hiroshima Atomic Bomb Model

Innovation Lesson As innovators we sometimes are fortunate enough to reach the point where the technology or process that we have been working on so intensively is finally ready for testing. Although there are dozens of different and valid approaches to testing (including testing early and often in the development process), the Los Alamos examples provides some interesting food for thought.  In the case of the atomic bomb, the scientists were faced with intense pressures and speed demands due to the ongoing world war, and also faced the challenge of a limited supply of fissile material. They could not afford to follow a typical testing protocol in which they try out many different designs and conduct tests over and over while making slight variations to key variables each time and assessing the outcome.

Since the entire supply of plutonium in the world at that time could fit into a small case, and since it had taken such a huge industrial effort to create it in the first place, the scientists could not be flexible with their testing protocols.  What was most interesting to me, however, was the fact that they chose to focus their testing efforts on the most complex solution (the implosion design), while they chose not to test at all the gun-type U-235 bomb that was actually dropped on Hiroshima.  Indeed, that bomb contained a failsafe mechanism involving secondary explosions to ensure the bomb’s components would be completely destroyed if it failed to explode as designed using the radar altimeter above the target.

For the innovator, this lesson could be of importance if we were faced with multiple scenarios to test and limited time or budget to complete those tests.  Would it make sense to test the most difficult and complex solution first and assume that the basic solutions would work as designed? This is counter to how we normally approach testing, but makes for an interesting possibility.  The Los Alamos scientists certainly used their extensive knowledge of physics to make their critical decision on testing, and we as innovators may not have the luxury of all that assembled brainpower to execute our work.  However, the counter-intuitive approach of testing the most complex elements first may be worth considering in certain scenarios.

Multiple Different Paths

As mentioned above, the production of fissile material proved to be one of the most challenging aspects of the Manhattan Project.  The physicist Niels Bohr “had understood since 1939 that the discovery of nuclear fission made an atomic bomb feasible, but he believed that they engineering necessary for separating out U-235 would require an immense, and therefore impractical, industrial effort.”  The Manhattan Project attacked this “immense” and “impractical” industrial effort using the construction of massive facilities at Oak Ridge, Tennessee and Hanford, Washington to produce these critical materials.

Oak Ridge focused on uranium-235 production and the scientists there hedged their bets by launching three different methods of U-235 production simultaneously: gaseous diffusion, liquid thermal diffusion, and electromagnetic separation via calutrons. Liquid thermal diffusion proved to be inefficient, but the Manhattan Project was able to use portions of all three approaches to manufacture their fissile material, with uranium 238 starting in thermal diffusion then moving to gaseous diffusion then electromagnetic separation, with the percentage of U-235 increasing each step along the way.

Oak Ridge was also the site for the buildout and operation of the pilot reactor that became the model for the plutonium-producing reactors at the Hanford site.  At the Hanford facility, scientists built three reactors to produce plutonium.  As the Atomic Heritage Foundation notes, “[t]he mammoth plants built to process uranium and plutonium were major achievements in engineering.”

Innovation Lesson – From an innovation standpoint, the lesson here is a reminder of the importance of running multiple parallel threads on an initiative to increase the likelihood of success.  Focusing too much attention and too many resources on a single thread in an initiative, however promising that singular approach may be, can be a risky strategy for the innovator.  Had the Manhattan Project focused solely on the very inefficient liquid thermal diffusion method of uranium enrichment, then the project might have been delayed even longer in producing the fissile materials needed for the bomb.  While we may not always have the resources to do so, it is nonetheless important to consider this when organizing work efforts around an important innovation initiative.

Photos Courtesy of the Author

Sources:

Graham Farmelo, “Fumbling with Pandora’s Box,” The Wall Street Journal (June 10, 2017), p. C9.

“Trinity Site,” White Sands Missile Range brochure for site visitors (April 2017).

“Manhattan Project National Historical Park,” National Park Service, U.S. Department of the Interior.

Kai Bird and Martin J. Sherwin, American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2005).

Gregg Herken, “He’s the Bomb,” The New York Times Book Review (November 20, 2016), p. 23.

Steven E. Koonin, “Can We Trust Our Aging Nukes?” The Wall Street Journal (October 15, 2016), p. C3.

https://www.atomicheritage.org/history/building-bomb-1943

Bradbury Science Museum, Los Alamos, New Mexico.

Manhattan Project National Historical Park, Los Alamos, New Mexico.


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Cold Case Innovation

GUEST POST from Scott Bowden

I recently was listening to the news from FranceInfo Radio in an attempt to hone my French language skills and I was struck by an intense discussion about what the French call l’affaire Gregoire, an unsolved case involving the tragic death of a young boy named Gregory in Dijon, France in 1984. Amidst new revelations, the commentator referred to the case as a “cold case” and spoke about how the police in Dijon had four full-time investigators working on over 1,000 cold cases. I began to wonder what those investigators did on a daily basis in terms of what were their daily routines and how did they structure their work efforts.

I do not watch crime-related shows on television, so much of this represented new thinking for me. For example, how did the investigators make sure that they stayed focused on all of the cases and did not put too much emphasis on one versus the other?  How did they take new information and apply it to an older case? How did they know what to look for in terms of new information? With so many open cases, how did they even know where to start each day in terms of their analysis? In the case of l’affaire Gregoire, new handwriting analysis techniques applied to some threatening letters sent to the family in 1983 resulted in the implication of a great Aunt and Uncle in the death.

As I thought about cold cases, my mind wandered to the innovation space and I began to think about how a cold case approach could help the innovation practitioner in terms of handling innovation initiatives that were no longer active.

Most of us manage innovation initiatives in a spreadsheet or database form, using filters and tags to keep track of the status of each innovation. What I have found is that the list grows larger and larger over time, and because it is so difficult to find a truly innovative idea, the list of ideas that were examined then abandoned is often very long, while the list of promising or active initiatives is shorter and shorter. This is also true because of the costs involved in pursuing an active innovation initiative. This long list of inactive initiatives is often abandoned, never to be reviewed again.

In the innovation field we often focus on shiny, new initiatives and thus do not think that there is value in going back over ground that has been reviewed in the past. However, if we take a cold case-inspired approach to this list, we might come up with an alternative method for handling these older ideas.

An innovator could start a recurring process in which he or she would take each of the older innovation ideas through a set of questions to determine if anything had changed that would render those ideas relevant for a current challenge.

This process could occur quarterly, every six months, or annually, depending on how much time the innovator has to invest in the work. The set of questions could be as follows:

  1. Have any of the fundamental assumptions concerning the technology of the original idea changed? For example, if the original idea used a database as part of its analysis, is there a new and broader data set that could be used for the innovation work?  Or is there a faster database engine that could be used to crunch the data?
  2. Have there been any changes concerning the sponsor of the initiative? For example, was there a change in leadership in a position of influence over there project where a new executive might be more favorable to the idea than the previous sponsor?
  3. Has the problem that the initiative sought to solve changed? For example, if an innovation targeted cost cutting through process improvement and a company’s most recent results showed a worsening cost model, then the original idea may become relevant again.
  4. Is there a new technology that could complement the original idea in a way that makes it more effective and thus relevant? For example, there may be a new software application that when added to the original idea makes it much more effective, such as a better speech recognition engine to enhance an artificial intelligence innovation.
  5. Could the original idea be used to solve a new problem that is different from the one that it was originally created to tackle? For example, an innovation that originally targeted process improvements for inventory management (reducing costs) may actually be more applicable to a sales process (increasing revenue).

How one looks at these questions should depend on whether the original idea failed because of a weakness in one of these areas, such as if a sponsor for the initiative was not supportive of the original idea. There may also be many more questions that one could add to this list depending on how deep an analysis one wants to take of the older ideas.

The innovator would need to strike a balance between depth and speed based on the number of older ideas to review and the amount of time he or she must invest in active innovation initiatives. Nonetheless, this approach has the potential to create a new source of innovation ideas by leveraging past work and applying new criteria to those old ideas.

This approach could also apply to a sales process in terms of reviewing old opportunities periodically to see if anything had changed in these opportunities that would warrant a re-examination of their details.

image credit: radiofrance.frlexpress.fr


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What Horses, Camels, and Birdwatching Teach Us About Innovation

GUEST POST from Scott Bowden

One of my favorite quotations is that a camel is a horse designed by a committee.  This oft-repeated maxim serves as a succinct statement of the sub-optimization that can occur when one relies on a myriad of individual opinions to develop a solution. The story assumes that a group of people gets together with the mission of designing something that is sleek, elegant, fast, and strong, such as a horse. Once everyone sitting around the table discusses the horse and adds on his or her preferred options, the previously elegant solution will become encumbered with so many burdens (in an attempt to satisfy everyone at the table who has provided input) that the end result will be an ungainly, slow, and plodding creature such as a camel. I was reminded of this story on two recent trips I took this spring to countries where these animals figured prominently in daily life in certain regions. Encountering these creatures also forced me to stretch outside my usual boundaries yielding interesting results that are useful for the modern student of innovation.

As I have gotten older, I have noticed that the list of things that I generally do not do has grown longer, mainly because after a lifetime of experience I recognize that those activities are not worth the investment of time. Since time is a limited quantity that becomes more and more precious as one ages, I have found myself become more and more selective with how I invest that time. Unfortunately, this has meant that I sometimes prevent myself from exploring new ideas outside of my normal boundaries of operation and, as those of us in the innovation field know, this can be a recipe for repetitive thinking that may limit one’s ability to come up with new ideas.

History is replete with examples of where deviations from the normal course yielded intriguing, sometimes world-changing, results.

Callum Roberts, a leading marine scientist and conservation biologist, provides an example of this phenomenon of straying from the normal path in the story of the yacht captain Charles Moore.  Moore was an experienced sailor who sailed his boat from Hawaii to California on a regular basis. One year, Moore decided to divert from his usual route, which meant that he crossed the now infamous Pacific Ocean gyre and saw the tons and tons of trash in the water. Concentrated there by the natural currents of the Pacific, the garbage gyre is the size of Texas and continues to grow. According to Roberts, Moore “was so stunned by the amount of garbage there that it changed the course of his life”.  Since that chance voyage, Moore has “dedicated his life to the study of plastics at sea, and […] is now a relentless campaigner for something to be done about them.”

This chance deviation from a normal course reminds me of my recent trips to Ecuador and Morocco where I, albeit reluctantly, decided to violate three of my “policies” and agreed to try out horseback riding in the mountains, bird-watching in the cloud forest, and camel riding in the desert.  I won’t bore the readers with the reasons why I hesitated to engage in these activities, but suffice it to say I was pleasantly surprised by these activities and was able to derive some lessons on innovation from the experiences.

Rely on Expertise

My typical areas of focus when traveling are archaeology, architecture, and history.  Sometimes I am able to find a guide whose background aligns perfectly with these interests, as was the case last year in trips I made to Israel, Jordan, and Peru.  My guide on a recent trip to Ecuador, Roberto, had knowledge in these areas but had spent the majority of his life raising and riding horses and leading birdwatching expeditions.  Although we spent the requisite amount of time visiting locations that matched my initial interests, I agreed to add to our itinerary some activities that were more aligned to Roberto’s lifelong expertise.  I will detail some of his advice on birdwatching and horseback riding below, but suffice it to say the results were amazing.  Roberto grew up on a farm and interacted with horses from a young age, and continued to interact with horses almost daily in his present occupation, owning and caring for four horses that he paddocked at a friend’s stables.  For the innovator, this serves as a reminder that no matter how well one purports to understand a subject, it is always important to seek out those whose expertise is deep and lifelong in an area.  These individuals have a unique understanding of a subject, and while at first glance we may not see them as sources of innovative thinking, because they are more attuned to the “old” way of operating, the information they possess about a process or solution is definitely worth assessing.

Perform an Initial Study

When I told Roberto about my lack of any experience being around horses, he suggested that we spend a little time visiting with his personal horses before we went to the location where we would saddle up and head off on a ride.  He wanted me to see how the horses behaved on their own and in a group, how they walked and ran through the fields, and how they naturally followed a lead horse to and from their stables.  He showed me a Palomino horse that had learned how to untie a rope knot with her mouth so that she could open the gate of the stable. Interestingly, the Palomino was so cognizant of the eye contact of humans around that she would not do it if she saw that we were looking at her. I didn’t know it at the time but the lessons I was learning during this first interaction would be important for my ride the next day: horses are highly intelligent creatures, they have a natural tendency to follow a leader, they make eye contact, and they understand the concept of “home” and eagerly go there. I would experience all of these things the next day while riding a different horse, but because I had already absorbed these lessons they were second-nature to me which permitted me to focus on the more technical tasks at hand, such as holding the reins and steering the horse.

For the innovator, this reminds us of the importance of performing enough research upfront before diving into a project. The goal of the initial research should be to render various concepts and ideas second-nature so that one begins an innovation exploration with a subconscious understanding of the foundations of the exploration which allows one to focus one’s efforts on the more complex and challenging aspects of the innovation puzzle that one is trying to solve.

Approach from the Front

When we arrived at the stables the next day to ride, Roberto stressed the importance of always approaching a horse from the front.  This is for two reasons.  First, a kick from a horse’s hind legs could result in a very painful injury, so that area of a horse is definitely one to be avoided.  Second, the positioning of a horse’s eyes mean that they can see well in front of them but not behind them, so it is important to approach from the front so as not to surprise them.  For the innovator, the lesson here could be that when trying to approach a problem, we sometimes think that we need to be creative or even deceptive and try various angles of attack to work on a solution.  While this may work in some cases, we should also think about how the problem is most amenable to solving.  If the problem is best suited to a direct approach from the front, then we should not hesitate to adhere to that strategy.  In fact, by trying to overthink our approach tactics, we may end up wasting valuable resources that would be better spent in diving directly into the actual problem-solving phase of the project.

Look in the Eyes and Get to Know Before Fully Engaging

Although I heeded Roberto’s advice and approached the horse properly from the front, I made a mistake by doing so while wearing my sunglasses, having forgotten the lesson of the Palomino and the importance of eye contact.  Roberto noted that horses liked to see the eyes of humans and that by covering my eyes the horse was unable to gather a data point it would typically have in a first interaction with a new rider.  Roberto also said that I should pet the horse on the side and talk to it after approaching to establish a relationship with it before stepping into the stirrup and climbing on the saddle.  For the innovator, this action reminds us that however eager we are to rush into a work effort, we need to be cognizant of the fact that the people working with us are human beings and we need to establish relationships with them before we jump into the subject at hand.  Often times we are so excited about an innovation project or we are so focused on solving a big, important problem that we rush through the normal process of people getting to know one another.  This small investment of time upfront can yield positive returns in the long run in terms of making the team operate more efficiently.

Hold the Reins Firmly but not too Tightly

One I had climbed into the saddle, I then took the reins (Spanish style, in one hand, since we were in Ecuador) and began the very challenging task of trying to find the exact tension to use when holding the reins to both steer the horse and slow it as needed.  This reminded me of the old adage from golf instruction in which a golfer is supposed to grip the golf club in a way that is tight but not too tight and loose but not too loose, as if one was holding a bird’s egg.  In other words, there are many things in life where one has to be both firm and soft, and one has to find a very precise and exact balance between the two extremes.  Finding that exact spot is hard to describe, but once one finds it, it can become second-nature.  Steering to the left or right involved just the right amount of direction via the reins, as was the case with slowing down via pulling back, or nudging the horse forward with a gentle brushing of the heel of one’s shoe on the horse’s side (in a precise spot so as not to hurt the horse).  This reminded me of the balance we strike in innovation between free-wheeling in brainstorming new ideas versus a more highly-structured process of guiding individuals to a specific outcome.  It is hard to describe upfront how to strike this balance in innovation, but with experience we can get to the point where we realize when we are operating in the most effective way between the two extremes.

Give Reassurance while Riding

I never expected there to be so much verbal and physical interaction between a rider and a horse, but Roberto had prepared me for this in advance so I was ready.  The most fascinating thing was that the horse’s ears turned back to point at me when I spoke to her.  Unfortunately, I wasn’t speaking Spanish, but the horse could sense my tone and react accordingly.  I gave her a lot of reassurance throughout the ride, including many pats on the neck when we successfully navigated some tough terrain, crossed a busy street, or avoided a large dump truck that went by on a dirt road.  There was definitely a bond between even a brand-new rider and this horse, and I saw that the more encouragement I gave, the better the horse performed.  For the innovation practitioner, this serves as a reminder of the importance of keeping a team engaged through encouragement.  This is particularly important during those bleak periods when no one seems to be able to come up with a solution to a difficult problem, such as when a room full of creative individuals is staring at a blank whiteboard and unable to get moving on new ideas.  Rather than focusing on one’s watch and fretting over how little time is left to find a solution, the innovation leader should think about ways to provide positive energy to the room to keep the participants engaged.

Stand vs Sit with Stirrups

I had read many times that the invention of the stirrup caused an end to feudalism in Europe (indeed a long story), but I did not truly understand why until I felt the different in riding positions between being seated on the saddle and standing up in the stirrups.  Standing did not raise one’s height up much above sitting in terms of distance, but it was a remarkable difference in terms of how one could handle the horse moving over certain terrain at higher speeds.  In terms of innovation, this reminded me of the importance of being seated in a chair while working versus standing up, particularly with the prominence of standing desks today.

Both positions are useful for certain activities, and for the innovator it is important to know when to use one or the other.  I find that seating is needed for intense typing or reading, while standing or walking around can be conducive to ideation or puzzle-solving. Indeed, there are many examples where getting up and walking around resulted in great scientific discoveries. Callum Roberts, the marine biologist, notes that the first scientist to postulate that the burning of fossil fuels could lead to planetary warming was the Swedish chemist, Svante Arrhenius. Roberts notes that Arrhenius perhaps made his discovery that “atmospheric carbon dioxide could have played a key role in glaciations […] while tramping the icy streets of Uppsala one evening as the coal smoke from thousands of hearths wrapped around him.”  This also reminds us of James Watt’s famous stroll around Glasgow Green that led him to an epiphany about the steam engine, a walk that many historians believe launched the industrial revolution.

Trust the Horse to Choose the Best Path

This was perhaps the most fascinating aspect of horseback riding for me.  Although I was ostensibly “guiding” the horse via the reins and my commands, the horse still had to make many micro-level navigational decisions on its own.  By micro-level I mean the decisions on where to put each of its hooves as we moved across terrain that varied from dirt to gravel to road to rock.  After riding for a while I noticed that the horse was very deliberate with each step and always made the best decision on where to go.  I spend a lot of time mountain biking on rough terrain, and anyone who does this knows that the placement of one’s front tire is crucial to finding the safest and fastest path up or down a trail.  The decisions have to be made by the cyclist quickly and repeatedly, as loose rocks and ruts (from washouts) vary on each ride.

The rider also has to think about where the back tire will hit as well, since it follows roughly the same path as the front (except when one does a sharp turn with the front wheel…the front tire may miss an obstacle but the back tire will still hit it). As I watched my horse navigate similar terrain (packed dirt and loose rocks), I was astonished to see that the horse, on its own, would pick the same line through loose rocks or washed out terrain that I would have picked had I been on a mountain bike on that exact same trail.  The line was not always the most obvious path, either.  Sometimes an initial step would be sub-optimal so that the next few steps would be easier, just as on a bike I might pick a line that looks worse for the initial set of rocks but positions me better for the next set of rocks.

The horse picked what I considered to be the “best” line every time, which I much appreciated as I was about six feet off the ground in my perch atop the saddle.  For the innovator, this example provides two lessons.  First, one should remember that there are “best” ways of accomplishing something, and these “best” ways may end up being simple or timeless approaches to solving problems that have been used for generations.  This is why historical innovation is so important to me, because problem solving is something that the human species has been engaged in since the beginning of time.  Second, this example should remind us that finding this “best” path may require one or two initial steps in a slightly different direction at first, so that one is better positioned for the ultimate pathway in the end.

Ignore Those Nipping at Our Heels

The pathway we followed on our horseback ride went through a poor neighborhood in the Cotopaxi region of Ecuador.  Anyone who has visited Ecuador knows that there is an abundance of stray and loose dogs in these neighborhoods (and cities, too).  I am a dog owner, so barking dogs did not phase me in the least, but I was worried about how the horse would react to small packs of dogs.  The horse clearly noticed them, as I saw her head and ears turn towards the dogs.  I gave her reassurance while the dogs were running alongside us, and used my limited Spanish to scold the dogs to get them to let us pass.  The horse was so much larger than the dogs, and so high up, that she was able to traverse through their barking and yapping with little trouble.

From an innovation standpoint, this reminded me of how when we are engaged in an innovation effort, there will always be those who nip at our heels while we try to complete our work.  The nipping can be in the form of distractions from other work priorities or from naysayers who do not think we will be successful in our efforts.  Like the horse, we should be alert to these distractions but we should not let them redirect us from our objective.

Speed up When Almost Home

At the end of a ride in which we crossed a busy road, dealt with the aforementioned nipping dogs, climbed up and down rocky hills, moved to the side to allow a huge dump truck to pass, and forded a small stream, the horse, true to form, began to speed up once she recognized that she was getting close to her stables and would be home soon.  At that point direction from me was almost irrelevant, as the horse knew where she was going.  I see the same behavior at home when I am walking my dogs, and I assume this is the same sense of satisfaction that any of us feels when we turn our car on the final road that leads to our houses.  For the innovation practitioner, the concept here is how an innovation effort can increase its pace and intensity as it nears the finish line.  In other words, when planning on durations for tasks associated with innovation work, one should take into consideration that tasks performed later in the process, once a successful outcome is within one’s sights, may be performed more rapidly than tasks done at the outset when one has less of an understanding of where and when the effort will end.

Specialization

I mentioned at the beginning of this article that I recently rode a Dromedary camel in the Moroccan desert.  It happened to be shortly after my horseback ride in Ecuador, so I was able to compare and contrast the two.  The camel I rode was a stark contrast to the sleek, elegant Spanish horse in Ecuador.  It did not allow any piloting by the rider.  Rather, it was led by a rope by a young Berber on foot.

The camel was nonetheless a fascinating creature because it was so highly specialized for its environment.  It is well-known that camels have amazing abilities to operate in desert climates in terms of their ability to go long distances without food or water and ability to see during blowing sandstorms (and protect themselves from intense sunlight) via their three eyelids.  While riding, I was interested in comparing how the camel navigated sand dunes with its specialized feet.  Camel feet are broad and flat, and, like the horse, the camel paid close attention to where each foot was placed as it plodded up and down sand dunes.

The fine, shifting, sands of the Moroccan desert, as I found out when I walked on my own, were challenging for bipeds and any slope encountered meant the possibility of sliding.  The camel was happy to allow a foot to slide as it went down a hill, but its enormous feet provided traction in an environment where the elegant Spanish horse would have had quite a challenge. Although unsightly and definitely not able to provide a smooth ride, the camel met its purpose in traversing some challenging desert terrain.

For the innovator, this can serve as a reminder that the most elegant looking solution may not always be the best for a problem.  One should focus on the particular problem that one is trying to solve, and while we often associate “innovation” with things that are shiny, new, or sleek, in the end our goal is to make things work better.  In this case, the committee designing the camel actually did a good job for desert transportation.

Look for Birds with One’s Ears not Eyes

I mentioned earlier that in addition to his expertise on horses, my Ecuadoran guide Roberto was also an expert birdwatcher.  While I respect the work done by birdwatchers in terms of photography, counting birds, differentiating between hundreds of different types of birds, and protecting species and habitats, I never thought that I wanted to spend time engaged in those activities. Roberto convinced me to go on a walk with him along with his scope, and I must say the experience was quite interesting.

A fundamental aspect of birdwatching, he noted, is that you look for birds with your ears, not your eyes. Birds are often small, fast creatures that are extremely hard to spot in trees or fields.  Roberto’s method is to listen for the calls of birds then, based on his knowledge of the type of bird making the call and what type of habitat it prefers, he uses his ears to guide his eyes towards the area where the bird might be located.

In other words, hearing the bird’s call provides initial information about what to look for with one’s eyes. The ears can help triangulate the location, then the eyes can find the actual prize.  For the innovator, this is a potentially useful concept in terms of how it inverts a common understanding in order to arrive at a better outcome.

When one is trying to solve a problem and struggling to find answers, it is sometimes helpful to look at the problem from a completely different perspective. Just as a birdwatcher might stare into some dense foliage for several minutes and never see the bird he or she is seeking, so, too, could the innovator and his or her team get bogged down trying to follow a particular path to a solution. In these instances, it may be better to regroup and approach the problem from a completely new, unorthodox perspective.

Leverage Technology with Process

One thing I noticed immediately when I interacted with birdwatchers was that I did not bring the appropriate equipment for the effort.  Armed with large spotting scopes and expensive cameras with huge lenses, the real birdwatchers put those of us with only smartphone cameras to shame.  However, I did learn that properly leveraging these components required a multi-step process to be successful.  I had assumed that someone armed with a high-magnification scope could quickly use that to spot a bird and enjoy the close view of a beautiful creature.

The reality, though, was that one had to follow a process to be able to leverage this technology properly. Step one, as stated above, is to hear the bird then triangulate its location. Step two is to spot the bird with the naked eye and find a larger landmark nearby (such as a dead branch in the tree or a fence post). Step three is to train the powerful spotting scope or camera on that larger landmark then slowly move to the spot where the bird is perched.

Anytime I tried this in the wrong order, I was not successful in spotting the bird.  The lesson here for the innovator is that one should remember that technology alone is not sufficient to guarantee a successful outcome. As innovators we tend to be fascinated with technology and may rely on it more than process.

Technology is important to what we do, but process, and innate human capabilities, must be part of our work efforts as well.

Don’t Forget the Metrics

With additional outings I began to appreciate and enjoy birdwatching during my trip, but I still had to experience one additional lesson in terms of how to engage properly in the activity.  One of the easiest places to spot birds was at a hummingbird sanctuary where there were numerous feeders set up that were frequented by more hummingbirds than I had ever seen in my life. Although these birds were small and fast, their sheer ubiquity in this sanctuary meant that one was able to see them up close rather easily. Yet Roberto knew that it was not enough just to enjoy seeing these creatures come and go. He stated that there were 10 species of hummingbirds known to frequent this part of the Ecuadoran cloud forest, and he challenged me to count how many different species I saw during my viewing session.

This activity proved challenging because of the similarities of some of the hummingbirds, but in the end I was able to count eight different species. It was a rewarding experience, and reminded me of the importance of metrics in anything we do.

For the innovator, it’s not enough just to capture ideas. One has to also think about how to measure the work effort and track precisely how the team is performing.

image credits; animals.sandiegozoo.org; Author’s Photographs

Sources:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Design_by_committee

Callum Roberts, The Ocean of Life: the Fate of Man and the Sea (New York: Penguin Books, 2012).

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2015/may/29/james-watt-sabbath-day-fossil-fuel-revolution-condenser

https://britishllamasociety.org/camelids/camels/camels.html


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History Lessons for Innovators [video]

GUEST POST from Scott Bowden

One of the most overused phrases concerning history is the philosopher George Santayana’s dictum that “those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”  Indeed, this phrase often appears anytime a writer tries to link a modern phenomenon to history.

I spend a great deal of time thinking about what I term as “historical innovation,” which is the concept that one can improve the efficacy of modern innovation programs by studying examples of how people solved problems in the past and applying those techniques to the challenges faced by current students of innovation.

For example, the way Romans built water channeling systems two-thousand years ago to capture water in a desert climate provides a thought process that a modern innovator can use to improve a current business process.  I was naturally intrigued when I read a recent editorial by Peggy Noonan in the Wall Street Journal that examines how Americans can learn the lessons of history to improve their country today.  Noonan derives these lessons by studying the latest book by the eminent historian David McCullough, The American Spirit: Who We Are and What We Stand For.

My approach to this topic will be to take these lessons and examine how they can be used to benefit the modern student of innovation.

It is a story

The first lesson from history that Noonan cites from McCullough reminds us of the importance of telling stories with history.  For societies without a written language, history is often passed down from generation to generation through the use of oral storytelling. Indeed, some of the best-known anecdotes from American history come to us in the form of stories, however apocryphal, such as George Washington cutting down a cherry tree and pledging not to be able to tell a lie when confronted about the incident.  Many more people are likely to recall this story than to recall the details of Washington’s Farewell Address to the country.

A story can enhance the historical experience, McCullough notes, in ways that mere facts cannot match. This concept of storytelling is valuable for the modern innovator in terms of how it can enhance the educational process as part of an innovation effort.  The innovator should consider leveraging storytelling to relay information to colleagues or participants in an innovation session as a way to increase retention of certain concepts or to provide additional emphasis on a particularly important topic.

For example, simply relaying facts about the number and name of fonts in the original Macintosh computer is less meaningful and memorable than the story about how Steve Jobs studied calligraphy in college and used that experience to arrive at his innovative use of fonts in the computer he developed.  Stories are powerful tools in the arsenal of human learning, and the innovator should not hesitate to use them in his or her work.

What past to us was the present to them

McCullough gives this example as a way of reminding students of history that the famous participants in a narrative, such as Adams, Jefferson, and Washington, did not walk around thinking about how they were living in “the past.”  Rather, they were living in the present and facing a series of key challenges requiring important decisions along the way.  Although the obstacles faced by the modern innovator are by no means as impactful as those surrounding the war for American independence and birth of a new nation, the innovator should think about processes that the Founders went through as they navigated these tumultuous times.

An example of the Constitutional Convention in 1787 is instructive on this front.  The Founders who spent their summer in the hot, humid city of Philadelphia operated in an environment that was challenging to say the least.  For fear of leaks reaching the press (there were 12 newspapers published in the city at that time), the participants in the convention kept the doors and windows closed and the shades drawn throughout the process, even though that meant uncomfortable conditions for their workplace.  Sleep was a challenge for the participants in the warm evenings in the city, as they could not leave their windows open because of the omnipresent insects pestering them.  In the sessions, heated arguments persisted between small states and large states, and between those favoring a strong central government versus those favoring a decentralized locus of power.

Today we think of the output of those sessions as a single document that changed the country and the world forever (the Constitution), but we forget that it was arrived at through a process of stops and starts by living, breathing individuals interacting in a challenging environment.  For the modern innovator, this can serve as a point of solace when we are working in a windowless (but likely air-conditioned conference room) to meet a deadline on an innovation project.

They were never certain of success

We often forget that American independence was not a sure thing.  McCullough notes that the country at the time was divided in terms of outlook, with about one-third in favor of independence, one-third favoring staying with Britain, and one-third waiting to see who comes out on top before professing fealty to the victor. Looking back at history, we see the American experiment as inevitable, but it was certainly in doubt throughout the process.

For the innovator, we suffer from the same conceit in that we spend a lot of time looking at innovative products from the past from the standpoint of the final, successful output rather than seeing the trials and tribulations that occurred along the way.  This focus solely on the end product can frustrate the innovator who in the course of one’s career will spend the vast majority of his or her time operating in the trials and tribulation phase of innovation rather than basking in the glow of a successful end product.

Nothing had to happen the way it happened

McCullough cites this aphorism as common sense to most observers but nonetheless an important lesson for a student of history.  Looking back at events we see a linear progression from step one to step two and beyond.  However, each of those steps required a specific decision to be made as well as a series of related and unrelated events to occur to ensure the final outcome.  Decisions and events in the process were of critical importance, but we sometimes focus so much on the outcome that we neglect these decisions and events.

For the innovator, this serves as a reminder of the critical nature of the process of arriving at an innovation, not just the outcome itself.  Indeed, it is important not only to think carefully before making each decision in a process but also to document those decisions so that if the innovator arrives at an outcome that is suboptimal, he or she can retrace the process and determine which step might have sent the project off in the wrong direction.

We make more of the wicked than the great

In this example, McCullough laments the tendency in history to focus on individuals who had a negative impact on events more so than positive.  He cites the voluminous works written on Senator Joseph McCarthy but the lack of writings on the first Senator who opposed him, Margaret Chase Smith.  For the innovator, this phenomenon can manifest itself in terms of a tremendous focus on solving a big, glaring problem or challenge faced by an organization.  While this problem may be extremely important to solve and reap great financial rewards, it may also be the most difficult to solve and take years and years of work to overcome.

In a quarterly results-driven economy, the innovator may not have the luxury of years of investment to solve that problem.  Rather than focusing exclusively on something that is a major problem, the innovator should also keep in his or her portfolio a set of smaller problems to solve to maintain momentum in an innovation program.

America came far through trial and error

At the heart of the American experiment is the importance of the notion of trial and error as a means of advancing progress and knowledge. McCullough cites the example of Johnstown, Pennsylvania steelworkers in the 19th century who spent months building a new machine to produce steel and were ready to make adjustments ever before they hit the “start” button, stating “let’s start it up and see why it doesn’t work.”  That statement, at first glance, may not seem like much but it embodies two attributes that are of critical importance to the innovator.

First, it reminds us that there is a method to creation of a new solution through the process of trial and error.  Experimentation is validated in the anecdote.  Second, it demonstrates an inherent optimism that no matter what happens at the start of the new machine, the workers would spend their time focusing on how to fix it rather than lamenting the large amounts of time they invested in its creation.  Both these attributes, trial and error and inherent optimism, are crucial to the success of the modern innovator.

History is the antidote to the hubris of the present

McCullough in this lesson is focusing on how we often look through the lens of history at past actions and judge those actions harshly without taking into consideration the circumstances in which those in the past were operating.  Just as we judge the past harshly, McCullough notes, so, too, will those who follow us wonder what we were thinking in terms of how we handled the events of our present.  McCullough’s advice is to withhold this act of judgment and to think about the circumstances of the past.

For the innovator, this advice can be construed to mean that we should not dismiss as simplistic examples of how people solved problems or developed innovations in the past.  Indeed, a simple solution developed 2,000 years ago, when applied in the right way, could solve a complex problem in the modern era.  This is the root of historical innovation.  While the actual historical innovation itself may not per se solve the problem, the general concept of the innovation, or the process that the ancient innovator followed to arrive at the solution, may be of value to the modern world.

Knowing history will make you a better person

In this final lesson, McCullough relays the importance of history as a means of providing examples of behaviors in the past worth emulating by those of us in the present. History is replete with examples of individuals sacrificing their own self-interest in pursuit of a larger goal, and we sometimes forget the importance of altruism in the fast-paced society in which we live. McCullough cites the example of John Adams, who said that “[w]e can’t guarantee success [in the Revolutionary War], but we can do something better […w]e can deserve it.”

This introduces the concept of virtue, which is rarely present in innovation discussions.  We tend to focus on new innovative products that will result in millions of dollars of new revenue for a company or process improvements that will result in millions of dollars of cost reductions. We do not necessarily think about higher goals for our innovation work, but we should keep these in mind as we pursue our daily innovation challenges.

Conclusion

As I spent time thinking about lessons from history for innovators, I unexpectedly stumbled upon an older TED Talk about Leadership in which one of the speakers articulated a vision on leadership that succinctly tied together the various threads of thought permeating my analysis of the lessons from history by Noonan and McCullough.

Drew Dudley, who spoke at the TEDxToronto in 2010, is the Leadership Development coordinator at the University of Toronto, Scarborough, and is the founder of Nuance Leadership Development Services, a company that focuses on building leadership strategies for communities, organizations and individuals. In his TED Talk titled “Everyday Leadership,” Dudley laments the disparity between perceptions of leadership and what leadership actually entails, at least in terms of the outcomes of leadership efforts.

According to Dudley “we have made leadership into something bigger than us, something beyond us” because we have made leadership all about “changing the world.”  In a typical study of leadership, he continues, “we spend so much time celebrating amazing things that hardly anybody can do that we’ve convinced ourselves those are the only things worth celebrating.” By focusing incessantly on greatness, he concludes, “[w]e start to devalue the things that we can do every day.”

Substitute “innovation” for “leadership” and it is possible to see how the modern innovator faces the same challenge.

We spend a lot of time thinking and talking about the life-changing innovations of the present (smartphones, social media, artificial intelligence) and analyze how innovators developed those solutions without recognizing that few, arguably none, of us as innovators will be able to replicate such developments in our future work. Although the process by which the innovators created these solutions is important, we need to remind ourselves that innovation is not limited to world-changing discoveries.

Rather, innovation can be simple changes that result in small improvements.  Dudley’s message about leadership is how small steps taken by a person can change the world, one individual at a time.  One’s actions don’t have to result in a user base of a billion people.  Positively impacting the life of one individual is a good place to start.

Sources:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Santayana

Peggy Noonan, “Why History Will Repay Your Love,” Wall Street Journal (May 27, 2017), p. A13.

David McCullough, The American Spirit: Who We Are and What We Stand For (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2017).

image credit: bigstockphoto.com


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Building Innovation

GUEST POST from Scott Bowden

I have always admired the work of great architects.  The challenges they face when designing a new structure seem overwhelming at first glance.  The architect must design a building that is sound from an engineering standpoint, functional for its occupants, integrated into the physical site (whether natural or within an urban area), cost-effective, able to be built in a reasonable amount of time, and properly laid out for internal and external utilities (such as HVAC, electrical, plumbing, elevators, fire escapes, fire suppression, energy efficient design, etc.).  On top of all of this, the architect must also design something that is visually appealing and unique, while also fitting in with the aesthetics of the surrounding environs.  Few owners who commission a new building want to receive a cookie-cutter design that looks just like other buildings around the world, especially when one is spending a large deal of money on a new corporate headquarters or retail space.  Studying in detail the specific innovation techniques of architects through the centuries would be an enormously tall order, so rather than attempting a complete survey I have gathered a series of interesting recent developments in architecture that can serve as lessons for the modern innovation practitioner.  By examining how architects solve the challenges of their very demanding profession, the innovator can glean ideas about how to solve problems in his or her daily work.

 

Turn Obstacles into Advantages

In 2014 in the town of Frattocchie, Italy, workers were excavating the foundations for a new McDonald’s restaurant.  As is often the case when digging in Italy, construction teams in this small town south of Rome uncovered an important archaeological find.  Sometimes the discovery of an archaeological site results in frustration for a property owner because of delays in the completion of their project due to the need to call in government officials and archaeologists to examine the site.  In this case, however, the owner embraced the finding.  As it turned out, the new restaurant was located on top of a 150-foot-long and 7-foot-wide stretch of ancient Roman Road that was thousands of years old.  This stretch of road was remarkably well-preserved and even included the skeletons of three men.  McDonald’s called in archaeologists and contributed 300,000 Euros to the effort to further uncover and analyze this section of road.

According to Alfonsina Russo, superintendent of Archaeology for Rome, this area was likely a side road that connected a wealthy person’s villa or imperial estate to the Appian Way, and was built in the 2nd century BC and fell into disuse in the 3rd century AD.  This meant that this section of road had been hidden underground for over 1,700 years before its discovery in 2014.  The innovation story here appeared in what McDonald’s decided to do with the site after it was fully documented by the archaeological teams.  The architect decided to incorporate the preservation and viewing of the road into the structure of the restaurant itself.  Visitors can park in the McDonald’s parking lot and walk through the site, and the company built a plexiglass floor above the road so that customers either inside or in front of the restaurant can look down and see the ancient road any time they want.  Customers can also walk along the road itself underneath the restaurant.  According to Mario Federico, head of McDonald’s Italia, the result was the creation of a “museum restaurant” in which the company was able “to return a stretch of Roman road to the local community and to the whole of Italy.”  The lesson here for the innovator is to take what could be an obstacle and convert it into a feature to improve the overall solution.  McDonald’s could have been impatient with the analysis of the archaeological site (since it certainly delayed their opening and thus cost them revenue) and could have insisted that the archaeologists remove the stones of the road to another location or, worse, cover it up completely once they completed their analysis of the site.  After all, we hear a lot of stories about how archaeologists must race against the clock to complete their work on a site that, for instance, would be flooded by a new dam.  The profit incentive would certainly have encouraged McDonald’s to get their restaurant up and running as quickly as possible.  Yet in this case the architect (and others) clearly decided to embrace the obstacle and incorporate it into their overall design, resulting in one of the most unique restaurants in the world, preserving a cultural treasure that was irreplaceable and definitely priceless.

 

Take the Long View

Visitors to the great cities of the world often go to great lengths to find stunning views of the cityscape.  The sensation of cresting a hill and seeing an entire city unfold before one’s eyes can be an amazing experience, and both city planners and architects work to make sure that future generations can continue to enjoy these scenes of urban beauty.  In some cases, though, both the planners and the architects can run into problems if they take too narrow a view of their work.  The recent case of the Manhattan Loft Gardens building in London provides a regretfully unfortunate example of just such a failure.  For the past 300 years, people clambering up King Henry’s Mound in Richmond Park, London, could gaze through a gap in some nearby trees and enjoy an uncluttered view of the dome of St. Paul’s cathedral, which was 10 miles away but nonetheless dominated the city’s skyline.  The mound gets its name from the story that King Henry VIII stood on that location on May 19, 1536 to witness a rocket fired from the Tower of London that signaled that his wife, Anne Boleyn, had been executed.  However, the view that princes and paupers alike have enjoyed for three centuries is now marred by the appearance of the 42-story Manhattan Loft Gardens building rising in the background behind the dome, a mere four miles on the other side of the church.  City planners are supposed to take into account such sightlines, and any architect worthy of installing his or her creation in the world’s great cities should likewise have considered such an interference when planning a building.  Other buildings in the area, such as the Leadenhall Building, were designed to lean away from St. Paul’s so as not to mar the sightlines.

The Manhattan Loft Gardens building, as the developer of the project put it, was at “so great” a distance that visual impacts on King Henry’s Mound were not even considered.  City planners acknowledge that the new building should not have been permitted and have pledged to add three-dimensional modeling and other considerations to their planning process.  Current rules call for the planning commission to consider a three-mile radius around St. Paul’s in terms of protecting the sightlines.  According to London Mayor Sadiq Khan, “no one ever anticipated a building so far away from Richmond, more than 7 kilometers [4 miles] behind the dome of St. Paul’s, might be visible in this way.”  For the innovation practitioner, the lesson here is that we often focus on a tight circle around our target area, but in doing so we run the risk of missing insights that might appear if we broaden our viewpoint.  An innovator should step back from a project now and then and seek different perspectives on the topic at hand, including perspectives that he or she may not have considered even being relevant to the topic.  In particular, ideas that one rejected early on in the process may be worth revisited at a later date to see if changes in the project warrant a reconsideration.  Moreover, the innovator should force himself or herself to think about completely different perspectives and angles to approaching a project.  This exercise may help avoid pitfalls in the work effort and may also yield new insights.

 

Use Design to Enhance a Common Product

Around the world, orchestras that play classical music are suffering declines in audience attendance as the aficionados of their product grow older and are not being replenished by younger patrons who are more interested in social media and smartphones than Mozart.  In such a climate, one might wonder why a city would build a $179 million concert venue in the suburbs of Paris.  The new site, known as Seine Musicale, is built on an island in the Seine River that once housed a Renault automobile factory.  The architects, Shigeru Ban and Jean de Gastines, created a stunning “futuristic dome whose glass panels are partly wrapped by a wave of solar panels that will follow the motion of the sun.”  Their design recalls the superstructure of a cargo ship (an homage to their location on the Seine) as well as a factory (an homage to the Renault plant they replaced).  The auditorium at the site is shaped to resemble a musical instrument, thus mirroring its overall purpose.  Concerned about the financial viability of the project, the architects also included a separate concert space on the island that is large enough to host more lucrative pop concerts.

This new concert hall contains several lessons for the innovation practitioner.  First, in terms of the site itself, the innovator should always be thinking about how to re-use an existing concept to transform it for a new purpose.  Rather than always seeking out flat, open terrain, sometimes it is useful to go into an area that has already received a lot of development work and build on top of that structure.  It would have been easier to build a new concert venue in an open field, but the use of the island with the former car plant makes for a stunning and innovative new building.  Second, in addition to building on top of previous foundations, the innovator should take steps in his or her thinking to pay homage to the previous purposes of an area.  Rather than coming up with a design out of the blue, the architects of Seine Musicale decided to design their new venue based on the characteristics of a cargo ship (river theme) and a factory (the Renault plant).  In this case, what ended up being truly innovative in terms of their design resulted from a deep understanding of the history of the site.  Sometimes the best ideas are the ones right in front of the innovator, and history can be a guide to point to these ideas.  Finally, an innovator should always consider dual uses for his or her new projects, as was the case with Seine Musicale installing a venue for pop music the island.  While the primary purpose of the new building is to provide a location for classical music concerts, the ability to host pop music concerts may prove equally important for its financial survival in the long run.  As such, an innovator should always think about different purposes for a new idea, even if those purposes seemingly run counter to one’s original project.

 

Rejuvenate the Old

Theaster Gates from Chicago’s South Side is currently one of the world’s most sought-after artists, with exhibitions in Los Angeles, Hong Kong, and Washington, DC.  In 2009, Gates started the Rebuild Foundation in Chicago to work with the city to “transform more than 30 vacant local buildings into aesthetic and affordable living and cultural spaces.”  Gates hires and trains local workers to transform his buildings, both fulfilling the immediate needs like demolition and masonry while imparting to these local citizens key new skills for the construction trade.  Perhaps his most famous work is the Stony Island Arts Bank, which opened to the public in 2015 and has received rave reviews for its originality and community-building ethos.  The Stony Island Arts Bank originally was a vibrant community savings and loan bank built in the neoclassical style in 1923 by the architect William Gibbons Uffendell.  The bank closed in the 1980s and remained vacant and deteriorating for decades and was slated to be demolished.  Gates persuaded Mayor Rahm Emanuel to sell him the bank for $1 with the requirement that Gates renovate the structure and turn it into a site that benefits the community.

After a process of fundraising from donors and investment of his own money, Gates was able to save the bank and open it up as a home for several important collections that otherwise might not be prominently displayed, such as a “50,000-volume library on black culture collected by John H. Johnson, the publisher of Ebony and Jet magazines.”  The books are impressively displayed in vast bookshelves that go from the floor to the ceiling of a grand atrium in the structure.  The Stony Island Arts Bank also houses 60,000 slides of art and architectural history from the University of Chicago, 4,000 mass cultural objects and artifacts that feature stereotypical images of people of color from the Edward J. Williams Collection, as well as vinyl records from Frankie Knuckles, known as the “Godfather of House Music.”  Gates left intact some of the key features of the original bank, such as the vault, to use as stunning display spaces.  The bank also hosts exhibitions by up-and-coming contemporary artists, such as Glenn Ligon’s neon work.  Ligon noted that Gates “made it clear that art can operate in a variety of different spaces on the same level […and i]n a bank that was abandoned for years, Theaster’s project is about saying there’s value in these things.”  Over 60,000 people visited the bank in 2015, and it continues to thrive as a community arts center.  The lesson here for the innovator is how one can create something truly stunning and innovative even on the most common and uninteresting foundation.  The savings and loan bank that had been abandoned for 30 years was in such a state of decay and deterioration that the city prepared it for demolition.  It took the vision of an innovator like Theaster Gates to see the potential for this space but he did something more than the typical approach of converting an old structure into apartments or retail.  Gates found a way to make the space serve the community as a whole and give voice to artists and collectors whose ideas might not otherwise have seen the light of day.

 

Consider the Exact Opposite Solution

In a recent interview on the TED Radio Hour with National Public Radio, Amanda Burden, former planning commissioner for New York under Mayor Michael Bloomberg, relays the story of how Bryant Park became one of the most important public spaces in the city.  In the 1980s, she observes, Bryant Park was a dangerous location.  The park was designed originally with high hedges so that people walking by the park could not see into the area and, likewise, people inside the park could not see out to the street, in an attempt to provide a refuge from the noise and chaos of the city.  As an unfortunate result, the park became infested with drug dealers and other criminal behavior to the point where people would avoid it altogether, even at the expense of the New York Public Library which sits at one end of the park.  The park was a scary place, and New Yorkers were not getting benefits from this centrally-located public space.

Burden notes that the great urbanist William H. “Holly” Whyte was tasked to come up with a solution for the park and proposed something quite radical.  At first glance, one would intuit that a city park should have lots of foliage and privacy to allow city dwellers to escape the concrete, steel, and asphalt environment that surrounds them.  In fact, when one thinks of an ideal urban park, one would typically think of how to add greenery to a concrete area.  Unfortunately, it was this foliage that was one of the root problems of the crime, so Whyte decided to open up the space and clear out the greenery so people inside could see out and people outside could see into the park.  Whyte also decided not to use benches and tables that were anchored permanently to the ground.  Again, common sense suggests that anything in a public space would need to be firmly attached to the ground to prevent theft.  Instead, Whyte suggested loose chairs and tables that would allow park goers to arrange the space to fit their needs.  Burden comments that she used to love going to the park and watching how people would always move the chairs an inch or two to personalize the space before sitting down, satisfied that they had put their own personal touch on the park.  As a result of these and other changes, Bryant Park has become one of the most desirable addresses in the city, and the park is the host to concerts, films, a skating rink, and other events throughout the year.

The lesson here for the innovator is that the best solution can sometimes be the polar opposite of what one thinks should be the solution for a problem.  After all, one would think that adding greenery to a city park would make it better, though in the case of Bryant Park in New York, the opposite was true.  Amanda Burden’s experiences also offer the innovator another model for behavior.  As she notes in her TED Talk, Amanda’s approach to being a planning commissioner shows the importance of being on the ground and developing an understanding of the problems one is trying to solve.  In order to understand the communities in which she was working, and around whom she would make decisions of great impact, Burden’s strategy was to start walking, and she states that she couldn’t “tell you how many blocks I walked, in sweltering summers, in freezing winters, year after year, just so I could get to understand the DNA of each neighborhood and know what each street felt like.”

 

Let the Micro Drive the Macro

Nearly everyone who has worked in an office building has at one point or another complained about the temperature of a room or workspace.  We all have memories of a conference room that we avoided because it was always too hot (or too cold), or of a co-worker who kept a sweater and gloves (or a fan) at a cubicle because of temperature challenges.  In the past, building heating, ventilation, and air conditioning (HVAC) experts would focus on trying to make the overall HVAC plant more efficient to try to regulate temperature better across a large space, but that approach didn’t take into account all of the variables at play in a modern office environment, such as windows, workstations, and individual human beings who have different sensitivity to temperature variations.  Some new approaches to building HVAC are taking this into account with potentially promising results.

The first is the “thermal bubble.”  At the headquarters for the Agnelli Foundation in Turin, Italy, employees set their preferences via smartphone and thousands of sensors throughout the building set the temperature to match the preferences of each employee as they move through the building, creating thermal bubbles that sync with the employee rather than trying to set one temperature for an entire area.  If two employees have different preferences in the same space, the system will average them out.  When a person leaves a space, the system detects it and reduces energy usage.  According to Carlo Ratti, the architect who designed the system, the “aim is to shift the focus from heating or cooling spaces, to heating or cooling people and the space they are occupying.”  A second micro-level approach to cooling is offered by the company Comfy which offers a smartphone application that allows workers to order a 10-minute blast of hot or cold air precisely to their workspace.  Rather than initiating thermostat wars in the office or over-heating or over-cooling an entire area, the Comfy system targets the hot or cold air exactly where it is needed.  A final approach to workspace heating and cooling comes from the architecture firm NBBJ.  This system, known as Goldilocks, uses sensors that create heat maps of the office workspace that employees can track on their phones, allowing each employee to move to other parts of the building based on their temperature, light, and sound preferences.  The data captured from the system can also be used to create future innovative solutions to solve the office thermostat challenge.  The innovation lesson here is when looking at a problem, sometimes the solution is to re-examine the macro-level problem as a micro-level problem, and to dedicate resources to solving the problem at the micro level, which in turn solves the macro problem.

 

Shatter Fundamental Assumptions

One of the most stunning new architectural works to open in 2017 is the Elbphilharmonie concert hall in Hamburg, Germany, built by the Swiss architects Herzog & de Meuron.  The building itself is a beautiful glass structure built on top of an old cocoa warehouse on a promontory over the Elbe River.  According to one observer, the “building is already a landmark, visible from far down the river […and w]ith its curved windows and white-tiled crested roof […it evokes] a ship in full sail.”  The contrast between the modernist concert hall on top and the historic brick cocoa warehouse on the bottom is particularly appealing.  Part of a $12 billion new waterfront development in Hamburg, the Elbphilharmonie is already a surprising success with numerous sold out concerts.

The concert hall’s amazing exterior is only a prelude to the innovation that one experiences inside the building.  When one thinks of a traditional concert hall, the layout is typically a stage at one end and a series of seats on multiple tiers in front of the stage.  In the Elbphilharmonie, this concept is turned on its head as the seats completely surround the stage so that spectators are beside and behind the orchestra, rather than simply being in front of them.  This opens up the spectators to new and exciting views of the performance, and the layout of the tiers and seats ensures that no audience member is further than 100 feet from the conductor.  One concern about this layout might be the acoustics, given the directional nature of some of the instruments in an orchestra such as woodwinds and horns.  However, the acoustics expert Yasushisa Toyota took steps to both protect the audience from exterior noises (fog horns, ships, cars) while also ensuring the proper flow of sound inside the building.  Indeed, in the first public performance by the symphony in the new space, the conductor placed different members of the orchestra and singers in various locations throughout the concert hall to demonstrate the amazing acoustics.

From an innovation standpoint, this is a great example of how one can deliver innovations by challenging fundamental assumptions.  Thousands of concert halls around the world adhered to the basic design of a stage in front and the audience in back.  Audiences have become accustomed to a view of the back of the conductor’s head and the difficulty of seeing in detail the members of the orchestra at the back of the stage, such as the percussion section.  The Elbphilharmonie turns this notion on its head in a beautiful and effective interior design that puts the audience on multiple tiers surrounding the stage.  The concert experience in this new venue will be something that few concertgoers will ever forget, which should help increase its popularity and longevity.  All it took for the innovation was to challenge that basic assumption.

Interestingly, the Elbphilharmonie is also the site of another example of innovation that challenges fundamental assumptions.  In addition to the concert hall, the building also includes 41 residences and three penthouses.  One penthouse in particular was not completed prior to the opening of the concert hall, and the operators of the hall banned construction at the site out of fear of noise and dust invading their performance space.  The solution for the completion of the interior of the penthouse was devised by interior architects Schotten & Hansen.  The architects used laser scans of the interior and robotics to prefabricate a custom interior that was cut into over 1,000 individual modules that were precise to the millimeter level.  Each module was small enough to fit into the building’s elevators and could be assembled quietly in the penthouse even during a concert.  One the pieces are placed together in the penthouse, the architects will plaster over them to provide a smooth finish for the structure.  The innovation lesson here is that one doesn’t always have to build things in the right order to be able to complete a project.  By breaking the work into smaller and smaller pieces, one can get to the finish line in a new and innovative way.

 

 

Sources:

Drive-Thru History? McDonald’s Opens ‘Museum-Restaurant’ Above Ancient Roman Road

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2017/02/22/want-ancient-roman-heritage-stretch-roman-road-unveiled-beneath/

Art Patnaude, “Altered View in London Sparks Outcry,” The Wall Street Journal (January 25, 2017), B10.

Inti Landauro, “A Concert Hall Rises on the Seine,” The Wall Street Journal (January 14, 2017), C14.

https://rebuild-foundation.org/site/stony-island-arts-bank/

Hilarie M. Sheets, “Reborn as Art,” The New York Times (March 16, 2017), F6.

https://www.npr.org/programs/ted-radio-hour/?showDate=2017-03-31

Rachel Emma Silverman, “At Last, a Possible Solution to Office Thermostat Wars,” The Wall Street Journal (March 13, 2017).

Corinna da Fonseca-Wollheim, “Finally, a Debut for Hamburg’s Hall,” The New York Times (January 11, 2017), pp. C1, C7.

Corinna da Fonseca-Wollheim, “The Time Comes for a German Space,” The New York Times (January 14, 2017), p. C6.

Friedrich Geiger, “Building a Concert-Hall Penthouse, Quietly,” The Wall Street Journal (March 24, 2017), p. M3.


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Lessons from Monet: Impressions of Innovation

GUEST POST from Scott Bowden

I did not set out to chronicle the innovative characteristics of the great painters (my previous writing was on Leonardo da Vinci’s paintings), yet somehow I ended up following precisely that path as I read a new book by Ross King on Claude Monet’s famous Water Lilies. In Mad Enchantment: Claude Monet and the Painting of the Water Lilies, King examines the events in Monet’s life that surrounded the creation of one of his most famous works, the series of eight paintings of water lilies that are on display at the Musee de l’Orangerie in Paris.

The paintings, also known as the Grande Decoration, were part of a major project that Monet endeavored to complete near the end of his life.  Monet donated these works to the French government to be put on display in Paris in 1927.  The canvases were large and visually stunning, resulting in a display that is one of the most popular destinations in Paris for lovers of art.  One art critic, writing in the Gazette des Beaux-Arts, said of Monet’s waterscapes that “[f]or as long as mankind has been around, and for as long as artists have painted, no one has ever painted better than this.”  King’s story of the challenges Monet faced in creating his final masterpiece resonates for the modern innovation practitioner and by exploring how Monet worked throughout his life, students of innovation can derive lessons that they can apply to their daily efforts to find new ways of thinking to solve problems.

A Man of the Soil

Monet did most of his work at his studio in Giverny, where he created a famous garden that provided subject matter for many of his most famous paintings.  According to King, visitors to Monet’s home in Giverny would find the painter “in shirt sleeves, suntanned, his hands black with earth.”  King noted that “[i]t must have seemed appropriate that this greatest of French landscapists, the man who so intuitively interpreted the country’s rural delights, should have looked like a robust, weather-beaten, hardworking man of the soil.” Indeed, some visitors “compared him to, or mistook him for, a sailor or sea captain.”  Part of the reason for Monet’s rough appearance was the fact that he liked to paint outdoors (en plein air), which exposed him to the elements.

However, Monet’s work in his garden was more than simply the act of being outdoors to paint. Monet deeply understood the bio-mechanics of his garden, specifically how the various plants and soils and water features interacted and how their appearance changed over the course of the day, week, month, season, and year. By getting his hands dirty in working in the garden, he was better able to capture the essence of each scene in his paintings.  King writes that Monet “knew how the ground felt, how the plants took to the soil, how their leaves bent, and how the light reflected off the water.”

For the innovation practitioner, this is a reminder of the importance of becoming deeply ensconced in an area of work in order to develop new thinking about that topic. It is not sufficient to simply study or examine a topic from a distance. One must dive in deeply and immerse oneself into a subject in order to understand fully the various attributes of that topic. Only by gaining this deep understanding can the innovator apply the various tools in his or her toolkit to develop insights into how to make improvements in an area.

Create a Garden

There is another aspect of Monet’s famous garden at Giverny that is worth discussing. Not only did Monet spend time working in his garden and getting his hands dirty in the soil, but he also used the garden as a controlled environment within which he could master his overall approach to painting.  Early in his career, Monet had painted pictures of larger scale outdoor scenes or motifs, ranging from the seascapes and cliffs at Etretat, to the fog-shrouded Thames River in London, to the haystacks near his home in Giverny, to the gothic cathedral at Rouen.

All of those locations contained elements that were tough for him to control, particularly in contrast to the relative isolation of his garden at Giverny. As King observes, “by the end of the century Monet abruptly abandoned these patriotic and quintessential French scenes of the countryside [and…i]nstead, his subjects became even more circumscribed as he turned almost obsessively, and at the expense of all else, to his garden.”  King notes that this behavior mirrors the injunction of the great French Philosopher Voltaire, who stated at the end of Candide that “’Il faut cultiver notre jardin (it is necessary to cultivate one’s garden).”

King writes that “Monet proceeded to do precisely that: he cultivated his garden, whose Japanese bridge, rose alley, weeping willows, and water lilies – none of which was evocative of the French countryside or the soul of the French race – would provide, over the next quarter of a century, material for some three hundred paintings.” The garden was a world of his creation, almost a small-scale, simulated world in which he could master his technique. For the innovation leader, the lesson here is a reminder of the importance of simulation and scale modeling as a means of generating new and improved ideas about a subject.

For the modern innovator, the small scale may be a laboratory setting or even a whiteboard in a conference room where one can work unencumbered by the challenges that working on a larger scale would entail.

Sometimes the eye can see things on a smaller scale that one has missed when trying to view the overall picture. Breaking a challenge into component parts is a well-known technique for driving innovation, so we should think about cultivating the gardens of our ideas just as Monet cultivated his garden at Giverny.

Capture Fleeting Observations

Monet was a master of depicting color and light, but his technique for arriving at these depictions was based on more than a single, snapshot image of an environment that he was trying to capture.  In other words, Monet did not create his masterpieces by showing up at a location, observing the perfect scene at the precise moment, recording that scene, then going home to complete his painting. Rather, each work was the result of an iterative process in which Monet, as he told an English visitor to his studio, was attempting “to render my impressions before the most fugitive effects.” Indeed, as King observes, “[r]ecording the fugitive effects of color and light was integral to Monet’s art.”

Monet would set up his easel “in front of Rouen Cathedral, or the wheat stacks in the frozen meadow outside Giverny, or the windswept cliffs at Etretat on the coast of Normandy […and] would paint throughout the day as the light and weather, and finally the seasons, changed.” Since, as King notes, “objects changed their color and appearance according to the seasons, the meteorological conditions, and the time of day, Monet hoped to capture their visual impact in these brief, distinctive, ever-changing moments in time.” Monet dubbed these shifting waves of light and atmosphere surrounding objects the envelope, and he dedicated himself to chasing these fleeting moments in order to achieve what he considered to be “the impossible.”

Monet claimed that lighting effects changed every seven minutes, which forced him to work quickly to capture each image.  His technique involved using multiple canvases simultaneously which, in the outdoor conditions in which he painted, proved to be a challenging task.  At Ertretat he worked on three canvases at the same time, all the while fighting off sea spray and wind. In a poppy field near Giverny, Monet worked on four canvases simultaneously.  In London, while painting the Thames River, Monet had as many as 90 canvases in various states of image capture.  Interestingly, although Monet would start his canvases in the outdoors, they would all be finished in detail once he returned to his studio.

Innovators thinking about Monet’s style of working on multiple canvases at once should focus on the importance of capturing fleeting observations as part of their work.  Monet knew that tiny changes would occur in quick increments and that finding just the right combination of light and angle could result in the perfect image he was trying to create, or capturing the “impossible.”

An innovator working on a project might be bombarded with hundreds of ideas about how to solve a problem but within all that noise it is important to be able to find the signal that represents a true, innovative solution to the problem.

The perfect solution may appear at a time when the innovator is tired or frustrated and one may miss it, so paying close attention is crucial.  In this manner, Monet’s technique of performing a little bit of work on each captured scene may be a worthwhile approach in that by fleshing out some of the details of each idea that comes one’s way, the innovator may be more likely to identify the one that is truly worth a further investment of time.

The Importance of Passion

Although Monet’s paintings are typically renderings of tranquil, bucolic outdoor scenes, the painter himself struggled with inner torments.  King observes that “Monet could be volatile and bad-tempered at the best of times, but when his work at his easel did not proceed to his satisfaction – lamentably often – he flew into long and terrible rages.” Monet’s anger flowed through to his canvases, and one of his relatives “witnessed him committing ‘acts of violence’ against [the canvases], slashing them with a penknife, stamping them into the ground or thrusting his foot through them.” Monet was also known to have set fire to his canvases. Addressing his temper, Monet told a journalist that “[m]any people think I paint easily, but it is not an easy thing to be an artist; […] I often suffer tortures when I paint; […] It is a great joy and a great suffering.’”

Gustave Geoffroy, author of a well-received book on Monet’s life and times, described Monet as a “tortured, obsessive artist who pursued his dream of form and color ‘almost to the point of self-annihilation.’” However, French Prime Minister Georges Clemenceau, one of Monet’s closest friends, recognized the artistic and creative power in Monet’s rage. “Keep up this howling,” Clemenceau said to Monet, “because it is what you need to paint […and i]f you were happy, you would not be a true artist since it’s necessary for your reach to exceed your grasp.”

While I would not encourage an innovation practitioner to slash his or her works with a knife, passion is an underestimated source of inspiration for the innovator. When a person is deeply engaged in pursuit of a solution to a problem, that person will find himself or herself constantly thinking about the problem both during and after work hours. That passion and desire to solve a problem is a truly human trait, and it can be very valuable in terms of helping an innovator sort through various approaches to the problem. It is often said that great innovations come from the frustrations of inventors who, faced with the same problem over and over, become fed up and resolve to fix the problem once and for all. This resolution, in the form of passion, is what Monet exhibited in his work and is what the modern innovator can leverage to inspire new thinking.

Surround Oneself with Great Works

At his house in Giverny, Monet exhibited an impressive collection of art from his peers including “a Degas bather, three Pissarro landscapes, four works by Edouard Manet, and two watercolors by Eugene Delacroix.”  Monet also owned two bronze sculptures by Rodin as well as paintings by Renoir.  Monet possessed 14 works by Cezanne, whom he considered to be “the greatest of us all.” Monet thus sought to surround himself with the greatest creations of his peers, rather than shying away from those creations or focusing solely on his own works. Yet at times when Monet was struggling with one of his canvases, he sometimes would place a sheet over the Cezanne paintings in his studio, stating that he was unable to work in the presence of such a “genius.” Monet stated that he “felt a pygmy at the foot of a giant.”

Today’s innovation practitioner could mimic Monet’s example by surrounding himself or herself with displays of great innovations of the past or present, whether pictures of innovators, advertisements for revolutionary products, or physical representations of groundbreaking products.  If one has a lab, workroom, or office, these types of displays can be truly inspirational, even if from time to time one is forced to cover these works like Monet did, so one does not feel overwhelmed by the greatness of these discoveries.

Learn to Fail

Perhaps the most overused phrase in innovation is the mantra of “learning to fail.” Nearly every innovator talks about his or her failures along the road that led to eventual discoveries and successes.  However, the reason that this phrase is so frequently used is that it is so often a critical part of the innovation experience, and in the case of Monet that is true as well. At an early stage in his career, Monet tried to attract attention from the public by working on a large-sized painting known as a grande machine.  The name grande machine comes from the pulleys and wires needed by the artist to manipulate a large canvas, and Monet started work in 1865 on a 13-foot-tall by 20-foot-wide painting titled Luncheon on the Grass, which was intended as an homage to Edouard Manet’s masterpiece of the same name. Monet never finished the project, and only remnants of the painting exist today, after it had been rolled up and put away once he abandoned it.

Monet’s next large painting, an eight-by-seven-foot work titled Women in the Garden, was rejected by the jury in the 1867 Salon in Paris.

Yet failure was not limited to the early stages of his career. As late as 1917, Monet sent four smaller paintings of his gardens to Paris to the Galerie Bernheim-Jeune, hoping to earn some income to help sustain him while he worked on the Grande Decoration. None of these four paintings found a buyer which was, according to King, “an indication of how artistic tastes were changing in the aftermath of the war […as] appetites, attitudes, and artistic practices had shifted dramatically by the time the war ended.” It is possible that in the process of working on the failed large canvases, Monet learned the skills he would need to complete his water lily masterpieces, which were very large and complex paintings in and of themselves. Likewise, his perseverance in the face of failing to find a buyer for his four garden paintings in 1917 may have given him the fortitude to overcome even more challenging experiences in the next decade, such as the major problems with his eyesight, surgery, and the deaths of many people close to him.

For the innovator, the lesson here is perseverance and dedication to one’s work efforts in the face of failures, even if those failures are repeated over and over again. Had Monet given up either on large size paintings, or paintings of his gardens, the world would never have been able to experience the masterpieces of his large paintings of water lilies at the Orangerie.

Change Perspectives 

One of the most intriguing aspects of an Impressionist painting is the difference in appearance when one is standing very close versus standing further away from the painting.  Standing up close, one can see the energetic individual brushstrokes and patches of color that, from afar, assemble into a more meaningful image. Yet the genius of the artist who created the work can also be understood by viewing the painting from very close. Indeed, King observes that “Impressionist canvases were not meant to be seen at […] close range.” One critic, King notes, stated that “the apparently ‘crude simplicity’ of an Impressionist painting actually disguised a sophisticated visual experience.” By standing a little farther back from the canvas, he continues, “[r]elations between masses of color begin to be established. Each part falls into place, and each detail becomes exact.”

In fact, during Monet’s lifetime the topic of exactly where one should stand to appreciate an Impressionist painting came under discussion, with the Impressionist painter Camille Pissarro devising a formula “whereby the viewer should stand at a distance measured at three times the diagonal of the canvas.”  For the innovation practitioner, the advice here comes in the form of thinking about how varying one’s position between close and farther away can adjust the way in which one views the idea overall.

In being very close to an idea or process, the innovator can see the equivalent of the individual brushstrokes and the intricate details that go into making the idea or process work. Yet from that perspective, one might be missing the larger picture associated with that idea or process, and it may be necessary to back away from the idea or process to see it in the context of other things. In other words, the innovator should think about varying one’s perspective to see what insights it can reveal about the idea or process.

Apply Knowledge to Solve Problems

Although this anecdote doesn’t apply specifically to Monet’s work, it does involve some of Monet’s fellow artists and an innovation they developed during World War I, a critical event in Monet’s life.  King writes that “[a]t the Battle of the Marne in September 1914, a forty-three-year-old artist named Lucien-Victor Guirand de Scevola, a former student at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, was serving in the artillery when his unit – all dressed in their bull’s-eye-red pantaloons – came under heavy enemy fire.”  Guirand de Scevola, King continues, stated that “[i]t was at this moment that, vaguely at first, then more and more precisely, the idea of camouflage came to me [for t]here had to be […] a convenient way to disguise not only our unit but also the men who served in it.” Guirand de Scevola used his skills as an artist to experiment with shape and color to find ways to make his colleagues and their equipment less visible to the enemy, resulting in the development of camouflage.

By early 1915, the French Army created the first camouflage team, consisting of thirty artists. This is a classic “eureka” moment of innovation, referred to more eloquently in French as a coup de foudre (bolt of lightning), where the innovator was struck out of the blue by a new idea, spurred on by an intense, life-or-death need to solve a real problem facing him. While we do not want the modern innovator to face similarly threatening situations, this anecdote does serve as a reminder that sometimes one can think for hours, days, and weeks about how to solve a problem then, suddenly, the idea will appear without much warning.  Perhaps the thinking that Guirand de Scevola had been doing before the coup de foudre laid the foundations for his ability to develop camouflage, but in the end, the idea hit him all at once, as sometimes is the case with innovation.

The Value of Abstraction

At the very foundation of Impressionist painting was the notion that the artist was creating an impression of a motif, rather than trying to render it in excruciating detail to match real life.  As such, King writes, Monet “was always strictly faithful to the spirit – his impression – of the motif, but his stock-in-trade was not a nearsighted concern for accurately documenting the minute details of the physical objects he painted.” Monet was not averse to taking “liberties with the visual facts for the sake of a better composition.”

King notes that this occurred in his famous paintings at Etretat, where he changed the position of the giant stone arch (much to the consternation of a modern visitor trying to align the painting with the real scene), as well as his paintings of a bridge in Argenteuil. To Monet, King observes, “[f]aithfully depicting architectural features was less important […] than creating a striking composition.” This philosophy is perhaps best summed up by Monet himself in an anecdote he told to a visiting American painter.

Monet said that when one goes to paint, one should “try to forget what objects you have before you, a tree, a house, a field, or whatever.” Monet stated that one should see the composition as “a little square of blue, here an oblong of pink, here a streak of yellow.” Monet went so far as to wish that “he had been born blind then suddenly regained his sight so that he could have begun to paint in this way without knowing what the objects were that he saw before him.”  For the innovator, the lesson here lies in the value of abstraction as a technique for improving one’s understanding of an idea or concept in the pursuit of new thinking.  The innovator should not be afraid to stray from the literal interpretation or representation of a concept. If there is something in a concept or topic that is out of place and is causing it to be more difficult for the innovator to arrive at new thinking, then the innovator should, like Monet, paint it out of the picture.

By ignoring extraneous elements and focusing more intensely on the characteristics that matter more deeply, the innovator can arrive at a better overall approach to generating new thinking to solve problems.

Learning Never Stops

Deathbed anecdotes can sometimes end up being apocryphal but are worth exploring nonetheless. In December 1919, August Renoir was bedridden with pneumonia at his home in Cagnes-sur-Mer.  Renoir supposedly called for a pencil from his nurse so he could do a sketch of some flowers that were at his bedside.  According to King, “[l]egend has him finishing the drawing (or sometimes a painting) and handing the pencil (or brush) back to his nurse while uttering his last words: ‘I think I am beginning to understand something about it,’” then dying shortly thereafter. Another French painter, J.-A.-D. Ingres, grabbed a pencil while on his deathbed and proceeded to create a sketch of a nearby portrait, telling those around him that he was “learning.” The Japanese artist Hokusai stated that he all of his works before the age of 65 were not “worth counting,” and at age 73, 90, and 100 he would achieve various milestones in terms of understanding art.

The lesson here for the modern student of innovation is a reminder that no matter how successful we become in the field, we should always possess the mindset that we are learning, even late in our careers.  If Renoir, one of the greatest painters of all time, recognizes on his deathbed that he is only “beginning” to understand something about art, then a mid-career, corporate innovator should demonstrate humility in terms of mastering his or her field of expertise.  Moreover, the innovator should always be willing to accept feedback, teaching, or commentary from others, no matter how experienced or inexperienced, because one can never know from where a new innovation will emerge.

The Value of Iteration

Monet was a fan of Japanese prints, particularly those of gardens and landscapes, such as Hiroshige’s series One Hundred Famous Views of Edo. King notes that Hiroshige’s prints included “weeping willows draped over lakes, irises sprouting by the water, and festoons of cherry blossoms by a Japanese bridge,” and we see many of these images repeated in Monet’s work from his garden at Giverny. Monet leveraged many of the characteristics of Hiroshige’s art, including “strong diagonals, asymmetrical compositions, and unexpected angles of vision, such as slanting or downward-looking points of view.” In addition, Monet and Cezanne adopted the Japanese approach of creating multiple views of a single scene, mirroring that created by Hokusai and Hiroshige in their (separate) series Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji. The Japanese artists created dozens and dozens of views of the same scene in varying conditions.  Monet applied this approach to many of his masterpieces (such as the wheat stack paintings), and Cezanne did the same in his thirty-six views of Mont Sainte-Victoire in Provence.

For the innovator, this example serves as a strong reminder of the importance of branching out within one’s area of expertise to find new thinking. The crisp, detailed Japanese woodblock prints that Monet used for inspiration were not much like the fluid, wavy Impressionist paintings of the era.  he Hiroshige prints had sharp lines and fine details, whereas the Impressionist works were softer. Both were bold in their use of color, but it would be impossible to confuse the two types of artwork. Nonetheless, Monet found inspiration in the Japanese artwork, particularly in the technique of repeatedly capturing of the same image in varying viewing conditions.

Focusing intensely on the subject of the artwork while treating other factors as variables (according to King, the variables included “weather, seasons, […] time of day, and with numerous different scenes occupying the foreground”) allows the artist to develop a deeper understanding of the original subject matter (the part that remains the same in all of the paintings).

An innovator trying to develop new thinking could focus specifically on a single aspect of the problem and then repeatedly analyze the issue over and over again while varying other attributes to see which set of conditions result in the best outcome. Indeed, that is what the artists were trying to do with the “thirty-six views” approach, and the results were impressive.

Physical Challenges Can Lead to Breakthrough Thinking

Many artists suffer from afflictions and various maladies that render their work all the more impressive in terms of what the artist had to overcome to achieve greatness.  King writes that “Pissarro suffered numerous eye infections that badly disturbed his vision, while Edgar Degas had experienced sensitivity to light” since his late thirties, resulting in a blind spot in his vision by his fifties. Monet, too, had terrible problems with his eyesight by the 1920s and underwent several painful procedures to try to correct the problem. These procedures occurred while Monet was trying to finish the Grande Decoration and, at one point, these physical infirmities caused him to stop working completely for a period of time.

When his vision returned, Monet decided to destroy several canvases that he felt he had ruined due to his poor eyesight.  It is not known whether Monet ever regained 100% of his visual capabilities as he completed much of the famed water lilies paintings. As a result, the masterpiece we see today in the Orangerie was completed by someone who had experienced severe challenges with his eyesight for many years and had not necessarily overcome those challenges during his work on these canvases towards the end of his life.

The question becomes whether his weakened eyesight enabled him to see in a way that was above and beyond what he had experienced previously in his life.  When one looks at the paintings in the Grande Decoration, the colors seem to burst from the canvas and the images soften in a way that perhaps a fully-sighted Monet might not have been able to accomplish.  The Setting Sun in particular exhibits these characteristics and stands apart from Monet’s earlier works.  For the modern innovator, we would not want to focus on physical infirmities but, rather, on how unique capabilities can drive new thinking. Each innovator will have capabilities that he or she may not even be aware of, whether it is something that carried over from one’s youth or something that one engages in as a hobby.

The key is for the innovator to leverage these unique capabilities in a way that can be applied to the creation of the new thinking and innovations, even if at first glance the unique capability has little to do with the subject at hand. After all, the most important physical skill for a painter to possess would be eyesight, so the last place one would expect to find innovation would be in a painter who has physical challenges with his or her eyesight.

New Thinking is not Exclusive to the Young

King argues that Monet’s later works were perhaps some of his best., as is often the case with famous artists. King notes that the German Professor Albert Brinckmann published a book in 1925 in which he examined the progression of works by various artists late in their lifetimes.  In Late Works by Great Masters, Brinckmann observes that some artists “achieved powerful and distinctive styles as they grew old, creating works markedly different from, and arguably more adventurous than, those of their youth or middle age.” Brinckmann chronicles this effect in the works of Donatello, Michelangelo, Titian, Poussin, Rubens, and Rembrandt.  Other scholars have also noted the development of a “sublime style” in the later works of various artists, with “an increasing abstraction and an exuberantly expressive handling of paint.”

Monet’s later paintings, impacted by his diminishing eyesight and fits of rage, were, according to King, “[l]arger, bolder, more experimental, visionary, and abstract.”  King posits that perhaps only Michelangelo and Titian even came close to the power of Monet’s work at such a late stage in life. The cause of this, King concludes, may be the realization that “[a]s the body falls apart […] an eternal light pours through.”

For the innovator, this can serve as a reminder that one’s age should not be the sole arbiter of one’s ability to develop breakthrough new thinking.

Particularly in the current era with the startup/Silicon Valley mentality where new and young is always better, the innovator should remember that even the most wizened, grizzly veteran can be the source of new ideas and innovations. The innovator can look to veteran colleagues and workshop participants to be the ones who can be, like Monet in his later life, “bolder, more experimental, visionary, and abstract.”

Working Through Tragedy

Death stalked Monet in his lifetime but he was able to see his way through those tragic events and turn his sadness into artistic expression. After the tragic death of his stepdaughter Suzanne Hoschede-Butler in 1899, he painted several famous views of the Japanese bridge in his garden at Giverny as well as a famous series of London scenes. The death in 1914 of his son Jean led him to conceive of the large-scale water lilies project (the Grande Decoration), and it should also be noted that he completed much of his work during the horrific World War I, during which he saw many of his fellow artists and citizens go off to war, with the loss of life and casualties associated with that conflict.

In all of these cases, Monet chose not to be defeated by death around him but, rather, to take the challenge in stride and apply himself even more intensively to his art. That is not to say that Monet didn’t suffer at all from these deaths. Rather, he suffered tremendously and stopped working for a period of time after each one.  Yet when he resumed work, he did so with a passion that he did not have before the tragedy. As is the case with physical infirmities, we don’t want to associate innovation work with tragedy.  However, we should again seek to follow Monet’s example in the abstract in terms of his ability to apply himself with perhaps greater passion after encountering a tragedy. For the innovator, one might encounter a failed project or other major setback, and while it is normal to react negatively to that news, in the long-run, the innovator needs to dust himself or herself off and dive into the next challenge with even more vigor than the previous challenge.

Never Be Satisfied

When the Grand Decoration canvases were first displayed to the public, several of the visitors noted that the canvas titled Morning had a distinctive scar on the far-right side.  Prime Minister Clemenceau told the group that that damage was the result of a slash from a knife, stating that “Monet attached his canvases when he was angry [a]nd his anger was born of a dissatisfaction with his work.”  Monet, Clemenceau proffered, “was his own greatest critic.”  Clemenceau went on to note that Monet had destroyed over 500 of his canvases in his “quest for perfection.” This is a difficult realization for someone who was so talented at his work that even his most gifted peers recognized his sheer genius. According to King, the sculptor Rodin visited the Brittany coast for the first time and, upon seeing the oceanscape live and in person, stated, “Oh how beautiful – it’s a Monet!”  We as innovators should be our own greatest critics, and although I do not recommend sharp objects in workspaces, we should not be afraid to challenge ourselves to strive continually to improve our innovations.

One’s Work is Never Done

One of the canvases in the Grand Decoration, The Setting Sun, contains an area in the lower right-hand corner that is unfinished, exposing the bare canvas to the viewer.  King speculates that Monet either “wished to emphasize the provisional and incomplete nature of his efforts […] or simply could not bear to bring his labors to an end, and to let the sun finally set on his Grande Decoration.”

Though I am by no means a scholar or art historian, I think the combination of the title of the work and the struggles that Monet went through to complete the Grande Decoration indicate that Monet intentionally left this section incomplete for two reasons. First, from a personal standpoint, he did not want to apply the last brushstroke to the canvas as he saw it as a metaphor for his own life, which was in the waning years and he knew he did not have many sunsets left to see. Second, from the standpoint of the viewer of the painting, he wanted to send a message to future generations that one’s work is never really done, no matter how well-acclaimed or masterful a performance.

Like Renoir with the pencil on his deathbed, Monet knew that work would always continue and progress was always needed and was indeed possible.  For the innovator, this serves as a reminder that we can continually improve even our most innovative solutions.Because innovation tends to thrive on “eureka” moments in which we achieve some great discovery or insight, we tend to forget the iterations that both got us to that magic moment as well as the iterative work that is always needed to take that discovery to its logical conclusion. Like the blank canvas to Monet, an innovator should always be thinking about what comes next and not dwell too much on what one has already accomplished, even if it is a masterpiece.

 

Sources:

Ross King, Mad Enchantment: Claude Monet and the Painting of the Water Lilies (New York: Bloomsbury, 2016).

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Water_Lilies_(Monet_series)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hiroshige

https://www.musee-orangerie.fr/en/artwork/water-lilies-setting-sun

image credit: bigstockphoto.com


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Innovation Lessons from Santa Claus

GUEST POST from Scott Bowden

The Holiday Season for innovation practitioners is a time for reflection on the previous year, its highlights and lowlights and all those days in between.  Most of us will take a well-deserved break from work this month as we prepare for the inevitable challenges of the coming new year.  In the spirit of the season, I decided to spend some time thinking about possible innovation lessons from Santa Claus.  There are a number of attributes of Santa Claus that we as innovation leaders should consider leveraging in our work efforts in the coming year.

 

Wear Attire that Makes One Stand Out from the Crowd

When one thinks of Santa Claus in terms of an image, the picture that leaps to mind is of a jolly, heavy-set, older, white-bearded person with red fleece clothing, white fur, a black belt, and a stocking cap.  There is not much variation in terms of how we view Santa Claus, and thus it is easy for a large number of people to arrive at the same image of Santa.  If Santa were wearing a bland grey suit and tie, he would certainly be less memorable and, indeed, more non-descript.  Innovation practitioners probably should avoid a full Santa costume, but they may likewise want to avoid the typical innovation costume of a black turtleneck and jeans that seems to pervade our field.  A nice dress shirt with a unique color will garner more attention from workshop attendees or colleagues then the standard innovation uniform.  It is often said that an audience views a speaker in a plain white shirt as more trustworthy than any other shirt options, but I would argue that plain is, in fact, just “plain.”  Standing out in a room will make people remember you more easily, and may also keep their attention focused on you during your innovation workshop.

Accept Being Referred to by Different Names

Santa Claus is referred to by many names in the US and around the world, including Saint Nick, the Jolly Old Elf, Jolly Old Saint Nick, Kris Kringle, Saint Nicholas, Father Christmas, Pere Noel, and many others.  Santa Claus does not complain about all these different reference names. Rather, he delights in how so many people around the world are able to connect with him in different ways.  An innovation practitioner may experience some of this use of different names, perhaps by being referred to as the “Innovation Guy” or “Innovation Gal,” or sometimes “Innovation Dude” or even “Smart Guy.”  An innovation leader should embrace these various names and be glad to be accepted by one’s colleagues in the role of a thought leader for the enterprise.  It should be noted, however, that with such nomenclature comes additional responsibility to actually deliver innovation and new thinking, just as Santa Claus is expected to deliver his gifts on Christmas Eve.

Make a List and Check it Twice

Those of you who are now humming along after reading the phrase above no doubt recognize the list as one of the most important characteristics of how Santa Claus operates his magical empire.  He makes a list of who has been naughty and nice and he checks it twice to ensure there are no errors.  While naughtiness and niceness are typically not associated with innovation initiatives, the importance of lists cannot be overstated.  An innovation leader should always manage lists of active innovation initiatives or programs as well as ideas for future exploration. The lists should be updated frequently and checked regularly to make sure that one does not allow a great idea to wither on the vine.  Likewise, a decent idea that is slow to get traction may not be worth the investment of time that it is taking to propel it forward.  The best way to keep good and bad ideas in their proper place is to make lists and check them twice (or more often).

Know All the Names of Your Team Members

Santa Claus knows the names of his reindeer. He could have been content to simply hitch them up to his sleigh and crack his whip to get them to pull him forward, but instead he eagerly shouts out their names with a hearty “on Dancer, on Prancer, on Comet, on Cupid.”  Each reindeer certainly appreciates this special recognition and attention given the drudgery of flying around the world pulling a heavy sleigh filled with gifts in the dark where it is typically cold (at least in the Northern hemisphere).  Just as Santa calls out the names of his team, so, too, should the innovation practitioner make mention of the names of his or her team members in a larger forum.  For instance, when presenting a new innovation in a C-suite meeting, one should be sure to name all the people involved in creating that innovation, even those with minor roles in the process.  This will help show the Executives the broad base of thought that went into the initiative and also reward those individuals who invested their time and energy into making the innovation a success.

Embrace Eccentricity

On the topic of reindeer, one cannot overlook the most famous reindeer of all.  Rather than excluding him from reindeer games, Santa embraced Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer’s eccentricity and put him in charge of guiding the sleigh through the foggy night (and presumably through future non-foggy nights as well).  For the innovation practitioner, this serves as a reminder of the need to value the contributions of all members of a team, including those whose offerings may at first seem to differ greatly from the other participants in the room.  Sometimes the best new ideas can come from those who have a tendency to think outside of the box and who are not encumbered by typical intellectual constraints.

Have a Jolly Laugh and Show Good Spirits

Santa Claus loves to laugh and when he chortles his belly presumably rolls around like a bowl full of jelly.  When one thinks of Santa Claus, one typically sees him with a big smile across his face, heartily laughing with his hands on his belly.  Santa is never seen as angry, even when he is checking the naughty list (twice).  After all, even the naughty kids who receive lumps of coal can use that product for heating in winter.  For the innovation practitioner, happiness is something that should be brought to each and every meeting, with a positive attitude that is infectious to the rest of the team.  This jolly attitude, even in the face of great challenges, can inspire fellow team member to achieve great things.  A downtrodden innovation leader would be just as out-of-place as a sad Santa.

Search for Alternative Entry Methods Such as the Chimney

As he makes his way around the planet spreading gifts and good cheer to the world, Santa Claus faces a very distinct challenge at each house in terms of how he gets into the structure to deliver his presents to the children.  If Santa were to come in through the front door, he might be spotted by a neighbor or, worse, wake up the dogs who would then bark and wake up the whole household.  Santa’s solution is to take advantage of the chimney as an entry point, which is quite an innovative solution for several reasons.  First, the chimney has easy access from the roof where Santa parks his sleigh.  Second, the chimney is typically centrally located in a house, usually in the great room.  Finally, people tend to put their Christmas trees in the great room, so Santa has a short distance to go with the presents once he makes it down the chimney. Innovation leaders should always be thinking about alternative approaches to problems in order to come up with new thinking.  Avoiding the front door, and taking advantage of other creative possibilities, can result in the kind of innovation that a practitioner needs to overcome a challenge.

Don’t Forget Milk and Cookies (and Water for the Reindeer)

After making his way down the chimney and dropping off presents, Santa is usually hungry and thirsty, so the children at a house will usually leave him milk and cookies, as well as water for his reindeer.  Santa is greatly appreciative of these goodies, as he has a lot of work to do on Christmas Eve and needs all the calories he can get in order to complete his tasks.  Innovation leaders running a workshop should keep this lesson in mind in terms of making sure that participants have food and drink to get them through the session.  Not only does this engender goodwill on the part of the participants, it also reduces distractions.  Attendees who are thirsty and hungry will be thinking about how they can obtain food and drink rather than concentrating on the topic at hand in the workshop.  Providing nourishment for the bodies of the participants will provide fuel for their minds and will result in superior outcomes.

Enable the Dreams of Others

In the end, Santa Claus is all about dreams, but not necessarily Santa’s dreams.  While Santa certainly derives great personal satisfaction from his work related to getting presents to all the girls and boys around the globe, the real joy he seeks is something that, sadly, he does not get to see.  That joy occurs on Christmas morning when the children run down the stairs and see the presents he left for them (along with the empty glass of milk and plate of cookies), and the presents represent the achieved dreams of the children.  Santa knows that he is bringing joy to the world in his work, so even if he can’t experience the joy in each and every house, he knows that it is there.  Innovation practitioners should think about how they can use their work to bring forth the dreams of others.  Finding a great idea in the mind of a workshop participant, and working to turn that idea into an innovation initiative, then seeing that idea through to the development of a new product or the implementation of a process change demonstrates how the job of the innovation practitioner is to enable the dreams of others.


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Postal Innovation

GUEST POST from Scott Bowden

It’s the time of the year when we are deluged with packages, many of which are delivered by the US Postal Service (USPS).  The surge in e-commerce has resulted in challenges for the main delivery services, and the USPS has responded with creative solutions such as Sunday delivery.  I was in Atlanta on a Sunday recently and noticed a USPS truck delivering goods on a Sunday morning, with all of the packages sealed with telltale blue Amazon Prime logo tape.  While the topic of recent innovations in delivery services could be of interest for a future article, I’d like to take some time in this writing to relay some historical innovation lessons from the USPS, leveraging Winifred Gallagher’s book How the Post Office Created America.  Through Gallagher’s work we can unearth a number of interesting anecdotes about how the USPS evolved over the years to meet the changing needs of a growing country.

Services to handle communications of messages across great distances date back thousands of years.  The first postal systems appeared in the Middle East and focused on official government communications.  The great historian Herodotus (the “father” of history) wrote of a postal system established by the Emperor Darius I that ran over 1,600 miles and consisted of horses and couriers who carried messages on clay tablets across the Persian Empire.  Indeed, the famous motto of the USPS is derived from Herodotus’s description of these couriers: “these are stayed neither by snow nor rain nor heat nor darkness from accomplishing their appointed course with all speed.”  The Persian system had riders and horses spaced out according to the distance they could travel in a day to ensure the continuous flow of messages from point to point.

Innovation Lesson – An innovator should think about not just the two ends of a communication chain but also the steps in between.  It’s not just enough to consider the end recipient of a message (such as how a Senior Executive would react to a new idea), but also to think about the people in between who could be helpful in facilitating the delivery of that message to the Executive, including how those people will react to the new idea.

 

Like the Persians, the ancient Romans used a postal system to send messages across their far-flung empire, leveraging the famous Roman road system to facilitate the transport of messages (as well as government officials themselves).  The word “post” comes from the Latin “positus” which means position or station, signifying the various stopping points along the roads.  The term “mail” first appears from the Middle English “maille” which refers to the metal link woven bags used by couriers in the Hanseatic League to handle important communications from members of that commercial entity.  Mail was first opened to the public (and thus no longer exclusively the realm of the government) in the early seventeenth century in France and England, though with very high postal rates.  This limited the use of the post to typically elite users (as well as the government).

Innovation Lesson – Innovators should think about the importance of securing their information, just like the Hanseatic couriers secured their critical communications in chain-link bags.  In an era of great challenges from a cyber-security standpoint, valuable ideas generated by innovation teams need to be protected at all costs.

 

America’s Founders saw the post as a key tool in ensuring that the nascent United States would possess a well-informed citizenry that could keep track of what was happening in the country, covering a broad expanse of land.  George Washington wrote that “[t]he importance of the post office and post roads on a plan sufficiently liberal and comprehensive . . . is increased by their instrumentality in diffusing a knowledge of the laws and proceedings of the Government.”  The noted physician Benjamin Rush likewise spoke of the Post Office as “the only means of carrying heat and light to every individual in the federal commonwealth.”  Although the Constitution calls on Congress to establish a system of post roads, the more fundamental establishment of what we know now as the Postal Service came from the Post Office Act of 1792, which established a series of postal routes that would serve as the foundation of the future mail service.  One key attribute of this act was the Universal Service Mandate, which stipulates that all residents of the country, no matter where they live, are entitled to access to the mail for the same price, although this wasn’t fully enacted until the twentieth century.  The fact that a pioneer could venture into the wilderness with a reasonable expectation that he or she could establish a town and start to receive communications from the rest of the country increased the confidence of these pioneers and helped facilitate the expansion of the country.  The universal service mandate helped make this possible.

Innovation Lesson – This concept of universal service applies to innovation in two ways.  First, although innovations need to be protected, there is also value in seeking input from a broader constituency about a new idea, particularly if those reviewers could add value to the idea by suggesting alternative approaches to overcoming a challenge.  Second, the universal service mandate reminds us that we cannot always simply focus on the cost-benefit analysis of a proposed solution.  For example, USPS delivery of a letter from one end of the country to another has actual costs that may be higher than the standard postage applied to that delivery, whereas delivering a letter within a city may cost much less than the actual rate.  However, there are benefits from the simplicity of the overall solution (one rate for all letters for all distances) as well as the benefits of opening up communications across a far-flung country, thus aiding expansion and growth.  In other words, the actual innovation delivered by the universal service mandate is not readily apparent in the innovation itself.  Rather, one has to look at the downstream benefits delivered by the innovation to gauge its true value.

 

A key turning point in the expansion of the postal system to provide correspondence service to a larger percentage of the population came in the mid-nineteenth century in America, as the number of letters received per person increased from three per year in 1850 to seven in 1854 and beyond.  With lower postage rates, mail went from being solely an official means of communication to becoming something that was used for casual conversations.  This proved to be a boon for historians, as routine correspondence between individuals provided a snapshot of the life and times of different periods in history.  What was a simple, personal commentary for someone from 1860 provided to be extremely valuable for a historian in 2016.  Another innovation consisted of the widespread use of postage paid by the sender.  Originally, the recipient of a letter had to pay the Post Office for a letter and many times that person would choose not to pay the price of a letter unless it was something he or she truly wanted.  This led to various schemes to avoid paying for a letter.  Sometimes a traveler would send a letter to family members upon arrival letting them know that he or she was safe and sound.  The family would refuse to accept the letter (and thus avoid the postage), but the letter would have served its purpose by that point.  In one particularly famous incident, Zachary Taylor was not aware that the Whig Party had nominated him for President in 1848 because the letter notifying him of his nomination was sitting at the Post Office with a pile of other mail addressed to him that he refused to pay for and redeem.  The solution to this problem was a simple one – the stamp.  The stamp permitted a set amount of postage to be paid for easily by the sender so that the recipient would always be able to retrieve his or her mail.  Stamps were easy to purchase and apply to letters and greatly simplified the entire process of letter-writing, resulting in great benefits to the system overall.

Innovation Lesson – There are two innovation lessons here that can be discerned from the advent of increased personal correspondence as well as the use of sender-paid postage.  First, innovation can come in the form of taking something that previously was the domain of elites and opening it up to the masses, and such a process yields tremendous benefits well beyond the immediate effects.  Letter writing become nearly ubiquitous and in addition to benefitting the personal relationships between the correspondents, it also created a treasure trove of information for scholars of future generations.  One wonders if the more succinct communications of the modern era (e.g., Twitter), despite their ubiquity, will result in less information for scholars to examine about our era.  A second innovation lesson comes from the use of sender-paid letters.  Sometimes a process can benefit from a simple inversion of the steps.  Rather than having the recipient pay for a letter, the innovation here was to flip the process 180 degrees and have the sender pay.  Although this temporarily inconvenienced the sender (who might have been used to sending for no charge), the net result was a dramatic improvement in the efficiency of the entire process.

 

Despite the soaring number of packages sent as a result of e-commerce, the use of the basic postal letter has been in decline for years.  First class mail volume reached its peak in 2001 and total mail volume peaked in 2006, with both in decline ever since.  As far back as 1982, the Postal Service presciently foresaw some of these trends and created internal innovations to try to take a leadership position in the new electronic world.  Well before the advent of email in the general public, the Postal Service initiated a project known as E-COM, which was a service in which a computer in one Post Office could transmit a message to a computer in another Post Office then print and distribute that message to as many as 200 recipients within two days.  Some private companies, such as IT&T, Graphnet, and Telenet, fought against this government-sanctioned service, whereas others, such as Merrill Lynch and Eastern Airlines, signed up for E-COM and saw it as a great way to deliver bills and other notices to their customers.  After some initial successes, E-COM ultimately was halted in 1984 despite having processed 23 million transactions that year.  Politics (Congress) and challenges from other marketplace players forced an untimely end to what was truly an innovative program.

Innovation Lesson – The lesson of E-COM is that even the best ideas, no matter how great their technical merit, can succumb to politics and competition.  E-COM was definitely ahead of its time and could have served as a pre-Internet foundation for rapid electronic communication.  However, other factors came into play that prevented the Postal Service from making E-COM a success.  This serves as a reminder to the innovator that he or she cannot rely alone on the power of his or her ideas.  Rather, the innovator needs to be aware of the political landscape in which the innovation has to operate in order to be ready to knock down the roadblocks that inevitably get in the way of people trying to make big changes to processes or technologies.

Sources:

Winifred Gallagher, How the Post Office Created America (New York: Penguin Press, 2016).

Erica E. Phillips and Jennifer Smith, “Holiday Orders Stress UPS, FedEx,” Wall Street Journal (December 14, 2016), p. B1.


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Mimic Nature for Innovation

GUEST POST from Scott Bowden

Nature can serve as a powerful source for innovation, as the increasingly prominent study of bio-mimicry in innovation can attest.  The concept of mimicking nature to drive innovation dates as far back as Leonardo da Vinci.  Writing in the Wall Street Journal, Stephen Budiansky, a prominent historian of science, notes that Leonardo “was beguiled by the idea that nature holds solutions to engineering problems that have eluded human ingenuity.”  Leonardo wrote that humans “will never devise any invention more beautiful, nor more simple, nor more to the purpose than Nature does; because in her inventions nothing is wanting and nothing is superfluous.”

Budiansky cites the work of the biologist Steven Vogel who notes that “[l]ife forms a technology in every proper sense, with a diversity of designs, materials, engines, and mechanical contrivances of every degree of complexity.”  Vogel, who passed away in 2015 but whose publisher has just released Vogel’s book Why the Wheel is Round, focused his research on bio-mimicry.  Vogel’s The Life of a Leaf analyzes the “remarkable physical properties that allow leaves to maximize the amount of sunlight absorbed without overheating; to minimize aerodynamic drag and avoid fraying in strong winds; and to offset evaporation losses by lifting vast quantities of water considerable distances from the ground (even an ordinary corn plant pumps a gallon of water a day up from the soil).”  In Cats’ Paws and Catapults, Vogel examines the microscopic structure of eggshells (which minimizes shattering) as well as the energy efficiency of muscles (which are more efficient than combustion engines).

Two other examples of nature inspiring innovation come from unlikely places: the study of garbage (known as garbology), and billboards in a developing country.  The first example comes from Edward Humes in his book Garbology: Our Dirty Love Affair with Trash.  Humes writes about the well-known Pacific garbage patch, which is essentially a massive collection of plastic and other debris floating in the middle of the Pacific Ocean resulting from improper disposal of garbage across the planet.  The patch is 20 million square miles and consists of large and small debris.  The smaller plastic debris is particularly bad for wildlife, threatening the zooplankton that form the base of oceanic food chains.  Scientists seeking methods to clean up this patch have looked to nature for inspiration in some of their designs since standard approaches (such as giant nets to gather the plastic) might do more harm to the wildlife than the plastic.

Humes writes about the inventor Norton Smith who came up with several systems that could potentially clean up this area.  Smith tested them on a research ship as part of Project Kaisei, which sought to study the impact of this trash on nature.  The requirements for Smith’s innovation were creating inexpensive, passive, plastic-gathering devices that could operate without a fuel supply and could be tended infrequently while capturing plastic without harming wildlife.  Smith’s best design was known as the “Beach,” and he modeled it on the physics of an inclined beach in which plastic debris can be washed ashore but few healthy sea creatures end up on land.  Smith created a “plywood inclined plane with a leading edge one foot below the water’s surface and a trailing top edge that’s about three inches above the water – basically a five-foot-wide floating boat ramp with plywood walks on either side.”  This contraption was then anchored to a weighted parachute that extended down 20 to 40 feet below the surface where currents were stronger and could move the contraption through the garbage patch.  On top of the contraption, water breaks over the plywood and a net on the end captures the debris.  In an 11-hour test at sea, Smith found that the Beach worked quite well, capturing a good amount of plastic debris yet disrupting hardly any sea creatures (most of whom were able to avoid the device, just as few mobile creatures end up on a real beach).  Smith estimates that such a system could clean up the Pacific garbage patch in 16 years at the cost of 500 million dollars, give or take.

A second example of biomimicry as the source for innovation comes from Navi Radjou, author of Jugaad Innovation.  Jugaad is Hindi for improvisation and Radjou specializes in finding innovative, low-cost solutions in the developing world.  Anyone who has walked through a forest or meadow in the morning sees the large amounts of dew gathered on plants, even in dry climates.  The city of Lima, Peru, is such a climate and only receives about one inch of rainfall each year, even though the atmosphere is usually overcast and humid.  Many refer to Lima as one of the most depressing cities on Earth due to its lack of sunshine and clear skies (though I must admit that I enjoyed Lima immensely in a June 2016 visit).  In a recent TED Talk, Radjou refers to a large advertising billboard in Lima that was built by students of an engineering college that takes advantage of this climate and mimics the water collecting capabilities of a leaf.  This billboard absorbs humidity from the air and converts it into purified water, resulting in the creation of more than 90 liters of fresh water each day.

From the time of Leonardo da Vinci to the present, nature can serve as a powerful source of inspiration for the innovation practitioner.

 

Sources:

Stephen Budiansky, “A Brilliant History of Technology,” Wall Street Journal (Nov. 4, 2016).

Steven Vogel, Why the Wheel is Round (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 2016).

Steven Vogel, The Life of a Leaf (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 2012).

Steven Vogel, Cats’ Paws and Catapults (New York: W.W. Norton, 1998).

Edward Humes, Garbology: Our Dirty Love Affair with Trash (New York: Penguin, 2013).

Navi Radjou, Jaideep Prabhu, and Simone Ahuja, Jugaad Innovation: Think Frugal, Be Flexible, Generate Breakthrough Growth (New York: Jossey-Bass, 2012).

https://www.ted.com/talks/navi_radjou_creative_problem_solving_in_the_face_of_extreme_limits

https://www.ted.com/speakers/navi_radjou


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