Peter Edman
I just ran across a headline about how many leaders around the world are suffering from low popularity. It reminded me of a favorite book of mine.
Terry Pratchett’s Night Watch has been out for a few years now. It’s one of his Discworld series of fantasy novels, but don’t let that stop you: this is the novel that got critic Michael Dirda to compare Pratchett to Chaucer. The book is that good. What makes it so, at least for me, is the way it helps you think through the limits of leadership and what we can really control. Sometimes things are just complicated.
One of the pithier quotes:
“One of the hardest lessons of young Sam’s life had been finding out that the people in charge weren’t in charge. It had been finding out that governments were not, on the whole, staffed by people who had a grip, and that plans were what people made instead of thinking.”
It seems like a lot of the time, we really want our governments and our leaders to be more on top of things than they can be—and this, it seems to me, is the real appeal of conspiracy theories. If you can blame George W. or Karl Rove for some horror, then somebody is in control, even if that somebody is “evil.” Of course, even Karl Rove isn’t that powerful. None of us humans are. Thus the need for humility. And responsibility.
Novelist Michael Crichton recently made a related point on complexity and humility. He’s been rather controversial of late because of his increasing critiques of the fear-based tactics of the climate change advocacy groups. His novel State of Fear has not been well-received in many quarters, but I suspect this is less because of its mediocre character development and more because of the people he criticizes. This essay, which explains some of his reasoning, is well worth reading. He talks about fear and hope and our general inability to control things like a U.S. national park. (If we’re so unable to manage the physical world, is it any wonder we have difficulties understanding the human person? Walker Percy was no fool.)
Crichton offers a necessary corrective to the hubris that comes from dependence on technique, the materialistic, modernistic thinking that over-simplifies the world, that pretends we can understand cause and effect. The real world is complicated. It’s a complex system (like raising children). He does offer hope, though. I think it interesting where he grounds it:
Fortunately, studies show that we can learn to manage complex systems. There are people who have investigated complex systems management, and know how to do it. But it demands humility.
And I would add, along with humility, managing complex systems also demands the ability to admit we are wrong, and to change course. If you manage a complex system you will frequently, if not always, be wrong. You have to backtrack. You have to acknowledge error. You’ve probably learned that with your children. Or, if you don’t have children, with your bosses.
And one other thing. If we want to manage complexity, we must eliminate fear. Fear may draw a television audience. It may generate cash for an advocacy group. It may support the legal profession. But fear paralyzes us. It freezes us. And we need to be flexible in our responses, as we move into a new era of managing complexity. So we have to stop responding to fear . . .
It's a good message for leaders and the rest of us too. No fear. Act responsibly. Humbly. With hope. I'd add: With prayer (helps keep you humble). And thus the comfort of the Christian affirmation—celebrated especially at this Easter season—that even though the world is complex, even though our leaders aren't really in control, God is in control, and he will ultimately put things to rights. The resurrection of Jesus is only the beginning; it grounds our hope for faithful action. And the power of hope should not be underestimated. Pratchett and Crichton don’t really get that part, so far as I can tell, but they do help us know our place at this point in the story. And tell an enjoyable tale at the same time.
Fodder, Faiths and Worldviews, Leadership, Science and Technology, Mon 24 Apr 2006
If we do not know some purpose for ourselves, we will not be able to fulfill that great Socratic admonition to “know ourselves,” for we cannot know even ourselves by knowing only ourselves.
James V. Schall, S.J., On the Unseriousness of Human Affairs