THE ANATOMY OF LEADERSHIP

All important business challenges involve complexity and significant uncertainty. While the most difficult ones often tax our capacity, they also offer us the opportunity to engage all of our training and preparedness as leaders. Such challenges may require us to not only contribute, but often to create something new and unanticipated, and each challenge that we overcome is a wonderful opportunity for us to learn. My purpose in this article is to share some of my more difficult experiences, and what they teach me about refining our leadership capabilities and qualities.

I was trained as a scientist and engineer. Science enhanced my inclination to imagine molecules in action; engineering made me a “systems thinker.” I learned to scope a problem, formulate possible solution paths, prioritize and dive in. I was taught to seek the full extent of possibilities and to examine all relevant variables, trying not to leave behind any critical issues that might trap me later.

This broad systems thinking served me well as I entered my PhD thesis work. I was comfortable with the technical complexity, and I welcomed the uncertainty as an opportunity to find pathways others might not have tried and could thus lead to novel discoveries. Anxiety did occasionally creep in as I faced difficult technical hurdles and, in particular, as time pressures (often self generated) bore down on me. But the excitement of scientific discovery kept these concerns in check.

And then I started a company.

The scientific challenges were still there as we tackled ever-more-complex problems, seeking new pathways that would give our company a “raison d’etre.” My colleagues and I handled this quite well, largely because we were fortunate in attracting superb talent. But this was only part of the challenge for me. The scope of the issues I faced increased well beyond my training: finance, legal, personnel, human dynamics… the list went on. We engaged experts in these various domains but, in the end, as a co-founding entrepreneur, I had to “hold it all together.” The analytical thinking that I was so accustomed to did not always adequately address all of the issues I faced, especially those dealing with human dynamics. These unfamiliar challenges created a fertile medium for my anxiety to swell. Most of the time I somehow managed, running more on intuition and momentum than through thoughtful reflection.

It is only recently that I have begun to more fully understand what was going on inside me, to recognize what worked (particularly in times of crisis), and to analyze what I might have done so much better. I’ve shared some of this understanding in two previous posts. (1)(2) Here, I want to offer a summary of what I now recognize as critical leadership capacities, in the hope that those of you who are still “in the trenches” will benefit from considering how you might improve your own leadership efficacy. I’ve distilled these capacities into three essential skills that I believe can make us all better leaders:

  1. Finding clarity in complexity
  2. Creating safe spaces
  3. Acknowledging the leadership covenant

FINDING CLARITY IN COMPLEXITY

In my April 2, 2017 post, I referred to a wonderful quote attributed to Chief Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes: (3)

“I wouldn’t give a fig for the simplicity on this side of complexity, but I would give my life for the simplicity on the far side of complexity.”

The more I think about this statement, the more I come to appreciate my discernment process and the shortcuts I had taken, over the years, in my decision-making.

I boil it down to the following: In order to make fast decisions (and gain the accompanying sense of being in control of the situation), I had often minimized the time I was willing to spend in the limbo of the unknown. As a result, I would avoid dwelling long enough in this uncomfortable zone, failing to soak up the fullness of the complexity and thereby failing to give new pathways a chance to unfold. Perhaps, responding to pride in my engineering agility which made me capable of processing complex technical questions quickly, I would “skim the surface” of the problem and grab the first solution offered by my intellect. Having found a quick solution would make me feel good and decisive, even when the dimension of the issues far exceeded the scientific or technical hurdles and required much more intuition and heart. Fortunately, I often injected just enough intuition and heart so that the outcome was positive — but not always. And even when it worked, I wonder in retrospect if I achieved the best possible outcome or if I had chosen too quickly. Had I simply been settling for the comfort zone that had much less tension rather than the challenge zone where the issues would have lingered longer in an unresolved state?

Holmes articulated the importance of holding within us the fullness of the issues and problems, in all their glory and gore, whether they are technical, legal, financial or human. This requires withstanding anxiety and coping with discomfort in order to make way for the peace needed to allow all of our talents to come to bear in the quest for clarity.

How to cope with this anxiety?

I have previously described the metaphor of the crucible of anxiety, so well characterized by Bob Quinn. (4) Accepting the need to immerse oneself in complexity, with its potential to generate anxiety, is an important first step in subjugating the tendency to skim the surface. For me another step was required. I needed a mind-shift. The metaphor I successfully adopted was to transform the crucible to a chalice. This mental transmutation was, in effect, my way of creating within myself a safe space. I needed to give myself “permission” to hold all the issues in a benevolent domain where nothing was adversarial and nothing was prejudged. The only thing that mattered was to hold my greater purpose in mind: my role in and responsibility to the entrepreneurial endeavor. In this safe space, I was reminded that my task was one of service rather than a burden of office. In effect, I was converting an arduous task into a sacred mission, one that transcended my presumptions and served a higher calling, namely the mission I had signed up for on behalf of my company, a mission that was congruent with my life’s purpose. This safe space also shielded me from the over-intrusion of my ego.

There is an important additional shift that comes with the transformation of the crucible to the chalice: the change from anxiety to anticipation. Rather than dreading the next steps and fearing the next encounters, there is a wave of anticipation for what will unfold and my role in it. While anxiety does not fully disappear, it is softened by an expectation of change, of resolution, of service. Once our attitude of service takes over, we are well on the way to a positive resolution: We have found a safe and meaningful space.

Many years ago, when we suddenly lost a major partner and had to reduce the company significantly to survive, I was actually creating this safe space within myself without being aware of it. My sense of mission enabled me to survive this horrific episode with my integrity intact, my self esteem still more or less whole in spite of the trauma, and an ability to take actions that were consistent with my values. We reduced the company in a manner that everyone supported, both those who remained and those who moved on. It was a terrible experience that I would not wish on anyone — but it happened, and we had to survive. I created a safe space within myself and, without even being aware of it, I also created a safe space within our company for all to express their feelings and to help discover the solutions we had needed to sustain our mission and our company.

More recently, in dealing with a difficult business reality facing an organization for which I served as a Board Member, I much more consciously transformed a crucible into a chalice. This safe space allowed me to alleviate a state of mind so constraining that I had not been able to think straight. Unshackled from my anxiety, I became a positive contributor, able to help the company and the Board to arrive at a responsible resolution that was necessary, albeit disappointing.

CREATING SAFE SPACES

The same mindset that creates a safe space for coping with complexity and managing anxiety within oneself can also enrich the environment for our teams.

My friend and mentor Andre Delbeck often reminded me that the complex strategic decisions we face in business typically have 18 to 30 distinct variables, yet the human mind is capable of handling, at best, only 5 to 6 variables at any one time. This emphasizes that we should not go it alone when attempting to resolve complex situations. While I knew this, my impatience, my ego and my control syndrome often tended to push me to do it all myself, rationalizing that it would be faster, more expedient and more likely to be done “as I envisioned it.” Especially in the pressured rush of the moment, it’s wise to recall Andre’s admonition, lest we forget our human limitations and weaknesses.

Therefore, it’s just as vital to carve out safe spaces for our teams, as it is to create them within ourselves. This ensures that we allow others to contribute their best. A safe space minimizes ulterior motives, discourages criticism of out-of-the-norm ideas and supports brainstorming, free from repercussions either in performance appraisal or job security. The energy should all be directed to solving the problem, not to preserving our self-esteem or our status. Bob Quinn aptly describes this as a place where “the ego’s driven need to be right is replaced by the shared need to learn.” Again, this moves us from anxiety to anticipation.

I often call this safe space a “sacred space.” I don’t intend any religious connotation here. But a safe space embraced by all participants, which is free of ego-driven contamination and does not enable the petty, self-serving motivations of any participants, is sacred in that it honors a shared higher purpose.

Once created and embraced by the team, sustaining the safe space becomes the leader’s task: a responsibility that’s part of the leadership covenant I address below. This can often be challenging, and I have recently found it particularly daunting in several Board situations. At times, I have deeply felt the fraying of the safe space, yet I either did nothing about it or my efforts were weak. This has occurred primarily when the CEO or Chair has held too tight a grip on the Board. By the time the repercussions were felt, it was too late to do anything about it.

The one key factor most frayed in these situations is trust: trust in the leadership and trust in one another. Trust is a critical factor in all interactions. As leaders, we can provide a sort of “trust glue” that holds together the safe space needed to foster productive interactions.

So how do we gain trust?

My friend Steve King, who heads up the University of Wisconsin Business School Executive Program, pointed out to me that trust has two aspects: professional and personal. Professional trust embodies competence in our field and the rigor of our thinking. Personal trust is much more intangible and intimate, perhaps best described as a “warmth,” a sense of simpatico, a connectivity, an openness, a feeling of accessibility. Trust, both professional and personal, grows with time and familiarity: Professional trust grows with our track record; personal trust with our behavior. And both are needed for us to be effective leaders.

Personal trust is more difficult to attain, requiring that a connection be forged between individuals, a linkage that becomes stronger with time and the intensity of mutual experiences. A significant advantage is a trustworthy personality, characterized by a demeanor that invites a sense of ease. If we are comfortable with ourselves and at peace, we will stimulate trust. By contrast, if we tend to be suspicious by nature or overly protective of our personal space, it will be more difficult to generate the trust of those we need the most.

Each of us emanates a certain level of trustworthiness that comes from deep inside and manifests itself even in our facial expressions during interactions. The best advice I can offer, in this regard, is to attempt to be aware of our trustworthiness-emanations and to continue to sharpen that awareness as we pursue our own personal development.
In the end, fostering productive interactions comes down to connections between individuals, hence the need to establish close one-on-one relationships. I have often described these relationships as an exchange of “trust packets,” (5) and each such exchange establishes a “covenant.” This brings me to the last of the essential leadership qualities: the leadership covenant.

ACKNOWLEDGING THE LEADERSHIP COVENANT

When faced with complexity, we gain clarity either by ourselves or, more likely, through deliberations with our team — ideally in a “safe space.” This is the process of discernment. But wading through the quagmire of complexity to glean a clear solution is only part of the process. It reveals an opportunity, but we need to act on it: Discernment has shown us the path; decision steps us into action.

How do we know when to act? We need to feel that the moment is right. And once we do act, it places on us a heavy responsibility. It is what I call the “leadership covenant” and includes two obligations:

  1. The obligation to confirm a common understanding of the action path, and
  2. The obligation to shepherd the process to its conclusion.

The first ensures that there is congruence in everyone’s understanding of the chosen direction and approach. This requires a clear, concise and compelling articulation of the discernment, as well as confirmation that it appropriately resonates with everyone. This allows us to resolve any misunderstandings and improves the chance for a positive outcome. It also makes our job as leaders easier as we navigate the course out of complexity toward resolution, and it permits us to loop back for further help as we face the new challenges that inevitably arise. It ensures that every one of the participants in the process is fully vested in a positive outcome, rather than satisfying any selfish or petty elements that can slow the momentum toward a win for all.

The second is inherent in the trust placed in us by our team. As leaders, we essentially hold, in our hands, the team’s belief in our mission, and we make the commitment to take it the distance. This is part and parcel of the exchange of trust packets. This exchange builds, over time, rather imperceptibly, and pays enormous dividends when it counts. As I look back at the most difficult times in my entrepreneurial career, I am convinced that these trust packets were the only factor that enabled us to survive. I described a clear example of this earlier: When we had to drastically reduce the size of the company upon the abrupt termination of a key partnership, trust was surely what kept us going.

The obligations inherent in the leadership covenant are weighty, which is the reason I use the word covenant. My meaning is best described by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks in his acceptance speech for the American Enterprise Institute’s Irving Kristol Award. (6) He compares and contrasts the meanings of contract and covenant.

“In a contract, two or more people come together to make an exchange. And so you have the commercial contract that creates the market and the social contract that creates the state.

A covenant isn’t like that. It’s more like a marriage than an exchange. In a covenant, two or more parties each respecting the dignity and integrity of the other come together in a bond of loyalty and trust to do together what neither can do alone. A covenant isn’t about me. It’s about us. A covenant isn’t about interests. It’s about identity. A covenant isn’t about me, the voter, or me, the consumer, but about all of us together. Or in that lovely key phrase of American politics, it’s about “we, the people.”

The market is about the creation and distribution of wealth. The state is about the creation and distribution of power. But a covenant is about neither wealth nor power, but about the bonds of belonging and of collective responsibility. And to put it as simply as I can, the social contract creates a state but the social covenant creates a society. That is the difference. They’re different things. Now, what is more, every covenant comes with a story.”

I find Rabbi Sacks’ last point most interesting: every covenant comes with a story. As leaders, the story we live is the shared purpose of our organization. It provides the “bonds of belonging and of shared responsibility,” and is the story that continually recreates the raison d’etre for us to be together in the first place, justifying all the sacrifices we make to achieve our common goal.

Reflections:

  • List the times in your life when anxiety has threatened to paralyze you.
  • Examine how you overcame these crises, be they personal or professional. What do you learn from what worked for you?
  • Have you experienced the liberating power of safe spaces in your personal life? List the times it has served you. What would it take to create such spaces in your professional life? Could you build it into all levels of leadership in your organization?
  • Think about the times when you have entered into a personal covenant obligation in the sense we are using it here, perhaps even in a religious context. Could you see it applied to your relationships with your colleagues? Examine how it would influence your mutual trust.

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(1) From Crucible to Chalice https://ricardolevy.com/2017/04/02/dealing-with-uncertainty-from-the-crucible-of-anxiety-to-the-chalice-of-change-lessons-in-leadership/

(2) From Crucible to Chalice Part 2 https://ricardolevy.com/2017/07/27/from-crucible-to-chalice-part-2-unlocking-our-leadership-capacity-all-we-need-to-do-is-clear-the-path/

(3)  As quoted by Professor James O’Toole in his book The Executive’s Compass, Business and the Good Society (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), 5.

(4) Bob Quinn https://thepositiveorganization.wordpress.com/2016/07/20/an-elusive-leadership-skill/

(5)  Ricardo Levy, Letters to a Young Entrepreneur: Succeeding in Business Without losing at Life (San Francisco: Catalytic Publishers, 2015), 66

(6) 2017 Kristol Award http://www.aei.org/publication/2017-irving-kristol-award-recipient-rabbi-lord-jonathan-sacks-remarks/

MEDITATION: SUCH A CRUCIAL LIFE PRACTICE!

Dear Reader:

My last two posts dealt with how to navigate through complexity. I detailed one approach that has worked for me, but it is by no means the only approach. We each need to discover our own path. What has helped me find my path, and I believe may also help you, is the practice of meditation.

I am frequently asked by friends and students how to meditate. Despite many years of practice, I still feel thoroughly unprepared to answer this question. Since I was first exposed to meditation, I have leaned on my teachers. In the 70s and 80s, I looked to the wonderful author and Transactional Analysis pioneer, Dorothy Jongeward. More recently, my dear friend and mentor, Andre Delbecq, was my stalwart guide and, for five years, it was to him that I turned to teach the session on meditation and spirituality in my Stanford entrepreneurship class. Andre’s class was a favorite of my students, and one of the most impactful of all our sessions. Unfortunately, two weeks before he was to teach the Fall 2016 class, Andre passed away at age 80. Since I had recorded his lecture from the previous year, I decided to play it for my class, rather than attempting to recreate it. It was my tribute to him. His words touched me as if I was hearing them for the first time. His spirit permeated the lecture hall, and many students commented afterwards how deeply he touched them. Several have followed up and, when I see them, they tell me they are continuing to meditate.

Now that I no longer have Andre to lean on, I am struggling to find a way to help students with the practice of meditation. It has, for so many years, been a key in my ability to cope with increasing responsibilities and an increasingly complex business. Looking at my sources, I have re-discovered two books that speak directly to the topic from two different traditions and approaches. Both books have the same title: How to Meditate. One, by Eknath Easwaran, comes from the Hindu tradition; the other, by Pema Chödrön, stems from the Buddhist tradition:

Eknath Easwaran, How to Meditate (Tomales, CA: Nilgiri Press, 2016)
Pema Chödrön, How to Meditate (Boulder, CO: Sounds True, 2013)

You may have noticed that I have quoted both authors in my past posts. I do not presume to describe here what these special authors teach. Their own words speak so eloquently that I would be robbing you of the experience to savor them for yourselves. Instead, I will share with you some excerpts so that you can taste the beauty of these little books, then perhaps you will be inspired to pick them up and read them. I assure you that once you do, you will be hooked.

What is so marvelous about both of these short treasures is that they are each written as an intimate and personal call from the author to enter the practice of meditation as a way to be more completely present in our lives. I could almost say that both of these authors are pleading with us. Eknath’s first chapter is titled “Invitation to a Journey.” He starts by relaying the story of Humphrey, the whale that captivated so many of us when he got lost in the San Francisco Bay in 1985. Humphrey was ultimately “invited” to find the way out, back to his deep-water world. Eknath describes Humphrey’s apparent impulse, when he finally sensed that he was in the open sea:

Then, free to go wherever he chose, he must instead have felt a silent command: “North. Go north. Go home.” No details, no map, no companions, no guide, just a direction and a desire in response to an overriding imperative from within: go home. It is very much like that on the journey of meditation too. Once you turn inward, the words of the passages urge you forward in response to a summons from the very depths of the heart. This need to return to the source of our being is nothing less than an evolutionary imperative – the drive to realize our full human potential.

Pema subtitled her book “A Practical Guide to Making Friends with Your Mind.” In her introduction she says:

…meditation is about a compassionate openness and the ability to be with oneself and one’s situation through all kinds of experiences. In meditation, you’re open to whatever life presents you with. It’s about touching the earth and coming back to being right here. While some kinds of meditation are more about achieving special states and somehow transcending or rising above the difficulties of life, the kind of meditation that I’ve trained in and that I am teaching here is about awakening fully to our life. It’s about opening the heart and mind to the difficulties and the joys of life — just as it is. And the fruits of this kind of meditation are boundless.

One of Pema’s recurring themes in many of her books is a reminder that thoughts are the creations of our minds. They can lead to physical consequences resulting from stress, anger or fear, which are very real to us. We often forget that these began as creations of our minds, as mere thoughts. Our challenge is not to allow them to become 100% of our reality. Pema constantly urges us to stop before this 100%, and go beneath to uncover the source of the thought, the source of the emotion. Meditation is a path to reach “beneath.” According to Pema, to do so we need to be fully in the present moment:

The present moment is the generative fire of our meditation. It is what propels us toward transformation. In other words, the present moment is the fuel for your personal journey. Meditation helps you to meet your edge; it’s where you actually come up against it and you start to lose it. Meeting the unknown of the moment allows you to live your life and to enter your relationships and commitments ever more fully. This is living wholeheartedly.

For both Pema and Eknath, meditation is a transformative process. What I find so valuable is that, from my vantage point, they arrive at the same end point but come from two quite different approaches. Eknath’s practice, which he calls “Passage Meditation,” emphasizes using a memorized passage as a means to go into a very deep quiet zone, reaching a state that disconnects from the sounds, thoughts, sensations, emotions and distractions that are continuously accosting us. Pema, in contrast, emphasizes being fully present in whatever state we are in at the moment, regardless of the emotions that may be gripping us; to be fully present amidst any pains, stresses, desires, anxieties or joys. She then guides us to go beneath these sensations so we can “see” beyond them and start to understand them and deal with them. For her, these emotions and sensations are the teachers of the transformation:

We turn our emotions into frozen objects and invest them with truth, and as a result they have so much power over us. So we train again and again in coming back to the object of meditation as a way of interrupting that fixated quality. The grasping and fixation — that’s really what we’re interrupting.

Pema speaks of emotions as being energy that we can harness. She quotes a passage from “The Myth of Freedom and the Way of Meditation” by her teacher, Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche:

So the intelligent way of working with emotions is to try to relate with their basic substance. The basic “isness” quality of the emotions, the fundamental nature of the emotions, is just energy. And if one is able to relate with the energy, then the energies have no conflict with you. They become a natural process.

In my own practice, I use both approaches: sometimes employing a passage to enter the deep space (following Eknath’s advice, I often use the wonderful St. Francis Prayer that I’ve reproduced at the end of this post); and sometimes, rather than go deep, I go wide, staying with my immediate state of being and my emotions. Both approaches move me, both touch me, and both teach me. For me, meditation is a continually evolving process: I do not pre-plan which mode I will engage. I allow myself to be taken in either direction. In the end, they both become my guides to the same place of appreciation and gratitude. They both help me be more fully in the present. Most importantly, I attempt to follow the “edict” that both emphasize: Meditate every day.

Eknath:

To make progress in meditation, you must be regular in your practice of it… There is only one failure in meditation: the failure to meditate faithfully. A Hindu proverb says, “Miss one morning, and you need seven to make it up.” Or as Saint John of the Cross expressed it, “He who interrupts the course of his spiritual exercises and prayer is like a man who allows a bird to escape from his hand; he can hardly catch it again” … Put your meditation first and everything else second; you will find, for one thing, that it enriches everything else. Even if you are on a jet or in a sickbed, don’t let that come in the way of your practice. If you are harassed by personal anxieties, it is all the more important to have your meditation; it will release the resources you need to solve the problems at hand.

Pema:

Meditation is a transformative process, rather than a magic makeover in which we doggedly aim to change something about ourselves. The more we practice, the more we open, and the more we develop courage in our life. In meditation you never really feel that you “did it” or that you’ve “arrived.” You feel that you just relaxed enough to experience what’s always been within you. I sometimes call this transformative process “grace.” Because when we’re developing this courage, in which we allow the range of our emotions to occur, we can be struck with moments of insight, insights that could never have come from trying to figure out conceptually what’s wrong with us, or what’s wrong with the world. These moments of insight come from the act of sitting in meditation, which takes courage, a courage that grows with time.

So, dear Reader, go and get these little books. And perhaps they will help answer your question about what meditation is all about and why some of us are so hooked on it.

Your friend,

Ricardo

The Prayer of St Francis:

Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
Where there is sadness, joy.

O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console,
To be understood as to understand,
To be loved as to love;
For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
It is in dying to self that we are born to eternal life.

And if you want a lighter passage, which I sometimes also use in my meditation, here is a wonderful poem by Mary Oliver: Why I Wake Early:

Hello, sun in my face.
Hello, you who make the morning
and spread it over the fields
and into the faces of the tulips
and the nodding morning glories,
and into the windows of, even, the
miserable and crotchety –

best preacher that ever was,
dear star, that just happens
to be where you are in the universe
to keep us from ever-darkness,
to ease us with warm touching,
to hold us in the great hands of light –
good morning, good morning, good morning,

Watch, now, how I start the day
in happiness, in kindness.

To which I usually add: “…and in gratitude.
Continue reading “MEDITATION: SUCH A CRUCIAL LIFE PRACTICE!”

Dealing With Uncertainty: From the Crucible of Anxiety to the Chalice of Change — LESSONS IN LEADERSHIP

Dear Reader:

Last year I published two posts dealing with uncertainty. I have continued to reflect on the events that prompted the posts. I want to share with you some further insights into the challenge of handling complexity at times of crisis, and in particular what they tell me about leadership. My contemplation helped me uncover additional aspects about the leadership capacity within us, and stimulated a continuing search for what makes good leadership and how to develop it. It also made me realize how little I know, and how much help I need to better understand this topic. It has led me to recast my previous posts and focus on the question of teaching ourselves – and others – to be better leaders.

I will be using this article as the basis for a workshop I am leading on May 19, 2017 at the International Association of Management, Spirituality and Religion Conference at the University of Arkansas. The essence of my theme at that workshop is how to discover and unlock the leadership capacity inside all of us.

I very much seek and welcome any ideas, critique, suggestions and insights that you may have on this important topic.

First, a reminder: What makes us entrepreneurs is our consuming drive to bring new products to market to fulfill perceived needs. What makes us entrepreneurial leaders is our capacity to embrace the unknown and guide our organizations in times of difficulty and uncertainty. To be in the midst of this action, either as a driver or contributor, has been my joy for many years, and this joy continues as I serve on Boards and teach. The most difficult element then and now, as I dwell in uncertainty, is to find the right time and best way to act, so as to help shift uncertain situations toward greater clarity and positive resolution. I have come to recognize that nothing helps sharpen one’s capacity as much as living through a difficult experience.

A Situation that Challenged Me — Both Professionally and Personally

One of the companies for which I served as a Board member had reached an impasse. We were making substantial progress in a breakthrough healthcare technology, and were the first to engage in clinical trials. Some of our most recent results were awe inspiring. Yet we were frustrated by the financial market forces making it difficult to continue to finance development of the much-needed medical breakthroughs we were targeting. At the Board’s request, the CEO was asked to consider alternatives. The options were disconcerting: narrowing the research focus; reducing expenses, with consequent layoffs; realigning the ranks of executives to better correspond to a down-sized operation; mounting one more aggressive effort to attract financial resources in a very hostile fund-raising environment. The CEO’s recommendation was to double-down on the most advanced project and discontinue all others, which would significantly reduce the company’s expenses. The focus was to be driven by the COO, who had helped develop the options and was running the R&D. It was a sound recommendation that the Board accepted.

This recommendation was not unexpected, and is certainly not unusual in entrepreneurial ventures as they pioneer new technology. I had faced these same choices in the companies I had founded and grown. So I thought that with my long experience as an entrepreneur, I was well equipped to handle these complex issues as a Board member. As it turns out, I did have the right intuition about what to do, but in retrospect, I failed in several aspects of the execution. And this is where my learning begins.

The selected scenario required a realignment of the executive ranks to better correspond to a down-sized operation. The CEO counseled a measured approach. The Board felt that action needed to be taken immediately, which necessitated a drastically slimmed-down organization from top to bottom. In the course of the deliberations, I saw a clear – and to me obvious – path to reconcile the CEO’s desire for a measured transition and the Board’s sense that immediate drastic action was needed: Ask the CEO to become Chair of the Board and promote the COO to the top executive position. Not rocket science. But the sense of urgency in the moment and the severity of the timeline did not give much breathing room for the “of course” considerations that so often come only in retrospect. To me, “my” solution had all the correct ingredients: It would signal a smooth transition to the outside world; it would allow for a harmonious transfer of power and realignment while implementing the difficult step of reducing and focusing the organization. There was, for me, one more factor, which on the one hand, compounded my personal thought process, and on the other, opened up potential pathways to help resolve the crisis. The CEO had become a personal and very close friend of mine, and he trusted me. Unraveling and appreciating this additional personal pressure on me was to come later. At the time, I simply “knew” what had to be done.

The Board decided to implement the immediate change. They agreed to my suggested approach regarding the CEO. Because of my close personal relationship with the CEO, I volunteered to join the Board Chair in conveying the decision. I just could not do otherwise, unpleasant as the news would be that the Board wanted to accelerate something the CEO thought should be done in a more systematic manner. I was feeling the emotions that everyone was experiencing and, in particular, anticipating the CEO’s likely emotional dilemma. I was not about to leave this tough job to someone else.

The subsequent series of one-to-one meetings with the CEO and the COO – who had to agree to take over immediately from the person who had hired him in the first place – are hard to describe or even for me to revisit. I would not wish this experience on anyone. And here is the hardest part of the story (as if the rest was not hard enough): To my disappointment, in the end the Board and the CEO could not agree on the steps forward, in spite of my recommendation to put in place the smooth executive transition that I had envisioned. The CEO left the company. I had failed, and this weighed heavily on me.

In retrospect, I was obviously not fully aware of the enormity of the inner forces that were acting on me as I participated in these intense deliberations. I could intimately feel the disappointment of the scientists and physicians who had tirelessly dedicated a significant portion of their lives and careers to driving this important, next-generation technology forward. I could intimately feel the struggle of my friend, the CEO who had staked his life on pursuing the goals of this company in which he deeply believed and to which he had dedicated over fifteen years of his life. I also sensed the forces acting on the other Board members as they wrestled to make the best decision possible under very unpleasant circumstances and a tightening timeline.

To make matters even worse, shortly after we took these streamlining and tightening actions and the CEO had left, we received reports from our clinical trials that while the impact of our treatment was still significant, the level of progress of our study patients had slowed — something we could not immediately explain and had never before observed. We could see ways to determine the cause and implement adjustments, but in our current financial circumstances this was impossible. On top of the trauma of the staff reductions inherent in narrowing the operation’s focus and of the change in leadership, our team was now faced with clinical results that would significantly extend the timeline to commercial implementation and render the company’s survival much more perilous.

A Message of Significance

These events led to many sleepless nights for me. Now that the CEO had left, the questions that continued to haunt me were: Had I done everything I could? What was going on inside me, as I struggled with these forces? How was I handling the unraveling of a company I had supported for so many years? How was I coping with the deep disappointment of a very good friend and a threat to a friendship I cherished?

As I was wrestling with these challenges, my friend Bob Quinn, Professor at the University of Michigan Ross School of Business, posted a brief article in his blog entitled “An Elusive Leadership Skill.” [1] It prompted, in me, a cascade of ideas and reflections about leadership, all centered on the issue of coping with uncertainty in situations as complex as the one I was facing. I found two phrases in Bob’s post particularly thought-provoking:

  • Leaders “pursue their purpose by stepping into the crucible of anxiety,” and
  • Leaders “communicate the simplicity from the other side of complexity.”

The first phrase introduces the very descriptive and appropriate metaphor of a crucible: a container that can withstand severe conditions, usually high temperatures, which is often employed to conduct chemical reactions under harsh conditions. As I consider some of the most difficult leadership situations I have dealt with, many of which have involved personnel issues, I can picture stepping into such a crucible and standing there with a great “churn” in the pit of my stomach – and the sensation of being overwhelmed and even torn apart by the process.

The second phrase is derived from the wisdom of the early 20th century jurist Oliver Wendell Holmes who, in essence, said that he cares little about the simplicity on this side of complexity, but gives much value to the simplicity found on the other side of complexity. He is actually reported to have said it even more dramatically: “I wouldn’t give a fig for the simplicity on this side of complexity; I would give my life for the simplicity on the far side of complexity.”

Bob’s post could not have come at a more appropriate time, as it so aptly characterized my state of mind at that moment. I knew I had to remain immersed in the crucible. If I were to act without my full emotional engagement and instead simply ponder the elements of the situation dispassionately, I would be making decisions from the simplicity on this side of complexity — comfortable but irresponsible. I could also, at that point, have just resigned from the Board and left the issue behind — in effect, finding the simplicity for me, without much further regard for the complexity with which the company was dealing.

This put into focus a harsh reality of life: If we are to be players in an important mission, we have to endure the churn of the crucible and hope a new understanding crystalizes – or not step into it at all. There is no halfway measure: Full exposure is needed to appreciate the totality of a problem and do justice to our commitments with integrity and honor.

Full immersion is, of course, the lot of the CEO. It comes with the office. As members of the Board, our immersion should be no less intense, but we are granted a different vantage point and perspective, whence comes the value of our role. But just like a CEO, we need to be willing to absorb the anxiety of immersion and thus be open to learning in real time. And, perhaps most importantly, we must be able to overcome two elements that may easily mislead us: our egos and our prejudices. In the heat of the chemical reaction, we may not even notice these reactive agents.

In this situation, my ego pestered me to find a solution in short order, consistent with my image of being a seasoned executive. Meanwhile, my “better nature” struggled to find a path that would allow us to resolve the situation without damaging the dignity of the key players, in particular the CEO. As I pondered these issues, and at moments felt the natural urge to “escape the situation,” something became clear through the insights of Bob Quinn’s post: While we are compelled to dwell in the cauldron of uncertainty, our equally important task is to find a way to get to the other side of the combustion so that we can discern the essence of the quandary and gain clarity. We need to find the simplicity on the other side of the complexity. Yet it also became clear to me that while I needed to step out of the furnace, I had to do it without detachment. I still owned the situation! I had to maintain my link to the complexity but not be overwhelmed by it. I was not just an observer; I continued to be a protagonist. The admonitions that some were giving me to “be objective” or “be professional” totally missed the point.

No. I was not going to quit the Board. The only viable alternative for me was to fully continue in the complexity: to continue to be totally immersed in the subsequent deluge of facts and unknowns, of pressures and opinions, of perceptions and vested interests, and of major disappointments.

Converting the Crucible

When, in the heat of the Board deliberations, I suggested elevating the CEO to Chair I took a chance. I had not talked to the sitting Chair who had led the Board well for a long time. The Board was about to commit to a decision, there was no time for procrastinate. Many alternatives where considered; none of them sat well with me. I could have let the direction of the discussion continue and “go with the flow.” But I deeply felt the “rightness” of my approach, and had a deep, irresistible urge to express it. I was in what Bob Quinn calls “the state of authentic engagement.”[2] I spoke forcefully. It resonated with the other Board members. And I became the purveyor of the difficult news.

As I walked out of the Board room to fulfill my task one of the Board members, who is not known to be very “touchy feely,” turned to me and said: “Ric, I love you.” I do not believe he was talking about me per-se. He was talking about me as the carrier of the sense of the group at that moment. It was the leadership moment. It transcended me, it responded to the spoken and unspoken needs of everyone. I was just a conduit.

Many individual meetings followed. I was engaged, yet my head and heart were not totally clear. I was deeply immersed in the cauldron and feeling the constant heat of the reaction. I had trouble sleeping. At times, I was unable to think clearly. I was suffering. And it was compounded by the fact that the CEO then left and we were facing the disappointing clinical results. Something needed to change within me, if I was to continue to be a positive contributor to the company.

The change occurred one morning, several weeks later and deeply influenced by my reflections regarding the crucible of anxiety: In my daily meditation, I suddenly moved the crucible from the interior of my gut to just in front of me. While this sounds illusory, it was very real to me. In a moment of incredible clarity, I was able to “see” all the elements churning in the crucible of anxiety in sharp focus, and actual shift them out of my tense interior.

My early morning meditation ritual is a very spiritual time. Everyday, I take twenty minutes of very private time to sit still, quiet my mind, and attempt to move beyond the noises and pressures that crowd my thinking and my psyche (including those that are conspiring to tighten my gut.) Once in a while, this practice allows me to reach a state of deep peace, which carries with it an empathy and caring for everything and everyone, near and far. That is just what I needed, in the current state of affairs, and suddenly, instead of a crucible, I found myself holding a different sort of receptacle in my arms, which contained all the churning elements. But it was now in front of me where I could see it, rather than ominously lurking inside me. Importantly, this vessel felt amicable, not antagonistic. I felt love (yes, love) pouring into it, and a strange new ability to attend to each part of the mix – people and situations – in a warm and caring way. This experience startled me: I had converted the crucible of anxiety into a chalice of change.

The moment was unbelievably liberating. My ego dissolved and I became focused only on the highest good. My purpose as a member of the Board clarified and became not just another job, but a sacred task. My fear turned into confidence, and the chalice enabled me to finally employ all of my leadership tools more effectively: my analytical capabilities, my sense of purpose and passion, my moral compass and my spiritual anchors. This would not have occurred had I not been practicing my daily mediation.

I use the word “chalice” advisedly. The crucible burns with intolerant heat, while the chalice refreshes and rejuvenates, bringing transformation when we drink from it. To me, the chalice connotes a vessel that purifies, transmuting the elements and giving us an ability to see the process with greater clarity.

The moment I embraced the chalice I was transformed. I had a much firmer view of the dynamic whole, and sensed the simplicity on the other side of complexity. Most importantly, I found the strength to be fully present while confronting the conflicts with gentleness. I recognized the best in each actor, and I felt that no matter what I had to do, I could perform my duties with respect for each party. And part of that feeling of compassion was toward myself.

This came as the Board made the wrenching decision to liquidate the company. Several of the other Board members chose to leave. I chose to continue. The chalice transformation made it clear to me that I had to see the situation through to the finish, regardless how painful it was to disassemble a company with which I had been associated for a dozen years. My goal, together with two other Board members, was to implement the wind-down in a manner that safeguarded the dignity of the employees who had worked so tirelessly in the pursuit of our dream of a medical breakthrough and, equally important, to find a home for the technology that would ensure the continued pursuit of the possibilities of a treatment that might save the lives of our children and grandchildren. I also dedicated myself to rebuilding my friendship with the CEO, which had been deeply frayed by the events that had unfolded. I could not have done this had I not converted the crucible into a chalice.

A Crucial Conversion Ingredient

I believe that this flow through complexity to simplicity has deep spiritual significance. It is therefore not surprising that the insight of the conversion from crucible to chalice came to me during meditation. It also indicates that there is a much deeper aspect of this that could have implications for our leadership – and life – journeys: our ability to hold opposites without feeling threatened.

A special passage from Father Richard Rohr’s book Eager to Love keeps coming back to me in this context[3]:

Paradox held and overcome is the beginning of training in non-dual thinking or contemplation, as opposed to paradox denied, which forces us to choose only one part of any mysterious truth. Such a choice will be false because we usually choose the one that serves our small purposes.”

This suggests that avoiding our “smaller purposes” becomes crucial when we need to transform the crucible to a chalice. This is also true when we face many of our leadership challenges. In my classes and in my book, I speak of the necessity for leaders to continuously move from the specific to the general, from the narrow to the broad. As leaders, we absorb the broad uncertainty of our venture so that others on the team can focus on more specific aspects of the mission, which they are often much more qualified to tackle. I liken this to our breath: When we breathe in, we expand our horizon, taking in the 360-degree vista. We are alert to opportunities and threats without blocking them with our prejudices and small purposes. Yet we cannot just breathe in; to survive we must also breathe out. When we do, we transmit energy, passion, direction and focus. It is a continuous flow. In the breathing-in phase, we must hold opposites. We need to be able to encompass paradox. We need the capacity to fully entertain conflicting positions. And we need to fully understand contrasting positions from those who advise us.

The Leadership Voice

To sense the “simplicity on the other side of complexity” is not enough. Our task is to permit our leadership capacity to manifest. We must therefore unshackle it. The transformation from crucible to chalice is a step in this “coming out” effort. I propose that true leadership springs from an inner well that sustains an inner flame. It is a delicate flame, protected by a lifetime of defense mechanisms that develop as we cope with our personal experience of living. To allow an opening in this armor without damaging the inner layers is subtle and delicate, yet that is the required effort.

The place that I am talking about is difficult to describe. A wonderful passage from Thomas Merton perhaps does so best[4].

“Again, that expression, le point vierge, comes in here. At the center of our being is a point of nothingness which is untouched by sin and illusion, a point of pure truth, a point or spark which belongs entirely to God, which is never at our disposal, from which God disposes of our lives, which is inaccessible to the fantasies of our own mind or the brutalities of our own will. This little point of nothingness and of absolute poverty is the pure glory of God written in us, as our poverty, as our indigence, as our sonship. It is like a pure diamond blazing with the invisible light of heaven. It is in everybody, and if we could see it, we would see these billions of points of light coming together in the face and blaze of a sun that makes all darkness and cruelty of life vanish completely. I have no program for this seeing. It is only given. But the gate of heaven is everywhere.”

And, of course, the beauty in this is that as our leadership voice springs from a point of light linked to all lights, it speaks directly to the light in other individuals. They feel it. They do not have to go through the intellect to sense it fully: It is expressed from that deeper place. It prompts even the hardest of us to say, “I love you.”

An Opportunity for Reflection and Deep Learning

Bob Quinn, in his book Deep Change: Discovering the Leader Within,[5] looks at leadership not as behaviors and techniques, but as a “state of being.” As a guide and teacher, I echo Bob’s thoughts. The capacity for leadership is in all of us. As Bob’s book title suggests, we just have to discover it.

The challenge for us as teachers is to figure out how we can help others (and ourselves) with this discovery; what we can do to “free” ourselves to capture that capacity; what state of mind allows us to manifest it in the right moment. How do we train for it? How do we coach it?

Two words in Father Rohr’s quote are noteworthy, as he refers to paradox: “held” and “denied.” What are we constantly denying as we face situations? What makes us deny? Does therein lie the secret ingredient — the catalyst for a crucible to chalice transformation? How do we train to hold paradox?

Here are some recommended steps for making the most of the opportunity when we come face-to-face with uncertainty:

  • Recognize the complexity.
  • Know that our job as leader is to fully enter the crucible of anxiety.
  • Acknowledge that it will be uncomfortable.
  • Commit to remain in the crucible as long as you need to, resisting the temptations of “easy” solutions.
  • Allow the transformation of the crucible into a chalice (by the deep reflection and contemplation that allows a mindset change and converts the problem into a sacred task rather than a burden) thereby gaining the peace that enables the discernment needed to help you arrive at the eventual decision or action.
  • Then, step to the other side of complexity with the simplicity offered by clarity.
  • Act only when you have reached the simplicity on the other side of the complexity.
  • Enact your decision with conviction, confidence and respect. Capture the leadership moment. Speak from your “center.”

Consider the times when you have felt the crucible emerge. Were you able to transform it into a chalice, even if you may not have characterized it as such at the time? What did you learn from this? Examine how you might improve such situations and how, in the future, this might help you in better leading your organizations or teams.

And perhaps even more broadly: Might the crucible-to-chalice model help you in resolving your own personal affairs?

References

[1] https://thepositiveorganization.wordpress.com/2016/07/20/an-elusive-leadership-skill/

[2] Bob Quinn Post June 24, 2016

[3] Richard Rohr, Eager to Love: The Alternative Way of Francis of Assisi ( Cincinnati, OH: Franciscan Media, 2014)

[4] From Merton’s Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander, quoted in Lawrence S Cunningham, Thomas Merton: Spiritual Master, Essential Writings (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press 1992) p 146

[5] Robert E Quinn Deep Change: Discover the Leader Within (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass 1996

FROM ENTREPRENEUR TO ENTREPRENEURIAL LEADER: KEY LEARNINGS

KEY QUALITIES OF AN ENTREPRENEUR

Over the last several years, while working with my students, I have developed a series of descriptors that profile the entrepreneur. They are based on my experience as a life-long creator of new ventures. Like all “lists,” this is an abbreviated articulation of what is a complex and multi-faceted whole. Yet it serves to highlight some elements of what all entrepreneurs need to consider, as we strive to become better leaders.

My list is split into three domains of the entrepreneurial character: Inner, Outer and Core. I am not attempting to be comprehensive; I mainly want to trigger an active conversation that deepens our understanding of what makes an entrepreneur. Here is the short list:

INNER: -Passionate -Positive -Risk Tolerant -Big Thinker -Visionary
OUTER: -Articulate -Clear -Enthusiastic -Inspiring -Nimble
CORE: -Consistent -Authentic -Persevering -Discerning -Grounded

Clearly, many other characteristics might be added. Here are a few that have been suggested in my class discussions: Salvager (I like this one!), Dreamer, Realist, Courageous, Charismatic, Tough, Resilient, Self-confident, Good Self-esteem, Integrity. I am sure that you can think of others, and I welcome any ideas. My main aim is to take these characteristics and examine what I call the three key habits that an entrepreneur needs to master if he or she is to become a good leader: To Balance, To Breathe and To Trust.

LEARNING TO BALANCE

This may seem to be the easiest of the three, but yet is so often forgotten. The main reasons we entrepreneurs tend to neglect balance are:

1. We do not know ourselves well enough to identify our strengths and shortcomings (or if we do, we are unable to admit them, which amounts to the same thing), and

2. We are impatient. Often, for us, it is so much easier to just plow ahead, figuring that by the time we tell others what we want to do and how we want it done, we might as well do it ourselves. Yet the key to growing a venture is to engage others in the journey, and then deploy all constituents in the optimal way to reach our goal. To do this, we need to find balance, starting with ourselves.

Let’s take another look at the list of domains above, and consider where we sit in the optimist-realist scale. When I ask my students, most identify themselves as optimists. While that is fine (since a non-optimistic entrepreneur will find it hard to gain a following), we have to be very careful not to overlook the criticality of realists in our midst. In my book Letters to a Young Entrepreneur, I mention a number of instances in which having hard realists around me balanced my rose-colored glasses and saved our company.

Perhaps of more immediate relevance to all of us is the balance between leading and managing. For most of my entrepreneurial career, I never really tackled that question. I just did what I thought needed to be done, often resulting in micromanagement, and thus often limiting the creativity and contribution of others. Later, as an “entrepreneur emeritus” and teacher, my course preparation led me to a classic Harvard paper on the subject: John P. Kotter, What Leaders Really Do, HBR December 2001. I urge you to read it. It captures, in a wonderful way, a vital topic. I summarize Mr. Kotter’s concepts as follows:

Where a leader points, a manager plans.
Where a leader aligns, a manager organizes.
Where a leader inspires, a manager problem-solves.
Where a leader produces change, a manager produces predictability.

What each of us should examine is our propensity to lead or to manage. There is no value judgment in this question. Both are essential. The key lies in matching our skill with the need: achieving balance!

LEARNING TO BREATHE

As we grow in responsibility, whether in our own entrepreneurial ventures or in our roles within larger organizations, we expand the breadth of the topics that fall within our purview. We gain an increasingly broad sense of the task at hand, and we take on an increasing span of responsibility and accountability. In Letters, I introduce the concept that a leader’s main job is to absorb uncertainty (Chapter 3.) Presumably, as leaders by definition we have a more comprehensive view of the venture than do others – or at least we should have. Think of what we do when we drive a car: as we approach a sharp curve, our eye is (or should be) ahead of the curve. This makes for better and smoother steering. Also, as we “see” more of the road, we feel more secure in our steering. In the concept of “absorbing uncertainty,” a leader takes on the larger burden, so that others on the team can focus on more defined parts of the task.

To do the leadership job right, we need to encompass as much of the “scenery” as possible. I equate this with taking a deeper breath, as we spread our arms (and our awareness) to a broader horizon. This also requires us to look to the very edges of our field of vision – for threats and opportunities that may be less obvious.

This is the breathing in part.

However, we also need to breathe out, exhaling our breath in a purposeful manner to help our team gain focus and direction. As we breathe out, we point the way.

And this is the toughest part, at least for me: we need to breathe in and breathe out, continuously. My tendency is to dwell in one mode or the other – spending too much time either scanning the horizon or burrowing toward the completion of a particular project. To keep our venture healthy and alive, as leaders, we must sustain a constant flow between the two: breathing in and breathing out.

LEARNING TO TRUST

Both in breathing in to absorb uncertainty and breathing out to provide focus, a key ingredient is the mutual trust between our venture companions and ourselves. That requires us to be vulnerable, so that people can truly feel the genuineness of our commitment. And it requires that others “surrender” their reservations and have faith. That faith is critical. Without it, what we do is just mechanical and lacks the directional vector — the deeper purpose that is so important in providing energy to move toward our goals, whether we are leading or following. In Letters, I speak of trust packets as the vehicles in the exchange of commitments between leader and team member. I also speak of commitment as a mutual covenant, not policed by an outside document or a quality control officer. It is an internal act, upheld only and solely by our inner character.

This trust factor is the essence of the core within each of us. It raises the very fundamental question: can one learn to trust? Look at the adjectives I chose for the Core group above: Consistent, Authentic, Discerning, Persevering, Grounded. Are these innate? Or can they be trained?

The reason that this is an important issue in my course is my desire to leave my students with the tools to expand their leadership capacity. So I ask them to examine all the characteristics outlined at the beginning of this article (Inner, Outer, Core), in terms of whether they are shareable, learnable or innate — a topic of very rich and important dialogue, which touches on all three of the vital habits considered in this article: Balance, Breathing and Trust.

In all of these discussions with my students, something has bothered me: the prevalence of the designation “innate.” It implies that we either have “it” or we do not. It implies finality. Core is, by its nature, deeply internal — you cannot have others “cover for you.” If you do not have it, you are “done-in.”

I have begun to take a different view. I have come to believe that everyone of us has the capacity for integrity, honesty and authenticity. Each of us has a deeply seated spark of goodness. But as we fend off the challenges of living, we tend to develop coping mechanisms that “shield” this spark of light. We grow a “shell” around our spark — a shell of varying thickness, depending on our own personal life journey. Our task in learning to be good leaders and, for that matter, happy people, is to learn to shed — or at least crack — this shell, so that the inner spark can shine through. As others see our light, it becomes easier for them to trust us to lead our entrepreneurial ventures to success.

LET’S NOT FORGET THE “HARD BUT ESSENTIAL” ENTREPRENEURIAL INITIATIVES!

I have been frustrated for some time with the high level of “noise-hype” in Silicon Valley about social media and the so-called ”disruptive technology” start-ups. The noise has abated a little – but only a little – since the Facebook IPO debacle. Yet one still opens the Business Section of the San Jose Mercury News to find one story or another of “wunderkinden,” aged 25 or less, unleashing “earth-shaking” startups with enormous growth prospects and stratospheric potential valuations. And this phenomenon is not limited only to the local press. The New York Times seems to have a similar tendency to regularly “feature” such up-and-coming high tech companies.

To be fair, I acknowledge that I tend to be somewhat “old school” and am therefore struggling to be “in the flow” with the social media revolution. I am, however, starting to appreciate social media’s significance as a powerful vehicle for communication, marketing and connectivity, as well as the remarkable flexibility represented by interlinking technologies such as cloud computing being implemented by many of the companies with which I am involved. I certainly do not want to discourage any entrepreneurial efforts, as they are the life-blood both of the young and of our economy.

But I am concerned by a seeming lack of balance. Our world’s population is growing at a frightening pace. We need an injection of innovation to produce enough food, clean water, energy and health services to survive. These industries require entrepreneurship just as much as do our pure-play high tech efforts. I want to see as much enthusiasm about starting (and financing!) a new solar photovoltaic cell concept or a novel targeted disease therapy as I want to see another clever App – maybe even more, especially when it comes to game Apps. Our young university graduates must be encouraged to deploy their creative juices in new ventures in the engineering and science-based industries in spite of the fact that they will take years to develop and millions of dollars to commercialize. The motivation should be to make a significant impact in the world, not merely near-term financial gratification.

This is one reason that I have agreed to put together an entrepreneurship course with biotech executive Howie Rosen for this Fall at Stanford University. The course will focus on capital-intensive, long-development/lead-time industries with high intellectual property content, such as biotech, bio-engineering, material science and energy. It will be offered to senior and graduate level Engineering students and to participants in the Stanford Center for Professional Development. It is intended to complement the many excellent “high tech” courses that Stanford offers in both the Engineering and Business Schools.

The need for innovation in the “hard but essential” industries has come home very clearly to me during these last few weeks. I had the privilege to serve as a mentor to an outstanding and inspirational group of Third World entrepreneurs in the 10th Anniversary Class of the Santa Clara University Global Social Benefit Incubator (GSBI.) I wrote about this critical initiative in my August 26, 2011 post titled “The Pleasure of Combining Entrepreneurial Experience with Social Impact.” The current cohort of 20 entrepreneurs comes from a broad range of nations in Asia, Africa and Latin America. They serve the poorest four billion citizens of this earth, the “Base of the Pyramid.” Their initiatives are characterized by a deep social purpose coupled with a drive to be self-sustaining and scalable. They spent nine months in an often grueling qualifying effort to be considered for the in-residence program just completed a few weeks ago. Once the cohort has been reduced from 180 applicants to 20 winners (a process that takes about four months), each winner is paired with two Silicon Valley executives who serve as mentors. Mentors and social entrepreneurs are then engaged in a series of tasks to build and refine their business plans. The effort culminates in a two-week, in-residence boot camp comprised of classes and working sessions that produce a business plan good enough to pitch to potential investors. The description of the “Class of 2012” makes for inspiring reading.

What struck me about this year’s group is that innovation does not pertain only to new products. Some does, to be sure, in particular as designs are tailored to the true needs of the local customer base, needs which are seldom met by our more advanced and complex products in the developed world. But more impressive to me was to see the innovations in other aspects of the product life cycle, such as in creative distribution approaches to serve the market. This is especially important in the very difficult last mile, where our social entrepreneurs labor under political and logistical circumstances that would challenge the best among us!

So I want to encourage our eager young university students, when they consider their careers, to tackle the exciting and essential initiatives needed to create potable water, clean energy, plentiful food and better health care for this world. And if the entrepreneurial spirit calls, take the plunge – even if the journey to success takes years, not just months, and requires Malcolm Gladwell’s ”10,000 hours”, not just a flash of an idea and a quick 12-month development cycle. (See my Dec 1, 2010 post “Are Your Start-up Ideas Good Enough?)