Ideas

[This article is part of a series of articles focusing on my professional experiences over the past 5 years.]

In December of 2010, I wrote an article as part of a series entitled “Mental Evolution” where I focused on a topic known as “learned helplessness.” Here’s a short excerpt:

“When one experiences a stream of continuous failures, one’s ability to remain optimistic becomes more difficult.  While there are those that have “bulletproof” levels of optimism, I unfortunately, do not currently fall into this category.

“Crises that I can “plan” for (e.g. burglary, fire, etc.) are easier for me to maintain a high level of optimism than those that I cannot foresee.  Since there will be many challenges that will not display an “early warning signal”, my main challenge is to learn how to develop the skills necessary (i.e., an enhanced explanatory style) to ensure my optimism remains high independent of the crises encountered.”

The applicability of this excerpt will soon become clear, but it’s important to share a brief refresher on “explanatory styles” and how this pertains to feelings of “learned helplessness.”

When examining past performance, it’s important to understand one’s level of relative optimism and pessimism. Pessimists and optimists differ in many ways, but their primary difference involves their explanatory style: (Wikipedia – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Learned_optimism)

Permanence: Optimistic people believe bad events to be more temporary than permanent and bounce back quickly from failure, whereas others may take longer periods to recover or may never recover. They also believe good things happen for reasons that are permanent, rather than seeing the transient nature of positive events. Optimists point to specific temporary causes for negative events; pessimists point to permanent causes.

Pervasiveness: Optimistic people compartmentalize helplessness, whereas pessimistic people assume that failure in one area of life means failure in life as a whole. Optimistic people also allow good events to brighten every area of their lives rather than just the particular area in which the event occurred.

Personalization: Optimists blame bad events on causes outside of themselves, whereas pessimists blame themselves for events that occur. Optimists are therefore generally more confident. Optimists also quickly internalize positive events while pessimists externalize them.

I consider myself a realist, which, for me, is a combination of long-term optimism and short-term pessimism. The former helps me manage the challenges (real or perceived) that I may encounter on a given day, while the latter provides strength and helps me distinguish the “forest from the trees.”

The relative levels of permanence, pervasiveness, and personalization vary depending upon the situation. I’m fortunate to have examined these feelings over the past 6+ years, and thus I’m increasingly aware of these explantory styles & underlying feelings. I also have greater “control” over them, yet this does not equate with true mastery.

When a “negative” situation extends for a lengthy timeframe (in the midst of continuous and purposeful responses to the contrary), one’s explanatory style is likely to drift to that of true permanence, pervasiveness, and personalization. Combined, these equate to feelings of “learned helplessness.”

“Learned helplessness is behavior typical of a human or non-human animal that has endured repeated painful or otherwise aversive stimuli which it was unable to escape or avoid. After such experience, the organism often fails to learn escape or avoidance in new situations where such behavior would be effective. In other words, the organism learned that it is helpless in aversive situations, that it has lost control, and so it gives up trying.” (Wikipedia)

The opposite of learned helplessness is learned optimism. Learned optimism is the idea in positive psychology, coined by Martin Seligman, that a talent for joy, like any other, can be cultivated. Learning optimism is done by consciously challenging any negative self-talk. (Wikipedia)

In my particular situation, and expanding slightly for emphasis, years of adjusted strategies and tactics to realize a natural, and necessary outcome (i.e., increase digital revenue), eventually resulted in a period of non-action, a direct contrast to the continuous investment that I and my team had pursued in the years prior.

Interdepartmental communication and collective understanding, while originally low, now began a steady decline. Our return on investment (real or perceived) was fast approaching zero. Harboring feelings of learned helplessness, my only real alternative was to strengthen the position that was well-understood by the organization (e.g., “run the engine”), and focus less attention in areas that were originally seen as creative and intellectually advancing.

Unfortunately, this behavior and negative mindset reinforces itself to a greater extent over time.

For example, “students who repeatedly fail may conclude that they are incapable of improving their performance, and this attribution keeps them from trying to succeed, which [results] in increased helplessness, continued failure, loss of self-esteem and other social consequences.” (Reference: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Learned_helplessness)

In this situation, these feelings of helplessness were also intertwined with feelings of optimism; the feeling and belief that better things were ahead. This contrast, this pulling between two opposing forces, can be challenging to navigate and comprehend. However, expending energy to manage this contrast is a far better situation than one void of such polarity.

Ultimately, and the reason why I’ve re-introduced these two concepts here, is that my explanation for why things happened the way they did is biased and oriented primarily around my explanatory style(s) and personality. Asking an optimist to examine the same events that took place over the same timeframe would likely yield a much different explanation.

One benefit in looking back to 2010 is that I can compare my relative performance in this space. While I still need to respond more rapidly (i.e., fail quickly) to seemingly changeless situations, the time spent in pure analysis and reflection has been significantly reduced.

While possessing a realist mindset goes against “positive psychology,” it affords me a unique perspective to look beyond surface-level interaction and reasoning, and instead dive deeper into alternative mechanics that relate to the events at play. This understanding will enable me to take effective action much more rapidly and purposefully over time.

In summary, what I need to work on at this stage is to learn how to identify “failing” situations sooner and determine whether “first aid” or “surgery” is required to avoid a relapse of learned helplessness. Optimism is useful to a point (e.g., we can do it …), but pessimism may ultimately save the day (e.g., this project is failing, and we need to pursue a different course).

[This article is part of a series of articles focusing on my professional experiences over the past 5 years.]

The narratives surrounding my five-year journey will cover a wide-range of experiences and lessons. The difference I’m hoping to achieve through this exploration is to avoid documenting a simple checklist of “what not to do.” This shallow perspective and outcome will miss the point of such an exhaustive exercise.

As an example, while the strategy may not have attained the end state that I had originally intended, I consider the absence of a strategy in a future endeavor unwise.

What I hope to achieve through this process is a careful distillation of the events, circumstances, and challenges encountered during this period.

Distillation is about refinement, and the “extraction of the essential meaning or most important aspects of something.” When one steps outside of one’s self, which is critical for such an exercise, one gains a perspective that is not dissimilar to looking at a simulation from above. The primary difference is the depth at which one views the activity.

A thorough distillation exercise will ultimately “cut through” the noise in future engagements and continuously recalibrate back to what’s important. This distillation and recalibration process appears to represent two of the most important activities I’ll undertake in the years to come.

[This article is part of a series of articles focusing on my professional experiences over the past 5 years.]

The design and development of a core strategy is a large part of who I am and I how I operate. Strategy is about understanding constraints, setting clear expectations, and formulating a vision of the future that other participants can get behind. It’s unlikely, although not impossible, to find someone who is adverse to the articulation of at least a high-level strategy, independent of domain.

In principle, this is an ideal situation. Reality paints a slightly different picture.

First, while everyone appreciates strategic thinking, not everyone thinks with a strategic mindset. On the far-end of the spectrum, if you are action-oriented, you’re less likely to focus your primary attention on a strategic narrative. To you, a strategy is simply a guide; real progress is driven from a tactical/operational approach (“quick action”). Neither method is wrong, but focusing too much attention in one particular area can lead to difficulty.

Secondly, just because someone is supportive of an endeavor, doesn’t mean that they have a vested interest in its success. After all, people have their own agendas and your agenda may not necessarily align. Tying your strategy to a high-level strategy doesn’t necessarily help; the connection helps offer some credibility, but it still does not address the competing agenda issue.

Finally, strategies that are described in a manner that are foreign to the reader, whether that’s presentation length, content, or format, are less likely to be recognized as “valid” and/or “organizationally appropriate.” If your language is deemed too abstract or “complex,” the likelihood of assimilation is substantially less. Participants will take great pains to avoid hurting their self-esteem; “self-handicapping”(+) is one strategy:

Def. Self-handicapping involves the placement of real or artificial obstacles in anticipation of failing performance. In the context of a strategic presentation or follow-up, I’ve witnessed participants use “time availability” has one such handicap.

Ultimately, a strategy is nothing without the necessary action behind it. Convincing others that your strategy is the right one requires the ability to sell your vision. I’ll expand more upon this in a future post

A series of articles I’m considering is a focus on the creative and technical journey I’ve experienced over the past five years.

It’s during this time where I was tasked to build a digital team and capability set for an advertising agency. I can equate the journey to an Everest ascent, ultimately “losing” several team members and experiencing countless periods of self-doubt, before reaching the “summit.” The summit became a virtual marker for change and not the “pinnacle” I had originally foreseen.

This “history” is important to document and fully understand, as it’s the education I gained from this journey that is materially more important than the end-result, not to mention the countless design and technical artifacts created during this timeframe.

This latter point is worth emphasizing. Things that one creates rarely stand the test of time. This is particularly true in the digital space where a project’s half-life is typically between 6 and 12 months, with a complete dissolution of the original product within 3-4 years. Design artifacts have an even shorter half-life, and project artifacts represent a blip on the radar.

Given this context, it’s important that one take a much broader perspective into one’s work. Focus less on the final outcome, and more on understanding, and refining the methodology used to realize that outcome. In time, the level of effort required to achieve a similar outcome will be less, and the resulting quality and content will be substantially greater.

But this is just one level of refinement. There are, in my view, countless levels that go beyond this, which I’ll do my best to explore in the weeks and months to come.

I recently completed the book entitled “Ai Weiwei Speaks” curated by Hans Ulrich Obrist. I have been interested in Ai Weiwei for several years now, having been primarily exposed to him via the film “Never Sorry” by Alison Klayman. Through the interviews captured in this text, I’ve come across several quotes that reflect my own thoughts. Here, Ai Weiwei talks briefly about the writing process:

“I like writing the most. If I have to value it against all human activities, writing is the most interesting form, because it relates to everybody and it’s a form that everybody can understand. During the Cultural Revolution we never had a chance to write, besides writing some critical stuff, so I really like to pick up on that, and them blog gives me a chance. [..] So in the blog I did over 200 pieces of writing and interviews which really put me in a critical position – you have to write it down, it’s black and white, it’s in words, and they can see it, so you really have no plan to escape. I really love it, and I think it’s important for you, as a person, to exercise, to clear out what you really want to say. Maybe you’re just empty, but maybe you really have to define this emptiness and be clear.”

When I first started writing in 2007, many of the ideas that I captured in my blog were ones that related primarily to events and things I was experiencing during that time. Ultimately, the posts focused primarily on building and increasing my overall sense of awareness. Having no other way to manage the emotions and thoughts that were effectively “running my life,” writing, to me, seemed to be the best way to manage them.

In the excerpt above, Ai Weiwei talks briefly about the “emptiness” and defining it through the writing process. There are times in which I’ve been challenged to begin writing anew, and this is due primarily to a feelings of mental emptiness – what is it I’m supposed to write about? Having read Ai Weiwei’s thoughts about this, it’s now increasingly clear – obvious perhaps – that writing helps one define (make visible) this emptiness.

This post is a good example of this. The emptiness I have been feeling is now a bit more defined. It’s very similar to drawing on a canvas or blank sheet of paper. It’s important to get something down on paper so that the creative process can truly begin. The blank paper is the emptiness. It’s up to me to fill that emptiness and create something anew.