Most of us have made a variety of vows through the years. Our parents punish us for something we believe is trivial, and we vow never to do the same thing to our children. We watch our boss lose her temper and swear that we’ll never act so ghastly. We see a friend walk away from a moral stance and promise we’ll never be that weak.
Unfortunately, those vows rarely keep us out of trouble. When we observe others, tell ourselves ugly stories, and then fall under the influence of adrenaline, we become the very people we swore we’d never be. Of course, nobody transmutes into a hypocritical cretin on purpose. Instead, stupidity creeps up on us. We tell ourselves an ugly story, become mentally incapacitated while under the effects of adrenaline, convince ourselves that we have the moral high ground, and move to either silence or violence while smugly proclaiming, “He deserved whatever I gave him.”
Sometimes when we’re really dumbed down by the effects of adrenaline, we make a truly absurd argument: “Sure I was tough on them, but you need to be tough with these people. They respond to abuse, not reason.”
Actually, we don’t have to be all that mentally incapacitated to make this argument. It’s foisted on us almost every day, and with a straight face, no less. The fact that others need to be treated poorly to get them off their lazy back parts is sacred writ.
For instance, we praise coaches for their incredible records, and if they happen to be abusive, we actually attribute their success to their authoritarian and punitive style. Consider the Hollywood version of the 1980 U.S. national ice hockey team’s miraculous gold medal victory. According to the movie, the coach abuses, insults, and manipulates the players because they need to be motivated and that is the way to do it. Apparently, the prospect of winning the Olympics isn’t all that inspiring. He gets the players to hate him so that he can become the common enemy. That way they’ll pull together as a team.
When the team wins the final match, audience members don’t merely cheer the victory; they voice their approval of the coach’s abusive methods. “What a guy!” people exclaim as they leave the theater. “What a leader!” Maybe we honor the abusive style of so many coaches and other public figures because their public actions lend credibility to our own private outbursts. Their tantrums, taunts, and tricks support our own claim that it was okay to emotionally attack our teenage son because “it was good for him.”
Let’s put this foolishness to bed. People don’t deserve to be abused, physically or emotionally. It’s not good for them. Yes, people should be held accountable. No one is questioning the need to act as responsible adults and expect others to do the same. But it is never good to abuse, insult, or threaten others. Friedrich Nietzsche once argued that what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. This little homily is often quoted. It’s also often wrong. When it comes to emotions, abuse isn’t a blessing; it’s a curse.
When people gain success through abuse, they succeed in spite of their method, not because of it. For over five decades scholars have shown that abusive leadership styles don’t succeed over the long haul, and over the short haul they’re simply immoral. The greatest leaders, coaches, and parents we studied (and certainly all the positive deviants) never became abusive. And during those weak moments when they may have briefly stepped over the line, they never argued that others needed or deserved it.
Warning!
If you observe an infraction, tell yourself an ugly story, cut your brain power in half with a dose of adrenaline, and then do something abusive and stupid, don’t say others deserved it or it was good for them. These words may sound logical when you can’t see straight, or they may give you a warm glow when you’re starting to question your aggressive actions, but the simple truth is there is no place for abuse of any kind at home, at work, or even on the playing field.
You Turn the Spotlight on Yourself
Imagine that you’re on a flight across the Pacific. Seated nearby is a child who enjoys running up and down the aisle while screaming in a voice that could curdle milk. This continues for just long enough to turn the cabin passengers into a single seething entity with but one wish: to silence the child and return her to her seat. Suddenly, an older fellow next to you grabs the little girl by her frail arm and screams into her baby blues.
Guess what happens next. The passengers who once wanted to see the kid silenced now want to see the mean old man punished. In one swift motion the attention switches from the child to the abusive old guy. People are now sympathizing with the poor little girl. It takes only an instant to transfer goodwill.
The software development leaders learned this lesson the hard way. They might have approached the programmers with the angels on their side, but the instant they became abusive, they gave up the moral high ground. With each outburst, curse, and threat, they armed the original offenders with a good defense.
Of course, this doesn’t mean that the original parties are off the hook, but it does mean that the leaders are now on the hook. Acting unprofessionally never earns you points. It takes the spotlight off the original offense and puts it on you at a time when you’re on your worst behavior.
The Stories We Tell Help Us Justify Our Worst Behavior
Stories cause us to see the other person not as a human being but as a thing, and if not a thing, at least a villain. Stories exaggerate other people’s legitimate weaknesses while turning a blind eye to our role. Stories help us see others as cretins and help justify our bad behaviors toward them, subtle or otherwise.
Here’s the deaclass="underline" You can’t solve a problem with a villain. You can do that only with a human being. Before starting an accountability discussion, use everything in this chapter to help you come to see the other person as a person, perhaps a person doing really rotten things but a person nonetheless. This difference is everything. Accountability experts set a healthy climate by avoiding ugly stories.
How do you challenge your story, especially when it feels so right? What does it take to avoid making the fundamental attribution error, becoming angry, and then establishing a hostile climate?
Since the problem of coming up with ugly stories and suffering the consequences takes place within the confines of your own mind, that’s where the solution lies as well. The positive deviants we study observe an infraction and then tell themselves a more complete and accurate story. Instead of asking, “What’s the matter with that person?” they ask, “Why would a reasonable, rational, and decent person do that?”
By asking this “humanizing question,” individuals who routinely master accountability discussions adopt a situational as well as a dispositional view of people. Instead of arguing that others are misbehaving only because of personal characteristics, influence masters look to the environment and ask, “What other sources of influence are acting on this person? What’s causing this person to do that? Since this person is rational but appears to be acting either irrationally or irresponsibly, what am I missing?”
You can answer these questions only by developing a more complete view of humans and the circumstances that surround them than the traditional “What’s wrong with them?” And if you do amplify your situational view, not only will you gain a deeper understanding of why people do what they do, but you’ll eventually develop a diverse set of tools for managing accountability.
Consider The Six Sources of Influence™