So the new perspective comes from thinking about networks. But what does ‘network’ mean?
A network is a set of interconnected people or things that can communicate with each other, share information and achieve results that would not be possible if the network did not exist. Networks confer benefits–as well as costs and obligations–on members; meanwhile, non-members are excluded. Every part (or member) of the network is connected to all the other parts.
It helps to visualise a transport network that you know–the New York Subway, the London Tube, the Paris Metro, a train network, or an airline network. The stations or airports are the ‘members’, the fixed parts of the system, and they are all connected to each other by railway lines and trains, or flight paths and aircraft. On all underground systems, you can travel from any station to any other station–unless the destination is closed and therefore isolated from the links.
In network language, the people or things–such as stations–that are connected are called ‘nodes’, and the network consists of the nodes and the connections (or ‘links’) between them. Picture a necklace of precious stones–the jewels are the nodes and the string comprises the links. Or a telephone network–the individual phones are the nodes and the telephone lines or fibre-optic cables are the links.
The links between nodes in the system can be communications technology or social connections. Think, for example, of a group of friends who all know one another–they constitute a network, and they all share certain values or a common identity. Now imagine that these friends are all together, perhaps at a classical music concert, in a much bigger crowd. A stranger in the crowd has no barrier of technology or physical distance stopping her from talking to one or all of the group, but another type of barrier–a social barrier–is likely to prevent her from doing so because she is not a member of the network of friends. She cannot presume that she will share the champagne and smoked salmon, or the conversation.
Now consider any type of organisation–a corner shop, a hairdressing salon, a new venture, a medium-sized corporation, a gang of drug traffickers, a football team, the United Nations, Google, or the place where you work. They are all networks, with their own rules and values and ways of communicating. If you are inside the network, you give and receive in ways that those outside the network do not. If you are an employee of Exxon, for example, you can call up a fellow employee on the other side of the planet and expect some degree of cooperation, even if you have never met the person, because you are members of the same network.
The links between non-human networks are mainly technological, but those between human networks are mainly psychic or social. Yet, one of the fascinating things about networks, as we will see, is that they behave in their own characteristic ways, which are similar whether the network is human, man-made or natural, and whatever the nature of the connections linking the nodes.
When people are linked together in networks, it can make a big difference–a transcendent, sometimes bizarre difference–to them as individuals, and to their happiness and opportunities. Participation in networks has to change each one of us, because the network gives power to (or removes it from) the individual; and the network has its own logic and rules, its own ways of operating, that have nothing whatsoever to do with the individual attributes of the people trapped within or liberated by it.
We recognise this easily in romantic and other two-person relationships. A successful relationship enriches our life in wonderful and often unpredictable ways: we find and define ourselves by the relationship and are transformed by it; we become positive and creative. A destructive relationship operates in a similar but opposite way: we become embittered, constrained, limited, negative, fearful. A two-person relationship is nothing more or less than a miniature network. Unless we’re hermits, we live our lives in a large number of different networks, and the more people there are in a network the less likely we are to understand what is really going on, or appreciate the subtle but potent ways in which our fate is affected, happily or miserably, by the dynamics of the network.
Let’s be a bit more precise about the components of the networks we shall explore. From the individual’s perspective, there are three crucial ingredients of networks–two types of quite distinct links to other individuals or groups, and the groups (‘hubs’) in which we participate. These three network elements have been around in some form or another since our ancestors skulked around in caves, but their relative importance has shifted dramatically in recent decades, as have the means to benefit from them.
The first network element to appear on the planet comprised strong links. These are the strong relationships we have with individuals around us–typically the friends, family and workmates we see most days. These are the most permanent or long-lasting relationships we have, and the least changed in nature since Adam and Eve walked together in the cool of the morning, before that pesky serpent started to make life trickier and more interesting.
Strong links are essential for our emotional wellbeing; people who lack them are sad. So we all need strong links…but they are not enough on their own! And they can even be dangerous if we rely on them too much. They often give us a very poor return on our emotional and practical energy. Sociologists have proved that those people who are exclusively or largely reliant on strong links tend to be isolated, deprived of much valuable information, and unable to improve their lives. Poor communities everywhere rely on strong links far more than rich or middle-income communities do.
The second element, whose power has become apparent only in recent decades, consists of weak links. Forget about the common interpretation of the ‘weakest link’, because in the network world weak links are marvellous and among the most powerful and creative forces. These are the links we have with people who are more acquaintances than friends; although, to be effective, we must be on friendly terms with them. We see these people occasionally or rarely–they are friends of friends, our more distant or reclusive neighbours, people from the past who used to be among our strong links but with whom we have now almost completely lost touch, as well as strangers and acquaintances we happen to meet, or could meet, every day. They are the people who occupy the background of our lives.
The intriguing thing about weak links–some of them, anyway–is that the relationship with them demands little time or effort, yet it can deliver enormous dividends, sometimes in the form of casual information that can change our lives. As we’ll show, the right type of information at critical junctures can determine how much we thrive or reach our potential. Random encounters, often with people we barely know or have just met, are frequently responsible for our biggest breaks or our greatest happiness. In these pages you’ll find many such stories. Adrian Beecroft, one of the most accomplished venture capitalists in Europe, tells how his first, crucial break came from a casual contact at his local cricket club. Robin Field, a turnaround specialist, got the job that made his career through someone he knew only because the fellow had run off with his girlfriend. Chicago publicist Jane Graham met her romantic partner through an email from a former colleague. A huge number of such potentially serendipitous contacts present themselves to all of us all the time–yet we ignore the vast majority of them.