What is leadership and why do we need it? If you do a search for leadership books on Amazon you get back thousands of titles, all with a different take on what makes a great leader. Some emphasise technical skills. Some emphasise people skills, others emphasise whatever magic formula the author believes holds the secret. You could read leadership books for the rest of your life and and up more confused than you were when you started.

So what is the secret? What does make a great leader. Why do we need leaders anyway? The only way we will answer the question of what makes a great leader is to work out what leaders really do.

As a brewer, when you hook up a keg of beer to the gas and hook up the tap, one of the things you learn quite quickly (unless you really like drinking nothing but foam) is that the pressure of the gas pushing the liquid through the tube creates a resistance in that tube that poses the flow. The more pressure, the more resistance. Eventually the resistance becomes too much, creates turbulence and the tap will pour gas and foam rather than lovely beer. Electrical engineers recognise this phenomenon as well - the more current you push through a wire (the pressure of the electrons), the more the wire will resist their flow and cause energy to be lost as heat. Eventually the wire will get so hot that it will melt.

This is a well known phenomenon of many of the physical sciences. Whenever you push one thing into or through another thing, there is resistance and that resistance is proportional to the pressure doing the pushing - small pressure, small resistance. Large pressure, large resistance. Importantly, that resistance can build to a point where it will cause damage to the materials involved. Push too hard and the wire will melt or the pipe will burst. Pushing harder may actually get you less flow because the resistance is greater. So why am I telling you this? Because it applies to coaching as well, but unlike the physical sciences we often don't recognise it.

A long time ago (although not in a galaxy far, far away), a rather clever fellow by the name of Buddha pre-empted the discovery of neuroplasticity by a thousand or so years when he said something along the lines of

"We are what we have practised. What we practice today is what we will become".

I say along the lines of because there are dozens of different translations but the message is basically the same. That the things we practice become stronger.

If I were a neuroscientist I could say it like this -

"If it fires together, it wires together".

Neurons that fire together build stronger connections so that sequence of firing becomes easier in future. As we practice something, the neurons fire together, wire together, build strong connections and whatever it is we are practising becomes easier and easier. We are used to this when learning skills - as we practice we get better. At first we have to think about what we are doing and it is slow and clumsy but eventually our bodies take over and things become smoother and more skilful. The sport you are practising becomes easier. The language you are learning becomes easier.

What is the purpose of a company? Any company? Why do they exist? Why do they do the things they do, employ the people they employ, produce the products and services that they produce? Ask that question and most of the time you will get one answer - to make money. While that answer isn't wrong, it's also incomplete.

Legally, the directors of a company are required to maximise returns to shareholders. There are other legal requirements to make sure that a company is solvent, able to pays its bills and so on. So yes, making money is a important part of what a company does. But that's not its purpose - its reason for existing. Nothing exists just to produce money (except maybe for a mint but that's different). To be truly successful a company must fulfil some sort of other purpose - it must produce goods and services that people want to buy, and it must produce them in a way that is acceptable to the society in which they sell them. So really, an organisation's purpose is "Do XYZ, in order to be profitable". Not just "Be profitable".

One of the most highly prized skills these days is problem solving. Being known as a problem solver is an almost surefire way to guarantee success in whatever organisation you are in. As the great Vanilla Ice once said - "If there was a problem, Yo, I'll solve it". Mind you, he did also say "Word to your mother" which is somewhat less profound. Problem solving is indeed a very valuable thing, but at the same time a very limited one. Problem solving implies finding the root cause of an issue and solving it - making sure that it doesn't occur again. But what happens when the root cause of a problem isn't something that can be fixed?

Many of the problems that confront organisations (and society as a whole) these days are not problems where you can look at the problem, see the root cause and fix the system so the problem goes away. Many of the key problems we face are caused not by an easily fixed flaw in the system, but by the system itself. They aren't really problems at all but behaviour that emerges from the operation of the system. What I'm talking about, of course, is complexity. When a system behaves in a complex way, it exhibits unexpected behaviour and we see that as a problem. But you can’t just go in and fix a complex system. Any fix you make will itself have unexpected consequences. Complex problems can't be fixed. At least not in the conventional sense of finding a root cause and applying a discreet solution. What do problem solvers do when confronted by complexity?

One of my favourite authors of all time is the late Sir Terry Pratchett (those of you who know me are currently making that "oh really, never would have guessed" face that people make when someone states the blindingly obvious). His books are a perfect blend of humour, absurdity, high fantasy and really, really deep insights into human behaviour. Over the last few months I have been re-reading my collection and have just reached what is probably my favourite Pratchett book of all - The Hogfather. While reading, one passage jumped out at me because I realised that I see this every day. At work and at home - 

“The phrase ‘Someone ought to do something’ was not, by itself, a helpful one. People who used it never added the rider ‘and that someone is me’.”

Terry Pratchett - The Hogfather

How often do we see this? Someone identifies a problem, points at it and says "problem over here... someone fix it", maybe raises a ticket in the appropriate ticketing system... then walks away, patting themselves on the back for a job well done. How often is the person who does that us?

Failure is part of all of our lives. None of us is perfect (sorry if that comes as a shock to you). We all, in spite of the aura of competence we project, fail at things constantly. From the major things like failed relationships and doomed projects to the smaller stuff. The failure to resist that block of chocolate. The failure to concentrate on writing a blog post and not get distracted by YouTube (yes, guilty, many times). Our lives are a constant string of failures, big and small. 

We tend to talk a good game where it comes to failure - we talk about learning and experience and the idea of failing fast to learn fast, but often, the game we talk, and the game we really play are quite different.  Although our intentions around failure are often good, we often fail to live up to those good intentions (another failure to add to the list). Even when we think we are responding well to failure, our actual response is often quite negative. 

No one comes in to work and deliberately tries to make your day bad. Actually, let me amend that slightly - very, very few people come in to work and deliberately try to make your day bad. There is a very small percentage of people who are vindictive, hateful, small minded, petty people (or just plain old psychopaths) who will deliberately come in to work and delight in spreading misery and pain wherever they go. Whether it's to make everyone else feel as miserable as them, or whether it's because they get joy from other's misery, whatever the reason, these people are few and far between. We are not concerned with them.

What we are concerned with are the other 99.99% of the population who aren't raving psychopaths. Who are genuinely nice people, who care about others and would never dream of inflicting pain and suffering; but who proceed to come in to work and make your day rotten anyway. Why would they do that? What turns normal, caring, decent people into mobile misery factories? What makes them hinder, block and frustrate us at every turn?

The meeting has become a little heated. Battle lines have been drawn. The argument has been going for a while now. Neither side is backing down. But then you see it! A chink in their logical armour. A flaw in their argument. This is your chance. You marshal your thoughts and go in for the kill! The argument is yours! It will be your proposal that gets accepted, not theirs. I mean, sure, their proposal had some good points, but yours was clearly superior. Clearly. Probably a good thing they didn't pick up in that bit where you had to fudge some numbers to make things look better… like you did with theirs.

OK. How often have we sat on the sidelines watching others slug it out and thought about how the argument has gone on way past the point where it is about getting a good outcome and become about winning the argument instead? Regardless of the quality of the outcome? How often have we been in this sort of situation ourselves and thought about how important it is to win the argument? So why does this happen? Why can we see how silly it is when we watch others but can't see that same behaviour in ourselves?