Category: Leadership

Why don’t we change when we know we should?

“Change? We don’t want to change!” I was told. The message couldn’t be clearer. Arguing would have been pointless. But what I thought was ‘If you won’t change, then your group will die’.

For more than a year I’d been hearing complaints from the church women’s group that the younger ladies wouldn’t come to their meetings. In the distant past that women’s group had been relatively large, perhaps 40 or 50 attending each week. Every meeting followed the same pattern. Notices at the beginning, then a speaker, and after that tea and cake. Frankly, what mattered most was the tea and cake time, not for the refreshments but because that’s when they could chat to each other. The main reason many ladies attended was for ‘fellowship’ – being friends, sharing news, giving encouragement, asking for advice, and, so some said, staying up to date with the gossip. But the years had passed, and the oldest members had either died or were no longer able to come out on dark nights. The headcount had declined, down to about 15 on a good week. But the numbers of women in the church had grown, in fact grown a lot. The newcomers were younger, most with ages ranging from early twenties to late forties. Many were studying or working, often with long hours. Some had families. Others belonged to organisations not related to the church, and several went with friends or husbands to neighbourhood home group meetings. The traditional women’s group held little attraction for them.

But their absence didn’t go down well with the leaders of the women’s group. So, as pastor of the church, I decided to meet with them. The leaders didn’t hold back. The younger generation of women were letting them down. They should come to the meetings and swell their numbers. So I was told. Tactfully, I tried to explain that the younger ones lived such busy lives they didn’t feel able to add another meeting into their schedules. “But they should come,” they said. “They are women who belong to this church, so they should support the women’s group.” Summoning up the courage to be more direct, I explained that if, say, 30 of the younger ladies joined the women’s group, they’d outnumber the existing members by two to one, and they’d almost certainly vote for change. Which is when they replied “Change? We don’t want to change!”. And so our meeting ended, and within two years the women’s group had its final speaker, last cups of tea and slices of cake, locked the doors, and never met again.

It was obvious that they needed to change, but they wouldn’t. In their case, they liked what they had and didn’t want anything different from that. It was a fatal attitude.

But not an unusual attitude. Whether we think about personal habits or organisational practices, it’s often the case that clearly things must change and yet they don’t. But why not? That’s what this blog post is about.

First, though, I should clarify that I won’t be trying to explain compulsive behaviour caused by addiction or mental illness. Alcoholics, for example, often know perfectly well that drinking is ruining their health, family life, and job performance. Yet they can’t resist that first drink which then leads to many more drinks. A young man told me a similar story, but in his case about a gambling addiction which had caused him financial ruin. Drug addicts may also be well aware that their ‘habit’ is killing them but they’re unable to refuse the next ‘hit’. The complexities of addiction and mental illness lie beyond the scope of this blog post. Here I’m writing about the more common experience described some 2000 years ago by the Apostle Paul: “I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do – this I keep on doing” (Romans 7:19).

What follows are seven reasons why we don’t change when we know we should, including when we wish we could. Most of these refer to personal change, but the first is about organisations.

Organisations have remarkably sticky cultures.  Management books describe how the appointment of a new CEO rarely brings about significant change in the way a company goes about its business. The CEO might put forward a new policy, but staff will react with “That’s not the way we do things around here”. They may never say those words publicly, but it’s how the employees feel, and therefore how they react to proposed change. Businesses have a culture – beliefs and customs – which reinforce the status quo. For the staff, the way things get done is the only way to get things done. Hence change is resisted.

In 1990 Peter Senge wrote a masterful book called ‘The Fifth Discipline’, with the subtitle ‘The Art & Practice of The Learning Organization’. His conviction is that businesses are rarely learning organisations, and since they don’t learn they don’t change. Senge writes: “What if even the most successful companies are poor learners – they survive but never live up to their potential?” He continues:

“It is no accident that most organizations learn poorly. The way they are designed and managed, the way people’s jobs are defined, and, most importantly, the way we have all been taught to think and interact (not only in organizations but more broadly) create fundamental learning disabilities. These disabilities operate despite the best efforts of bright, committed people”.[1]

Note Senge’s words about “the way we have all been taught to think and interact”. Our ideas have been conditioned and our brains trained to operate in certain ways, and it’s devilishly hard to change those patterns. Hence organisations keep doing what they’ve always done. Those ‘stuck in a rut’ ways of thinking and acting are huge barriers to change, even when such change would obviously be good.

Unwillingness to admit we’ve been doing things the wrong way.  Adopting a new way of thinking or working seems like an admission that what we had or did before was second-rate. Pills used to come in screw top containers; now those containers have child-proof tops. I typed a thesis of some 100,000 words on a typewriter, throwing away every page which needed more than the simplest correction. Now even the simplest laptop has software that makes writing easy, with nothing printed out until near perfect. My parallel parking in a tight space often used to involve getting out of the car to see exactly how much further back I could go. Now my car has a reversing camera, so judging how much space I’ve got left is easy. With each of these examples, what was mentioned first was clearly inferior to what I described second. Adopting the new was admitting the old wasn’t great.

Rather than accept that, some cling to what is old and familiar. I knew a finance director who so disliked computer spreadsheets that he longed for the large bound ledgers he’d used when an apprentice accountant. I’ve met car mechanics who agree that the technology of modern cars aids reliability, but they still long for the simple engines and fittings of a past era, because they loved taking them to bits and using their skills to make repairs.

Accepting that the old ways or old things were not very good, and occasionally really bad, is not easy for many. Hence they resist change.

Change requires time, effort and sometimes money.  Let’s never ignore a fundamental reason people dislike change – they need to learn the new thing. Not everyone enjoys learning new skills. Our moderately large organisation needed to adopt the most popular word processing software. Most of the staff were delighted, because it meant our word processors would easily and accurately incorporate the electronic documents sent by people outside our organisation. But there was a resistance movement. Some had mastered keyboard shortcuts in the old software, and they knew how to reveal hidden codes which helped with editing. Worse, they loved the DOS software[2] because of its clean screen and none of the myriad options via drop-down lists.  But, fundamentally, most who resisted simply didn’t want the effort of learning a new system. To surrender to laziness would have been short-sighted and foolish. The change was made. It required persuasion, time, effort and money, but all the staff eventually appreciated the new software.

Suggesting change is needed can offend.  Telling a spouse or partner that they drive badly is maritally dangerous! It certainly risks a furious row. There’s much the same risk when criticising a different kind of driving – that of a fellow golfer who keeps slicing the ball off the tee. I had the uncomfortable experience of playing alongside a couple when the husband constantly criticised his wife’s standard of play. He got angrier and angrier at her poor shots; she just went quiet. What she might have said – but wisely didn’t – is that he wasn’t much of a golfer either. I know of an organisation which provided parenting coaches to advise parents on how to bring up their children. The coaches were typically uninvited by the parents after two visits. No-one wanted to be told their child raising skills were lacking. Management gurus have the same problem when hired to help a struggling business. The company CEO may have brought in the consultant to fix his employees, and does not appreciate being told that what needs to improve is his leadership skills.

Without great sensitivity, advising people that they need to change can create a defensive, negative reaction. That just makes a bad situation worse.

Taking someone out of their comfort group.  At almost all golf clubs, groups of friends regularly play together. After the match, they’ll sit around enjoying a beer or a coffee. Their socialising after the game can last as long as their game because they enjoy each other’s company. Each of them feels they belong there. But what if one of them must leave the group? Perhaps he can’t afford all the drinks, or needs to give those hours to another activity. Surely he can just leave? Actually, he may feel he can’t. Over the years the group has transitioned from being casual friends to a place where everyone feels they belong, where they feel safe. They draw strength from each other as they share opinions, hopes, problems, challenging issues and get encouragement. The person who feels he should leave wonders how he can manage without the group.

What makes a close-knit group strong is what makes it hard to leave, or to disagree with the majority. That can be true in a workplace, where one person would struggle to differ on important issues like attitude to the boss, whether pay levels are fair, and how hard everyone should work. Group belonging is also strong in churches, where people share faith, pray together, get encouragement, and come away feeling more able to face hardships. It happens between people who have lived near to each other for a long time. My parents were close friends with all their neighbours. They talked at front doors, visited in each other’s homes, and got together on significant occasions such as midnight on Hogmanay (a Scottish custom at the start of a new year). In any of these cases, leaving or disagreeing with the group is difficult. My parents eventually moved to another part of town, but it robbed them of important friends. It would be the same for someone giving up on a golf fraternity. In the workplace, rejecting a group’s view can lead to being ostracised from the company of colleagues.

Even when people feel they should change, they may opt not to change if it means leaving a group which is important for them.

Fear of an unknown future.  Change creates something unfamiliar. In the late 1990s Alison and I moved hundreds of miles from Aberdeenshire in Scotland to Oxfordshire in England. Many things were different. Busier roads near London meant I learned to ask how long will my journey take, not how far is my journey. Affluent Oxfordshire had alternative values from those I’d grown up with in Scotland. All our friends and family were in the north, far distant from where we had moved to. Now I was heading up a large mission organisation, very different work from being a church pastor. And, instead of a normal routine of local journeys, now I travelled all over Britain and to literally dozens of other countries. People in Oxfordshire thought I spoke strangely, remarking “You have an accent”. I learned to reply, “So you think you don’t?”

The very word ‘change’ means things won’t be the same. Change takes us into a future we’ve never experienced, perhaps one we could never have imagined. And, for many, that prospect is daunting, so daunting they refuse to change and they stay with what they already have and know. Twelve years later, when we told family and friends we were leaving Oxfordshire to live and work across the Atlantic, several said “I couldn’t do that…”. They said they couldn’t. Actually they could, but what they meant was they wouldn’t do that. They’d choose the familiar over the uncertain.

Whatever the pluses or minuses of what we have already, the big positive is that it is known. We can cope with it. The future may not be like that. What if our hopes and dreams turn to dust? What if we quickly regret the change? We may never be able to go back to what we left. That can feel too big a risk to take. Therefore people resist change.

No decision is a decision.  This is my last note about change. Imagine a CEO has to decide whether to market his business in a completely different way. Or, more radically, the CEO has to decide whether the company should abandon its old merchandise for shiny new products. The old stuff is still selling but not as well as it once did. And new lines might bring new customers. He wishes he could sell both the old and new, but he can’t. To have the new he must let go of the old, and he’s not sure he can do that. In a dream which is close to a nightmare, he’s getting into a beautiful boat and sailing away from a safe pier, only to find the boat sinks. When he wakes, he fears that’s what might happen if he moves to a new product line. He’ll take his company from its safe place, only for it soon to sink. The CEO is paralysed with uncertainty, so in the end makes no decision at all.

But, of course, he has made a decision. Not to change is a decision, and, for that CEO, sticking with an old product line would be a bad one because market trends were moving on. Sometimes change is absolutely necessary. That’s how it feels for those threatened by war who abandon their homes and become refugees. Or, in a more ordinary situation, the change might be to another employer, one who treats staff more kindly. For the refugee, failure to change could result in death. For the employee, staying with a bad employer would mean years of overwork and exploitation. Some situations, of course, are not clear cut, but I’d argue that, in most circumstances, change must be an option. Yes, it has to be well thought through – all possibilities considered – then followed by a thoroughly positive decision. Not changing may be the right thing; it simply shouldn’t be for the wrong reasons.

I’ve listed seven reasons why change doesn’t happen even when we know it should. But none of those reasons are invincible barriers to change. We are not prisoners of the status quo. Down the years I’ve experienced change many times, and almost always change has been positive for me. It has not always been easy, and most times uncomfortable at first. But change has gifted me with new challenges and new experiences, the large majority of which have been positive and meaningful. Be brave!

[1] Page 18 in the 1990 edition. Peter Senge is a senior lecturer at the Sloan School of Management at MIT (the world-renowned Massachusetts Institute of Technology, located in Cambridge, just outside Boston). The Fifth Discipline is still published, now in a 2006 edition by Random House Business. The book has sold in the millions world-wide.

[2] DOS stands for Disk Operating System. Many web sites explain how DOS works, including this one: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Disk_operating_system

This way or that way?

I saw the sign in my photo on a nearby golf course. One arrow pointed left to the 13th teeing ground. The other arrow pointed right to the 13th teeing ground. “Which is it?” I asked myself. Both directions couldn’t be correct. Or could they?  Intrigued, I took the photo. (An explanation of the sign is in a footnote.[1])

It’s not unusual to be uncertain which choice to make, which way to go, which option to prioritise. Sometimes the decision is trivial. Do we watch this film or that film? Do I have a latte or cappuccino? Do I go shopping today or tomorrow? Sometimes the alternatives are much more serious. Who do I share my life with? Do I study law or accountancy? Should we move abroad or stay here? With life changing decisions, the stakes are super high. It’s difficult and often stressful when we could go one way or another, and it’s not obvious which way is right. So much rides on the choice we make.

No-one has a perfect method for making the uncertain certain. But here are three guiding principles.

Rationality can’t always tell us what’s right

We should be careful about making choices based on hunches or emotions. One couple were convinced a house they couldn’t really afford was perfect for them, so they bought it, but within months had to sell it because they couldn’t make the payments. That was foolish.

However, not  every decision can be resolved by calculation. We can’t always weigh the merits and demerits of one option over another. Jeff decided he needed a wife, so he wrote out a wife-specification: age, looks, family background, education, career expectations, role-of-wife assumptions. He found Julia, an attractive young lady who ticked every box on his list, dated her, and they got engaged. And then they broke up. Jeff and Julia were well matched, except for one essential: they weren’t in love. Emotion had been left out of the calculation.

As Jeff and Julia’s story shows, the rightness of every important decision can’t be defined by rational analysis. Top executives have been quizzed about their strategic decision making. Often they had folders or files full of data, but when the crunch came their final choice was based on a hunch. Some wouldn’t call it a hunch. They preferred ‘instinct’, or ‘intuition’, or claimed ‘inspired guesses’. However they described it, their final decisions were not data driven.

Faced with a ‘this’ or ‘that’ decision, rationality may not give us a clear answer. But, deep down, we may know what’s right. That inner voice shouldn’t be ignored.


Alternatives are not always the problem we think they are
When I’m making a long journey, I use digital mapping to plan my route. Usually I’m  offered more than one way to the destination. One option may take me via a motorway, and the other a more direct route but on minor roads. I can’t go both ways. Which is right? I could spend ages making a decision. But I don’t. Because often there’s no more than five minutes difference or a couple of miles in distance between the two. The simple fact is that I could go either way. The choice doesn’t really matter.

The same can be true with matters more serious than route selection.

When I’ve interviewed candidates for jobs, the final stage has often been a choice between two people, either of whom could do the job well. The significant point then is what I’ve just stated: ‘either could do the job well’. I can only employ one, so I must choose. But that choice is between good and good; neither is bad. Whoever I pick, I’ll be getting a great employee.

The same applies when I’ve got several things to do. Which should come first? Several clammer for my attention, but all that matters at that moment is that I start on one. Which one isn’t really important since all of them have to be done.

I’ve seen people in a restaurant almost unable to decide on their main course, asking their server to give them another two minutes, and even after that needing ‘a little longer’. What’s their problem? They can’t choose between the beef or the lamb. Do they dislike one? No, the problem is that they love both. They’ll enjoy either. Unable to decide, I’ve been asked to choose for them. So I do, and they’re delighted – as they would have been if I’d chosen the other dish.

So there are two truths there:

  1. We too easily think every choice is between good/bad or right/wrong. But alternatives can both be good. Either option will be fine.
  2. Because we’re frightened of making a bad choice, fear paralyses us. We’re stuck between option A or option B, terrified of getting it wrong. That paralysis leads to option C which is no decision at all. And that’s usually the worst option of all.

Sometimes there’s no big difference which choice we make.


Consider how urgent any decision is

There are decisions which must be made right now. You can’t tell applicants for a job you need another month to make up your mind. Or, if you know you want to buy a house, you’d better not put off making an offer.

But other decisions are not like that. I felt the time had come to buy another car. I read up on several models, took test drives, studied finance deals, talked to salespeople. Rather than narrowing down my options, that process so enlarged my thinking I was confused. Several models seemed equally good, and I’d likely be happy with any of them. But, with a significant sum of money involved, I struggled to make a decision. Then I realised I didn’t need to buy any of them. Not at that time. The car I had already was old with high mileage, but it was running okay, still doing what it had always done. Since I had a functional car, I could wait. (Which is what I did, and two years later, with clearer thinking, I bought a car that delighted me and gave good service for many years.)

Here’s the lesson. We shouldn’t put off a decision that needs to be made now. But not every decision has to be made now. Not everything is urgent. And when we don’t know which option is right, it’s legitimate to wait. That isn’t procrastination; it’s simply saying ‘not now’. With time, the fog of uncertainty may have cleared, or you may have found an option you’d never considered before. Now you can make a wise choice, and that’s the time to act.

So, in conclusion, we may wish every decision to be clear cut. No confusion. Make the choice and move forward. But the hard reality is that some choices are not plain and obvious. We could go this way or that way. It’s not easy, but I’ve given some clues for how to move forward. Decisions may involve instincts rather than analysis. The differences between options may not matter too much. And perhaps that urgent decision isn’t actually urgent at all.

[1] The left arrow pointed to the white and yellow teeing areas of the 13th hole. The right arrow pointed to the red teeing area, also of the 13th hole.

Unhelpful people

Near the start of a book I found a curious entry among the ‘Acknowledgements’. Having named those to whom the author was grateful, he then writes: ‘On this particular volume I received no help from Josiah S. Carberry. For that too I am grateful.’

It’s a joke. Josiah S. Carberry is, in fact, a fictional character[1], the name standing for someone we might describe as a crackpot. The author I was reading, Joel Feinberg[2], is humorously saying that none of those who helped him were crazy.

However, I suspect many authors could identify people whose help would be thoroughly unhelpful. And most of us could list folk like that too.

I’ve been grateful for supportive, gifted, positive friends and colleagues, and I’ve valued their backing and input. But a few have been ‘Josiah S. Carberry’ types. Some have discouraged, some misguided, some wasted my time. They were unhelpful people.

By ‘unhelpful’ I don’t only mean ‘annoying’. We all encounter folk who annoy us:

Those who are repeatedly late. I recall someone calling such people ‘thieves’ because they stole everyone else’s time waiting for them.

Those who won’t switch off their phones during meetings (or on the golf course!). One speaker, at a very large conference, not only failed to switch off his phone, he took a call midway through his talk. That’s so bad.

Those who constantly try to impress with their successes. Their achievements usually aren’t special. Most of us have the good sense not to brag about ours.

Those who boast constantly about their children’s successes. That might be their youngsters’ progress at reading, or their older ones’ exam achievements, or their grown up kids’ careers.

Those who take 500 words to say what deserved only 50. Long-windedness is not a quality.

Taking a hint from that last sentence, I won’t list more ‘annoyances’. My point is that annoying people do no more than annoy; usually they don’t stop us doing what we need to do. But unhelpful people are a real hindrance.

I’ll describe some unhelpful people who’ve crossed my path, partly from my time as a pastor but also from when I was leading major organisations.

Those who are excessive time-consumers  Ann made an appointment to speak with me. “What’s on your mind?” I asked. “Well,” she said, “sometimes I’m just not very happy”. My inner reaction was that I wasn’t always happy either. But there might be something much deeper troubling Ann, so we talked. And another time we talked. And another time we talked. At no point did Ann describe anything as seriously wrong, other than that she wasn’t always happy. We talked about expectations, and I left things there.

Ann may have wanted to talk more. Perhaps she was lonely, and enjoyed conversation. But I couldn’t be her talk-buddy long-term. To give Ann more time would have been at the expense of other people and other tasks which were in greater need of that time. That would not be right.

Some people demand attention which takes more than our time. Gordon MacDonald describes Very Draining People – he calls them VDPs – who sap the passion of leaders. Their demands keep increasing, they take but don’t give, and leaders who indulge them pay a massive bill in inner exhaustion.[3]

People who consume an inordinate amount of our time are unhelpful.

Those in love with their own opinion  Martin accosted me. He wanted me to know that people were saying that in our church services we should return to singing traditional hymns, and have far fewer modern worship songs. I had learned to be suspicious when someone used the phrase ‘people are saying’, so I asked Martin “How many are saying that?” He answered: “Everyone I’ve spoken to”. Exactly, those he’d hand-picked to be on the receiving end of his opinion. In fact, I’d heard already that Martin was cornering certain church members, pushing his passion for traditional hymns on them, and when they nodded, he considered they agreed with him and added them to his list of ‘people are saying’. But some of them had told me what was happening, and that they didn’t agree with Martin. However, he was a forceful personality, a man who believed strongly in the rightness of his own ideas, so partly out of politeness and partly out of fear they had just nodded in order to get him to stop.

I saw the same happen with departmental heads who pushed for more funding or more prominence for their area of work, sometimes going direct to trustees to win their support. I saw it too with people who thought they knew exactly what was needed for our organisation to grow, then sowed their opinions among other staff members, but they had neither complete understanding of the facts nor the ability to bring growth about.

People in love with their own opinions are often unhelpful. 

Those who are perpetually negative  Faced with problems I’ve been reassured when someone says, “Don’t worry; every cloud has a silver lining”. I like that positivity, looking for how something bad might also turn into something good.

But Charlie never reassured me. He was near 100 per cent consistent in seeing only insurmountable problems. His gift for gloom and doom depressed everyone around him. One colleague summed up Charlie this way: “Charlie is convinced every silver lining has a cloud – and it’s a black cloud”.

The negative Charlies of this world don’t see themselves as difficult. They believe they’re helping by pointing out the hard challenges to which we have no answer. But that’s not helpful. It tempts people to give up without trying. The truth is that virtually every project has tough challenges, but often those challenges are resolved by moving forward carefully and constructively. When running a marathon, you feel pain – cramps, blisters, weariness – and finishing the race seems impossible, but careful self-management before or after that point can still get you over the finishing line. Problems are usually not reasons to give up.

Negative Charlies are unhelpful people.

Those who oppose  The Old Testament book of Nehemiah records the rebuilding of the wall of Jerusalem. Decades before, the Israelites had been transported from their own land and made slaves. While they were gone, Jerusalem fell into disrepair and was occupied by other peoples. But then Nehemiah, cup bearer to his overlord, King Artaxerxes, got permission to return with others to rebuild Jerusalem’s walls. He succeeded, and Nehemiah 12 describes a lavish dedication ceremony for the new walls.

However, what happened between permission to rebuild and celebrating the completed walls is far from a story of straightforward success. In places it reads like a thriller novel.

Right from the start the project was opposed by other tribes and peoples. As soon as Nehemiah returned to Jerusalem and surveyed the damage, Horonite and Ammonite officials spread stories that Nehemiah was rebelling against the king (chapter 2). Once work on the walls began, Samaritans – backed by a large army – ridiculed what he was doing. But Nehemiah and his fellow Jews kept building. So his opponents, who’d enlisted even more support, plotted to kill the wall builders. Nehemiah posted guards and later assigned half the men to work on the walls while the other half held weapons ready to defend them. Eventually the order became: ‘Work with one hand and hold your sword ready in the other’ (chapter 4).

Nehemiah’s enemies got more subtle. They invited him to a meeting. That sounded reasonable, even friendly, but what they intended was neither reasonable nor friendly. They wanted Nehemiah alone to murder him. He sent a reply that he was doing a great work, and had no time to meet with them. Frustrated, his foes spread more stories: ‘Nehemiah is leading a revolt, and he’s planning to install a king in Jerusalem’. It was a rumour of insurrection, which could get Nehemiah killed. But the work went on. His enemies decided enough was enough. They appointed assassins who would creep into the Jewish camp in the dead of night and dispose of Nehemiah for good. Nehemiah learned of the plot, but despite the intimidation and danger he would not be stopped, and the new wall was completed in a little over seven weeks (chapter 6).

Nehemiah’s opponents were clearly the worst of unhelpful people. Few of us work with constant life-ending threats from people who want us to fail.

But we do face challenges in ways like these:

Head on  We can experience direct opposition from senior colleagues. They may be honest – they disagree on some matter. But it’s awkward, unsettling and, even when we have the authority to press ahead anyway, their opposition leaves us distressed.

Non-cooperation  Management gurus describe the covert way staff can halt new initiatives – they simply don’t implement them. They like the culture they have, the ways of working with which they’re familiar, the colleagues they work beside, so they don’t make the changes they should.

Campaigns  Opponents seek support from others for their point of view. They enlist sympathisers, who in turn enrol more. It all builds until there are sufficient numbers to obstruct a policy change.

Leaders must listen when people hold alternative views. But often it’s right to press forward despite opposition. That’s part of the job.

Those you can never please  There’s a common saying: ‘You can’t please all the people all of the time’. I don’t agree. Here’s my saying: ‘You can’t please all the people any of the time’.

The culture in my Christian tradition is to find unanimity. “We can’t move forward until we all agree,” someone says. Now, if we’re talking about a group of less than six people, we might get total agreement, especially if the matter is a small one. But complete unity of heart and mind is rare with greater numbers and bigger issues.

In fact, a call for unanimity can be a stalling tactic. When change can’t happen until everyone agrees on every detail, at the least it’ll be a long way off or, very possibly, it will never happen. That’s an intolerable situation. It’s a case of the perfect being the enemy of the best.

Those who demand agreement from all are mostly unhelpful people.

Finally, three more – briefly!

Those who are all talk and no action  I’ve had colleagues and friends who argued powerfully for policies or positions, but did very little after getting those positions. Terry was keen to head up maintenance work, and great at listing repair and development tasks. But he didn’t do any of them, nor delegate the jobs to others. People complained about facilities not working. I encouraged Terry, and was assured matters were getting his attention. But they weren’t, and more and more people grumbled to me about uneven paths, broken equipment, peeling plaster, and much more. I went again to Terry, and was very straightforward that he wasn’t doing the job. “I guess I should resign then?” he asked. I didn’t talk him out of it. Soon after, we appointed Gary who boasted no special skills, but made sure every task brought to his attention was completed promptly. No more complaints.

Unhelpful people talk a good game, but have little to show for it.

Those who don’t keep their promises  Some failed promises are relatively minor: the student who didn’t read a set book before class; the fellow actor who didn’t learn their lines; the Board member who, before the meeting, didn’t even glance at the papers staff had slaved to prepare. Such things matter, but they’re not at the level of other forms of promise-breaking:

  • After a lengthy and expensive hiring process, Josh is offered the job and immediately accepts. One week later – after other candidates have all been told they are not being appointed – Josh sends a one sentence email saying he’s changed his mind and won’t be taking up the post.
  • After two years of marriage, Katy tells Bert she no longer loves him and she’s leaving. He pleads; others counsel; but Katy just keeps saying she doesn’t want this marriage any more.
  • Cedric has elevated himself above all his colleagues, and is rewarded with responsibility for the firm’s biggest client. There’s talk of massive amounts of new business. Cedric assures his CEO he’s working day and night on a business plan that will delight the client. The deadline agreed with the client is 20 days away. No plan yet from Cedric, but he guarantees his boss it’ll be ready in time. When it’s down to the last ten days and then five days Cedric promises he’s making the final edits. Deadline day arrives, but Cedric’s plan doesn’t. He’s been doing everything but the plan. The client is furious and withdraws all business from the firm.

I can understand that some people aren’t successful at a task they promised to do. But they tried. What I can’t understand is how people make promises – often solemn promises – and simply walk away from them. ‘Unhelpful’ is far too weak a word for them.

Those who criticise behind your back  It’s those last three words ‘behind your back’ that trouble me most. I have never minded when people raise concerns with me. We can talk, understand each other better, and often resolve issues. But if people have criticisms, and take their complaints straight to others, then two things are wrong: a) I’ve had no chance to resolve anything; b) those to whom they speak are being given only one side of a story. I wish the complainers would be asked by those they talk to: ‘Have you spoken with Alistair about this?’ and, when the answer is ‘no’, they then refused to hear any more until the grievances had been brought to me.

I do understand that people find it difficult to speak to someone in line management over them. Yet, it’s far from fair to go straight to others, without giving the subject of their complaints the chance to resolve a problem. Secret complainers are unhelpful.

Finally, then, how do you deal with unhelpful people?  I can’t give specific answers because each case is unique. However, I learned that the only way to deal with unhelpful people is by actually dealing with them.

What I mean is this. When we don’t face up to the unhelpful:

  • we let the negative person go on being negative
  • we try to sidestep the opponent
  • we tolerate the person who promises much but never delivers
  • we just wait for the critic to get fed up and shut up

But the problem with all these inaction strategies is that, almost always, the unhelpful person keeps on being unhelpful.

So, my policy has been to speak kindly but directly to those causing difficulty. That doesn’t guarantee success. Those who oppose your ideas won’t instantly change their minds. But they might tone down their efforts. And, with others, I’ve seen a realisation that they’re being difficult, and they appreciate the insight they’ve been given.

Take courage. Be gentle but speak honestly. Almost always the end result will be better than leaving unhelpful behaviour unchallenged.

[1] See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Josiah_S._Carberry to fully understand the humour around this name.

[2] From Joel Feinberg, (1989) Harm to self, Oxford Press (p. xix).

[3] G. MacDonald, Renewing Your Spiritual Passion (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1986), pp. 69-88.

The Coronation of King Charles III

On May 6th, 2023, Charles III was crowned king. He was already king, of course, because that title passed to him immediately upon the death of his mother, Elizabeth II, on September 8th, 2022, at 3.10 pm. Charles’ coronation today recognised his kingship, and included pledges by king and people of loyalty and service to each other.

I’m not an ardent royalist like some are, but also far from being anti-monarchy. There are parts of a nation’s history that should not easily be discarded, and hard-working and wise ‘royals’ can do much for the United Kingdom, its commonwealth countries and other ‘realms’.

So I settled down to watch the coronation service and its associated events. I knew I was in for a marathon – and it was that – but I could relax which is more than what was possible for the thousands of military and police on parade and guard duty, and those who had an active part inside Westminster Abbey. They’ll all sleep soundly tonight.

I will share a few personal thoughts on the day’s events. But – since this is written on the same day – they should be seen as immediate reactions rather than deeply considered reflections.

Here’s what stood out for me.

Superb organisation  It’s hard to grasp how anyone can bring together the complex content and timing that makes a coronation day work. And all today’s events were marvellously efficient. What undoubtedly helped is the little-known fact that ever since Elizabeth II became queen officials of the government, Church of England, and royal staff held meetings at least annually to plan Charles’ coronation. Now that’s being prepared.

But I’m not surprised. Decades ago – as a young journalist in Edinburgh – I saw advance press releases outlining visits by royalty. The itinerary was timed to the minute. Indeed, my newspaper had an early edition sold on the streets as soon as one royal event was over. The story detailed where the Queen had been, who she’d met, what she’d seen. How did they have it written so soon? They didn’t. It was written before the event, entirely from the detailed schedule issued in advance. Royal events – great and small – are planned to the smallest detail.

But today’s coronation was one of the greatest of events, and I applaud those who brought together people from all round the world, thousands of military personnel, many clergy and politicians, London’s city officials, broadcasters, and many more. Quite a feat.

Remarkable endurance  I was impressed that several people involved in the service could retain their posture for long periods of time. In many cases, they stayed still while holding ceremonial items. Charles himself had to stay balanced with a crown resting precariously on his head while sitting on an uncomfortable ancient Coronation Chair, holding an orb in one hand and a sceptre in the other. Queen Camilla was put through similar torture. Both did well. And so did others who kept their concentration, passed the correct items of regalia exactly at the right time, moved to new locations when needed, and so on.

Outside, on the routes between Buckingham Palace and Westminster Abbey, there was constant discipline from police who faced out to the crowd and military who faced in towards the procession. They stood there for hours from long before dignitaries went past.

To add to the discomfort outdoors it rained much of the time. That’s oddly normal for coronation days. It also rained on the previous four occasions, including the coronation of Elizabeth II in June 1953. Yet everything about Charles’ coronation seemed unaffected, except low cloud meant the fly past was scaled back to only helicopters and the Red Arrows performance team. (The plan had been for 14 waves of aircraft, ranging from World War II fighters and bombers to super-modern jets. Some were already flying holding patterns off the east coast when the Ministry of Defence cancelled their participation. Aircraft crashing over London is a risk that could not be taken.)

A very religious service  Coronation services have their origin in ancient times. And coronations at Westminster date back to William the Conqueror on 25th December 1066. For many centuries there was a strong belief in the divine right of kings, the view that kings were appointed by God and could rule absolutely. Though no-one now believes in divine right, the idea that a monarch should be blessed, strengthened and guided by God prevails.

Hence it’s not surprising that today’s coronation was a profoundly religious event, led by the senior clergy of the Church of England. For a long time Charles has recognised that British people are not only Christian; many adhere to other faiths. Thus representatives of other religions had roles too. However, the monarch is formally the supreme governor of the Church of England, so there’s no surprise that denomination’s forms of prayer and worship predominated.

Charles has also said that he intends to defend all faiths – in the sense that no faith should suffer discrimination – and I applaud that. For many of the tough situations he will face, I hope the prayers for Charles will be answered. He will need the wisdom only God can give to navigate the right way.

A considerate event  Two things particularly made me realise those responsible for the coronation had tried to be thoughtful and kind.

First, I was following the official coronation order of service, and right at the end I could read the wording of a greeting other faith leaders would give the king just before he exited the abbey. The TV cameras covered that moment but we didn’t hear a word they said. That seemed a shame to me. Until, later, a commentator explained the silence. The Chief Rabbi observes strict Jewish practices about the sabbath (which is a Saturday). That meant he could not travel by car or train to the service. That could be overcome by staying near the abbey overnight. But sabbath rules would also prohibit him speaking into a microphone. So, to allow the Rabbi to participate alongside other faith leaders, there was no microphone to pick up their voices. That is a remarkable consideration.

Second, thousands of military personnel marched well in advance of the ornate coaches that carried King Charles and Queen Camilla. That meant they never saw the monarch and his wife while on parade. That was tough. The day had begun at 3.30 am for many of them, as they had to travel into London and be in position early on. Then they stood and marched in the rain. Of course that was their duty, pleasant or not, and I’m sure they considered it a privilege to have a part in the day. But never to see their new king and queen? Someone thought that didn’t need to happen, so when they finished their march up The Mall they continued on past the frontage of Buckingham Palace and gathered on the vast lawn behind (where Garden Party events are held[1]). The troops lined up in long rows on the grass, and when the royal couple appeared on the terrace overlooking the grounds, the military removed their headwear and gave the heartiest of ‘hip, hip, hooray’ cheers. That’s something they’ll tell their children and grandchildren. I found it quite moving.

At the age of 74 King Charles today became the oldest person to be crowned monarch in Britain. He was just three years old when his mother became queen, making him the heir for over 70 years. That’s a long time to wait. He’s used a lot of that to campaign on important issues, especially about the environment. As monarch he can no longer speak on any subject considered political, but the king has other opportunities to do good. I believe he’ll make a positive difference, and do that with passion and wisdom.

Lastly, a note, especially for those who think it rains all the time in Britain. It really doesn’t. I enlightened many of my American friends on that subject, but even British commentators seemed to suggest today’s rain in London was typical late spring weather. So why have the coronation in May? But here are two facts:

  1. London’s largest airport, Heathrow, has recorded an average of 45.91mm (1.8 inches) of rain in May between 1991 and 2020. Only four other months are drier.
  2. Heathrow, London, has an average annual rainfall of 614.98 mm (24.2 inches) while Central Park, New York City, has 1267.5 mm (49.9 inches) – more than double London’s total. Even Paris has more rain annually than London – 641 mm (25.2 inches).

So, today wasn’t really a bad choice for Coronation Day. And King Charles – perhaps thinking of the long reign of his mother – described the rain as a ‘blessing’. May there be showers of blessing on his time as king.

[1] Many years ago my wife Alison was invited to attend the Queen’s Garden Party, and I was her ‘plus one’. I know my place.

The fire that changed the weather

Homeless and hungry, exhausted and terrified, possessions gone, families separated, violent mobs in the street, the people of London are still in the first 24 hours of the Great Fire raging through their city. Heat burns their faces. Thick smoke makes breathing difficult. Homes are now only a red hot bonfire of roofs, rafters, walls and furniture. Even the pavement on which people walk gives off an intense heat. They’ve heard preachers talk of an end-times lake of fire, and their city is now very like that.

It is Sunday, September 2nd, 1666. At 1.00 am a spark sputtered out from a not-fully-extinguished oven in Thomas Farriner’s bakehouse. Quickly fire spread up the walls to the living quarters on upper storeys. Farriner and his family escaped, but the fire spread to adjacent houses and businesses. A strong east to west wind fanned the flames. The primitive tools used for firefighting were hopelessly inadequate. By midday many streets in the old city were alight.

This is part two of the story of the Great Fire of London. If you haven’t read the beginnings of the fire, you can find my account here: https://occasionallywise.com/2023/01/28/great-fire-of-london-1/. The blaze lasted from early Sunday to late Wednesday (with small outbreaks even later), so is usually described as burning for four days. But even before day one ended it ranked as ‘already the most damaging fire to strike London in living memory’.[1]

In this part of the story – covering the later part of Sunday and most of Monday – we’ll see these things:

  • The fire’s intensity becomes so strong, it even changes the weather over London
  • Desperate people flee their homes with whatever they can carry or cart away
  • When civic leadership fails, the King and his brother organise firefighting
  • Vigilantes roam the streets attacking anyone they think responsible for the fire.

The fire intensifies

In 1666 the oldest part of London lies north of the River Thames, surrounded by a two mile long wall built by an invading Roman army between 190 and 225 AD. Only the south has no wall. It never needed one because that approach to the city was protected by the river.

The ‘footprint’ inside the wall is not large – even today it’s referred to as the ‘Square Mile’. But tens of thousands are crammed into that tight space. Recent weather has been dry and warm, making thatch on roofs and wooden walls perfect fuel for the fire. Once alight it spreads quickly because neighbouring properties virtually touch each other, even across the street. Early attempts to create firebreaks fail.

During the first night the fire which started in one bakery and home in Pudding Lane is engulfing hundreds of homes. The strong wind fans the flames. Some householders run to the Thames for water, but their buckets carry very little and the water has no effect on so great a fire.

Those in homes still unaffected are too frightened to sleep. All they can do is hope that this fire, like others before, will burn itself out before it reaches them. But this fire won’t burn out and can’t be halted. The wind from the east is no mere breeze – some call it a gale – and it fans the flames and scatters embers. Then someone in the street screams: ‘The fire is here! Run!’ People seize whatever they can carry, including their children, and, braving the wall of heat moving towards them, make their escape.

Many head for the nearby Thames. If they can, they climb onto boats. If no boat is available, they throw their furniture and possessions into the water. Brave (or foolish) souls plunge in too hoping to drag their goods downstream and bring them ashore somewhere safe. Others clamber down steps to the water’s edge. If the flames come close, they move sideways to other steps to get as far from the fire as they can.

In the streets people press against each other. Those escaping push one way; those still trying to fight the fire push the other way. There is screaming, crying, shouting, praying. Driven by the wind, the fire moves steadily west. It’s not just homes that burst into flame, but halls and churches too. Pepys, who kept a diary record of the Great Fire, writes of ‘a most horrid malicious bloody flame’ reaching more than a mile across the city. He adds: ‘It made me weep to see it’.

Pepys’ ‘malicious flame’ has become a firestorm which affects the weather. To understand, picture an ordinary household fire. It sucks in air, which accelerates burning, then pushes hot air up its chimney. The Great Fire did the same but on a massive scale. Needing oxygen, the fire sucked in air at near gale force through the narrow spaces between overhanging buildings. The flames got their fuel, and hot, fiery air was pushed upwards to a great height. At ground level and above, the heat is so intense no-one can get near. Breathing becomes impossible, and the force of the wind irresistible. Fire is consuming the city from ground level to high in the air. And no-one can stop it.

The fire moves outward to the west, north and south. The Church of St Magnus the Martyr is destroyed. Eventually 83 more churches will burn. Barrels of tar in a supply store explode, and flaming debris is scattered, lighting more fires. Near the Thames guildhalls and warehouses fall prey to the flames. So do homes built on London Bridge, though the fire on the bridge is halted because there’s a gap between buildings. A 1633 fire destroyed tenements on the bridge, and they have never been replaced.

The hatched pink area shows the extent of the fire at end of day one. Pudding Lane, where it began, is marked with a green arrow. The right to left drift of flames is caused by the strong east to west wind.
© Bunchofgrapes and Tom Fish // Creative Commons CC BY-SA 3.0

Residents become refugees

There is no darkness over London as Sunday moves into Monday. The fire never sleeps. Nor do many Londoners. Hundreds of homes are gone, and their occupants search for somewhere to be safe. Where people live some distance from the fire, the few who sleep restlessly in their beds don’t realise the severity of this blaze, hoping it will yet be extinguished. Their optimism or naivety will not last long.

On Monday the winds become stronger and the fire worse. Many now realise they can’t fight a fire so intense and spreading so fast. To survive, they must flee.

But the affluent will not run until they’ve done everything they can to protect their wealth. Bankers cart away stacks of gold coins before they melt. Other wealthy citizens bury or hide valuables they can’t carry. Samuel Pepys records that he buried his expensive cheeses and wine. What he could not bury he hauled off. Referring to the second night of the fire, Pepys writes: ‘About four o’clock in the morning, my Lady Batten sent me a cart to carry away all my money, and plate, and best things… Which I did riding myself in my night-gowne in the cart.’ We might smile about an important dignitary escaping in his night attire, but Pepys’ flight says much about the haste and terror of that night.

During Monday despair grips almost everyone. They watch as the Royal Exchange (a stock exchange and shopping centre) is engulfed, along with ‘upmarket’ shops in Cheapside. John Evelyn – a courtier and diarist – describes the mood of the crowds:

‘The conflagration was so universal, and the people so astonished, that … I know not by what despondency or fate, they hardly stirred to quench it, so that there was nothing heard or seen but crying out and lamentation, running about like distracted creatures… such a strange consternation there was upon them.’

But now people realise they are trapped inside the city’s ancient walls while an inferno moves steadily towards them. There are gates in those walls, eight of them. The names of some are still recognised today, such as Ludgate, Moorgate, Bishopsgate, Aldgate. But the gates are narrow. In Roman times, entrances were deliberately small so invading hordes could not rush in and overwhelm the city. Now, some 1400 years later, those narrow gates prevent evacuees rushing out of the city. Even worse, while many are desperate to exit, others are entering. People who had left earlier are returning with their carts to move away even more of their possessions. Some make those journeys four or five times. Inside the walls, with the fire near, and getting nearer, there is desperation, anger, and panic. Carts, wagons, horses and people jostle together.

Those already outside the walls are relatively safe, at least for now. But there’s no rescue organisation, nothing and no-one to tell people where to go, what to do, or to provide food and shelter. The Thames is covered with barges and boats, most piled high with goods. To the north and east, the fields are strewn with people and their possessions. They huddle under improvised tents. ‘Oh, the miserable and calamitous spectacle!’ Evelyn writes.

Royal leaders take charge

The Lord Mayor, Sir Thomas Bloodworth, has given up. Realising he should have acted sooner, and having no idea during Monday how to stop the immense blaze, he has literally walked away, not to be seen again while the Great Fire rages.

Bloodworth had refused any orders or assistance from King Charles II. But now Bloodworth is gone, and from his royal barge the King surveys the fire from the River Thames. He is shocked by the extent of the fire and outraged to see that houses are still not being demolished to create firebreaks. London is not ruled by the monarch, but Charles acts anyway. Powered by the wind, the fire is spreading west fast, and he orders his own troops to tear down large numbers of homes on that side of the fire.

But the sad reality is that demolition can no longer stop the fire. Lifted high in the air, embers are carried over any gap, and they light the thatch and then the houses across the firebreak.

However, the King’s intervention is the beginning of organised attempts to confront the blaze. Assuming overall control, Charles gives his brother James, the Duke of York, authority for all firefighting operations. James is already known to the people for his courage in battle against the Dutch. He’s bold, and perhaps impulsive. Certainly no enemy frightens him. That includes this Great Fire. He immediately sets up command posts around the fire’s perimeter. James uses the palace’s courtiers, people who are companions and advisers to the King. Three are in charge of each command post. Teams of firefighters are organised, supported by 30 soldiers stationed at each post. Significantly, the courtiers have the King’s authority to do anything necessary to stop the fire. There will be no hesitation now about pulling down houses. Whatever has to be done will be done.

During that Monday, and on subsequent days, both Charles II and the Duke of York actively survey the fire and direct operations. The palace is outside the city walls, but they are seen near where the fire rages. A report in the following week’s London Gazette notes their ‘indefatigable and personal pains to apply all possible remedies to prevent (the fire’s spread), calling upon and helping the people with their Guards’. The newspaper may have intentionally flattered the royals, but it’s true that their presence among and support of the people is noticed and appreciated.

Yet, despite the organisation and everything the courtiers do, the fire spreads. Every time they tear down houses, the fire leaps across the gap, rushing west to consume ever more homes. People living 30 miles away can now see light from the Great Fire. More and more citizens flee, either to the Thames or by forcing their way through increasing chaos at the city gates to camp in the fields beyond.

And now another deadly danger is spreading in the city.

Mob violence

Rumours spread that the fire is no accident. The baker, Thomas Farriner, insists nothing was alight in his ovens when he went to bed. He didn’t cause the fire. Others point out that new fires are breaking out at some distance from the main blaze. And, despite the noise of the fire, people hear loud explosions. Houses and warehouses are blowing up, surely caused by incendiary bombs. And there’s a common view that no accident has ever caused, nor could cause, a fire so great as this. London must be under attack.

There is little doubt in most minds that either the Dutch Republic or France is to blame. Perhaps both are. There have been outbreaks of fighting with these nations just across the sea from England. Just two weeks earlier, English sailors pursued the Dutch merchant fleet to the port of West-Terschelling, destroying 150 vessels, burning the city to the ground, and killing many of its people. It seems very possible that Dutch agents are now taking revenge by planting fire bombs in London.

Relations are also bad with France, fed by a strong anti-Catholic bias. In the popular mind, no Catholic is to be trusted. Londoners are very aware of the failed Gunpowder Plot of 1605, when Guy Fawkes was one of 13 Catholic conspirators who filled a basement of Parliament with gunpowder, intending to blow up the King and the House of Lords.[2] Thus, in the minds of panicking Londoners in 1666, to be foreign or Catholic makes you a suspect.

The facts, of course, are these: Flames spreading far and wide are caused by a strong wind scattering sparks hundreds of yards. There is no surprise that homes remote from the main fire were set alight. And the explosions? There is no mystery about them either. Many homes and warehouses stored gunpowder. When fire reached them they blew up.

But those explanations are not enough for violent mobs in London’s streets. Fire has destroyed their homes. They must find the culprits who set them alight, and stop them starting even more fires. The mood – the blind passion – is revenge.

In a large cosmopolitan city, the mobs are not short of suspects to attack. A Dutch baker is dragged from his business before a gang tear his premises apart. A Frenchman walking down the street is struck violently with an iron bar. A French woman is carrying chicks in her apron but a crowd thinks she’s holding incendiary bombs and cut off her breasts. Another Frenchman is almost dismembered because he’s seen carrying a box of fireballs, but in fact his ‘bombs’ are only tennis balls.[3]

James, the Duke of York, has had to leave fire-fighting to counter acts of violence against innocent people. Accompanied by cavalry, he rides his horse around the streets. He’s blackened with soot, but constantly alert. In a small alley he sees men crowding in a shop doorway. Perhaps they’re stealing. James springs into action. The space is too narrow for a full-on mounted charge, so James leaps from his horse, draws his sword and runs straight for the mob. The men look up, recognise the Duke of York with sword drawn and his guards behind him, and immediately run in the other direction. James stops beside a bundle of clothing the men have dropped. Then the bundle moves, and James realises someone is wrapped inside. He kneels, and uncovers a man badly wounded and terrified. With difficulty the victim speaks. He’s French. And around his neck is a noose. Its other end is already hanging from a sign above the shop doorway. Had James arrived even a minute later, the Frenchman would have been dead.[4]

The mob have decided that foreign agents have started and are now spreading the fire. Their suspicion is that setting London alight is the ‘softening up’ preliminary to a full-blown invasion. There is nothing to counter the rumours, no broadcast media, no social media, not even a newspaper since the office of The London Gazette has burned down. The mood to stop terrorists and wreak vengeance for what is happening has gripped many Londoners. ‘The need to blame somebody was very, very strong,’ says one writer.[5]

The worst atrocity never happened during the Great Fire. It came later, as we shall see in another episode.

Late on Monday the fire threatens Baynard’s Castle. It is a mediaeval palace, situated on the Thames riverbank. It was first built in the 11th century, and rebuilt and greatly enlarged by King Henry VII in 1501. It has several towers, and massive thick stone walls. Such a building is indestructible. But it’s not, not when the Great Fire reaches it. The castle catches fire on Monday night, and the blaze rages through every part of the building until daybreak. It is utterly ruined.[6] If this can happen to one of London’s strongest structures, nothing is safe.

In the right centre of the drawing is Baynards Castle. From Wellcome Images, operated by the Wellcome Trust.  Wellcome L0006919.jpg CC BY 4.0

So, as we pause the story here, what can we learn from these events? There is only one lesson I want to highlight at this point.

The greatest failure of leadership is no leadership

Some years ago I studied management. One strongly worded statement I read is this: that often the worst decision a leader can make is to make no decision at all. Lord Mayor Bloodworth was woefully guilty of that. When the fire was small, and the firefighters needed strategy and resources, he abandoned them and went back to his bed. Later, when it was evident the fire was out of control, he disappeared from public view. He deserted. At the most crucial time he left the city with no leadership.

Until, that is, the King appointed his brother James to head up operations. James provided leadership, and did so with vigour and with organisation. If his efforts were not enough, that was only because nothing he and his teams could do would ever have been enough. But at least the people knew they weren’t abandoned and all that could be done was being done.

Now Londoners are realising that this Great Fire cannot be extinguished. As we shall see in the next episode, tragically the worst is yet to come.

My major online resources for this series on the Great Fire are listed at the foot of the first episode. See https://occasionallywise.com/2023/01/28/great-fire-of-london-1/

[1] Field, J. (2017) London, Londoners and the Great Fire of 1666: Disaster and Recovery. London, Routledge.

[2] Guy Fawkes was English and Catholic, born in York. When the plot against the King failed, he was arrested and sentenced to death by being hung, drawn and quartered. However, some think he jumped when hanged, causing the noose to break his neck, so avoiding the torture that would have followed a partial hanging. Marking the failure of the Gunpowder Plot with a bonfire and fireworks dates from the 1650s with an effigy laid on the fire from the 1670s. For many years the effigy was usually of the Pope. In modern times the effigy has been of Guy Fawkes. In the UK, large bonfires are lit and fireworks launched every 5th November, marking the date in 1605 when the conspirators intended to blow up Parliament.

[3] These details from the Smithsonian Magazine: https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/great-fire-london-was-blamed-religious-terrorism-180960332/

[4] Another version of this account suggests the man was Swedish. Whether French or Swedish, the account illustrates the violence wreaked on all foreigners.

[5] Adrian Tinniswood in By Permission of Heaven: The Story of the Great Fire.

[6] Baynard’s Castle was never fully rebuilt, and over the centuries the site was used for various purposes. In the 1970s a concrete office block named Baynard House was built there and occupied by the telecom company BT.