‘Never tell a lie’ – but what if telling the truth will cost a life?

On the whole, philosophers are polite. So, why would one philosopher describe another this way: ‘a stubborn, old academic who refuses to see the inhumane consequences of his theory, and instead grotesquely defends the inhumane’?

That’s hard-talk. And I agree with most of it (though might be more respectful). The clue to what that devastating criticism is about is in the heading of this blog. I’ll explain all shortly.

In the last blog post I mentioned that I’m currently studying ‘dirty hands’ which I described this way: ‘You get dirty hands by doing something morally bad, but which is necessary to achieve a good outcome (or to minimise a bad outcome).’ I used an imaginary scenario of a terrorist arrested while planting a bomb. The authorities discover there are six or more other bombs, all hidden but all on timers to explode within 24 hours. Interrogating the terrorist isn’t working. He won’t talk. The last resort is torture. Torture is both evil and illegal but, in these circumstances, where the lives of at least hundreds are threatened, could torture be justified?

The answer to that question may lie in what this blog post is about: rules.

We have had lists of rules from ancient times. The Judeo Christian tradition has its Ten Commandments; Islam its Shariah law from the Quran and the Hadith; the United States its Constitution; our roads and streets the Highway Code; our homes their ‘commandments’ about dirty laundry or mobile phones at the dinner table. Rules – loved and loathed – are an inescapable aspect of life.

So, if we are rule-observing people, and there is a rule (law) against torture, the dilemma with the terrorist is solved. He can’t be tortured. Issue over.

Except it isn’t.

Before we get to why it isn’t, who is the philosopher whose moral theory is described as ‘inhumane’?

In some ways this philosopher seems an odd candidate to arouse wrath. Born in 1724, he lived and died in Königsberg, Prussia.[1] Though his town was a busy centre with a population of 50,000, it was remote from the economic and culture centres of German life. As a young man, our philosopher altered his birth name because he preferred a more accurate Hebraic form.[2] He was no more than five feet tall, always suffered poor health, and was so regular in his habits it was said neighbours set their watches by his comings and goings. His early lecturing was on subjects as diverse and strange as fireworks, fortifications, and physical geography.

My guess is that the image you’re developing is not of a giant among philosophers. But Immanuel Kant is thought of as one of the greatest philosophers ever. One writer calls him ‘the central figure in modern philosophy’ and another says he provided ‘some of the most powerful and influential ideas in the history of moral philosophy’.

Why is Kant so influential, and why so controversial? I can answer that, but I’ll limit my explanations to issues related to moral decision-making, especially as it affects dirty hands.

Kant was a deontologist[3]. That kind of philosophy focuses on duty. For anything we do to have moral worth, it must be done exclusively because of duty. It can’t be because we feel good, or from sympathy, or for self-interest – just from duty.

What exactly will that mean? Here are three short scenarios that explain Kant’s thinking.

The shopkeeper A child enters the shop who doesn’t understand what things cost. The shopkeeper could easily overcharge him, thus making more profit. But he realises that if people find out, it’ll damage his reputation and his business. So he charges the child only the correct price.

Wealthy woman 1 This wealthy woman loves her riches and has no sympathy for the poor. She wants to keep all her money for herself and let the poor get by as best they can. But she recognises she has a duty to help the needy, so supports the impoverished in several ways.

Wealthy woman 2 The second wealthy woman also enjoys all the good things her money provides, but from her youth she has sincerely cared for the poor and finds deep contentment in supporting those who have little.[4]

Now, from the information I’ve given about Kant, which of these acts would he believe had moral worth?

My first answer was Wealthy Woman 2. I liked her attitude and her concern. But that’s not Kant’s judgment. All three – he would say – did what duty required (they all acted in accordance with duty) but only one acted solely from duty. And that person is Wealthy Woman 1.

What was wrong with the others?

For Kant the shopkeeper’s actions lacked moral worth because he was motivated by self-interest. He only charged the fair price because it might have harmed his business if he didn’t. His self-interest might just as easily have led him to overcharge if he’d believed he could get away with it. Hence, Kant doesn’t credit his action as morally worthy.

Kant’s reason for not acknowledging moral worth in the actions of Wealthy Woman 2 are, strangely, not much different from the case of the shopkeeper. Kant recognises her virtuous instincts, but to do something kind because you are attracted to do it, because you find pleasure in doing it, is to act out of self-interest. To do good because it feels good doesn’t generate actions of moral worth. He writes: ‘All so-called moral interest consists solely in respect for the law’. Notice the word ‘solely’ in that sentence. No motivation carries moral worth except that which is done solely to respect the law. For Kant, pleasure and pity are no better than acting out of self-interest, so the actions they inspire are morally worthless. The law must be the motive. Our duty is to obey the law, no matter what we think or feel. (By the way, by ‘law’ Kant usually does not mean the law of the land; he means the moral law – doing what is right.)

I’d like to argue with Kant on some of those points, and especially about Wealthy Woman 2! But, for now, what matters is only to understand that Kant is committed to the view that morally right actions are done from duty, and from no other motive.

So – skipping past much of what Kant says about reason and the good will – I’ll jump to the maxim he laid down as the dominating principle for deciding between right and wrong actions. It’s called the categorical imperative.

It’s very short, so please read it, after which I’ll explain what Kant means. Here is the categorical imperative: ‘I ought never to conduct myself except so that I could also will that my maxim become a universal law’.

By ‘maxim’ Kant means a plan of action or conduct. So, divided up, what he’s saying is this: Your plan of conduct / is right only if / you can will that plan of conduct / to be right for everyone.

In other words, no action is right unless you could intend that everyone else should behave the same. His imperative is often called the universalisability principle: what is right for you must be capable of being right for everyone everywhere.

Kant explains his point by using promise-keeping, or, rather, promise-breaking. Promise-breaking can’t be right because you can’t wish for everyone to promise-break. If no-one kept promises, no-one would make promises because no-one would believe them.

So, for Kant, no action is right unless you can will that action to be done by everyone. He is hard-line about that. He is often called an ‘absolutist’; for him there can be no exceptions to obeying the moral law.

During Kant’s lifetime people argued that his principles were too strict. And the instance that was often mentioned was about lying. Surely, they said, there must be times when lying is exactly the right thing to do. Kant answered his critics with a short essay titled ‘On a Supposed Right to Tell Lies from Benevolent Motives’. In it, he imagined a situation to illustrate how someone must tell the truth no matter the consequences to themselves or others. Essentially his story is this:

There’s a loud banging on your door. You open it, find a man there in a panic because he’s being pursued by a murderer. Clearly he’s serious. He must hide. So you bring him into your home. A minute later, there’s more loud banging on your door. You open it, and here is a man already covered in blood, wielding an axe, and demanding to know where his victim has gone. How do you answer him?[5]

Realistically, there are only two possible responses. One is that you misdirect the murderer – tell him his fugitive ran up the street, then turned left. The other is that you admit you have him in your home, and the murderer steps inside. What follows is bloody.

Kant is unwavering. The householder must tell the truth, even knowing the fugitive will immediately be murdered. Kant cannot allow a lie. He writes: ‘To be truthful (honest) in all declarations is… a sacred unconditional command of reason, and not to be limited by any expediency’.

Thus, doing what’s right, what the moral law dictates, is for Kant ‘a sacred unconditional command …not limited by expediency’. No thought at all should be given to the consequences of your action. It doesn’t matter how convenient, how attractive, how important they are. None of that is the point. All that matters is that you do what’s right. And what’s right is what the moral rule requires.

So ask Kant if a terrorist should be tortured in order to find unexploded bombs? The answer would be a firm ‘no’.

What about all dirty hands issues? There are at least three clear conclusions which we can draw from Kant’s rule-keeping principle.

Since every dirty hands action is normally morally forbidden, Kant’s absolutist position would reject them all.
Since a moral act takes no account of outcomes, the fact that bombs will explode if not found quickly is irrelevant. All that matters is that whatever is done must pass the universalisability test. You couldn’t will that everyone be tortured, so it would be wrong to torture the terrorist. Of course that means dreadful consequences may follow, but, for Kant, no fault will rest with the person who followed duty.
Kant’s absolutism can actually increase the number of wrongs. If the terrorist is not tortured, one evil act is prevented. But when the hidden bombs explode, hundreds or thousands of evil acts (deaths) will occur. Avoiding one wrong will have allowed many wrongs.

My guess is that many of us would agree that moral rules should be kept, but at least some of us would allow for exceptions in extreme circumstances. That might not be an exception for torture, but could be permission to lie to save the life of the fugitive sheltering in your house.

Kant, of course, would allow the bombs to explode and the fugitive to be murdered. That’s why the critic called him ‘a stubborn, old academic who refuses to see the inhumane consequences of his theory’. She went further by referring back to the persecution and extermination of Jews in Germany and other countries by the Nazis, and asked if those who were hiding Jews in their homes should readily have admitted their presence to any Nazi who asked. How could Kant justify a moral theory that would send even one Jew to the gas-chambers?

I agree that an absolutist deontology – like Kant’s – is intolerably severe. A theory capable of maximising rather than minimising harm can’t be right.

There are deontologists who are not absolutist. They allow exceptions in extreme circumstances. Then there are others who call themselves threshold deontologists – they adhere firmly to rules until the consequences reach a pre-determined level of awfulness, after which they take whatever is the best action. A similar view holds that there’s a sliding scale for decision-making: stick to the rule when harmful outcomes are minor, but when the harm builds and becomes unacceptably dreadful, do whatever gives the best outcome.

Some, of course, accuse those who allow exceptions as not rule-keepers at all. If you believe a moral rule is right, then it’s always right.

But what might be called common sense morality doesn’t hold that view. Life is messy, and we have to change course in the light of fresh circumstances. A current TV drama includes a story about a nurse falling short in her duties, almost being fired but reprieved when the boss finds out the nurse is suffering domestic abuse. Theoretically, because the nurse failed in her work, she should still be fired, but mercy prevails over justice and she gets help as well as retaining her job. That’s a low-level yet real circumstance, but at all levels exceptional situations occur and we may never know for sure what we’ll do until they happen.

In the next blog I’ll consider a different moral theory: consequentialism. It is not at all about rules, other than a principle to do whatever leads to the best outcome. Sounds promising? It is. But it’s also highly problematic…

[1] Today Königsberg is Kaliningrad, Russia.

[2] He changed it from Emanuel to Immanuel.

[3] The word deontology blends two Greek words, deon (‘duty’) and logos (literally ‘word’, but may also mean ‘science’ or ‘study’). Hence a deontologist studies duty.

[4] I’m indebted to Alex Barber of The Open University for these examples.

[5] This is Kant’s scenario, but I have added details to make it more vivid.

Would you torture a terrorist if that would save thousands of lives?

Here’s the situation. A terrorist has been arrested while planting a bomb in the middle of a large city. The bomb is diffused, but it’s soon very clear six or more other bombs have been planted, each timed to explode within 24 hours. The terrorist is interrogated, but he won’t reveal the location of the bombs. You are the senior political figure. The police and security services tell you there’s only one way to find the bombs: torture the prisoner to make him talk. You are asked to authorise his torture.

Torture is illegal. That is not only the law of the land, but contrary to the UN Torture Convention. It cannot be inflicted under any circumstances. You agree. Torture is heinous, a terrible evil. But the murder of thousands is also evil. In numbers and severity their deaths are a much greater evil. Surely it’s obvious which is worse? The choice is torture one very bad man, or allow bombs to explode and kill thousands including children. Which is right? What do you do?

This scenario – often called the Ticking Bomb Scenario – is wholly imaginary. It’s the invention of philosopher Michael Walzer, written to illustrate hard moral choices. Personally Walzer is utterly opposed to torture, but, to save the lives of hundreds or even thousands in a situation like this, he believes torture has to be allowed.

At the heart of the issue is what’s called ‘dirty hands’. You get dirty hands by doing something morally bad, but which is necessary to achieve a good outcome (or to minimise a bad outcome). So, in Walzer’s scenario, the politician would have dirty hands by authorising a morally evil practice, even though he authorised it so there would be good (least bad) consequences.

Here’s a real-life dirty hands story, one I partially described in a past blog post (https://occasionallywise.com/2021/07/31/rick-has-died/). The whole story is told skilfully and compellingly in the book ‘Touching the Void’.[1]

Joe and Simon had climbed an immensely high snow and ice-covered peak in the Andes. It was a major achievement for a two-person team. But getting up a mountain is one thing; getting down safely another. The descent began well, then came the accident. They were edging down an ice wall, clinging to their ice axes, when Joe’s axe gave way and he fell. He crashed into the base of the cliff, bones in his knee shattered instantly, and he was catapulted over the edge of the mountain’s East Face before his rope jerked him to a stop. The pain in his leg was excruciating. The agony in his mind was no better, for climbers knew that even a broken ankle is a death sentence in these conditions when there are only two mountaineers. Joe’s ripped knee was much worse than a broken ankle. His leg was useless, lying twisted in a hideous zigzag.

Simon now faced a dreadful choice. He could safely descend alone. With Joe? No chance. An attempt to lower Joe on a descent of 3000 feet (914 metres) would be fatal for both of them. But they decided to try. There was just one chance. First a bucket seat would be dug deep into the snow, firm enough to support Simon while he lowered Joe down the slope. When the rope was fully extended, Joe would secure himself on the slope and begin to dig another belay seat, while Simon climbed down. Then with Simon secure in the new snow seat, he’d lower Joe further. It would be immensely dangerous. If Joe fell, Simon would near-certainly be whipped from the snow and both would plunge to their deaths.

Remarkably the plan worked. With Simon holding Joe’s weight, and despite excruciating pain as his broken leg snagged on rocks and snow, Joe slid down, anchored himself, dug a new seat, let Simon descend, and the ritual began all over again. By now light was fading, snow falling, and both men had frostbitten hands.

By the fifth belay point, Joe could hardly think straight but he’d managed to secure an ice screw to free his hands which he waved to get some feeling back into them. Simon joined him, and stared at the ice screw. Both knew that ice meant something steep just below. By now they were in white-out conditions, and they’d no idea what lay ahead. But to stop was to die. They had to keep going. Joe was lowered, Simon descended, Joe was lowered, Simon descended. Over and over again. The two men almost grinned. They were getting good at this. Both began to believe they would make it to the glacier below.

On the next descent, Joe realised the slope was getting much steeper. Ahead there must be a sheer drop. Joe shouted a warning for Simon to stop lowering him, but his words were swept away. Desperately Joe tried to halt his descent, but his ice axe wouldn’t bite. Suddenly his feet hung in space and his whole body slid over an edge. He toppled backwards, dangling in spacing, spinning in circles. Somehow Simon had managed to hold his weight. When his circling eased, Joe used his torch, saw a massive overhang above, and only a sheer drop below. Even if Simon had a completely firm belay seat, he could never haul Joe up. Of course Simon was not on solid ground but sitting in snow, It was impossible.

Joe hung from his rope, and stared down. He could see enough to know he was not far from the glacier. Except, what was right below was not glacier but the gaping void of a crevasse.[2] For half an hour, Joe hung. Simon was now as trapped as he was. He would either die in his seat, or be pulled off the mountain by the strain of holding Joe.

Simon had been nearly wrenched from an already crumbling snow seat when Joe had fallen. He’d thrown himself backwards, bracing his legs against the sudden strain. He didn’t know what had happened, but guessed that Joe had fallen and couldn’t get his weight off the rope. Time passed. Simon’s legs went numb, his arms could hardly bear the weight, and his snow seat was half its original size. Desperately Simon hoped Joe could anchor himself, take his own weight, and Simon could move. It didn’t happen. After an hour, his seat was collapsing, an avalanche of snow pressed him from behind, and he began to slide.

Simon dug his feet into the slope. It stopped him momentarily. Then – only then – the thought came to Simon: his knife. With difficulty he got it from his rucksack. There was now only one option. He made his decision, put the knife to the rope and the super-tight strands parted instantly. As he pulled up the frayed end of rope, he asked himself, ‘Have I killed Joe?’

There is much, much more to that story than this. But my extract gives enough information for the tough question: Was Simon right or wrong to cut the rope?

In any ordinary circumstance, Simon had committed a serious moral crime, and possibly a legal crime. Cutting your climbing companion’s only lifeline could result in a murder charge. But Simon’s situation was no ordinary circumstance. There was no hope of saving Joe, and within seconds both Joe and Simon would plunge to their deaths. Unless, that is, Simon cut Joe’s rope. Joe would die, but losing one is better than losing two.

So, if we consider only the act of cutting Joe’s sole lifeline, the action was wrong. But, if we take a broader view, recognise that Joe was already doomed but Simon could still live, the action was right.[3] Cutting the rope gave the better consequence.

But we seem to have reached an odd conclusion, that by doing what is bad you get what is good. By doing wrong you do what’s right. That seems impossible. But some philosophers believe that’s exactly possible according to their moral theory. Other philosophers, though, think such an idea is false, and even incoherent.

And that is what the dirty hands debate is all about. Can we make sense of this? Is there any moral theory that answers the very tough questions these ideas provoke?

Those who know me personally, or have read the ‘About’ page of this blog, will know that I’m studying for a Masters degree in philosophy. My final challenge is a dissertation, and my wise or foolish choice of subject is the dirty hands dilemma.

Here are examples of questions I’m currently trying to answer:

Are there moral rules which must always be obeyed? If so, then dirty hands actions can never be done. A rule would forbid them. But that means the terrorist’s bombs will explode with mass casualties, and Simon and Joe will both fall off the mountain.
Could the gravity of a situation be so great rules must be broken? An example I’ll explain more fully next time is of a householder giving shelter to someone trying to escape a murderer – then the murderer bangs on the door and demands to know where his intended victim went – do you say ‘Come on in, he’s inside …’ or do you point into the distance and say ‘he went that way’? A man’s life depends on you lying.
Might a dirty hands action be so awful that it could never be justified no matter how terrible the consequences? Philosophers ask, ‘If the terrorist won’t tell where the bombs lie, could you torture his (wholly innocent) wife to force the terrorist’s confession?’ Could that ever be right?
Might dirty hands actions be justified only if the consequences of doing nothing reached a certain level of awfulness? Some suggest torturing the terrorist wouldn’t be justified if only a few would be killed by his bombs, but it would be entirely different if the terrorist had planted a nuclear bomb which would destroy millions.
If someone is a moral rule-keeper and refuses to do ‘what needs to be done’ (a dirty hands action), and there are dreadful consequences, should the rule-keeper be blamed, and perhaps held legally liable? For example, a beach life-guard has promised to be home in time for his daughter’s birthday party, but just before he leaves his post he’s told someone is drowning in the waves. But, he’s a rule-keeper and can’t break his promise to be present at the party. Besides, his shift-time is over, so home he goes. The person in the waves drowns. The lifeguard kept his promise, but will he not be blamed because someone died whose life he could have saved?

Thankfully the philosophical world is not on tip toes waiting for my answers to these questions. All debate will not screech to a halt because of what I write. But I’m glad to be studying something which impacts all of us. Not you? Are you sure? Next time someone you care about – a spouse, a son or daughter, your best friend, has an appalling hair cut or wears outrageous clothes, and asks ‘Do I look good in this?’ what will you say? The truth, or a lie…?

If it’s any comfort, in the next blog I’ll explain why rules matter, and why sometimes they just can’t be followed.

[1] The book details can be found here: https://www.penguin.co.uk/books/357672/touching-the-void-by-simpson-joe/9780099511748

[2] A crevasse can be 150ft/45m deep.

[3] My elite mountaineer friend Rick told me what Simon did was exactly right. Climbers understand and accept that two shouldn’t die when one could live. In fact Joe did not die, but everything that followed his plunge into a crevasse is one of the most remarkable survival stories ever recorded. Read the book!

‘Everyone should think like me’ No, they shouldn’t Part 2

Imagine a football (soccer) team where every player is a striker. Makes sense, surely, because strikers score the goals? So let’s have a team of strikers. Do that, and the team will lose every match.

The result would be the same if every (American) football team only had quarterbacks, or a cricket team only had fast bowlers, or a baseball team only had pitchers. It would be equally disastrous if an orchestra only had trombone players, or a shipbuilding yard only had welders, or a Formula One team only had drivers, or an army unit only had snipers, or a ship only had navigators.

The obvious point in all these examples is that everyone in a ‘team’ can’t be alike. No matter how wonderful some skills are, a team can’t have only that skill. When everyone is the same, the team won’t succeed.

That was the point made in the last blog.[1] A strong team can’t be homogeneous; it must be heterogeneous. The team can’t consist of lookalikes, but of people with diverse instincts, ideas, and abilities.

In this blog I want to show what that can mean in practice by explaining a system used widely by management experts. It’s not the only system, but this one is known and practised round the world. It is worth our attention.

Before getting into the details, just a short bio about its designer.

Raymond Meredith Belbin – known by his middle name – was born in 1926 in the south east England county of Kent. He might have struggled to get a place at the University of Cambridge in 1945 because World War II had just ended, and universities were swamped with applications from ex-servicemen. But few of those ex-servicemen wanted to study Classics. Meredith did. He was in! But after two years he wearied of ancient Greek and Latin literature, and switched to studying psychology. That had both career and personal consequences – career wise, because he learned to analyse human behaviour; personal, because he met a fellow psychology student called Eunice, and she became his wife. One degree completed, Meredith started another, this time a doctorate focused on the Psychology of Ageing in Industry.

After Cambridge, Meredith got a research fellowship which took him to over a hundred companies, assessing how work patterns change with age. He combined that with work for the Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development, looking at how the talents of underprivileged people were used or wasted. One of Meredith’s key findings was that the underprivileged suffered from low self-esteem in the work place unless put in exactly the right role for their skills. Only then did they have job satisfaction. It was a significant finding for Meredith.

Through connections his wife had in her professional work, Meredith was invited to do more research linked to a college at Henley-on-Thames. Meredith, Eunice and three others studied management teams in action. Business games were used to assess the interactions and contributions of each participant. It was the beginning of Team Role theory. Eventually that became the subject of Meredith’s ground-breaking 1981 book ‘Management Teams: Why They Succeed or Fail’.[2] Now in its 3^rd edition, it was named one of the top 50 management books of all time.

So the mission began. In 1988 Meredith, Eunice and their son Nigel established Belbin Associates to share Belbin Team Roles worldwide. It continues today, with management and individuals around the globe using Belbin’s model to assess the effectiveness of their teams. These days Belbin Associates operate from a base just outside Cambridge. They tell their own story of how Belbin Team Roles came about at: https://www.belbin.com/about/our-story.

Let’s move on now to understand what Belbin’s Team Roles are all about.

The fundamental thesis Behind Belbin’s team roles lie some fundamental assumptions:[3]

Individuals are brilliant, but insufficient on their own
Groups are good, but only when working well together. Belbin says: ‘What is needed is not well balanced individuals, but individuals who balance well with each other’. And: ‘Do you want a collection of brilliant minds or a brilliant collection of minds?’
Success depends not on the strengths of individuals, but on the strengths of the team.
The strongest teams have a diversity of characters and personality types

Belbin sees teams differently from how they all-too-often exist in corporations and not-for-profits where the same group exists from year to year. For Belbin, that model is too static:

‘The classic way for a team to fail is to ignore the context in which they’re working. A team should not be comprised of people who are in it as a matter of entitlement. It should be something that grows, something that’s flexible – people come in and out. Like actors on a stage, there are exits and entrances. Projects are often rolling affairs and you need different people at different stages.’[4]

That last sentence, that you need different people at different stages, is key to his team roles.

Belbin’s Team Roles Belbin originally identified eight roles, but later added one more. Each team role, he says, is ‘a tendency to behave, contribute and interrelate with others in a particular way’. He brings these tendencies together in ‘nine clusters of behavioural attributes’. These useful behaviours – ways of thinking and acting – are important for a team’s success.

So, is Belbin saying an ideal team has nine people? He is definitely not saying that. The right people can likely cover two or three team roles each. Belbin favours a team of only about five in number.

Just below I summarise each of the nine team roles. However, you will find these roles presented more fully, clearly and colourfully at https://www.belbin.com/about/belbin-team-roles and, in a different but still very useful form, at: https://www.ifm.eng.cam.ac.uk/research/dmg/tools-and-techniques/belbins-team-roles/

The nine roles are divided into three groups of three. Each role is one which a good team needs, so there’s no ranking of roles, as if some are more important than others. Have a look at the table, and then read my explanatory notes below it.

Coordinator	Mature, confident, focuses on team’s objectives, involves everyone, delegates well	Manipulative, offloads work
Resource investigator	Enthusiastic, explores opportunities, makes contacts	May be over-optimistic, can lose interest
Teamworker	Cooperative, listener, diminishes friction	Indecisive, avoids confrontation

Plant	Creative, idea generator, problem solver	Can ignore details, forget to communicate
Monitor evaluator	Sober, strategic, weighs options	May be overly critical, uninspiring to others
Specialist	Specialist knowledge / skills, single-minded	Narrow focus, may dwell on details

Shaper	Moves group forward, loves pressure, dynamic, overcomes obstacles	Can provoke and offend others
Implementer	Makes strategy workable and efficient in delivery, practical, turns ideas into action	May resist changes to their plans
Completer Finisher	Painstaking. Near the end, scrutinises for errors, polishes and perfects proposals	May worry unduly. Does not readily delegate

As you can see, there are three columns in the table. The left hand column has the role titles. The middle column combines qualities and skills. The right column details (what Belbin calls) ‘allowable weaknesses’ for the person in that role.

As mentioned earlier, there are three groups of three. That’s how Belbin sets out these roles. Others name the first three ‘people-oriented roles’, the middle three ‘cerebral roles’ and the last three ‘action-oriented roles’. Personally I don’t find these group titles helpful. Surely every role is people-oriented, involves thinking and leads to action.

My thoughts on some of these roles:

The ‘coordinator’ is very likely the chairperson of the group. This person directs the agenda, and largely enables all the other roles to happen.
I hope everyone has ideas, but I also recognise that a ‘resource investigator’ kind of person is needed. Someone who sees possibilities others don’t is an asset. In my experience super-confidence of success is hard-wired into these people, so they tend to disbelieve when told ‘that won’t work’. They can also be impatient with the painstaking work of transforming ideas into workable solutions.
The ‘implementer’ is the person who can make new ideas workable within an organisation or business. That’s especially important when the team includes ‘outsiders’ who have great theories but which can’t work unless adjusted to fit the required context.
The ‘completer finisher’ role was missing in many of the teams I’ve led. It’s the person who can bring everything the team has decided into a manageable and attractive form, whether it’s to present to a board of directors, to a staff gathering, or to volunteers and supporters. Often it’s assumed the chairperson will do that, but the coordinator role involves different skills from the completer finisher.

Almost lastly, some more general thoughts about this system:

First, what I like about Belbin is his identification of the key roles that need to be covered within a team. Most of us could likely think of other roles, but those I can imagine could fit under one of Belbin’s headings. Also, I respect that Belbin’s system has been around for a long time now, and these nine roles gel with the thinking of thousands of leaders.

Second, I’ve been part of many groups which didn’t cover all these roles. That’s bound to happen. Even if we can’t remedy the gaps, it’s very necessary that we recognise what we’re lacking. For example, I watched a group recommend wholesale changes to the way an organisation was run. Significantly, not a single member of that group worked for the organisation. That was a strength because they could bring a fresh perspective. It was also a weakness because their fresh perspective wasn’t feasible. If they had recognised their lack of an implementer, and brought in such a person before finalising their recommendations, a lot of trouble would have been avoided.

Third, it’s important to repeat that nine roles doesn’t mean nine people on a committee or team. Nine is only the number of roles that should be covered, but some people can be effective in two or even three areas.

Fourth, Belbin’s tool can be used to educate team members about their particular role(s). And, as important, to help team members know what is not their role. In my experience, most people asked to join a team think they can contribute to every part of the team’s work. Certainly, every person matters equally but every opinion is not equally right. I’ve listened to group members argue dogmatically about subjects they know nothing about. I learned to stop them. They could influence views unwisely or simply waste the group’s time. Far better is to help people understand where their contribution is most needed, and how to listen while those with different expertise speak in other areas.

Fifth, just as psychometric tests don’t define exact personality types but tendencies, so there’s flexibility in respect of who is suitable for these roles. Someone who doesn’t naturally incline to a role may be open to learning how to fulfil it. That may not be ideal, but it may be a very good second best.

Sixth, what if a group is formed and almost no-one at all has any of the skills necessary for these roles? Unfortunately, that’s not uncommon. It’s particularly a danger when a large group is asked ‘Who’s willing to serve on the new team we’re setting up?’ Perhaps eight volunteer, so they become the team. But no-one vetted those eight. Maybe the main reason they’re free to participate is because no-one deemed them suitable for any other team. So, my advice is: a) Don’t ask for volunteers – appoint people to teams; b) Do your best to ensure that what that group exists to do isn’t vital for the organisation’s success; c) The leaders who allowed such a group to come into existence need to rethink their own leadership skills.

I’ll finish with three other details about Belbin and Belbin Associates.

At the time of writing Meredith Belbin is 96 and continues to live in the south of England.
He is a visiting professor and Honorary Fellow of Henley Management College in Oxfordshire, England.
If you go to the ‘Contact’ page at www.belbin.com, you’ll find this: 1) A promise that if you call them, you won’t hear an automated menu of options because an actual person will answer the phone; 2) You can make contact by calling, emailing, using social media, or by sending a letter to Belbin Associates, and the address for your letter is given. I have never before seen a website with an invite to write an actual letter!

That last point – about sending a letter – is utterly charming. It has lifted Belbin Associates even higher in my estimation.

[1] https://occasionallywise.com/2022/07/23/

[2] ‘Management Teams: Why They Succeed or Fail’, published by Routledge, 208 pages. ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1856178072

[3] I’m mostly using my own words and summary, but sometimes adopting phrases from Belbin.

[4] From an interview with Meredith Belbin c.2004 by Jane Lewis: https://www.belbin.com/media/1391/belbin-edgemagazinearticle.pdf

‘Everyone should think like me’ No, they shouldn’t

Confession time: I’ve chaired meetings where opinions came thick and fast from north, south, east and west, and I’ve sighed inwardly: ‘Why can’t they all think like me?’ If only they did, I reckoned our business would be much more efficient and harmonious – and we’d be finished in half the time.

It wasn’t as if I hadn’t made the issues clear – diagnosed the problem, clarified the goal, identified challenges, presented the solution. Surely they’d all immediately fall in line? What more could they want?

What they wanted, of course, was to consider the issues from other angles, for other ideas to be aired, for other solutions to be considered. What was going wrong? The answer was simple: my vision was my vision, and not their vision.

And, inconvenient though that was, I was missing precisely the point of having a team or task force, or committee. When working well, a group will generate better strategies and better results than any individual could achieve.

Why is that true? And how can a group work well? Hopefully there are some answers here.

But, first, is there ever a time for autocratic leadership?

The simple answer is ‘yes’, and here are four situations when it’s necessary.

When there’s an emergency There’s been an earthquake. People are trapped under rubble. If there’s not immediate action, many will die. Someone must take charge, give orders, and get people rescued. There isn’t time to form a committee, have meetings, delegate tasks. The sole priority is action.

When there’s an imminent deadline I was involved in radio broadcasting, supplying local radio stations and the BBC. The pressure was on when a live show was about to go on air. The programme producer and his team would have shared ideas and planned the programme earlier, but on the morning of broadcast only one voice gave orders. The producer called the shots. With the show about to air, no-one disputed the producer’s instructions.

When the only expert is the leader It’s an uncommon situation, but sometimes only one person really knows what to do. Here’s a scenario. You’re a novice climbing in the Alps or Himalayas, part of a group led to the top by an expert mountaineer. Suddenly, as if from nowhere, you’re caught in a blizzard. Visibility is near zero. The wind almost throws you off the mountain. The temperature plummets to a dangerous low. How will anyone survive? Only one person has been through this before. Orders are shouted: dig in the snow, get roped together, shelter from the biting wind. The mountaineer is the expert, and everyone’s life depends on following orders immediately and without question.

When obedience to commands is essential The chain of command is critical in the military, especially in combat. The commander’s battle plan is the agenda; there is no other. If circumstances demand change, the order comes from an authorised officer. Groups can’t gather on the battlefield or flight deck to share their opinions. Nor can a private decide their strategy is a better one. In the cauldron of war, following orders is critical.

There are critical times, then, when forming a team is not the right thing to do. Teams, though, may have met earlier. For example, no senior commander decides a battle plan without input from other officers. But once the attack is launched, or a deadline is near or an emergency happens, it’s not discussion time. Everyone falls in line with one person’s orders.

But autocratic leadership isn’t the norm. Those circumstances are extreme or unusual. So, let’s now think about everyday situations, and find wisdom for how committees and teams should work in normal circumstances.

Why do we need a group at all?

When I was young and foolish, I solo-organised a day conference for about 200 attendees. To be honest, even at the time I didn’t think planning everything myself was a great idea, but my life was crazy busy, I was seriously over-tired, and I just wanted the job done without hassle. So I did it alone. I decided the programme, I booked the facilities, I appointed the speakers, I managed the budget, I organised volunteers, I allocated tasks, and on the day I became the go-to person for every problem. Mostly it worked. But I was exhausted, knew the event could have been better, and vowed never to be a one-person committee again. And I never have.

But why not? After all, it worked.

Yes, but it didn’t work well. That conference wasn’t the success it might have been.

What I’d needed was a group with members not like me. Let me explain why.

Flying solo as a leader is simply foolish. The work is too much, the decisions too often only the leader’s way of doing things, the process too tiring, the programme too narrowly focused, the expertise too limited, the responsibility (and the blame) too burdensome.
A good group is one with members who are not like the leader. It’ll consist of people with different experiences, ideas, skills, and personalities. That’s not obvious to all leaders. Why not? Because they love homogeneity. My dictionary defines homogeneous as ‘of the same or a similar kind or nature’ i.e., people like ourselves. We’re comfortable around people who think like us and act like us. But that’s a problem. Let’s imagine you’ve formed a team totalling ten, much better than relying only on your own wisdom. You congratulate yourself for multiplying the store of wisdom ten times. No, you haven’t. If they’re just like you, you haven’t multiplied wisdom at all. All you’ve created is a group with the wisdom of one, but replicated nine times.
That’s why there’s no benefit if everyone thinks like you. There’s no added brainpower. There are no additional gifts. When we have people who can think differently and do things we can’t do, that’s gain.
In other words we need heterogeneity. My dictionary defines heterogeneous as ‘diverse in character or content’. Then each person in the group can ‘bring something different to the table’. New ideas, new approaches, and even new goals emerge. That’s a powerful group. Yes, it’s more work to bring together and hold together, but it’s absolutely worth it.

What are the leadership challenges with bringing together a well-functioning heterogeneous group?

Believing you need it No-one becomes a significant leader without a healthy dose of self-confidence. We believe in ourselves. We trust our judgments. We know our abilities. True, but that all too easily becomes an unhealthy dose of self-confidence. We imagine we don’t need support, or guidance, or counter-argument. When we meet resistance, we just push harder, squashing the opposition. That’s almost always unwise. The hard truth for some of us is not that we don’t believe we need a team around us, we don’t want a team around us. They might spoil our plans. But leaders with a healthy self-confidence are humble enough to know they need others, and strong enough to lead a group whose thinking is different from their own.
Being told your ideas are limited or wrong Surrounding yourself with a team who say ‘yes’ to everything you propose is pointless. That’s just the 1+9 wisdom I described earlier. Sadly, though, many leaders have a tough time listening to views which clash with their own. Their strongest instinct is to argue back, and prove the alternative idea won’t work or isn’t as good. I’ve seen that done. It silences the person who spoke up, and usually everyone else in the room. After all, who wants to be next to experience the leader’s put-down? And, if there isn’t a put-down, the leader’s response may be, ‘Thank you for that idea, let’s park it for the moment… Now, next…’ and the alternative thought is conveniently forgotten. If a leader isn’t open to anything but their own opinion, it’s best not to waste everyone else’s time. A good leader is a humble leader. They don’t lack plans, but they’re willing to take the best from others to elevate small ideas into great strategies.
Getting the best from a diverse group takes skill A truly heterogeneous group won’t think alike. They’re not meant to. The goal of the team isn’t identical thinking, but to apply their diverse skills towards the group’s purpose. A goal has probably been defined already for the group. It might be a fund-raising target, or recruiting more volunteers, or spreading the organisation’s message, or improving internal communication, or enhancing working conditions. The task is given, and the team’s job is defining the best way to achieve the goal. So, first, the leader ensures the group understands its role. Second, the leader helps each person know their particular, distinctive role, and what their role isn’t. That helps prevent person A telling person B what B should be thinking or doing. Third, the leader keeps each person focused on their unique role, because role-drift is common. Don’t most of us think we could do someone else’s job better? Fourth, the leader needs to blend soft and hard skills: soft, to encourage each person in their role; hard, to be firm about the purpose of the group. Fifth, the leader needs to be secure in their ego, not claiming personal glory but constantly praising and celebrating the group’s success.

I’m conscious all the above sounds difficult. I won’t pretend it’s easy. But it’s much needed. I hear people groan about committees or task groups, that they’re time-consuming and never achieve anything. That’s not fair for I’ve seen great groups achieve marvellous results. But, sometimes, those criticisms are dangerously near to being true. We must do better. And we can. This has been part one of a look at could be called ‘team dynamics’. Next time we’ll look at a world famous method for bringing the best from a team. Want a hint? It began with a man whose middle name is Meredith.

Unintended consequences

Like most golf courses, the fairways of Augusta National Golf Club, host of the annual Masters Tournament, were mowed in both directions – one stripe (or section) mowed from the teeing ground toward the green, and the adjoining one mowed from the green back toward the tee. That’s obviously efficient – when the ride-on mower gets to one end, it just turns around and mows back the other way. But, so it’s said, some elite golfers complained that there was an advantage or disadvantage depending on whether your ball landed on grass leaning back towards the tee or leaning forward towards the green. There was less resistance to the ball when it dropped on grass tilted toward the green, so it went further. The distance our drives go, they said, shouldn’t depend on which stripe of grass it lands on. The Augusta Club thought about that, and solved the problem. It cut all the grass only in one direction – leaning back towards the tee. That was not at all what those players wanted. But it’s what they got; their complaint had resulted in an unwelcome, unintended consequence.

I’m not sure that story is entirely true, except that Augusta these days does mow its fairways from green back to teeing ground. Not that it actually matters. Scientific tests have shown that neither direction of mowing makes any difference to how far the ball runs.

The point of the story, though, is that words and actions can very easily have unintended consequences.

When I first experienced severe back pain (in my teens and twenties), I was made to lie on a hard board placed on top of my bed’s mattress. On another occasion I lay on the floor beside my bed. Such practices were the wisdom of the time. Except – at least for me – they weren’t at all wise. The pressure of the hard surface made my back much worse. An unintended consequence.

When Russia invaded Ukraine in early 2022, many commentators explained that the Russian President, Vladimir Putin, did not want a NATO-member country right on his border. The invasion was to prevent Ukraine ever being that nation. But that invasion made both Sweden and Finland afraid they might be a future target of Russian aggression. So both these traditionally neutral, unaligned countries applied for NATO membership. If granted, which is likely, that will seriously displease President Putin. Why? Because Finland has an 830 mile (1340 km) border with Russia. The goal he did not want – a NATO country as his immediate neighbour – he looks certain to have. An unintended consequence.

We all attempt things which don’t work out. We don’t pass an exam, our auction bid fails, our house plants die, our penalty kick misses the goal, our application for promotion is rejected, the car we repaired won’t go. And so on. But unintended consequences aren’t about trying and getting nothing. They’re about trying and getting something we didn’t expect.

That happened to me back in the days of four-ring electric cookers when two rings on our cooker stopped working. To do nothing would have left us with a barely usable cooker. Being a man of action I set out to fix what was broken. I took all the rings off, so I could see how they were wired and fitted. That went well, other than it didn’t help me diagnose the problem. Actually, only my dismantling went well. My reassembly went very badly because, when I finished, instead of two broken cooker rings we now had four broken cooker rings, and I couldn’t repair any of them. But this is a bad/good story because my attempts to fix the cooker had two unintended consequences. First, that cooker died completely. Second, we bought a much better cooker.

We all experience unintended consequences. To help you survive them, I can offer one reality check and two encouragements.

Reality check: Life is neither predictable nor controllable

Normally we expect our plans to work out as intended: that the plane we’re booked on will fly; the meal we’ve prepared for guests will taste good; our car will run smoothly. But none of these are guaranteed. The plane might have a faulty engine and never take off (I’ve experienced that); the meat may be left in the oven so long it’s become a burnt offering (I did that); the car won’t go because it was filled with diesel instead of petrol (someone else did that). The old saying that ‘Man proposes but God disposes’ reminds us not everything works out as we expect.

That’s true even when there’s a very carefully crafted business plan and big budget. Most major supermarkets have installed self-checkout facilities. You scan your own goods, then pay, and then go. It avoids a queue at a cashier checkout. Surely that’s good? But a survey of 1000 customers found 67% had problems at self-check kiosks. By the time they got assistance, sometimes more than once, they’d have been quicker going to a cashier. So, customers weren’t delighted. Surely the stores benefited? Maybe not. It’s not clear that businesses have found self-checkout helpful or profitable. The idea of getting the customer to do work previously done by cashiers must have seemed good to management, but:

The self-check machines are expensive to buy and install, and they need regular, costly maintenance
They often break down, perhaps causing the kind of queues for customers the system was supposed to avoid
Customers don’t enjoy scanning their own items so they buy less
Staff still have to be employed to assist customers with difficulties
More shoplifting happens through self-checkouts than traditional cashier checkouts, and that’s costly.

Installing self-checkout facilities was not a whim, but a carefully worked out plan and investment to boost profits, and to please customers by speeding them through the scan/pay/go experience. But the plan didn’t deliver only benefits. As the bullet points above show, there have been unwelcome and unintended consequences.[1]

The reality is that a sizeable percentage of all our plans don’t work out the way we intend. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t define goals and might as well give up on organisation. We should aim for the best and do our best to achieve it. But be humble – we may not have thought of everything. And be flexible – things may have to change. And be accepting – life rarely involves a straight line from A to B, never mind from A to Z.

Life is neither predictable nor controllable.

Unintended consequences may be more significant than anything we intended

It’s 2003, and a second year Harvard student is creating a website. He calls it Facemash. Many might think it inappropriate, because the site gives his fellow Harvard students the chance to compare two photos and decide which one is ‘hot’ and which is ‘not’. His initial thought is to use school facebook[2] photos – many of which he thought ugly – and put them alongside images of farm animals. In the end, he copied images from several facebooks, and got users to choose the ‘hotter’ person. In its first four hours online Facemash attracted 450 visitors and 22,000 photo-views. It began to take off on other campuses, but the Harvard administration then stepped in and almost expelled the student.

But in January 2004 that student, Mark Zuckerberg, began writing code for (what he initially called) TheFacebook. All he intended was a website that would link everyone on the Harvard campus. He had no thought beyond that. But much more happened. By December 2005 (what was now called) Facebook had six million users.[3] The estimate for 2022 is almost three billion monthly active users worldwide. All that Zuckerberg intended was to link Harvard students together. But the unintended consequence has been an unprecedented take up and growth. People have strong pro and anti feelings about social media, but undeniably Facebook’s story over less than 20 years is truly remarkable.

The chances that our unintended consequences will be like those encountered by Mark Zuckerberg are very close to zero. But we can learn that unanticipated consequences need not be unwelcome consequences. It’s very possible that the unintended consequences in your life will be greater and more wonderful than anything you anticipated.

And that brings me to the final encouragement.

Unintended consequences can be absolutely, excitingly, life-changingly delightful

Here’s my story of exactly that.

My career beginnings were in journalism, leaving school and starting work with The Scotsman (which, never short on modesty, has for decades described itself as Scotland’s national quality newspaper). My first year with the paper was mostly journalism studies at college, then followed by two years full-time as reporter and sub-editor. It was during that time I made my Christian commitment and only months after that I felt I should prepare for Christian ministry. That would mean going to university. I didn’t have the qualifications for entry, so I began studying at evening classes. But severe back pain halted all work and study for about two months. I recovered but realised I’d never get into university with part-time study. I resigned from The Scotsman and enrolled full-time at a further education college. One year later I had the passes needed to enter the University of Edinburgh.

I began alongside thousands more freshers. One of the other new students at the University should have arrived one year earlier, but her intended course of study was being revamped so they’d cancelled the previous year’s admission. Hence she began the same year I did. We met within a few weeks, and three years later Alison and I got married. That was undoubtedly the greatest wisdom either of us ever had. And, well over four decades later, being together keeps getting better.

But very easily it might never have happened. What if I had done better at high school and gone on immediately to university? What if I’d made my Christian commitment some other time? What if I hadn’t been sidelined by bad health when I first tried to improve my qualifications? What if Alison’s course hadn’t been pushed back a year? But all these factors, all these circumstances, strangely and wonderfully had the unplanned, unforeseen, unintended consequence that Alison and I met.

In my opinion, there’s a lot to be said for unintended consequences.

[1] Much of the information here is from https://edition.cnn.com/2022/07/09/business/self-checkout-retail/index.html

[2] Albums with photos of every student.

[3] Information from: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_Facebook

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