Part I
Bumping into Our Blind Spot
This book is written for leaders, the individuals or groups who initiate innovation or changeâthe âartists.â All leaders and innovators, whether in business, communities, government, or nonprofit organizations, do what artists do: they create something new and bring it into the world. The open question is: Where do their actions come from? We can observe what leaders do. We also can observe how they do it, what strategies and processes they deploy. But we canât see the inner place, the source from which people act when, for example, they operate at their highest possible level or, alternatively, when they act without engagement or commitment.
That brings us to the territory of what I call our âblind spot.â The blind spot concerns that part of our seeing that we usually donât see. Itâs the inner place or source from which a person or a social system operates. That blind spot is present every day in all systems. But it is hidden. It is our task, as leaders, and as creators, to notice how the blind spot shows up. For instance, Francisco J. Varela, the late professor of cognitive science and epistemology in Paris, told me that âthe blind spot of contemporary science is experience.â This blind spot shows up in many different ways. We will learn about them as we continue this âfield walk,â this âlearning journey,â together.
The following seven chapters offer seven perspectives from which we can explore the different ways the blind spot shows up in society, in science, and in systems thinking as a defining feature of our time. Blind spots appear in individuals, groups, institutions, societies, and systems; they reveal themselves in our theories and concepts in the form of deep epistemological and ontological assumptions.
I invite you to explore with me several different areas of the blind spot. We start from the view of the self and move through the team, the organization, society, the social sciences, and, finally, philosophy.
Chapter 1
Facing the Fire
When I left my German farmhouse that morning for school, I had no idea it was the last time I would see my home, a large 350-year-old farmhouse thirty miles north of Hamburg. It was just another ordinary day at school until about one oâclock, when the teacher called me out of class. âYou should go home now, Otto.â I noticed that her eyes were slightly red. She did not tell me why I needed to hurry home, but I was concerned enough to try to call home from the train station. There was no ring. The line was obviously dead. I had no idea what might have happened, but by then I knew it probably wasnât good. After the usual one-hour train ride I ran to the entrance of the station and jumped into a cab. Something told me I didnât have time to wait for my usual bus. Long before the cab arrived, I saw huge gray and black clouds of smoke billowing up into the air. My heart was pounding as the cab approached our long driveway. I recognized hundreds of our neighbors, area firefighters, and policemen along with people Iâd never seen before. I jumped from the cab and ran down through the crowd, the last half mile of our chestnut-lined driveway. When I reached the courtyard, I could not believe my eyes. The world I had lived in all my life was gone. Vanished. All up in smoke.
There was nothingâabsolutely nothingâleft except the raging flames. As the reality of the fire in front of my eyes began to sink in, I felt as if somebody had ripped away the ground from under my feet. The place of my birth, childhood, and youth was gone. I just stood there, taking in the heat of the fire and feeling time slowing down. As my gaze sank deeper and deeper into the flames, the flames also seemed to sink into me. Suddenly I realized how attached I had been to all the things destroyed by the fire. Everything I thought I was had dissolved into nothing. Everything? No, perhaps not everything, for I felt that a tiny element of my self still existed. Somebody was still there, watching all this. Who?
At that moment I realized there was a another dimension of my self that I hadnât previously been aware of, a dimension that related not to my past experiencesâthe world that had just dissolved in front of my eyesâbut to my future possibilities, a world that I could bring into reality with my life. At that moment time slowed down to stillness, and I felt drawn in a direction above my physical body and began watching the scene from that unknown place. I felt my mind quieting and expanding in a moment of unparalleled clarity of awareness. I realized that I was not the person I had thought I was. My real self was not attached to all the material possessions smoldering inside the ruins. I suddenly knew that I, my true Self, was still alive! It was this âIâ that was the seer. And this seer was more alive, more awake, more acutely present than the âIâ I had known before. I was no longer weighted down by all the material possessions the fire had just consumed. With everything gone, I was lighter and free, released to encounter the other part of my self, the part that drew me into the futureâinto my futureâinto a world waiting for me, that I might bring into reality with my forward journey.
The next day my eighty-seven-year old grandfather arrived for what would be his last visit to the farm. He had lived in that house all his life, beginning in 1890. Because of medical treatments, he had been away the week before the fire, and when he arrived at the courtyard the day after the fire, he summoned his last energy, got out of the car, and went straight to where my father was working on the cleanup. He did not even once turn his head to the smoking ruins. Without seeming to notice the small fires still burning around the property, he went up to my father, took his hand, and said, âKopf hoch, mein Junge, blick nach vorn!â âKeep your head up, my boy, look forward!â Then he turned, walked directly back to the waiting car, and left. A few days later he died quietly.
Only years later did I realize that my experience in front of the fire was the beginning of a journey. My journey began with the recognition that I am not just one self but two selves. One self is connected to the past, and the second self connects to who I could become in the future. In front of the fire I experienced how these two selves started to connect to each other. Today, thirty-seven years later and several thousand miles away in Boston, Massachusetts, these two questions appear to be more relevant than ever: âWho is my true self?â and âHow does this self relate to the other stream of timeâthe one that seemed to draw me from the future that wants to emerge?â
The journey of Theory U is basically an inquiry into this question: How can we access these deeper sources of time, being, and self in a way that is reliable, practical, and collectiveâand that works without your family farmhouse going up in flames every morning? These questions eventually prompted me to leave Germany for the United States in 1994 to continue my research at the MIT Organizational Learning Center.
Chapter 2
The Journey to âUâ
Theory U ⢠Interview with Brian Arthur at Xerox PARC ⢠Francisco Varela on the Blind Spot in Cognition Sciences ⢠The Inner Territory of Leadership
Theory U: Beginnings
As just discussed, the blind spot concerns the structure and source of our attention. I first began noticing this blind spot in organizations when I spoke with Bill OâBrien, the former CEO of Hanover Insurance. He told me that his greatest insight after years of conducting organizational learning projects and facilitating corporate change was that âthe success of an intervention depends on the interior condition of the intervener.â That struck a chord! So itâs not only what leaders do and how they do it but their âinterior condition,â that is, the inner place from which they operateâthe source and quality of their attention. So this suggests the same person in the same situation doing the same thing can effect a totally different outcome depending on the inner place from where that action is coming.
When I realized that, I asked myself: What do we know about that inner place? We know everything about the what and the how, the actions and the processes that leaders and managers use. But what do we know about that inner place? Nothing! I wasnât even sure whether there were only one or many of these inner places. Do we have two? Ten? We donât know because itâs in our blind spot. Yet what I have heard time and time again from profound innovators and creative people is that it is exactly that kind of blind spot that matters most. It is that blind spot that sets apart master practitioners and leaders from average performers. This is why Aristotle over 2,300 years ago made a distinction between normal scientific âwhatâ knowledge (episteme) and practical and technical âhowâ knowledge (phronesis, techne) on the one hand and the inner primary knowing of first principles and sources of awareness (nous) and wisdom (Sophia) on the other.1
Shortly after I came to MIT in 1994, I watched a live broadcast on organizational learning. In response to a question from the audience, Rick Ross, coauthor of The Fifth Discipline Fieldbook, went to the whiteboard and wrote the following three words:
FIGURE 2.1: LEVELS OF ORGANIZATIONAL CHANGE
When I saw that simple presentation, I realized that organizational change happens on different layers. In a flash I began mentally seeing these layers. Diagramming them helped, because the changes from structure to process to thoughts present more and more subtle shifts. When I completed the drawing in my mind, I had added two more levelsâabove structure and below thoughtâas well as a horizontal dimension showing change as we move from perceiving something to acting on it. This is how it began to look:
I began calling the state at the bottom of the U âPresencing.â I will talk much more about this in Part III, but for now, we can call it âseeing from our deepest sourceâ: that is, sensing and operating from oneâs highest future potential. It is the state each of us can experience when we open not just our minds but our hearts and our willsâour impetus to actâin order to deal with the new realities emerging all around us.
FIGURE 2.2: FIVE LEVELS OF CHANGE
Whenever I used this framework in presentations and in my work with groups, organizations, and communities, I noticed how deeply it resonated with experienced practitioners. As they worked with this U image, people began to understand its two key dimensions. One is the distinction between perception and action that defines the horizontal axis, as we work from deeply connecting and sensing toward enacting and realizing. The vertical axis then shows us the different levels of change from the shallowest response, âReacting,â down through the deepest, âRe-generating.â2
Most change and learning methods are based on the Kolb Learning Cycle, which suggests a version of the following sequence: observe, reflect, plan, and act. By grounding the learning process this way, the learning cycles are based on learning from the experiences of the past.3 The distinction made by Harvard and MITâs Chris Argyris and Don SchĂśn between single-loop and double-loop learning refers to learning from experiences of the past.4 Single-loop learning is reflected in the levels of reacting and restructuring, while reframing is an example of double-loop learning (which includes a reflection of oneâs deep assumptions and governing variables). However, the deepest level of the U graphicâreferred to as regeneratingâgoes beyond double-loop learning. It accesses a different stream of timeâthe future that wants to emergeâand is what in this book I will refer to as presencing or âthe U process.â
The concept of the U, of course, didnât spring from nothing. It emerged from many years of study and work on change in different contexts and movements, which are documented in two of my earlier books.5 Important sources of my early thinking about social development and change included a global learning journey whose purpose was to study the dynamics of peace and conflict (in 1989â1990). It led me to India to study Gandhiâs approach of nonviolent conflict transformation, and to China, Vietnam, and Japan to study Buddhism, Confucianism, and Daoism as different approaches to development and being. I also had the fortune to work with unique academic teachers, Ekkehard Kappler and Johan Galtung, who taught me that critical thinking and science can function as powerful forces for social transformation and change. Other influences on my thinking were the work of the avant-garde artist Joseph Beuys, and the writings of Henry David Thoreau, Martin Buber, Friedrich Nietzsche, Edmund Husserl, Martin Heidegger, and JĂźrgen Habermas, as well as some of the old masters like Hegel, Fichte, Aristotle, and Plato. Among the philosophical sources, perhaps most influential was the work of the educator and social innovator Rudolf Steiner, whose synthesis of science, consciousness, and social innovation continues to inspire my work and whose methodological grounding in Goetheâs phenomenological view of science has left the most significant imprint on Theory U. The simplest way of locating Theory U in the landscape of intellectual traditions is to identify it as applied phenomenologyâ...