A Departure Plan

Watching recent events in the Middle East got me thinking about, what else, project leadership.

Specifically, the revolution in Egypt reminded me of one of the most important aspects of just about any kind of leadership, project or otherwise: planning for your eventual absence.

People like Castro, Mubarak, Gaddafi and Steve Jobs drive me nuts. Why? Not just because they won't go away, but because they have no succession plan. That's fine if you're immortal, but even Castro will kick the bucket some day (seriously, how is that guy still around? He's going to out live me at this rate.). And please, a half-hearted hand-off to your brother Raul doesn't really qualify as a plan.

Yes, I know it's difficult to find a replacement. Good help is hard to find, blah blah blah. If you've been leading a place for 30 or 40 years, it's hard to imagine anyone else can take your place.  Nobody else knows as much as you do. Nobody else is as well informed as you are. Nobody else is as connected. But here's the thing - at some point, you won't be around. Also, the world won't end when that happens.

This isn't just an issue for dictators. It happens in organizations as well. I've come across more than one senior authority figure who regularly make it clear they zero plans to ever leave... and thus they don't taken any steps to groom a successor. That's irresponsible. It's bad leadership. Also, it's lazy.

As a leader, the best legacy you can leave is a good hand-off to the next guy. If you really want to keep doing the same thing until you drop dead, that's fine... just don't take one of those top-of-the-pyramid jobs, where large numbers of people will be negatively affected by the chaotic impact of your sudden departure.

Sure, it's easy for me to say all this stuff. I never stay in one place for more than a year or two. One of the first things I do when I come into a new job is start thinking about how I'll hand it to my successor. Not because I'm itching to move on, but because I don't want to leave a mess behind... 'cause unlike some people, I know I won't be here forever.

Welcome Coasties!

I had a great time at Coast Guard HQ today, talking about FIST with a very cool group of America's Maritime Guardians. I wanted to say a public thanks for the warm welcome and the engaging questions... I hope they enjoyed our time together as much as I did. And a special thanks to those who were able to stick around for lunch afterwards. I look forward to continuing the conversation and hope you'll all keep in touch!

I also wanted to mention I recently updated the FIST Handbook. for those who haven't seen it previously, I should explain that in keeping with my preference for simplicity, the handbook is just a Google Document with a bunch of links for further reading. The big update is this: it now it also has links to some of the tools I talk about (extreme programming, SEI's Acquistion Archetypes report, etc). Whee!

Happy reading!

Defaults, Signs and Doors

Let me start by stating the obvious: the default status of a door is "Usable." 

I mention that because in my experience, there's no need to put up a sign saying "This Door Works" on every door that works. People just assume if the door is there, it can be opened. It's a reasonable assumption. 

On the other hand, doors you can't use generally merit an explanatory sign to warn would-be openers that such behavior is not allowed. These signs generally say "Door Blocked" or "Use Other Door" or some such thing. With me so far?

And continuing the theme of "let me state the obvious," a red sign with white lettering generally means one thing: DANGER! Yes, they can also mean STOP or DO NOT ENTER, but these three concepts are related, are they not? They're all variations on the theme of "do not proceed." You hardly ever come across a red sign with white letters that says FREE KITTIES, and if you do, don't take one 'cause they're probably demon kitties.

Given these facts, can someone please explain the sign below? It's posted on the door that leads out of my office area. 

Tell me you didn't have to read it twice, just to be sure you read it right. And no, this is not an emergency exit. It's the door I go through several times a day.

Now, I get that as a military organization we use words like Egress. Fine. I won't quibble over word choice, even though it's a stupid word (ok, I'll quibble a little bit). My objection is that this sign is on the door I'm supposed to use. It gets better. The twin door right next to it, the one that's locked in place and cannot be opened... is unmarked.

Let me just say Aw, come on! Seriously? Who does that? Jeez! 

Ahem. 

Alright, it's not a huge deal, but it does cause some unnecessary confusion. For example, we recently had a visitor to the office. He'd never been here before. When our meeting ended we all walked towards the exit. We were talking. He was distracted. He didn't read the sign, but simply did the logical thing - steered away from the RED DANGER sign he saw out of the corner of his eye and instead slammed into the unmarked, unopenable door. He didn't read the sign because a) he was in a conversation and b) he didn't think he'd have to read it, 'cause it's a RED DANGER sign. Like I said, demon kitties.

The point, of course, is that standards matter. They are powerful shortcuts to communication and when used well, they allow a person in a conversation to catch a warning and steer away from the locked door. Yes, inverting their meaning can be a useful exercise in creativity. It can make some thought-provoking art or deeply funny pranks. But sometimes the right answer is to let a door be a door, and put the red sign on the door that doesn't open.

Future Combat Systems

I've often said that any program with the word "Future" in its name is doomed from the start, because if you're building a system for the Future, well, you'll never deliver it because the future never comes. We all live in the present. Two infamous examples are the Future Combat System and the Future Imagery Architecture (both were cancelled).

Seriously, what was the plan for those two once they were fielded? Were we going to change the name to the Present Combat System? Or how about Today's Imagery Architecture? Lame.

The thing is, these names reveal something about their purpose and design values. Calling something the Future X means we think it's going to be cool (eventually) as we fly around in our silver jumpsuits and jetpacks. It's also an explicit acknowledgement that the thing isn't relevant to today's activities. To borrow the old cliche, it's the system of the future... and it always will be.

But it occurred to me that in the FCS case, maybe the word Future wasn't the only problem. Maybe the word System was inappropriate as well.

See, FCS wasn't really building a system. It was a collection of largely immature technologies that were not ready for prime time. The FCS program was trying to bring these technologies together before they were actually usable, integrating things that had no business being integrated. The phrase "it's not soup yet" comes to mind. That's not how you build a system. That's building new technologies, which is a whole other ball of wax.

Just something to keep in mind on your projects. If you're building a fieldable system, it should consist of mature, proven technologies. If you're still messing around in the lab with breadboards, call it what ever you want, but don't call it a system.

The Odd Duck

In a land of reptiles and mammals, a bird is an odd duck.

That is, if the only two categories you have are reptiles and mammals, where do you put a bird? It's warm blooded, so it's clearly not a reptile. Therefore, it must be a mammal. But it lays eggs and has no hair, so it's not a mammal. Therefore it must be a reptile. If you find enough birds you'll eventually make a new category. If you only find one or two, you're just gonna have a problem.

And what about Australia? Is it a continent or an island? Um... both? Neither? If we had more land masses like Australia, we'd have a term to describe them. But it's the only one, so we're kinda stuck. This doesn't mean the concepts of continents and islands are useless... just that the boundaries between the categories aren't as firm as they might appear. Incidentally, by some definitions, Madagascar actually counts as a continent! And one could certainly make the case that Europe is really just a set of peninsulas sticking off the western edge of Asia rather than an independent continent.

This is a problem with almost any taxonomy. Sure, it's useful to group like objects together, but outliers require adjustments. When we encounter something that doesn't quite fit, we can make a new category (Bird!), change an old category's definition (continental status is now based on local belief), or just shrug.

The thing is, our categories affect our perception... and that's a big deal. For example, different cultures divide up the color spectrum differently, and thus they "see" colors that people in other cultures do not. The way we categorize things affects our perceptions, and the way we perceive things affects the way we make decisions. Different perceptions will lead to different behaviors which leads to different outcomes. That's some serious stuff. The point is, even when we're being logical, we may be heading in the wrong direction.

George Lakoff has a book titled Women, Fire and Dangerous Things that explores the impact of categories on the mind. The title comes from an term found in an aboriginal Australian language which refers to a category that includes "women, fire and dangerous things." Definitely worth a read if you want to explore this idea further.

The point of all this is simply to say that boundaries between categories are often not as solid as we'd like to think. Beware of excessively binary thinking - and don't be too surprised when you come across a duck-billed, egg-laying creature that is otherwise mammalian (man, those Aussies have a knack for messing with categories, don't they?).

Want to read more about the relationship between perception, mental models and decision making? Check out my article titled Metaphors Are Mindfunnels, from the Nov/Dec 08 issue of Defense AT&L magazine.

The Waterfall Method

The traditional approach to system development is often described as the Waterfall Model, which is a series of sequential steps that makes sense at first glance. Unfortunately, it doesn't work in practice (let me say that again: as a general rule, it does NOT work).

In fact, the first documented description of the Waterfall is from a 1970 paper by Royce, in which he describes it as a failed, broken approach that people should not use. Naturally, it's been widely adopted. Despite frequently disastrous results, people still talk about it as if it was a best practice.

I put together this little sketch for the 13 Theta comic series but decided to post it here instead.

Evil Plans

I'm a huge fan of Hugh MacLeod. His cartoons-on-the-back-of-business-cards are everything that art and comedy are supposed to be - compelling, insightful, entertaining and thought-provoking, all in a wee-little package. I signed up for his daily emails as soon as he started doing that. It's the only daily email signup I've ever not regretted (sorry Writer's Almanac).

Hugh's first book, Ignore Everybody, was brilliant. And even though I adore his work, I must admit I was a little skeptical about his second book, titled Evil Plans. I was a bit worried about how much of it would just be a rehash of the first book. That didn't stop me from pre-ordering it, of course. But as I did so, I braced myself for disappointment. It turns out I needn't have worried.

Evil Plans is even better than the Ignore Everybody. Wait, can I really say "better" when the two books are so different? For that matter, maybe "different" isn't the right word either - they're both full of his trademark cartoons and insights. You won't mistake this book for a book by anyone else in the world. So they're the same in that sense. But they're also, well, distinct from each other.

I hope you'll pick up a copy, then start making your own Evil Plan.