An article
by Kristin van Ogtrop in a recent edition of Time magazine trod a well-worn
path, bemoaning the pervasive absence of women in senior leadership positions
of society.
I like van
Ogtrop, not least for her wonderful Dutch name. I wonder how she chooses to
pronounce it. Many days in New York I am introduced to a person or a place via
an Anglicized bastardisation of something originally Dutch. On your first visit
to the city, you’ll probably leave Kennedy airport onto the van Wyck
expressway. Of course it is pronounced like a sort of lorry followed by the
wick of a candle.
Van Ogtrop
occasionally writes an end piece for Time under the heading “The Amateur”. Her
articles are always homely and funny, usually about the mysteries of bringing
up teenage children. That page in Time is more often filled by Joel Stein, who
is funny too but in an altogether more masculine way. Too often for me, Time
disappoints: it steers too close to the American mainstream and often ignores
the existence of a world beyond the fifty states. The culture section often has
no interest for me at all. Yet this page at the end frequently acts as a good
dessert for me after a stodgy main course.
The longer
article about gender diversity acknowledged the perceived wisdom in the field,
including Sheryl Sandberg’s advice to “Lean in”. But the main approach van
Ogtrop chooses is to talk to individual women to try to learn lessons from
their stories.
She digs
out some powerful stories, and illustrates them with extensive quotes. The
theme is the same. These talented women had every chance of progressing further
up the ladder expected of them, yet at a key juncture they chose not to. The
women looked at their goals, looked at the implications of making different
choices, and gracefully compromised their career or other leadership
aspirations.
The
outcomes for humanity of these decisions were undoubtedly negative. It is clear
from van Ogtrop’s interviews that these women possessed exceptional talent, and
would have brought all the benefits of diversity to their respective
opportunities.
Having
reached this conclusion, van Ogtrop moved onto established ground about why it
happened and what could be done about it.
In the
first area, men are seen as typically more driven, and in some cultures to face
fewer compromises. If it is not expected to do a lot to look after the kids or
contribute to housework, then a career can take a higher priority. There is
probably some genetic component behind the behaviour, with demonstrating
strength and providing resources seen as the role of men, and nurturing family
the role of women. There may even be a physical component: from my busiest
career years, I recall deep physical exhaustion, which might take an even higher
toll typically on women.
The
diagnosis of why led to the suggestions for cures. Perhaps women, a la
Sandberg, should just fight through the urges to compromise. Certainly society
needs to continue to focus on parental expectations with load sharing the norm
rather than the exception. And smart companies could do a lot more to make the
lives of their senior executives less burdensome: I always found the relentless
focus on after-hours networking to be intrusive. Modern technology should give
us all a chance to grow our productivity without ruining our personal lives.
All true,
and I agree with the societal remedies. But I think van Ogtrop misses the main
point. This is story is not about women, it is about men.
The women
in van Ogtrop’s interviews had one other thing in common. They had no regrets
about the decisions they had made, and they were happy.
These women
had managed to keep a balanced view of their lives. They had probably defined
goals for multiple aspects of their lives looking forward several years. And
they took a realistic view of what climbing the career ladder would mean for
other goals, and decided to pull back. Surely this is something to celebrate,
not bemoan?
I have
mentioned before a favourite tool of mine, a GAPS grid. G for goals is the most
important box. The others are A for achievements, P for perceptions and S for
standards. P and S are about how others judge us while G and A are about
ourselves. After completing each of the four boxes, the idea is to look for
gaps (hence GAPS), and define areas to work on to close them. A gap between G
and A suggests we are not meeting our own ambitions, so we should focus
somewhere or perhaps tone down the goals. A gap between G and P suggests others
don’t believe we can achieve our goals and may act to hinder us (for example,
by not promoting us). A gap between A and S implies that our own measurement of
achievement does not always meet the expectations of our environment – so maybe
we should try a different environment. A gap between P and S is a warning sign
of failure.
GAPS has
always worked for me, and for people I have coached. I spend the most time on
the G box, and am always astonished how this is new territory for most people.
Many simply see their goals as the targets imposed by others in staff reports,
a sure way to losing control and direction. Even more choose to limit their
goals to the work sphere.
Both of
these failings are more common in men than in women, indeed I would claim they
are almost universal in men. Seeing goals as targets set by others creates
focus and alignment, so perhaps it is not surprising that more women seem to
complain about their targets than men, since they are the ones ready to have
their own opinion. Such behaviour may drive short-term discontent, but will pay
off in the longer term.
Restricting
goals to work is another deceptive simplification. But the consequence is
probably a lack of fulfilment in the long run. Like most men, I slavishly
followed the ambitious path until I was forty, when my train hit the buffers
almost overnight via a breakdown. From then my work life was less successful by
conventional measures (I never secured another promotion) but was more
fulfilling and perhaps even added more value to my company as well as to me
(for example via the internal Shell blog). Even after the breakdown, I still
was in denial about most goals from my private life, until circumstances forced
me to address these urgently nine years later.
I count
myself among the lucky ones. I reached the right answers in the end, while many
slave away in denial until the end of their working lives and can only regret
the sacrifices to their relationships and health when it is all too late.
The women
van Ogtrop writes about have faced up to their goals with realism, and made
courageous decisions. This is behaviour we need to promote, not question. And
the ones who need the coaching are predominantly men. Perhaps one key reason we
still have mainly men in most so-called leadership roles is that generally men
are the only ones daft enough to put up with them.
The world
needs a better gender balance in leadership for sure, and perhaps over time
structural steps can be taken to enable leadership to be practical with less
compromise to other goals. But in the meantime, women can try to be like men or
“lean in” or whatever they choose, but is that really wise advice? The happy
examples of Kristin van Ogtrop, combined with the obvious misery of most
leaders, argues otherwise. In writing a story about women, van Ogtrop has
really offered valuable coaching to men.