Good Advice
Reading the New York Times the other day, I saw Donald Trump was continuing his assault on efforts to reduce climate change. He’s rolling back regulations, pulling the US out of accords and agreements, and even curtailing scientific enquiry.[i] I was about to offer another comment on this dreadful saga but stopped. Almost without thinking, I recalled a section from one of my favourite books, Machiavelli’s The Prince, his classic analysis of the techniques adopted by those who succeeded at grabbing and keeping power. After a lot of juicy stuff about killing off rivals, in Section 23 he turns to the issue of seeking advice. The chapter is headed: “How Flatterers Must Be Shunned”. I won’t apologise for quoting from him once again: that man was such an astute observer.
The analysis begins in his usual inviting and succinct style: “I must not omit an important subject, and mention of a mistake which princes can with difficulty avoid, if they are not very prudent, or if they do not make a good choice. And this is with regard to flatterers, of which courts are full, because men take pleasure in their own things and deceive themselves about them that they can with difficulty guard against this plague”.
How true. However, in my use of the word, I would argue flattery can be distinguished from mere agreement. Sycophants are nonentities, yes-men and yes-women, who simply and vacantly assent to everything, even if nodding along with one statement is followed by them nodding to the next, despite the fact it completely contradicts the one before. The weak and anxious surround themselves with sycophants, not realising the continuing agreement of this gaggle of nobodies will result in their ending up like the emperor in the story, without clothes, naked and exposed to everyone except themselves.
Flattery is a far more insidious and dangerous practice. The flatterer speaks with a hidden purpose, while appearing to be honest, helpful and truthful. One of the great flatterers was ‘honest’ Iago, in Shakespeare’s Othello. While his actions appeared to be about advising and supporting Othello, Iago manages to convince his prince that his lieutenant, Cassio, is disloyal, and shortly after that his wife Desdemona is having an affair with Cassio. Iago is a master of the carefully crafted comment: in this example he subtly increases Othello’s concern his wife is having an affair “My lord, I would I might entreat your honor To scan this thing no farther. Leave it to time.” [ii] This act of reassurance is doubly ingenious, as he both ensures there will be time for his plot concerning Desdemona to unfold, and, by suggesting Othello stop worrying about what might be happening, he knows doing nothing will increase Othello’s anxiety even further. The play is a masterful illustration of the use of flattery.
A contemporary, amusing, and yet equally telling example comes from Yes Minister, a television series over three seasons where James Hacker, a senior UK cabinet minister (who later becomes prime minister) is foiled and outwitted by his permanent head, Sir Humphrey Appleby. Nigel Hawthorne as Sir Humphrey plays the flatterer’s art pitch perfect. Most of the time, his replies to the minister are simply humorous (simply?), but every so often, he plays up to the minister’s intelligence in order to slip something by him, as in this glorious comment: “Minister, the traditional allocation of executive responsibilities has always been so determined as to liberate the ministerial incumbent from the administrative minutiae by devolving the managerial functions to those whose experience and qualifications have better formed them for the performance of such humble offices, thereby releasing their political overlords for the more onerous duties and profound deliberations which are the inevitable concomitant of their exalted position.” [iii] That stopped an enquiry Sir Humphrey was keen to avoid, as he side-tracked James Hacker by a display of scintillating verbiage!
Flattery is the darker side of two very important and complementary activities, giving advice and seeking feedback. Sir Humphrey was often required to give James Hacker advice, albeit advice that usually met his needs as much (if not more) than the minister’s. Among many examples, I particularly admired his suggestions on handling a potentially explosive report, which ranged from choosing not to publish it (which was clearly not suppressing it) through to referring it to an interdepartmental committee, which would take years to agree to disagree over what it said! Admired and smiled, because it was true, as I’d seen the approach in real life.
Giving good advice is a serious and demanding business. I first learnt about how it was done when I worked in a government statutory authority, where my boss was a former senior adviser to the prime minister of the time, and a highly skilled analyst. His approach to giving good advice was simple: it was about data and knowing the limits to change.
In his opinion, good advice had to rest on quality data, data which made it clear why a proposed course of action was the right one, and why other alternatives were less attractive. In those days, I might have thought facts were neutral, but I quickly learnt that they are always subject to selection and emphasis. Of course, the best kind of data is unarguable. Statistics on people, whether they are immigrants, self-identified followers of a religion, accredited medical practitioners, or any other clear group, are like gold. They are difficult to dispute, quite unlike the case with data collected through surveys (or polls conducted before a general election!). A survey expert must be able to collect data that is difficult to ignore, requiring careful analysis of the way questions are written, the selection of respondents, and the use of various statistical tests. At the same time, understanding all this is also essential in discrediting the survey data offered by a competing expert! Arguing about surveys is not dissimilar to what you might see or read about over using expert witnesses in a court case, as each tries to assert a claim to superior competence, while at the same time identifying flaws in the other’s approach.
Working for a statutory authority also taught me another lesson about data. If you are trying to give advice on a program, the very best information is that provided by the agency responsible, or from the program itself. If you can use their information to mount a convincing body of advice to change practice, it is hard for the agency to argue against their own figures.
While data supports advice, the issue of limits to change is particularly important. If your intention is to suggest moving in a new direction, or further along a specific path, it is critical to assess how much scope exists for change. When dealing with the government, that can be a key issue. Some policies are very hard to change, as the government, or a minister, may be committed to a given direction, and advice can only shift that approach in minor ways, (although every minor step often creates the basis for more change later: it was Lao Tzu who observed “a journey of a thousand miles begins with taking the first step”). In other areas, the limits to choice might be less constraining, especially if advice on an issue also impacts on another more pressing concern. For that reason, a new policy often has greater likelihood of success if the proposed strategy will have a favourable impact on the budget (spending less, or saving more), or on popular perception (in other words, on votes!).
As an example, climate change offers a good case study. Giving advice on measures to reduce carbon dioxide levels, for example, raises several contradictory elements. Acting today can be shown to have long-term benefits in terms of everything from coastal protection to costs of food production and the availability of drinkable water. On the other hand, the immediate consequences are expensive, both in terms of the cost of the technologies required, but also through the likely impact on jobs. Today, the climate change debate seems stuck in NIMBY land: yes, we want to ensure that increasing temperatures and more volatile weather is brought back under control, but no, not if we must bear the immediate effects (make changes, but Not In My Back Yard). As advice slips into political policy, it is easy to see why parties and leaders are likely to accept one side over the other as central to their platform and, since the positive effects are in the long term, why short-term issues tend to take precedence.
This is a clear example of the challenges surrounding both ‘facts’ and willingness to change. Data about climate change is clear, but rests on future trends and gradual processes. Scientists can see that we are in the middle of a series of shifts that will continue unless radical action is taken (although a tiny minority disagree). However, the general population is confronted with messy and contradictory experiences: didn’t it snow more than usual last winter in North Carolina? To add to the problem, few politicians have the fortitude to accept the need to close coal mines, reduce the reliance on oil, or set targets for using alternative energy sources, as they remain attuned to voter revolts in areas where traditional carbon-based industries are under threat. The limits on change are often considerable, especially for those political parties that support the continuing growth of (existing) big businesses reliant on non-renewable resources.
Giving advice, rather than flattering, is one issue. The other concerns getting feedback. When we turn to seeking opinions on what we have been doing, whether we admit it or not, we usually like to be praised. Well, perhaps not praised, but at least hear something positive. It raises the question as to what is ‘positive feedback’. As a presenter on executive education programs, I am not exercised as to whether participants like me. Rather I want to know if they learnt something. Indeed, I want to know what they learnt, and how they intended to apply that learning (as once they are out of the room, my role is over). One issue in this is it is easy to get feedback from the more confident, verbally fluent members of a group (indeed, sometimes they are harder to keep quiet). However, that ability with words can easily mask what you want to know. They can repeat back what you have said, but did they really understand it? In some ways, I prefer the less verbally adept: their responses to questions can be more revealing.
Of course, all this is a play on an old observation: it’s not what is said, it is what is done that matters. The best feedback would be if I could see how those same participants behaved back at work. In that regard, you learn to accept modest aims. If each person leaving a course really absorbed one key idea, and puts it into practice, it would be as good a result as anyone could hope for. I do get occasional calls and enquiries from people after a course and I certainly get a quiet sense of satisfaction from learning what a manager has done – if they did it well!
It is time to return to politicians. They speak frequently, especially when it is time to get votes. The most important feedback they appear to seek is votes in the ballot box. However, at the time of a political speech out in an electorate, what else are they hoping to receive? An egg on the head? While an unsuccessful attempt was made on Scott Morrison,[iv] a young man managed to get an egg on Fraser Anning, a right-wing Australian extremist, back in March. Charged by the police, he eventually was defended pro bono, and he gave the crowdfunded money raised for his defence to victims of the Christchurch mosque shooting (explaining it was “not mine to keep”). [v] Leaving aside eggs, it seems there are three types of feedback sought. In addition to votes, a second is money. Finally, and quite evidently, the third is adulation, the cheers of the crowd. There are those who are willing to hear criticisms and negative comments, and some of these show their mettle by how they handle heckling and disagreement. While I wouldn’t vote for a candidate on how well they respond to negative arguments, they can earn my admiration.
Do we want feedback to feel good about ourselves, or because we want to learn? Just as I feel a participant shows learning by what they plan to do (especially if I can see if he or she has followed through), so learning through feedback is essentially a personal task. Years ago, I found myself being mentored by an insightful teacher, based in San Francisco. I only saw him occasionally, and I would always reflect on each meeting in the days that followed. Each time the process was the same. He would ask me questions, questions designed to encourage reflection. They were always pertinent, chosen to help me see and think through things I needed to learn, but I was always struck by his lack of any direct advice. He was guiding me to understand by ensuring I addressed topics myself. Quite often the answer I gave him was merely a starting point, and more ideas and greater understanding emerged over time.
Machiavelli was very clear about this. A leader needs a council to offer feedback, and has to choose “wise men, and giving these alone full liberty to speak the truth to him, but only of those things that he asks and of nothing else; but he must ask them about everything and hear their opinion, and afterwards deliberate by himself in his own way, and in these councils and with each of these men comport himself so that everyone may see that the more freely he speaks, the more he will be acceptable. Beyond these he should listen to no one, go about the matter deliberately, and be determined in his decisions … A prince, therefore, ought always to take counsel, but only when he wishes, not when others wish; on the contrary he ought to discourage absolutely attempts to advise him unless he asks it, but he ought to be a great asker, and a patient hearer of the truth about those things of which he has inquired; indeed, if he finds that any one has scruples in telling him the truth he should be angry”.
I can’t help myself, but I must return to Donald Trump. He certainly doesn’t follow Machiavelli’s prescriptions. Rather, we are told, he sits and listens to commentators on Fox News, absorbing what they demand, and the pitfalls to avoid. Agenda free, he uses what he hears while adding some thoughts of his own or others heard from the people around him. The result is a curious jumble of right wing nostrums in a mish-mash of contradictions and vague possibilities. The result is to create a smokescreen, no a thicket, obscuring understanding with instantly newsworthy moments, disappearing or dispensed with days (or even minutes) later. It is claimed he rejects advice as he makes an announcement, but the evidence suggests objections and alternatives find their way into comments made in subsequent tweets.
Trump’s behaviour sheds a further light on feedback. He does not appear interested in honest feedback, but rather what he hears is a source of ideas for future attacks. I have this fantasy about what White House staff do. I imagine they tell Trump that ‘X’ is proposing to adopt course of action ‘A’, in the confident belief any mention of X will ensure the approach A is rejected! Of course, to say things in the hope that the opposite will be adopted is a risky path, but in his case might be safer than trying to present good advice! Ah, even at the best of times, who would want to be a political adviser? As for giving advice today …
[i] https://www.nytimes.com/2019/05/27/us/politics/trump-climate-science.html
[ii] Shakespeare, Othello, Act 3, scene 3
[iii] Yes Minster, Season 1, Episode 6, The Right to Know, BBC Television, 31 March 1980
[iv] https://indaily.com.au/news/2019/05/07/pm-egged-at-election-function/
[v] https://www.dw.com/en/australias-egg-boy-donates-to-christchurch-victims/a-48945269
