Let’s be honest. Seriously. Let’s be more honest.
William Cohan’s recently released book Power Failure: The Rise and Fall of an American Icon chronicles General Electric’s decline, from America’s (and arguably, the world’s) most admired company to middle-of-the-pack industrial outfit.
The book traces the company’s fortunes through the tenures of a pair of CEOs: The legendary Jack Welch and his successor, Jeff Immelt who stepped into the role less than a week before the 9/11 terrorist attacks.
There’s plenty to love about the book and its near-forensic examination of the behemoth’s fall. Among them, Welch’s ascent and the relentless bantam rooster energy that fueled him and, by extension, the firm; the machinations and jockeying surrounding a pair of succession races; and a revisitation of the global financial crisis through the lens of GE Capital, the firm’s vaunted financing arm that for decades drove its profitability and in many ways, concealed its sins.
But for a certain sub-set of readers, what will stand out above all else is this: The chasm between the reality unfolding behind the scenes and how GE packaged and presented that reality for the public.
Dissembling: Rule or exception?
As part of a retroactive appraisal of the firm’s decline, the disconnect is particularly jarring, with GE persisting in its rosy forecasts and projecting a collegial mise en scene even as key businesses foundered and board relations grew fractious.
But a moment’s reflection inevitably gives rise to the following suspicion: When it came to publicizing its own condition and prospects, GE was very much the rule, not the exception.
The fact is that organizations – and scale that term up or down as you wish, from Fortune 50 companies to your local Kiwana’s Club to your nuclear family – project an official reality different from the one discussed within the internal cone of silence. Or even, I don’t know, the sphere of relative candor.
Indeed, with few exceptions, assessing an organization’s health and harmony based on official statements seems to be an exercise not just in reading between the lines, but in reading the lines in between the lines. The official issuance often seems designed to convey information without meaning, and it’s only context that helps you deduce the latter.
Meaningless without context
Take the following hypothetical retirement announcement: “Steve is retiring today. He leaves with our deepest gratitude for his many years of loyalty and service. I count myself among his many admirers and friends, and wish he, his wife Doris, and their wonderful children Melanie and Steve Jr. all the best.”
Here's what you can be sure of: There’s a reasonable probability Steve’s wife’s name is Doris. Beyond that, understanding why Steve left depends on inference based on context .
Here are two equally plausible interpretations:
Steve was indeed a valued corporate contributor right to the finish. He was admired by colleagues and allowed to write his ending, retiring at the time of his choosing.
Steve’s departure resembled that of an overserved ranch hand tossed through a pair of saloon doors. And this communication represents some kind of attempt to save face for Steve and his soon-to-be-former employer.
So what are we to make of such corporate dissembling? Don’t we have a right to the truth? To straight — or at least slightly less crooked — talk?
Are you being honest?
Before we get all sanctimonious about corporate prevaricating, probably best to look inward and pose the following question: On the candor front, are we asking more of organizations than we demand from ourselves?
How would we rate our own honesty when it comes to the blemishes in our own families or those roiling our dog club? Do we give fair but relatively unvarnished feedback to colleagues? Do we own up to the fact that we’re having a lousy day or are baffled by a project? If not, why should we expect corporations to behave differently?
And yes, I know you’re not a publicly held, regulated entity with a legal obligation to level with the stock-owning public. But should we really be surprised by mushy language when more blunt disclosures can put the stock in the tank or make customers queasy?
Perhaps the more interesting question is this: What’s behind our seemingly limited ability as individuals and organizations to be more honest in our communications? Why can’t we receive bad news, metabolize it and move on? Is our tolerance for honesty so low that we’re fated to insincerity in all our dealings? Must truth trade on a black market where context and subtext serve as shadowy, slippery smugglers?
Honesty is more than it’s cracked up to be
As individuals, we intuitively understand why we withhold the truth. Why, despite valuing honesty as a moral principle, we’re often less than honest in our close relationships, including with colleagues. We naturally assume that with honesty comes discomfort and that full disclosure will do long-term damage to relationships we value or need. And that the net effect will make us feel worse. But is that true?
A pair of researchers went in search of an answer.
In their paper “You Can Handle the Truth: Mispredicting the Consequences of Honest Communication” published in the Journal of Experimental Psychology, Emma Levine of Chicago’s Booth School of Business and Taya Cohen of the Tepper School of Business at Carnegie Mellon University, wanted to know how greater honesty in our dealings makes us feel over the long-term.
In their study Levine and Cohen separated subjects into three groups: One was charged with being honest in all their dealings for a period of three days; another with being kind; and a third – something akin to a control group – was asked to simply pay close attention to their interactions.
Their findings? Those they studied did not accurately predict the consequences of being honest. Indeed they found that “Focusing on honesty (but not kindness or communication consciousness) is more pleasurable, socially connecting, and does less relational harm than individuals expect.”
Candor does not mean criticism
Importantly, criticizing others is but one expression of honesty. Honesty can also mean being transparent about the kinds of struggles and challenges we’ve typically kept hidden from co-workers.
The revelation that openness and a willingness to be vulnerable bolsters happiness certainly seems to support movements that encourage people to “bring their whole selves to work”.
Of course depending on our personal preferences, being a fully open book may not be your bag. But for most of us, there’s likely room for more sharing and, yes, constructive feedback within our working relationships. There’s also incentive, given that doing so is connected to leading a more gratifying life.
And if we’re in search of more honesty from organizations, best that we apply the “Be the change you want to see in the world” directive at home and on the job. Who knows, the keepers of official organizational communiques might begin — however slowly — to follow suit.
