Busy weekend – too busy to write a new KJR this week. So it’s re-run time once again. I don’t know if this one is timely or relevant, but I like it, which pretty much describes the entire governance process used to select something from the archives for you. – Bob


Evolutionary theory has to account for all the bizarre complexity of the natural world: the tail feathers of peacocks; the mating rituals of praying mantises; the popularity of Beavis and Butthead. One interesting question: Why do prey animals herd?

Herds are easy targets for predators. So why do animals join them?

One ingenious theory has it that even though the herd as a whole makes an easy target, each individual member is less likely to get eaten — they can hide behind the herd. One critter — usually old or infirm — gets eaten and the rest escape. When you’re solitary, your risk goes up.

Predators hunt in packs for entirely different reasons. Human beings, as omnivores, appear to have the instincts of both predators and prey: We hunt in packs, herd when in danger.

Which explains the popularity of “research reports” showing how many of our peers are adopting some technology or other. These reports show us how big our herd is and where it seems to be going. Infused with this knowledge we can stay in the middle of our herd, safely out of trouble.

And so it was that I found myself reading an “executive report” last week with several dozen bar charts. A typical chart segmented respondents into five categories, and showed how many of the twenty or so “yes” responses fell into each one.

Academic journals impose a discipline – peer review – which usually catches egregious statistical nonsense. But while academic publication requires peer review, business publication requires only a printing press.

Which lead to this report’s distribution to a large number of CIOs. I wonder how many of them looked at the bar charts, murmured, “No error bars,” to themselves, and tossed this information-free report into the trash.

We read over and over again about information glut. I sometimes wonder if what we really have is nonsense glut, with no more actual new information each year than a century ago.

Bar charts without error bars — those pesky black lines that show how uncertain we are about each bar’s true value — are only one symptom of the larger epidemic. We’re inundated with nonsense because we not only tolerate it, we embrace it.

Don’t believe me? Here’s a question: faced with a report like this and a critique by one of your analysts pointing out its deficiencies, would you say, “Thanks for the analysis,” as you shred the offending pages, or would you say, “Well, any information is better than none at all.”

Thomas Jefferson once said, “Ignorance is preferable to error,” and as usual, Tom is worth listening to. Next time you’re faced with some analysis or other take the time to read it critically. Look for sample sizes so small that comparisons are meaningless, like the bar charts I’ve been complaining about.

Also look for leading questions, like, “Would you prefer a delicious, flame-broiled hamburger, or a greasy, nasty looking fried chunk of cow?” (If your source has an axe to grind and doesn’t tell you the exact question asked, you can be pretty sure of the phrasing.)

Look for graphs presenting “data” with no hint as to how items were scored. How many graphs have you seen that divide the known universe into quadrants? You know the ones: every company is given a dot, the dots are all over the landscape, the upper right quadrant is “good”, and you have no clue why each dot landed where it did because the two axes both represent matters of opinion (“vendor stability” or “industry presence”).

Readers David Cassell and Tony Olsen, both statisticians, recently acquainted me with two measures, Data Density, and the Data-Ink Ratio, from Edward Tuft’s wonderful book, The Visual Display of Quantitative Information:.

To calculate the Data Density divide the number of data points by the total graph area. You express the result in dpsi (data per square inch.)

You calculate the Data-Ink Ratio by dividing the amount of ink used to display non-redundant data by the total ink used to print the graph. Use care when scraping the ink off the page — one sneeze and you’re out of luck.

This is probably a mistake.

But I wrote about male/female workplace issues quite recently (“A tale of two genders,” 8/14/2017). Now we have the decline and fall of Harvey Weinstein and others of his predatory brethren, with remarkably little root cause analysis.

Let’s start with this: Harvey Weinstein was a major financial contributor to the Democratic party and its candidates. Roger Ailes used his media outlet to promote the Republican party and its candidates.

Linking their sexual predation with their political affinities is … what’s the word I’m looking for? … ah yes, that’s it: reprehensible. Please don’t. The last thing we need these days is more tribalism.

We can each freely agree with someone about their political views without incurring an obligation to defend them on any other aspect of their lives. “Us” does not mean “good person” any more than “them” means bad person.

Well, actually, it usually does, but let’s not succumb to the temptation. Let’s do the opposite and forbid political affinitizing (I don’t care if it isn’t a real word) about this. It cheapens an issue that should, under no circumstances, be cheapened.

Next, let’s jettison the next-most-popular root cause analysis: “They’re horrible human beings.” Yes, they are, but how does that help? What’s useful is understanding how they became horrible human beings.

Which gets us to what’s missing as commentators vie to write the Most Condemnatory Commentary Yet. It’s culture, a subject I wrote about last month (“It’s always the culture,” 9/25/2017).

Whenever you see a pattern of behavior that’s common to a group of people who know and associate with each other, you can bet culture is a major causal factor.

Go back to the early days of the entertainment industry. The so-called casting couch was, if not ubiquitous, certainly prevalent. Those who had them figured their couch was one of the perks of their position. Reclining in one was, for many a budding starlet, a distasteful prerequisite for a shot at the big time. Some chose (or in some cases were forced) to acquiesce. The rest went home.

Those who ran the entertainment industry knew and socialized with each other. Anyone lacking a casting couch in their own suite of offices understood the key message: This sort of thing is okay. It’s how we do things around here. It’s embedded in our culture, “us” being the powerful and important people who run this industry.

Want to understand how Ailes, Weinstein, and so many others could get away with their offenses for so many decades?

I had the good fortune of having a business partner who was a student of anthropology. Culture, he explained, is the learned behavior people exhibit in response to their environment.

In our Cro-Magnon past, a lot of the environment was physical: Animals that could be hunted, vegetables that could be gathered, plant, animal, and mineral matter that could be turned into useful implements.

In an organization, in contrast, most of your environment is the behavior of the people around you. Culture becomes a self-reinforcing loop: it’s the learned behavior people exhibit in response to the learned behavior people exhibit in response to the learned behavior people exhibit.

Ailes and Weinstein, Hitchcock before them if Tippi Hedren is to be believed, and Fatty Arbuckle before him, all were embedded in a culture where the norm was, and apparently still is in some circles, “This is okay. It’s better than okay. It’s something you deserve.”

Look at just about every horrible act performed by any group of people who knew each other at any time in the historical record, and ask how it’s possible that human beings behaved in such extraordinarily repulsive ways. The nearly uniform answer: Their culture told them this is how they’re supposed to behave. It’s more than okay. It’s approved of.

Which has what to do with you?

If you have a leadership role in your organization, you’re responsible for the learned behavior people exhibit in response to their environment, because as a leader a disproportionately important part of their environment is you.

If you indicate, directly, or by modeling, or through implication, or even through omission that something is acceptable that shouldn’t be, you’re responsible for anything and everything that happens as a result of the culture you’ve helped foster.

Members of the KJR community understand these two critical points about culture: First, being a leader isn’t a matter of position. It’s a matter of choice.

And, second, if there’s something you don’t like about your organization’s culture, the most important tool at your disposal is a mirror.