Negative Capability in Leadership Practice: Implications for Working in Uncertainty 3030957675, 9783030957674

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Negative Capability in Leadership Practice Implications for Working in Uncertainty

Charlotte von Bülow Peter Simpson

Negative Capability in Leadership Practice

Charlotte von Bülow · Peter Simpson

Negative Capability in Leadership Practice Implications for Working in Uncertainty

Charlotte von Bülow Bristol Business School University of the West of England Bristol, UK

Peter Simpson Bristol Business School University of the West of England Bristol, UK

Crossfields Institute Group Stroud, UK

Crossfields Institute Group Stroud, UK

ISBN 978-3-030-95767-4 ISBN 978-3-030-95768-1 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-95768-1 © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. Cover illustration: © John Rawsterne/patternhead.com This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

This book is dedicated to three extraordinary scholar and practitioners who are no longer with us: Robert French, Chris Seeley and Bruce Irvine, thank you for working in uncertainty with us and for your tireless commitment to personal and professional transformation.

Acknowledgments

Our warm thanks go to Helen Simpson and Fergus Anderson for their patience and love during this time, to our families and friends for their care and understanding, and to our encouraging and supportive colleagues at the University of the West of England and Crossfields Institute. We want to recognise all the people whose voices weave through the chapters in this book—thank you for your determination to explore Negative Capability with us and for sharing your lived experience of working in uncertainty. Last, but not least, we are deeply grateful to all past, present and future students, clients, managers, leaders and organisations that inspire us to write this book and to our editors at Palgrave Macmillan for their patience and assistance in getting this book to publication.

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Overview

Chapter 1 In this short chapter we set the scene for our exploration of the contribution of Negative Capability to leadership practice. As we strive to navigate and make sense of the unparalleled global challenges facing us, organisational life is still influenced by the image of effective leadership as an individual in a position of authority with exceptional capabilities, and most significantly possessing knowledge that others do not. If we want to update our image of leadership and renew our relationship with knowledge, it starts with a commitment to self-knowledge and a new approach to leadership education. It is against this backdrop that we situate Negative Capability in leadership practice as a way of being when working in uncertainty. The brilliance of the English poet, John Keats, who coined the term Negative Capability, was to understand how ‘high achievement’ relies on a temporary abstinence from active, measurable, or positive capabilities, in favour of just being —creating what might be thought of as an empty space that is normally filled with thoughts, emotions, and activity. As such, Negative Capability has a place in the leadership landscape in relation to the experience of being without —not knowing, not acting, and not having, as well as associated tensions, contradictions, ambiguities, and anxieties inherent in its practice.

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Chapter 2 Negative Capability was conceived by the English poet, John Keats. We note that applications of the idea in leadership studies have tended to interpret it as a ‘positive capability’: as ways of thinking, feeling, or doing. This is an approach that we challenge in more detail in chapter three, arguing that Keats understanding of Negative Capability was more existential: to be capable of being in uncertainty without needing to grasp for knowledge and certainty. We discuss how he saw the influence of Negative Capability in both the ordinary interactions between people, particularly in its contribution to a higher quality of thinking, as well as in relation to the extraordinary—the ability to gain insight into the transcendent qualities of Beauty, Truth, and Goodness. These ideas are then discussed in relation to modern leadership practice, and how Negative Capability relates to the practice of attention, a sense of purpose, the work of leisure, and passion in leadership practice. This provides an outline of the conceptual framework that structures the book.

Chapter 3 In this chapter we explore in detail the notion of Negative Capability and how it can be understood to contribute to leadership practice. Having discussed in Chapter 2 the genesis of the idea and its relevance to working in uncertainty, we begin by illustrating what such leadership might look like. The early part of this chapter then explores the origins of Keats’ insight gained through a catalogue of challenging life experiences. This forms the basis of a critique of existing literature on Negative Capability in leadership, which tends to focus on ways of thinking, feeling, and doing. By contrast, our interpretation of Negative Capability is as a way of being, being with, and being without. It is argued that Negative Capability enables us to work in a state of not knowing without simply reaching for old ideas or resorting to habitual behaviours. This focus on being-in-the-world also contributes to the important task of humanising our responses to dealing with the challenges of working in uncertainty. The chapter ends by introducing the importance of a focus upon inquiry and the practice of attention when leadership involves working without knowledge—ideas that are explored in greater depth in Chapters 4 and 5.

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Chapter 4 Against the backdrop of the global challenges facing us now, we ask: what do leaders have to draw upon if not knowledge? In this chapter we explore the relationship between Negative Capability and a practice of a heightened quality of attention. We start by suggesting that our existing narratives about the world and our place in it must be revised if we are to liberate our attention from the capture of outdated stories. In the current reality of the Attention Economy, where our attentional behaviours are tracked and traded as a highly prized commodity in the global marketplace, we propose that a regular and deliberate practice of attention is crucial to restore a sense of individual agency and develop new faculties of discernment. In this context, we also highlight the urgent need for an ethics of attention. Lastly, we introduce the specific practice of evenly suspended attention as a particular doorway to a way of being in uncertainty that creates the conditions for experiencing Negative Capability in our leadership practice.

Chapter 5 Leadership benefits from an extensive knowledge of the complexities of the organisational and societal context, but it is also concerned with a shared journey into an unknown future. The ability to work in uncertainty with others but without the required knowledge is where Negative Capability can contribute. We align with those who believe that leadership is better understood as a process that may emerge from any individual or group of individuals, rather than necessarily requiring positional authority or outstanding ability. Leadership is a process of transformative change where individual and collective will is brought to bear in an energetic and dynamic interchange of value. From this can emerge a shared sense of purpose and meaning, which is explored further in Chapter 6. The challenges of a practice of deliberately eschewing positive capabilities to make space for fresh ideas is explored through an extended illustration of the experience of an organisational leader facing a crisis. Through this we explore the challenges of working with ambiguity and contradiction, including the pain and suffering that sometimes has to be endured in the practice of leadership. The chapter concludes with an exploration of Foucault’s ideas on Care of the Self in leadership.

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Chapter 6 In the context of leadership practice, there is a creative tension between the definable and undefinable aspects of purpose. This chapter begins by challenging the dominance of the understanding of purpose as something that can be described with precision. This has supported an approach to the leadership of organisations dedicated to the pursuit of utilitarian ends and undisputed growth. Instead, we suggest that purpose can emerge as a sense, as well as a set of measurable outcomes, and the leadership challenge is to hold in balance these definable with undefinable elements of purpose. This idea is explored in a case study that highlights the complexity faced by leadership practitioners, particularly in relating to others who demand clarity and simplicity—and sometimes irritably reach after fact and reason. We introduce the idea that a sense of purpose can be experienced at the level of the ordinary, where we find ourselves in the liminal space between knowing and not knowing, as well as at the level of the extraordinary, where the ineffable engages us with its Mystery. Drawing on themes from other case studies explored in the book, we investigate how leadership practitioners can develop a ‘poetic sensibility’ from working with an emergent sense of purpose in a state of flow, whilst also holding the important balance between internal and external expectations that must be met.

Chapter 7 As a complement to the ‘work of production’, we introduce the phrase ‘work of leisure’, which plays an important and specific role in learning and inquiry. Drawing upon Negative Capability, leadership practice will involve giving attention to the need for an appropriate balance between leisure and production. It is an overemphasis on the latter that has contributed to a culture of busy-ness and overwork. In relation to Negative Capability, we are drawing attention to the requirement for a particular form of leisure—not merely as rest from productive work but as a form of work that is concerned with the search for something not yet known. Productive work is associated with mastery, power, and control. By contrast, the work of leisure is concerned with contemplative inquiry and receptive vision that can permit unplanned transformations in understanding and insight. For example, it is through the work of leisure that we can find, or be found by, a sense of purpose, as discussed in Chapter 6. Through two illustrations, we explore the challenges of legitimising the

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work of leisure in our organisations but suggest that this may in fact support the work of production as well as contributing to humanising the workplace.

Chapter 8 In this chapter, we explore how passion lies at the heart of leadership practice. This sometimes manifests as a spirited enthusiasm but Negative Capability sensitises us to passion as a felt absence or lack that stimulates our desire to know, to have, to do, or to be. It is this desire to fill the sense of lack, or vacuum within us that can generate our passion for the task. When associated with Negative Capability, passion is being without an irritable reaching after mastery and control, and it is an acceptance of things as they are, even if things are not to our liking. We position our inquiry into the role of passion in leadership practice against the backdrop of Plato’s Symposium with a particular focus on the lineage and mythology of the figure of Eros. This leads us to explore the parallels between Keats’ notion of Negative Capability and the Socratic Paradox of knowing only that one does not know. We end the chapter by sharing a leadership practitioner’s account of lived experience that points to the importance of mutuality and shared inquiry in leadership practice with passion.

Chapter 9 To consider Negative Capability requires Negative Capability. We cannot measure, quantify, describe, or even practice Negative Capability—it is not an objective that can be met or a task that can be ticked off the todo list, nor is it a goal one can be set. Yet in the context of leadership practice, the implications of Negative Capability can be experienced by us and the people we work with. We experience Negative Capability at the level of being as we become attuned to its nature, significance, and impact. This is not a quick fix, but we take inspiration from the philosopher, Pierre Hadot, who draws our attention to ‘Philosophy as a Way of Life’, a tradition that has clear echoes in Keats’ life and work. We end with a caution that any leadership practitioner that seeks to become attuned to Negative Capability should be mindful of the potential challenges they might face in their own context. We have drawn attention to the inner work required, the need to address external expectations—imagined as

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well as actual—and the potential consequences of making leadership decisions that are not automatically justified by the typical demonstration of established ‘fact & reason’.

Contents

1 3 4

1

Introduction A Journey from Concept to Application Reference

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Working in Uncertainty Keats on Negative Capability The Ordinary and the Extraordinary The Experience of Not Knowing Mysteries and Unknowing Illustration: Living by Faith References

5 6 9 13 15 16 18

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Negative Capability Illustration: Esha Patel, the Chief Executive Capable of Being—The Life and Personal Philosophy of John Keats Negative Capability in the Leadership Literature Not Knowing in a Knowledge Economy Attention and Inquiry References

21 21

The Practice of Attention Illustration: Project 100 Reclaiming Attention

35 36 38

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A Deliberate Practice of Attention Attentional Ethics Evenly Suspended Attention An Experience of Surrender References

39 41 43 46 48

Leadership Uncertainty and Contradiction in Organisational Leadership Illustration: The Prison Governor Care of the Self Space for a New Idea References

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Purpose Defining Purpose A Sense of Purpose Illustration: The Social Entrepreneur A Balancing Act Working with Emergence References

69 70 71 72 75 76 80

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The Work of Leisure Illustration: EARThSus Ancient Philosophy and the Place of Leisure A Culture of Leisure Conscious Administration Illustration: StraightMeadows Inc. References

83 85 88 89 91 93 96

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Passion Socrates and Plato’s Symposium The Experience of Lack Illustration: Founding Synergico Mutuality in Shared Inquiry The Ladder of Love References

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54 56 60 62 64

99 101 103 105 108 110 113

CONTENTS

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Concluding Thoughts Philosophy as a Way of Life Negative Capability and Situational Awareness References

Index

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115 116 117 120 121

About the Authors

Dr. Charlotte von Bülow is Senior Lecturer in Leadership at the Bristol Business School, University of the West of England, and the founder of the Crossfields Institute Group. She spent 20 years working in the private sector as a social entrepreneur, CEO, educator, coach, consultant and governor. During this time, she founded the Crossfields Institute Group a UK educational charity, Ofqual regulated Awarding Organisation, Consultancy and Educational Action Research Institute. As a consultant and coach, she has worked for several UK private and public sector institutions as well as organisations in Botswana, China, Finland, Germany, Qatar, Russia, Scandinavia and the US. Her teaching and research activities focus on working in uncertainty, inclusive and distributed leadership, the ethics and practice of attention, reflective and reflexive practice in leadership and management, as well as innovative approaches in teaching, learning and assessment. Her publications include ‘Negative Capability and Care of the Self’ in Parardox and Power in Caring Leadership: Critical and Philosophical Reflections (Ed. L. Tomkins Elgar, 2020) and ‘The Deep Education Conversation in Climate of Change and Complexity’ in Deep Adaption: Navigating the Realities of Climate Chaos (Ed. J. Bendell & R. Read, Polity Press, 2021). Dr. Peter Simpson is Associate Professor in Organisation Studies at Bristol Business School, University of the West of England, and Senior Consultant for the Crossfields Institute Group. As a practitioner as well

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as researcher, he has held a range of leadership positions in the Business School including Director of MBA and Executive Education, Director of Business Development, Head of School, Director of the Research Unit in Organisation Studies and Deputy Director of the Bristol Centre for Leadership and Organizational Ethics. His current research interests are in the application of ideas on spirituality, psychodynamics and complexity to the study and practice of leadership in situations of uncertainty. Recent research projects include strategic action research projects with a UK educational charity (2019–2021) and a US non-profit (2017– 2018) and the ESRC Seminar Series ‘Ethical Leadership: the contribution of philosophy and spirituality’ (2014–2017). He has published widely in international journals on leadership, change management, organisational complexity, group dynamics and workplace spirituality. He co-authored with Robert French Attention, Cooperation, Purpose: An Approach to Working in Groups Using Insights from Wilfired Bion (Karnac, 2014) and co-edited Worldly Leadership: Alternative Wisdoms for a Complex World (Palgrave, 2011) with Sharon Turnbull, Peter Case, Gareth Edwards and Doris Schedlitzki.

List of Tables

Table 5.1 Table 7.1

A summary overview of Bell’s (1996, pp. xvi–xvii) three realms in capitalist society The conscious administration of the work of leisure and of production

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CHAPTER 1

Introduction

As co-creators and citizens of the knowledge economy, we share a tendency to respond in a particular way when faced with the multiple and diverse challenges of life: we rely on accumulated experiences based on existing knowledge, or habitual behaviours based on unrevised narratives about how things are—or how we would like things to be. In our encounters with otherness and difference, wicked problems, or the inexplicable, we may even default back to instinctive, semi-conscious fight-flight responses. Where has this prevalent human response to the unpredictability of this world led us? We are writing at a time when the assumption of human mastery of the planet is being questioned and a narrative is starting to emerge that is even more significant than the diminution of our fantasy of power and control. In recent years, leaders have become accustomed to hearing of the extinction of species and the destruction of animal habitats as a direct consequence of human population growth and commercial activity— some are beginning to contemplate the possibility that we may be heading towards the collapse of human civilization as we know it. We are struck by the implications of this, and we are less than convinced that the world should look to ‘decision makers’ and ‘leaders’ for solutions. Whilst leadership is needed, to be sure, the path ahead is unlikely to emerge from unchallenged conventional practices and old thinking.

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 C. von Bülow and P. Simpson, Negative Capability in Leadership Practice, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-95768-1_1

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As we strive to navigate and make sense of the unparalleled global challenges facing us, organisational life is still influenced by the image of effective leadership as an individual in a position of authority with exceptional capabilities, and most significantly possessing knowledge that others do not. If we want to update our image of leadership and renew our relationship with knowledge, it starts with a commitment to self-knowledge and a new approach to leadership education—we need to make our business schools, and our businesses, the context in which we can engage with the wisdom of contradictions, ambiguities, and tensions—we need to make it our business to find new ways of being in uncertainty. Leadership is a complex and contested notion, and it is not our intention here to try to define our position with precision. We contribute to literature that challenges the common leadership image and we propose that leadership is better understood as a process that may emerge from any individual or group of individuals, rather than necessarily requiring positional authority or outstanding ability. We are exploring leadership as a process of transformative change where individual and collective will is brought to bear in an energetic and dynamic interchange of value. From this can emerge a shared sense of purpose and meaning. It is against this backdrop that we situate Negative Capability in leadership practice as a way of being when working in uncertainty. The brilliance of the English poet, John Keats, who coined the term Negative Capability, was to understand how ‘high achievement’ relies on a temporary abstinence from active, measurable, or positive capabilities, in favour of just being —creating what might be thought of as an empty space that is normally filled with thoughts, emotions and activity. Keats noticed that when there is a vacuum of knowing, the human tendency is to fill this with feeling, thinking and doing—and it is in this sense that Negative Capability is also about being without . We are not suggesting that Negative Capability has more value than other responses to working in uncertainty and the exercise of leadership will clearly need to draw upon knowledge of one form or another. However, it is the ability to find an appropriate way of being whilst in a state of not knowing that is a primary characteristic of leadership as practice. Negative Capability has a place in the leadership landscape in relation to the experience of being without —not knowing, not acting, and not having, as well as associated tensions, contradictions, ambiguities, and anxieties inherent in its practice. When writing about Negative Capability, we are faced with a challenging paradox: the natural inclination is to frame this important notion

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as a practice in the field of leadership, but to do so would be to repudiate and contradict its very nature. As a way of being in uncertainty, Negative Capability is more akin to an experience we can come to recognise, appreciate, and learn to create the conditions for it to contribute to our practice. When Keats chose to talk about Negative Capability, he was pointing to its ontological significance. Spending time with Negative Capability is to go on a journey of discovery in unknown terrains—uncovering on the way how to understand and transform current behaviours and practices and, eventually, learning more about what it means to navigate in uncertainty. This book is a contribution to all practitioners— leaders and educators, researchers, and philosophers—who are ready for such a journey and who strive to understand what it is to be human, what we can make of it and how to find new ways of being in this world.

A Journey from Concept to Application We will argue that Negative Capability cannot be observed or described, except by saying what it is not. Consequently, it is not something that can be practiced but it can have an influence on leadership practice and its impact can be experienced. Consequently, we have attempted to create a flow within and between chapters that offers a red thread for readers to follow. We suggest, therefore, that the book is best read from beginning to end in chronological order. We begin with the development of a conceptual framework for an understanding of Negative Capability and the importance of a practice of attention when working in uncertainty. In Chapters 2 and 3, we get to know John Keats, the historical backdrop, and the context in which we first encounter Negative Capability. Central to our argument is the interpretation of Keats’ notion of Negative Capability as existential, the ability to experience ourselves at the level of our being when working in uncertainty, without a dependence upon thought, feeling or action. In Chapter 4, our inquiry addresses the question: what do leaders have to draw upon if not knowledge? Our answer is that Negative Capability supports a heightened quality of attention, which can contribute to leadership practice. In Chapter 5 we begin to explore the implications of Negative Capability and the practice of attention for leadership and we proceed to focus on important aspects of leadership practice that require a shift in thinking

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when drawing upon Negative Capability in Chapter 6, where we investigate how we can understand, as well as practically engage with a sense of purpose as one of multiple dimensions of purpose in leadership practice. In Chapter 7, we build a new foundation for an expanded epistemology of work, giving attention to the work of leisure as well as production. As we reach the top of the ladder in Chapter 8, our inquiry looks at the importance of an understanding of passion that includes the place of acceptance, even suffering, as well as enthusiasm in leadership practice. Phenomenological accounts of the lived experience of those involved in leadership weave through all the chapters and illustrate key points through the reflections of individuals whom we had the privilege of interviewing or working with over the years. All the stories shared are anonymised but authentic and rooted in the gritty reality of leadership experience that has been ‘proved upon our pulses’ (Keats in Gittings, 1970, p. 93).

Reference Gittings, R. (1970). Letters of John Keats. OUP.

CHAPTER 2

Working in Uncertainty

Negative Capability, that is, when man is capable of being in uncertainties, Mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact & reason. John Keats

The notion of Negative Capability was mentioned just once towards the end of 1817 by the English poet, John Keats. He does not explain it in detail, nor does he ever return to it again in his later writings. However, in the two centuries since he shared his insight, the idea has captured the imagination of many in a variety of fields. Our purpose is to explore the potential contribution of Negative Capability in leadership practice. However, even after decades of our combined efforts in this inquiry, we still find it difficult to write about. Much of the literature on this topic drifts into describing positive capabilities, like patience, tolerance of ambiguity, and open-mindedness. These may not be proactive capabilities, like problem solving or strategic planning, but they are still ‘positive capabilities’ of thinking, feeling and doing. Keats’ Negative Capability is more existential: it is to be capable of being in uncertainty. Writing about Negative Capability is difficult, partly, because writing is a positive capability. However, just as in apophatic spiritual traditions, which are based on the conviction that the Divine Being (with a capital ‘B’) is beyond naming or description, Negative Capability as ‘being in uncertainty’ cannot be ‘said’, just as it cannot be thought, felt or done. © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 C. von Bülow and P. Simpson, Negative Capability in Leadership Practice, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-95768-1_2

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All writing about Negative Capability, therefore, is at best a pointing towards, or an ‘unsaying’ (Sells, 1994) of what Negative Capability is not. As we work hard at trying to find ways to write about what cannot be expressed, the tools we have at our disposal are those things that can be seen, said, and recognised. In talking about leadership practice, this inevitably requires us to talk about positive capabilities. However, our aim is to point towards the Negative Capability that might be behind what is manifest in the thoughts, feelings and actions of individuals and groups. This suggests the need to clarify two key features of this investigation into the nature and contribution of Negative Capability. First, we overemphasise a focus on Negative Capability in our discussion of ideas and in our interpretations of the illustrations from practice. In doing so, we run the risk of giving the impression that we believe positive capabilities are less important. This is not the case. It is just that we need to present an imbalanced account in order to have a chance of making visible what it is not possible to see, to reach towards saying what cannot be said. The second and most important feature of how we have approached our task is that we have tried to hold onto the knowledge that we do not, and cannot, know how to describe or discuss Negative Capability. To consider Negative Capability requires Negative Capability. Ours is an inquiry undertaken at the edge between knowing and not knowing. We are working in uncertainty.

Keats on Negative Capability We begin our exploration of the potential contribution of Negative Capability to leadership practice by quoting the whole letter to his two brothers in which Keats introduced the idea (Gittings, 1970, pp. 41–43). This reveals that this notion arose in a moment of insight in relation to his experiences with several friends and acquaintances. The common theme is a critique of these individuals for the inferior quality of their thinking, from which we infer a lack of what Keats named Negative Capability. In addition to his description of Negative Capability, this letter provides us with an insight into Keats’ interest in the ordinary, everyday and the extraordinary, ineffable. The former, which we see in the details of his daily activities, we hear about first in his characterisation of Smith, Hill, Kingston and Du Bois as ‘all alike’, and then in the critique of his two friends, Dilke and Coleridge. In the everyday relations of life, Keats is frequently disappointed in the quality of thought and conversation of

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others and is not afraid to criticise, even poets with a greater reputation than his own, like Coleridge and Wordsworth. He moves seamlessly between his discussions of the ordinary (‘I have had two very pleasant evenings with Dilke’) and the extraordinary (‘in close relationship with Beauty and Truth’) because in his world the two are intimately related. It is the role of the ‘great poet’, as it is of ‘every Art’, to bring the extraordinary and transcendent into the everyday. This is also illustrated by Keats with reference to Shakespeare, who possessed Negative Capability ‘so enormously’, and an artistic intensity ‘capable of making all disagreeables evaporate.’ Looking at the whole letter (Gittings, 1970, pp. 41–43), rather than just the common quotes gives the sense of Keats as someone for whom philosophy was a way of life (see Hadot, 1995)—not an abstract philosophy but a practice that was integrated into his daily experience—both personal and professional. This is a common feature of his poetry and letters—as was his unusual grammar! Hampstead Sunday 22 Dec. 1817 My dear Brothers, I must crave your pardon for not having written ere this. I saw Kean return to the public in ‘Richard III’, & finely he did it & at the request of Reynolds I went to criticize his Luke in Riches — the critique is in to-day’s champion, which I send you, with the Examiner, in which you will find very proper lamentation on the obsoletion of Christmas Gambols & pastimes: but it was mixed up with so much egotism of that drivelling nature that pleasure is entirely lost. Hone, the publisher’s trial, you must find very amusing; &, as Englishmen, very encouraging — his Not Guilty is a thing, which not to have been, would have dulled still more Liberty’s Emblazoning — Lord Ellenborough has been paid in his own coin — Wooler & Hone have done us an essential service — I have had two very pleasant evenings with Dilke, yesterday & to-day; & am at this moment just come from him & feel in the humour to go on with this, began in the morning, & from which he came to fetch me. I spent Friday evening with Wells & went next morning to see Death on the Pale horse. It is a wonderful picture, when West’s age is considered; But there is nothing to be intense upon; no women one feels mad to kiss, no face swelling into reality. The excellence of every Art is its intensity, capable of making all disagreeables evaporate, from their being in close relationship

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with Beauty & Truth — Examine King Lear & you will find this examplified throughout; but in this picture we have unpleasantness without any momentous depth of speculation excited, in which to bury its repulsiveness — The picture is larger than Christ rejected — I dined with Haydon the sunday after you left, & had a very pleasant day, I dined too (for I have been out too much lately) with Horace Smith & met his two brothers, with Hill & Kingston, & one Du Bois, they only served to convince me, how superior humour is to wit in respect to enjoyment — These men say things which make one start, without making one feel; they are all alike; their manners are alike; they all know fashionables; they have a mannerism in their very eating & drinking, in their mere handling a Decanter — They talked of Kean & his low company — Would I were with that Company instead of yours, said I to myself! I know such like acquaintance will never do for me & yet I am going to Reynolds, on wednesday. Brown & Dilke walked with me & back from the Christmas pantomime. I had not a dispute but a disquisition with Dilke, on various subjects; several things dovetailed in my mind, & at once it struck me, what quality went to form a Man of Achievement especially in Literature & which Shakespeare posessed so enormously — I mean Negative Capability, that is, when man is capable of being in uncertainties, Mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact & reason — Coleridge, for instance, would let go by a fine isolated verisimilitude caught from the Penetralium of mystery, from being incapable of remaining content with half knowledge. This pursued through Volumes would perhaps take us no further than this, that with a great poet the sense of Beauty overcomes every other consideration, or rather obliterates all consideration. Shelley’s poem is out, & there are words about its being objected too, as much as Queen Mab was. Poor Shelley, I think he has his Quota of good qualities, in sooth la!! Write soon to your most sincere friend & affectionate Brother. John

Interpreting what was intended by this phrase, Negative Capability, is made difficult by the lack of any systematic development by Keats himself. However, we know from his other writings that it emerges from an ongoing philosophical inquiry. Our approach to the work of interpretation is to try to stay as close as possible to what is recounted in this letter. We agree with others that connections can be made with related ideas— his own as well as those of others in his acquaintance, such as Leigh Hunt’s ‘passive capacity’, William Hazlitt’s ‘disinterested imagination’, and Coleridge’s ‘suspension of disbelief’ (Roe, 2012, p. xix). However,

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we are reluctant to go as far as some in understanding Negative Capability as a ‘conceptual umbrella of diverse elements that are interrelated’ (Ou, 2009, p. 185; see also, Saggurthi & Thakur, 2016). Our reasons for this will be explored further in Chapter 3. For now, we wish to set the scene for our inquiry into the implications of Negative Capability in leadership practice through the lenses of the ordinary and the extraordinary.

The Ordinary and the Extraordinary In the capitalisation of Beauty, as in Keats’ other letters and poems, we see the influence of his schooling in the poetry and philosophy of Ancient Greece, which reverberates throughout his writings. Aristotle listed ten categories of existing things, and this relates broadly to what we are referring to as the ordinary: substance, quantity, quality, relation, place, time, position, doing, having, and being affected. Keats’ notion of Negative Capability is relevant to the ordinary, but his reference to Beauty points towards a contribution beyond the ordinary. In the Middle Ages, the triumvirate of Beauty, Truth and Goodness came to be referred to as the Transcendentals, which are expressions of being that exceed, or transcend, the world of the ordinary, and, in some traditions, are closely related to the unity of the divine. However, typically this has been overlooked in recent interpretations of Negative Capability because of the tendency to marginalise the transcendent in modern discourses, not least in leadership studies. In part, this marginalisation has occurred for good reason, with the discourses of transcendence too often being used as instruments of domination by the leadership elites of religious institutions and monarchies to silence and control. Ironically, since the Enlightenment that promised to free us from the vagaries of blind faith, the process of marginalisation has been used rather effectively by the new leadership elites in political, scientific, and commercial institutions to silence those with a different transcendent belief to their own (Simpson, 2020). Our preference is for a more inclusive understanding of transcendence, recognising that there are many ways of considering the possibility that there are realities beyond the ordinary experience of being in the world. Keats used the language of Beauty, Truth and Goodness and was seeking to express this in his poetry, philosophy, and practice. Long (2015) uses

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language that is, perhaps, more conducive to modern sensibilities when she talks of ‘connectedness to source’, suggesting that, a spiritual source, God, a deity, or even natural forces (e.g., Gaia) may be the source. In more secular terms, source may come from an overall purpose beyond individual egos – a communal purpose or a historical, cultural dynamic […] Often the source must be discovered through a process of inquiry and connection: for instance, prayer, meditation, body awareness, the arts, cultural ritual, or socio-analytic practice. Source is not always self-evident and might be deeply unconscious, requiring reflective methods, both individual and group in order to gain access. (pp. 9–10)

We are arguing that Keats’ ideas on Negative Capability are relevant in two aspects. The first, which is dominant in existing literature on this capability, appreciates the importance of attending to the limitations of our empirical knowledge. In other words, there are things to be known in the empirical world that are not yet known but are, for our purposes, relatively ordinary phenomena. From this perspective, Negative Capability is associated with the ability to tolerate uncertainty, content to work with half knowledge in the pursuit of greater certainty, as we shall see in Chapter 3. As such, the contribution of Negative Capability can be likened to a method of inquiry. The second aspect is ontological rather than methodological, concerned with the nature of being, which is beyond knowing in the empirical sense. These ideas have prominence in a range of philosophical and religious traditions, each drawing upon different concepts and language to express this experience of transcendence, which Keats points towards with his use of the term ‘Mysteries’. This is what we are referring to when we use the term extraordinary. In the letter above, the storytelling that surrounds Keats’ description of Negative Capability illustrates, primarily, what it is not. This has resonances with the ancient method of negation or unsaying (Sells, 1994) when talking of the ineffable—those aspects of our experience that are beyond explanation or description. When illustrating a lack of Negative Capability, Keats points towards the behaviour of Dilke and Coleridge as typified by ‘any irritable reaching after fact & reason’. We know a little about Dilke from some of Keats’ other letters and the key seems to be this: that he was a person who was fixed in his ideas,

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taking dogma as truth. In the following excerpt we also see echoes of his thoughts on Smith, Hill, Kingston and Du Bois: Dilke was a Man who cannot feel he has a personal identity unless he has made up his Mind about everything. The only means of strengthening one’s intellect is to make up one’s mind about nothing—to let the mind be a thoroughfare for all thoughts, not a select party. The genus is not scarce in population; all the stubborn arguers you meet with are of the same brood — They never begin upon a subject they have not pre-resolved on… Dilke will never come at a truth as long as he lives, because he is always trying at it. (Letter to his brother and sister-in-law, September 24, 1819, in Gittings, 1970, p. 326)

Again, with Dilke as his illustration, Keats is pointing to the general tendency to carry with us our ‘pre-resolved’ ideas, and that this prevents us from being able to ‘come at a truth’. In the Negative Capability letter, he is making the same point about Coleridge, who he suggests ‘would let go by a fine isolated verisimilitude’ (that is, something that has the appearance of being true). Coleridge’s pre-resolved ideas were famously rooted in his commitment to post-Kantian German philosophy (Hamilton, 2007). His critique of Dilke and Coleridge was that they shielded themselves from experience, and so from truth, by bringing an already formed understanding. Murry (1926, p. 58) argues that, by contrast, ‘What Keats holds to be true philosophy abstains from all dogmatism’. Some have chosen to emphasise this practical aspect of Negative Capability, emphasising the capacities to resist conceptual closure (Chia & Morgan, 1996) and to maintain an attitude of openness in relation to reality (Cornish, 2011). However, Keats’ letter seems, clearly to us, to go much further. He is concerned with the ontological as well as practical significance of this capability. This draws our attention to the importance of being in the presence of experience, with its inherent uncertainties, and we argue that this is fundamental to Keats search for Beauty and Truth. In Negative Capability, Keats sees a critical capacity for a philosophy of freedom (Steiner, 2011), allowing the search for truth—both ordinary and extraordinary—to be unencumbered by commitments to existing knowledge derived from dogma or previous experience. Continuing directly from his critique of Dilke and Coleridge, Keats argued, that it is ‘the sense of Beauty’ that ‘obliterates all consideration’. If we wish

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to be faithful to these strong convictions in our exploration of Negative Capability in leadership practice, then we must be prepared to open our inquiry to more than the rational and ordinary and leave room for the ineffable and extraordinary. In uncertainties, Mysteries and doubts, Keats noticed that there are those who have already made up their minds about everything through ‘consideration’ and who consequently miss the possibilities of insight into what is before them. When knowledge is taken from elsewhere and applied to the understanding of the present moment, the opportunity is lost to discover the experience of a new beauty or truth in the ‘Penetralium of mystery’, the inner sanctum, those deep places of uncertainty, Mystery, and doubt within the self. However, we must remember to avoid creating a binary separation between the ordinary and the extraordinary. Keats is talking about the role of Negative Capability in relation to both, and in the interplay between the two. In the everyday experiences of life, Keats is exhorting us to be open to the possibility of fresh insights into the practical outworking of beauty, truth and goodness in the world. Further, Negative Capability is also required to hold a space within and between us that is open to Beauty, Truth and Goodness at the transcendent level of Being. Keats saw Shakespeare as exemplifying this capability and found in his writing the outworking of a radical search for ‘Beauty & Truth’. We say radical because the example of King Lear makes clear that Keats did not see representations of Beauty and Truth as necessarily beautiful or good by common standards. Smith (2019) says of the play, ‘King Lear is perhaps Shakespeare’s most desolate tragedy… without ultimate redemption… perverse…’ (p. 223). In Keats’ philosophical inquiry, he is constantly seeking to bring together the ordinary/practical and the extraordinary/ontological. Our opportunity—which is also a challenge—is to consider the potential implications of both aspects of Negative Capability in leadership practice. We suggest that in the two hundred years since Keats, society has been through many significant transitions, not least in its relationship to knowledge. This is associated with a polarisation of theory and practice, and of philosophy and experience. If Negative Capability is to have implications for practice in the sense that Keats intended, then the challenge is to find ways to bring together the ordinary/practical and the extraordinary/ineffable.

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The Experience of Not Knowing Andrew, the managing director of a medium sized computer software organisation, was leaning his chair against the wall, both hands behind his head. The part time MBA class was in the first lesson of a new module in leading change and Jo, the lecturer, was presenting her ideas on the importance of attending to emotion and politics as well as rational approaches to management. Andrew was poised but merely listened attentively until the lecturer made the generalisation that people tend to be averse to change because uncertainty provokes anxiety. ‘Can I say something,’ he called from the back of the class. ‘Of course...’ she replied. ‘What you are saying is bollocks. If there is not enough change in my organisation, I get bored and will do something just to make things interesting’. The rest of the class were shocked into attention, now sitting in an uncomfortable silence, wondering what was going to happen next. Their fears were misplaced as the intervention raised the discussion to a higher level, stimulating an exploration of the complexities of change management in relation to difference, power, conflict and the political process.

Andrew was, in our experience, unusual in his love of change. In fact, it was clear that he drew personal power from his ability to tolerate uncertainty and clearly enjoyed flexing his intellectual muscles when the opportunity arose. This was noted in other modules—with male as well as female lecturers—and his approach to his assignments was noteworthy in that he had a practice of starting them no earlier than 24 hours before the submission deadline. His rationale was that he was on the programme to learn to be a better manager and did not want to be constrained by the assignment brief in what he was able to explore. Pragmatically astute, he had worked out early in the programme that this strategy allowed him to do well enough to gain a pass mark, and often better, as his depth of engagement in the subject gave him some insightful things to say. It also helped to stop him from becoming bored! This does demonstrate some Negative Capability as well as showing the importance of a range of positive capabilities that are required to work in situations of uncertainty, such as the confidence to inquire proactively, seek out information, and exercising skills of debate and problem solving. Keats letters provide ample evidence of similar aptitudes and behaviours. Andrew was unusual in his behaviour, the other students more typical, because modern discourses in organisations and society are dominated by

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a valuing of knowing and a discomfort with not knowing. It is not that Andrew was wholly right in his assertion. Rather, we are drawing attention to his pursuit of a more complex, deeper, truth, which must be content with ‘half-knowledge’ as it pursues an insight from the Penetralium of mystery. This illustration draws our attention to one of the reasons why Negative Capability is not more prominent in modern culture in that an unquestioned assumption prevails that it is better to be certain than uncertain. We are unable to feel content unless we have relevant knowledge and tend to feel restless, inadequate, irritable if we are compelled to deal with what is seen as a deficiency. Consequently, our ways of working tend to be predicated on seeking to achieve this ‘better’ state of knowing. Worse, but not uncommon, we develop ways of hiding our ignorance—and, collectively, we too frequently collude with such behaviour because we want to know that it is possible to hide. But what if we could change the way that we think about uncertainty? Rather than seeing it as a deficiency (a lack of knowledge), could uncertainty be thought of as stimulating? Andrew created change and uncertainty because he was easily bored—he wanted more stimulation in the workplace. We also see in his behaviour an inclination towards learning and inquiry, which were stimulated by the perceived deficiency in his skills and knowledge, and it was this that prompted him to register for an M.B.A. Moreover, there is a need to understand that uncertainty and not knowing in the workplace is not merely an ‘absence of knowing’. It is an inevitable aspect of professional practice and needs to be given more careful attention. It is an integral part of our working lives and deserves to be acknowledged as legitimate—not a cause for shame and embarrassment. If we can change our attitude towards not knowing, we can begin to develop capabilities that will better support our practice. Consequently, we are interested in methods of working in uncertainty without, necessarily, seeking to know whatever it is that we think we do not know. What we might seek, instead, is beauty, truth, and goodness without knowing what these might be when they become manifest. In Andrew, we see a passion for inquiry for its own sake and not with a predetermined goal in mind. Alongside a range of positive capabilities, Negative Capability is an aspect of such an approach, which acknowledges the potential importance of learning to be with uncertainty.

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Mysteries and Unknowing One of the difficulties in giving explicit attention to the ineffable is that a poetic capability is required to say what cannot be said, and with subtlety point towards what cannot be seen. Moreover, we are writing in a societal culture dominated by the pragmatic mindset of a knowledge economy that struggles to simultaneously hold a socio-economic rationale alongside a poetic contemplation of truth. It is our assumption that speaking of the transcendent should be attempted only with humility, which is inherent in the ambiguous subtlety of poetry. In an organisational context, the opposite mindset tends to proliferate and the desire for certainty demands that transcendence, if it is acknowledged at all, is managed by leaders who are expected to know. The leader is put into an invidious position—doomed either to maintain a pretence or to be exposed as incompetent. Gabriel (2015) offers a psychoanalytic interpretation of the relationship between leaders and followers in which the latter can unconsciously project transcendent qualities of omnipotence and legitimacy upon those in positions of authority. He argues that a leader is ‘one of a case of archetypes that populate our mind’ manifesting, variously, as ‘a saint […] a devil […] a devious schemer […] and a sacrificial lamb’ (p. 319). In a similar vein, Grint (2010) argues that the denial of the sacred in leadership is tantamount to denying leadership itself. This supports a hierarchical view of leadership that creates a separation from followers, demands the sacrifice of self and/or others, and silences both opposition and the existential angst of supporters. Grint is persuasive in his belief that alternative understandings of leadership are difficult to enact because they demand greater effort, requiring followers to take on more responsibility. Indeed, leadership that draws upon Negative Capability requires greater effort from all and demands shared responsibility—as was hinted at in our observation of Andrew’s fellow students, in their silence and reluctance to take up their own authority. Such leadership cannot be the function of a lone individual but must be a process in which all have a part to play. The split between leaders and followers discussed by Gabriel and Grint must dissolve. However, without someone who knows to carry the responsibility, being in uncertainty is a challenge for all involved. Grint is correct that the pressure for the separation of roles is great, even in the ordinary, everyday uncertainties of the workplace. The challenge is greater still if there is an aspiration to bring something of the extraordinary into

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the world because it is not only uncertainties but also Mysteries that must be faced. The following illustration demonstrates some of these pressures and will resonate with the experience of many who are wary of bringing the transcendent into leadership practice.

Illustration: Living by Faith Tom and Jean had, by their own admission, ‘always been at the social services end of the Christian spectrum.’ When Jean experienced a miraculous healing, a sense of destiny entered their lives, which they came to believe was to establish a residential home for young people. They believed this to have the backing of God. They began looking for a house and funds. A possibility of obtaining both arose, and they took a leap of faith. They resigned from their jobs and sold their house. The negotiations for funds collapsed. They were confused. Tom described this time as the start of ‘an emotional roller coaster.’ Encouragement came through small successes. Through church networks they were loaned a small house to live in, free of rent. Their passion and conviction inspired others to become involved on a voluntary basis. Their non-residential work with young people grew. Links were formed with local organizations, including a telephone counselling service which provided an office for them to work from. For three years they kept going on a shoestring budget. Their initial funds were soon exhausted, and they lived hand to mouth. The stresses of everyday life meant that some who started to work with Tom and Jean drifted away. There were also signs that Tom and Jean’s single mindedness was difficult for those working with them: some began to grumble that they were not being listened to, expressing a dislike for the controlling, hierarchical approach to leadership. Some drifted away quietly but others left in bitter conflict. They persisted, putting in place the organizational, financial and legal structures required for the project. A charitable trust was set up. Then, a property was found, and planning permission obtained. Finally, the longed-for breakthrough occurred: a local government organisation needed a project that could start before the end of the budget year because other projects had fallen through at a late stage. The house was purchased and renovated. Within a year they were running their residential home. However, the home struggled to become viable and financial pressures escalated. A strong difference of opinion began to develop, a rift between Tom and Jean on the one side and the trustees on the other. The house operated for

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a year before the trustees ousted them and put another couple in charge. The home operated for another year and then closed.

At the time, Tom and Jean described themselves as ‘living by faith’ but others experienced them as dogmatic in their opinions. They demonstrated Negative Capability, working in uncertainty over a prolonged period, but by invoking the presence of God as the basis of the authority to lead, they behaved as though they were the ones who knew best and in doing so alienated others. In this they lost touch with unknowing as well as not knowing. We are making a distinction between not knowing and unknowing to make a conceptual distinction between the everyday experience of uncertainty, not knowing, and what, for Keats, entailed a reaching after the extraordinary in Beauty, Truth and Goodness. This is the realm of ‘Mysteries’, which Keats capitalises in the same manner as he does the Transcendentals. The ineffable has been described in the Christian tradition as a ‘Cloud of Unknowing,’ which understands the transcendent as inherently unknowable. Johnston (1974, p. xv) suggests that in this intellectual darkness, ‘God can be loved but he cannot be thought. He can be grasped by love but never by concepts.’ It seems that Tom and Jean might have begun in love (for God, for young people, to do good in the world) but became caught in a battle of ideas about who knew best. They were challenged by not knowing in relation to the practical/ordinary and lost touch with unknowing in relation to the ineffable/extraordinary. Expressing this another way, they lost touch with Negative Capability. Under the pressure of expectation, they practiced leadership as those who knew better. They had some success but failed to achieve their ambitions. That is not to say that staying in touch with Negative Capability would have enabled them to establish a successful residential home. This is not what Keats means by ‘Achievement’—consider, again, King Lear as his exemplar of the intensity of Art. To the extent that they were able to be in uncertainties, Mysteries, doubts, Tom and Jean did bring an intensity and, to a limited extent, Beauty, Truth and Goodness did obliterate all consideration. However, in a culture where ‘knowledge is king’, and it is consideration that obliterates Beauty, the extraordinary transcendent can so easily come to fuel leadership as an instrument of domination. Whilst we remain mindful of the importance to Keats of the Mysteries, our primary focus is on the uncertainties of the everyday with which those

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involved in the practice of leadership must engage. With Keats, we are convinced of the inevitable interplay of the ordinary and the extraordinary, the pragmatic and the transcendent, but in our inquiry, we choose to walk before we try to run. We will retain an attentive awareness of the role that the extraordinary can sometimes play in leadership, but we do not begin to address this theme in any depth until the final chapters, on purpose and passion. Leadership has a particular role to play in relation to uncertainty in the everyday realities of organisations. This entails the development of a range of relevant capabilities in relation to the practice of attention, a sense of purpose, the work of leisure, and the role of passion. This is not to denigrate the capabilities that require knowledge and knowing, which remain a crucial element of effective leadership practice, but the challenge is also to find ways to acknowledge and work with the experiences of not knowing. This is what we believe Keats was attempting to achieve, and he coined the phrase Negative Capability to emphasise the value of taking seriously our engagement with not knowing. We suggest that Negative Capability brings a new dimension to our understanding of these capabilities, which is further heightened when we include a consideration of the experience of transcendence and unknowing.

References Chia, R., & Morgan, S. (1996). Educating the philosopher-manager de-signing the times. Management Learning, 27 (1), 37–64. Cornish, S. (2011). Negative capability and social work: Insights from Keats, Bion and business. Journal of Social Work Practice, 25(2), 135–148. Gabriel, Y. (2015). The caring leader – What followers expect of their leaders and why. Leadership, 11(3), 316–334. Grint, K. (2010). The sacred in leadership: Separation, sacrifice and silence. Organization Studies, 31, 89–107. Hadot, P. (1995). Philosophy as a way of life: Spiritual exercises from Socrates to Foucault. Blackwell. Gittings, R. (1970). Letters of John Keats. OUP. Hamilton, P. (2007). Coleridge and German philosophy: The poet in the land of logic. Continuum. Johnston, W. (1974). The mysticism of the cloud of unknowing. Anthony Clarke. Long, S. (Ed.). (2015). Transforming experience in organisations: A framework for organisational research and consultancy. Routledge.

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Murry, J. M. (1926). Keats and Shakespeare: A study of Keats’ poetic life from 1816 to 1820. Oxford University Press. Ou, L. (2009). Keats and negative capability. Continuum. Roe, N. (2012). John Keats. Yale University Press. Saggurthi, S., & Thakur, M. K. (2016). Usefulness of uselessness: A case for negative capability in management. Academy of Management Learning and Education, 15(1), 180–193. Sells, M. (1994). Mystical languages of unsaying. Chicago University Press. Smith, E. (2019). This is Shakespeare: How to read the world’s greatest playwright. Pelican Books. Simpson, P. (2020). Leadership. In S. Schwarzkopf (Ed.), The Routledge handbook of economic theology. Routledge. Steiner, R. (2011). The philosophy of freedom (M. Wilson, Trans.). Rudolf Steiner Press.

CHAPTER 3

Negative Capability

In this chapter we will explore how Negative Capability might contribute to leadership practice. Having discussed the genesis of the idea and its relevance to working in uncertainty in the previous chapter, we will begin by illustrating what such leadership might look like. We will do this through the story of Esha Patel, the chief executive of a private educational college, who was faced with the sudden and unforeseen change in her institution’s financial situation. What makes this event significant for our purposes is that Esha, in her response, was drawing upon Negative Capability and demanded the same of her team.

Illustration: Esha Patel, the Chief Executive Esha received the news late on a Friday afternoon that a change in UK government policy concerning the recruitment of overseas students would lead to a sudden and unforeseen loss of core income. She felt the pressure from the Chair of the Board to call an emergency meeting with her senior team over the weekend, but she did not react to these expectations. Instead, she spent the whole weekend reflecting on the issue and concluded that any decision was likely to have a significant impact on the financial health of the organisation. She did not produce a solution and waited until Monday to involve her senior team.

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 C. von Bülow and P. Simpson, Negative Capability in Leadership Practice, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-95768-1_3

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Esha met with her team for a couple of hours first thing on each day of that week. The only condition she made was that they should not come with solutions but be prepared to think together. Every day, Esha let the discussion flow until it started to sound like conclusions were being drawn and, at that point, she stopped the meeting. By the end of a week, a shared perspective had emerged. The result was unexpected...

In resisting the pressure to come up with a solution from her Board, Esha showed strength of conviction and courage. Such behaviour is a risk—a naïve engagement with uncertainty can lead to unfortunate outcomes. For example, there are many professional contexts within which being slow to act or a careless admission of ‘not knowing what to do’ might have a detrimental effect on the individual’s reputation and credibility within the organisation. At this stage, we would merely point out that Negative Capability is not a passive or submissive stance. It might not play out well in some organisational contexts, but its contribution to practice is concerned with improving the quality of attention, engagement and response. We have followed Esha’s journey through and beyond this initial crisis point, witnessing and recording some of her reflections on the decisions and actions taken at the time. We will return to this story later in the chapter to explore what happened. Keats describes Negative Capability as ‘when man is capable of being in uncertainties, Mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact & reason’ (Gittings, 1970, pp. 41–43). We suggest that in relation to leadership practice this is the capacity to be with the uncertainty of a challenging situation and to be without the desire to reach for quick solutions. Consequently, an inner space is left open, which is the seat of a heightened quality of attention. The deliberate practice of attention enables those involved in leadership to engage with the complexity and uncertainty of a situation. As will become evident, our interpretation of Keats’ notion, as well as our lived experience of Negative Capability, differs somewhat from what can be found in the existing organisation studies literature. Firstly, however, we must ask—how did Keats describe Negative Capability and what was he trying to convey?

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Capable of Being---The Life and Personal Philosophy of John Keats Keats died young, at just 25 years of age, and yet his life, poetry and letters have drawn an extraordinary amount of attention. As a result, even though he lived in London over two hundred years ago, we know a great deal about what might have contributed to his personal philosophy, of which Negative Capability is a central aspect (see, for example, Bate, 1963; Murry, 1955; Roe, 2012; Ward, 1963). By the age of nine Keats had lost his father, a younger brother (Edward), and two uncles; at the age of fourteen he nursed his mother at her deathbed; at twenty-three he did the same for his nineteen-year-old brother (Thomas). From an early age, Keats knew what it meant to live in uncertainty. Motion (1997, p. 41) argues that ‘Every attempt that he would later make to explain the conditions of human existence sprang from his conviction that suffering was its only reliable component.’ In relation to organisational leadership, this is reminiscent of Bennis and Thomas’ (2002, p. 39) suggestion that, …one of the most reliable indicators and predictors of true leadership is an individual’s ability to find meaning in negative events and to learn from even the most trying circumstances. Put another way, the skills required to conquer adversity and emerge stronger and more committed than ever are the same ones that make for extraordinary leaders.

It is in such situations that the gulf is most pronounced between knowledge gained from theory and the experiential realities of working in uncertainty. Keats recognised that beyond the experience of ‘seeing nothing but pleasant wonders’ is the opportunity for ‘sharpening one’s vision into the heart and nature of Man — of convincing one’s nerves that the world is full of Misery and Heartbreak, Pain, Sickness and oppression’ (letter to Reynolds, 3 May 1818, in Gittings, 1970, p. 95). Staying close to Keats’ own words in his description of Negative Capability, we observe that he is drawing attention to the challenge of remaining capable of being when assailed by uncertainty. One of the challenges in understanding Negative Capability is that there is little awareness of it and its significance: ‘few people save Keats have even suspected its existence’ (Murry, 1926, p. 47). This general lack of awareness is compounded by a lack of desire to develop a capability that

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might include the possibility of pain and suffering. By contrast, we see in Keats’ biography a clue to his awareness of a capability that allowed him to face what Murry called ‘the pains which are knit up in the very nature of existence’ (p. 47). However, in this, Keats was not drawing upon a specific tradition but had an inquiring practice which reflects some of the characteristics of what Hadot(1995) called ‘philosophy as a way of life’. Murry explains, ...the word Philosophy in Keats’ writings does not mean the technical subject which bears that name. What it means is a comprehension (and a comprehension of a peculiar kind) of the mystery of human life. To acquire this comprehension is necessary for Keats if he is to achieve his purposeof doing some good in the world by poetry... Keats never really wavered in his belief that the highest kind of poetry was the vehicle of the highest kind of truth, and as such the supreme benefit that could be conferred upon humanity at large. This highest kind of poetry, Keats felt, called for great sacrificeand demanded great suffering. (Murry, 1926, p. 60)

We see Keats’ traumatic life experience as the cauldron within which Negative Capability and his wider philosophy emerged. Our interpretation derives not merely from seeking to be faithful to Keats’ description of Negative Capability, but also through our understanding of the formative impact of his life experience on the development of his ideas, as well as by interpreting the phrase in the context in which the idea arose, which was discussed in Chapter 2.

Negative Capability in the Leadership Literature Having looked at the life of Keats and touched on his philosophy, we will now dive into some of the interpretations that can be found in the organisational leadership literature and illustrate where we take a different perspective from some other scholars. In outline, we can say that our reading of Keats, and our experience of Negative Capability, is an invitation to shift focus and attention from knowing and doing to ways of being, being without and being with. Negative Capability is an enigmatic notion and whilst it has found its way into the leadership literature over the last three decades, there was initially little effort made to explore its contribution to the field—it merely seems to resonate with the lived experienceof leaders. For example,

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Bennis (1989, p. 148) quotes Keats in the context of ‘moving through chaos’, but then just states ‘There’s probably no better definition of a contemporary leader than that’ (see also Handy, 1989, p. 54). Since then, one prominent focus has been on Negative Capability as the capacity to contain or tolerate anxiety (French, 2001; Grint, 2007, p. 241) when working in uncertainty. Keats himself addresses the challenge of coping with anxiety when he argues that ‘extensive knowledge is needful to thinking people… to ease the burden of Mystery’ (Gittings, 1970, p. 92). However, in his description of Negative Capability, Keats makes no reference to ‘easing the burden’ but rather to be ‘capable of being in uncertainties, Mysteries, doubts’. Consequently, we do not believe that Keats understood Negative Capability as a form of ‘extensive knowledge’. Indeed, one of the most important contributions of Negative Capability is to allow the leader to recognise and accept when she does not know. Consequently, we maintain that the containment of anxiety is a positive capability that is an element of Keats wider philosophy but distinct from Negative Capability. Others interpret Negative Capability as the capacity to resist conceptual closure (Chia & Morgan, 1996), remaining content with ‘halfknowledge’ (Bate, 1939, p. 63; Saggurthi & Thakur, 2016, p. 185). Again, we see a focus here on positive capabilities related to knowing and doing —not being. Related to this, another interpretation is openness —both in relation to reality (Cornish, 2011) and as a quality of receptive inaction and patience (Simpson et al., 2002). When discussing one of Keats’ accounts of the poetic character (Gittings, 1970, pp. 157ff.), Murry (1926) observes a radical openness in Keats, ‘a state of extreme and agonizing receptivity, this passive sensitiveness of the being’ (p. 53). In this, Murry makes an explicit connection with being, which is closer to our understanding, although the focus is on a receptive openness, which is a positive capability, which we will discuss in more detail in Chapter 7 on the work of leisure. In relation to Murry’s identification of an intense feeling state, Keats himself famously cried, ‘O for a Life of Sensations rather than Thought!’ (letter to Bailey, 22 November 1817, in Gittings, 1970, p. 37). Bari (2012) suggests that Keats feels… life, phenomenally and affectively, and he expresses it in his poetry, where the feeling of things cultivates a feeling for life, in the sense of an aptitude, sensitivity or susceptibility to all that it entails. The term

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‘feeling’ operated broadly… moving between the distinctions of sensation, emotion and apprehension. In all three cases, feeling designates something that is non-conceptual, or not ‘known’ in the properly Kantian sense, but is ‘felt’ as surely as it were. (p. xvii)

The most substantial recent contribution was made by Saggurthi and Thakur (2016) who offer a comprehensive review of existing literature and argue that the practice of Negative Capability can enable managers to operate more effectively in situations of doubt and uncertainty, defining it as the ability to delight in doubt and revel in uncertainty without feeling compelled to rationalize half-knowledge or to reach for facts or fall back on existing knowledge structures, resisting conceptual closure and in a state of diligent indolence and passive receptivity, move toward a knowing with the power of one’s imagination, sensations, and intuition. (p. 185)

Inspired by the idea of an ‘organic conception’ which ‘grows increasingly richer…’ (Ou, 2009, p. 2), they present an image of Negative Capability as a ‘conceptual umbrella of diverse elements that are interrelated’ (p. 185). They identify its potential contribution as a challenge to reductionist worldviews, promoting an alternative discourse that does not ‘advocate performativity, the need for control, and a mechanical perspective’ (p. 181). In this they draw upon the work of several popular systems complexity theorists(Scharmer, 2008, 2010; Senge et al., 2005; Wheatley, 1992) in questioning whether dominant management discourses are adequate for the task of engaging effectively with the challenges of organisational uncertainty and change. Some organizational scholars (French& Simpson, 2015; Ramsey, 2014) are engaged in a related exploration of leading in uncertainty, arguing that more careful attention needs to be given to what is not known, even unknowable: a practice that requires time and the capacity to think deeply in order to make perceptive, discerning judgements (Stacey, 2012, p. 108). We support the general thrust of Saggurthi and Thakur’s argument. However, whilst acknowledging that their conclusions were systematically derived from their review of a wide range of sources—not just relating to leadership, but also in the fields of literature, psychology, and social work—we question the appropriateness of their definition. Our difficulty is quite simply that few of the ideas contained in it were

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used by Keats when he described Negative Capability. By developing an ‘organic conception’ that draws upon additional qualities and capabilities, they dilute the meaning of Negative Capability and its potentially unique contribution. Moreover, because their definition is a composite of several ‘diverse elements’ it becomes extremely difficult to know how one might develop Negative Capability. In short, the phrase loses its usefulness to leaders—unless it is first deconstructed into its constituent parts. This, of course, then returns us to the question, ‘what is Negative Capability?’. Saggurthi and Thakur present it as a prescription for the challenges of complexityand, in doing so, share a similar failing to much of the systems complexity literature upon which they draw (Hancock & Tyler, 2004, 2009). There is no quick fix to complexity, no comfortable way of engaging with uncertainty. Negative Capability may contribute as intended, but it may also unexpectedly lead to difficult and uncomfortable experiences rather than ‘the ability to delight in doubt and revel in uncertainty’. Keats believed that pain and suffering is a prominent state for the pure poet—essential rather than something to be tolerated (Bate, 1939, p. 47). He understood the world as a ‘vale of Soul-making’ (Letter to his brother and sister-in-law, 21 April 1819, in Gittings, 1970, p. 249), the soul developing through bitter experience, creating a capacity through which ‘they know and they see and they are pure’ (ibid., p. 250). It is a challenge to consider a way of being that leaves one open to—perhaps even embraces—pain and suffering. This is not a common expectation of a contract of employment in most organisations.

Not Knowing in a Knowledge Economy When we are trying to understand the potential contribution of Negative Capability to leadership practice, it is important to consider the impact of the stigma attached to admitting any level of ignorance. In many organisations, to suggest that there is value in exploring ways of not knowing carries potential reputational risks. Within our culture in the West, so carefully constructed around the implicit power dynamics of a knowledge economy, the experience of not knowing can be compared to a form of social insolvency. In other words, the phenomenology of not knowing the solutions to a problem is analogous to that of being in debt—and common fears of how one is perceived will follow suit. Is it any

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wonder, then, that the idea of embracing the experience of not knowing is counterintuitive? In relation to leadership practice, we suggest that this is, at least partially, rooted in the dominant popular image of an effective leader as someone with exceptional capabilities and, most significantly, possessing knowledge that others do not. To draw upon Negative Capability requires an alternative mindset and to illustrate this, let us return here to the story of the crisis that faced Esha and her management team. Esha decided to facilitate a process that allowed spaciousness and time, and which welcomed ‘not knowing’ as a legitimate part of the discussion. She was aware that this could be seen as irresponsible and be anxiety-provoking for the team, particularly in such a crisis. Yet Esha took that risk. In response to the Board’s requests for a plan, she respectfully responded that there were too many unknown issues to allow a swift decision. Instead, Esha invited her team to come to a collective understanding of what could be known about the situation whilst also recognising what could not. The team worked together for a week without making any decisions. For the first couple of days, some team members brought along proposals and Esha merely reminded them that they should not come with solutions but be prepared to think together. By inviting the team to remain with the experience of not knowing, their attention was not captured by an irritable reaching after solutions unsupported by evidence. Consequently, whilst it was a stressful time, ultimately their decision was not driven by anxiety. At the end of the week, the conclusion was reached that the greater wisdom lay in accepting the situation and allowing the programme to close. In the weeks that followed, the quality of the approach to decision-making was highly praised by the team. Furthermore, whilst the result was unexpected, the action taken turned out to be a sound strategic move for the organisation. Rather than putting all their efforts into defending the status quo, they turned their attention and energies to new opportunities and a re-imagining of the identity of the college.

What we see here is that Esha was capable of being in uncertainties and this was supported by her courage to go against the expectations of powerful others, reacting without an irritable reaching after fact & reason. The spaciousness and time to dwell in the situation enabled the team to co-create a new perspective on the crisis. Esha’s response was strategic and innovative and not driven by short-termism. We do see evidence of the positive capabilities of tolerating anxiety, resisting conceptual closure, receptivity, and patience. However, what we saw was a more fundamental

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response, which was to be capable of being in the uncertainty without a compulsion to think or act in response to difficult emotions. In naming Negative Capability, Keats is pointing towards the importance of ‘being’ in the presence of experience. We do not underestimate the difficulty of understanding this insight: the nature of ‘being’ has absorbed the attention of some of the greatest minds since antiquity, from Aristotle to Heidegger (Derrida, 2016; Frede, 1993). Indeed, some have sought to bring the insights of Heidegger to an understanding of organisational practice (Chia & Holt, 2006; Introna, 1997; Segal, 2010; Tomkins & Simpson, 2015; Zundel, 2012). Our intention, however, is not to attempt a Heideggerian interpretation of Keats, which others have begun (Bari, 2012). By contrast, our approach is to start with Keats’ inquiry into his own experience of being in uncertainty. In this sense, Keats demonstrates an aspect of the Heideggerian view of what distinguishes humans from other beings. That is, as a ‘being that is specially qualified to serve as the starting-point for an inquiry into Being’ (Macquarrie, 1968, p. 6). We suggest that Negative Capability is a capacity that contributes to an inquiry into being, and specifically the experience of being human. It is this that suggests to us the potential of Negative Capability to contribute to the important task of humanizing our responses to dealing with the challenges of working in uncertainty (Petriglieri & Petriglieri, 2015, p. 627). However, if we focus on being in this way, we need to stop and look at what we mean by the term capability. Typically, this is used to refer to a practice that a person knows how to undertake. Keats’ brilliance, in this regard, was to see the significance of the absence of a knowing practice and we could say that Negative Capability is the absence of all positive capabilities. Keats noticed that when we encounter this open space within ourselves then the human tendency can be to respond in ways that seek to fill this vacuum with ‘emotion (‘irritable’), action (‘reaching’) and knowledge (‘fact & reason’). By contrasting ‘being in uncertainties…’ with an ‘irritable reaching…’ in this way, Keats offers an understanding of Negative Capability by negation or unsaying (Sells, 1994), indicating how hard it can be to stay in the uncertainties of the current situation. It is a subtle thing to identify when and how to stay with uncertainty and resist the temptation to reach for solutions. To be capable of being is not something that the manager can achieve by doing anything. Let us illustrate with a brief example.

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We recently ran a workshop for the department of a national charity that was going through significant levels of change. A staff survey had identified ‘coping with uncertainty’ as a key developmental need. One exercise involved working in pairs, where each person identified a work situation where they did not know what to do. The role of the ‘other person’ was to listen actively, but to say nothing, to offer no solutions. After the event, a senior manager sought us out and told us that she had found the role of active listener painfully frustrating. She had been trained as a coach, but she experienced being prevented from offering solutions exceedingly difficult. She said that after listening patiently for 2 minutes she knew what the speaker should do, after 3 minutes she began to doubt herself, and by the end of the allotted time, she realised that she was as uncertain as the person with the problem. She reflected on how she experienced the expectations of her in her role as a senior manager as someone who is supposed to know how to resolve problems as quickly as possible and this had become a habit. Through this simple exercise, she caught a glimpse of how her habitual patterns of behaviour were based on an ‘irritable reaching’.

Attention and Inquiry When we consider Negative Capability in relation to ways of being, we are mindful that this has implications for practice. One obvious implication is that the experience of Negative Capability calls for a practice that entails re-directing our attention away from our habitual focus on knowing, feeling and doing. It is in this regard that we support Ramsey’s (2014) call for a scholarship of practice centred on attention rather than knowledge, which proposes a context within which Negative Capability can be embedded in a meaningful way. We might think of this metaphorically as the practice of attention arising from the ground of our being, without recourse to a practice based on knowing. Ramsey draws upon a growing literature that places an emphasis on various forms of experiential learning, most notably practice-based learning (Cunliffe, 2016; Gherardi, 2009; Orlikowski, 2002; Segal, 2010; Sole & Edmondson, 2002; Sutherland et al., 2015; Zundel, 2012) and practice theory (Feldman & Worline, 2016). For example, our analysis of Esha and her team drew on a theory of strategy as practice (Chia & Holt, 2006) to explain how their approach involved dwelling in, or being with, the uncertain situation. We also agree with Ramsey (2014) when she says that ‘attention is the key cognitive activity involved in relating ideas, practice and context’ (p. 7) and we suggest that there are specific exercises that

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can be designed to encourage the development of a practice of attention. The first of these is attention-to-self in order to let go of existing positive capabilities, ‘being without any irritable reaching after fact & reason’. Such a practice needs to be located within a range of developmental experiences that give the opportunity to explore the complexitiesof the inner work required for Negative Capability. So, what can we say about Negative Capability so far? Well, firstly, we challenge the idea that it is an umbrella term for various forms of knowing and doing, which we consider positive capabilities. Instead, we suggest that Keats was pointing towards a potential capability in the existential reality of being . In order to connect with and experience this potential, it is necessary to practice being without the instinctive desire to find respite from the challenges of uncertainty in emotion, action or explanation. This makes it possible to attend to being with uncertainty. Arising from this, we propose that Negative Capability supports the practice of a heightened quality of attention as part of a sustained inquiry. In a team context, such as the one Esha facilitated, for example, it supports a relational process in the pursuit of knowledge, recognising that insights can emerge over time when a challenge is approached by people thinking together. Uncertain situations are often complexand require that attention be given to multiple interacting variables. It is therefore often not just a resolution of the presenting problem that is required— in Esha’s case, the sudden loss of income—but also the management of one’s own and others’ emotional state. This presents challenges of stakeholder management—which for Esha included implications for staff, Board members, and existing students—and the political complexitiesthat this entails. However, Negative Capability is not the basis of another model of ‘heroic leadership’ (Collinson & Tourish, 2015; Wolfram Cox & Hassard, 2018). In her account, Esha made clear that she did not know what to do. She felt anxiety and the pressure to act, describing it as ‘a difficult weekend’. Negative Capability does not make uncertain situations less painful. In fact, it is likely that she was more in touch with these uncomfortable feelings than if she had shifted into ‘problem-solving mode’. It can be a comforting distraction to launch into action, doing something rather than nothing. As we see in Esha’s case, working in uncertainty is typically accompanied by the pressure of expectation on the manager to know what to do and to deal with the situation. However, by definition, working in

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uncertainty is working without knowing. Of course, the manager has knowledge on various levels to draw upon, but this is sometimes the source of the problem rather than the answer, particularly if the manager applies a ‘tried and tested’ solution that has worked elsewhere. The general guidance of ‘best practice’ can be misleading in the specifics of a unique situation (Tomkins & Simpson, 2015). Uncertainty can be both anxiety-generating and a provocation to action, evoking a tension between the desire to run or hide and following a more creative impulse. Negative Capability offers the potential to reshape this creative impulse and thereby enable the manager to guide the change process as it emerges, rather than attempting to simply control recycled solutions and their ill-fitting outcomes. An absence of requisite knowledge shifts the focus onto the need to develop new skills of inquiry, which we have argued suggests the need for a practice centred on attention rather than knowledge, which we will explore in the following chapter.

References Bari, S. K. (2012). Keats and philosophy: The life of sensations. Routledge. Bate, W. J. (1939). Negative capability: The intuitive approach in Keats. Harvard University Press [Reprinted: Contra Mundum Press, 2012]. Bate, W. J. (1963). John Keats. Harvard Press [Reprinted London: Hogarth Press, 1992]. Bennis, W. (1989). On becoming a leader. Arrow [Reprinted, 1998]. Bennis, W. G., & Thomas, R. J. (2002, September). Crucibles of leadership. Harvard Business Review, 80, 39–45. Chia, R., & Holt, R. (2006). Strategies as practical coping: A Heideggerian perspective. Organization Studies, 27 (5), 635–655. Chia, R., & Morgan, S. (1996). Educating the philosopher-manager de-signing the times. Management Learning, 27 (1), 37–64. Collinson, D., & Tourish, D. (2015). Teaching leadership critically: New directions for leadership pedagogy. Academy of Management Learning & Education, 14(4), 578–594. Cornish, S. (2011). Negative capability and social work: Insights from Keats, Bion and business. Journal of Social Work Practice, 25(2), 135–148. Cunliffe, A. L. (2016). Republication of on becoming a critically reflexive practitioner. Journal of Management Education, 40(6), 747–768. Derrida, J. (2016). Heidegger: The question of being and history (Seminars of Jacques Derrida). University of Chicago Press.

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Feldman, M., & Worline, M. (2016). The practicality of practice theory. Academy of Management Learning & Education, 15(2), 304–324. Frede, D. (1993). The question of being: Heidegger’s project. In C. Guignon (Ed.), The Cambridge companion to Heidegger (pp. 42–69). Cambridge University Press. French, R. (2001). Negative capability: Managing the confusing uncertainties of change. Journal of Organizational Change Management, 14(5), 480–492. French, R., & Simpson, P. (2015). Attention, purpose, cooperation: An approach to working in groups using insights from Wilfred Bion. Karnac. Gherardi, S. (2009). Practice? It’s a matter of taste! Management Learning, 40(5), 535–550. Gittings, R. (1970). Letters of John Keats. OUP. Grint, K. (2007). Learning to lead: Can Aristotle help us find the road to wisdom? Leadership, 2(2), 231–246. Hadot, P. (1995). Philosophy as a way of life: Spiritual exercises from Socrates to Foucault. Blackwell. Hancock, P., & Tyler, M. (2004). ‘MOT your life’: Critical management studies and the management of everyday life. Human Relations, 57 (5), 619–645. Hancock, P., & Tyler, M. (2009). The management of everyday life. Palgrave Macmillan. Handy, C. (1989). The age of unreason. Business Books. Introna, L. D. (1997). Management, information and power: A narrative of the involved manager. Palgrave. Macquarrie, J. (1968). Martin Heidegger. Lutterworth Press. Motion, A. (1997). Keats. Faber and Faber. Murry, J. M. (1926). Keats and Shakespeare: A study of Keats’ poetic life from 1816 to 1820. Oxford University Press. Murry, J. M. (1955). Keats. Alden Press. Orlikowski, W. J. (2002). Knowing in practice: Enacting a collective capability in distributed organizing. Organization Science, 13(3), 249–273. Ou, L. (2009). Keats and negative capability. Continuum. Petriglieri, G., & Petriglieri, J. L. (2015). Can Business Schools humanize leadership? Academy of Management Learning & Education, 14(4), 625–647. Ramsey, C. (2014). Management learning: A scholarship of practice centred on attention? Management Learning, 45(1), 6–20. Roe, N. (2012). John Keats. Yale University Press. Saggurthi, S., & Thakur, M. K. (2016). Usefulness of uselessness: A case for negative capability in management. Academy of Management Learning and Education, 15(1), 180–193. Scharmer, C. O. (2008). Uncovering the blind spot of leadership. Leader to Leader, 47 (Winter), 52–59.

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Scharmer, C. O. (2010). The blind spot of institutional leadership: How to create deep innovation through moving from ego system to eco system awareness. Paper presented at The World Economic Forum, Annual meeting of the New Champions, Tianjin, China. http://www.ottoscharmer.com/sites/ default/files/2010_DeepInnovation_Tianjin.pdf. Accessed 9 Aug 2019. Segal, S. (2010). A Heideggerian approach to practice-based reflexivity. Management Learning, 41(4), 379–389. Sells, M. (1994). Mystical languages of unsaying. Chicago University Press. Senge, P., Scharmer, C. O., Jaworski, J., & Flowers, B. S. (2005). Presence: Exploring profound change in people, organizations and society. Nicholas Brealey Publishing. Simpson, P., French, R., & Harvey, C. E. (2002). Leadership and negative capability. Human Relations, 55(10), 1209–1226. Sole, D., & Edmondson, A. (2002). Situated knowledge and learning in dispersed teams. British Journal of Management, 13(S2), 17–34. Stacey, R. (2012). The tools and techniques of leadership and management: Meeting the challenge of complexity. Routledge. Sutherland, I., Gosling, J. R., & Jelinek, J. (2015). Aesthetics of power: Why teaching about power is easier than learning for power, and what business schools could do about it. Academy of Management Learning & Education, 14(4), 607–624. Tomkins, L., & Simpson, P. (2015). Caring leadership: A Heideggerian perspective. Organization Studies, 36(8), 1013–1031. Ward, A. (1963). John Keats: The making of a poet. Viking Press. Wheatley, M. (1992). Leadership and the new science: Discovering order in a chaotic world. Berrett-Koehler Publishers Inc. Wolfram Cox, J., & Hassard, J. (2018). From relational to relationist leadership in critical management education: Recasting leadership work after the practice turn. Academy of Management Learning & Education, 17 (4), 532–556. Zundel, M. (2012). Walking to learn: Rethinking reflection for management learning. Management Learning, 44(2), 109–126.

CHAPTER 4

The Practice of Attention

So far, we have suggested that Negative Capability represents a shift in focus from relying on knowledge and corresponding actions to the experience of being . Keats is inviting us to develop ways of being without the desire for knowing or control of outcomes and of being with uncertainty. To undertake this shift, we have proposed that a deliberate practice of attention is necessary. Yet, the development of such a practice goes hand in hand with a commitment to regular, disciplined self-development and we will call this inner work and we will explore here what this entails for practitioners in a day-to-day sense. Recent global events have generated a polyphony of new stories about what is going on around us and we have had to acknowledge the impact of habituated unexamined narratives and where they can lead. For example, the over-use of plastic in all aspects of life. The impact on many of us is that the stories we were given, or adopted, to make sense of our experiences have been challenged and this comes with the task to revise them. The revision of habituated narratives is an unsettling experience for most people—deeply traumatic for some. When we realise that our internal story about how things are is outdated or incorrect, we may experience a sense of immense loss and anxiety until we find and adopt a new narrative. Finding a new narrative can happen in an instant—hearing something on the news or reading someone’s post on social media—or it can be © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 C. von Bülow and P. Simpson, Negative Capability in Leadership Practice, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-95768-1_4

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a longer journey of discovery, if indeed we find the courage to be in uncertainty for long enough. Yet, a major challenge people face is the experience of lacking a legitimate sense of agency and the ability to discern what stories to adopt and which ones to let go of. Crawford (2015) calls this situation a crisis of values. In this chapter we will explore how our relationship with attention and its practice in everyday life is crucial to restore a sense of individual agency, develop new faculties of discernment and create the conditions for experiencing Negative Capability in our leadership practice. As a way of situating this enquiry, we will first look at an organisational case study in which a CEO decides to grant all employees one hundred minutes of paid worktime per week to attend solely to their own wellbeing and self-care. The formal project lasted for twenty-four months, but after it had ended, the practice of attending to wellbeing and self-care in worktime became an ongoing, integrated daily event for some and made a significant difference to all staff in their experience of what it means to be at work. What follows is the story of how one middle manager responded and how this response revealed some significant underlying issues.

Illustration: Project 100 The idea of giving all employees one hundred minutes per week of paid time to attend purely to their own physical and mental wellbeing sounded too good to be true on the one hand yet it was strangely disturbing on the other. There was something about this new brainchild of the CEO that was both inspiring and anxiety provoking. As the project started, James admitted to himself that he was nervous about it all. As a middle manager his primary focus was to ensure that his teams had the optimum conditions for working effectively and well. ‘Project 100’, as it was now called, was in no way countercultural or unexpected - in fact, action research projects like this were aligned with the organisational values and vision. This project, however, of giving everyone paid time to not focus on tangible goals or measurable outcomes felt extravagant. What would the impact be on productivity and what would be the cost of this exercise? James loyally demonstrated his full support of ‘Project 100’, and he was conscious about being a role model for the teams as he took himself away from the office for a daily twenty-minute ‘contemplative walk’. Yet, to begin with, his mind was too busy and the doubts too many to enjoy the experience.

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As the self-reflective practitioner he was, James knew to self-examine his reaction to the issue before evaluating the issue itself and he spent time on his walks considering what the cause of his initial response was about. After a few weeks of self-scrutiny, he had an important realisation: his reaction to ‘Project 100’ was about guilt. So wired was he to equate ‘work’ with ‘output’ that the notion of producing nothing tangible was too difficult to accept. He worked on it further and was eventually able to conclude that the key to engaging with the project was that he had been granted permission to do it. He recognised that the task ahead was to internalise this permission, to own it and eventually, to be able to self-authorise. Only then would he be able to engage with full commitment and benefit from the opportunity to attend to himself over other things in worktime for one hundred minutes per week.

We can immediately identify with the suspicion and doubt that sets in for James when he considers the habitual urge to attend to measurable outcomes over attending to self. When at work, this choice of how we practice attention is determined by the expectations that we sign up to when we accept a job that is offered to us. Only rarely do we encounter those who feel otherwise. James carried an idea deep within himself that the culture at work is a culture of work and he believed that he had done what was expected of him when he was exhausted at the end of the day and stressed about tomorrow. The environments in which we spend most of our waking hours are mostly not conducive to the development of a deliberate practice of attention (Bülow, 2020). Our attention is apprehended by a wealth of impressions at every turn, and most of us suffer involuntary attentional capture (Wu, 2014) at various moments during the day. The sense that we are not fully in charge of what we attend to, why we do it and when is not only caused by a sense of obligation to meet our own and others’ expectations of our performance—it is also triggered by the wealth of other and internal stimuli that we have not chosen. The sense that we are not in control of our attention can lead to complex internal states such as lack of direction, meaning and happiness—a felt absence of a sense of purpose. When such states start to affect, dominate, or dictate our thoughts, feelings and actions, our sense of individual agency is also at risk (Bülow, 2020; Crawford, 2015). When we experience an absence of individual agency, we are more likely to surrender our attention to the plethora of stimuli on offer both virtually and in the immediate world of the senses.

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Reclaiming Attention The experience of attentional capture (Wu, 2014) is a growing societal phenomenon that has recently been subject to renewed scrutiny as an important feature of the ‘attention economy’ (Citton, 2017; Crawford, 2015). The notion of an attention economy was already identified clearly by Herbert Simon (1971) over 50 years ago when he said, [I]n an information-rich world, the wealth of information […] consumes the attention of its recipients. Hence a wealth of information creates a poverty of attention and a need to allocate that attention efficiently among the overabundance of information sources that might consume it. (pp. 40– 41)

The literature on the impact of the rise of the attention economy speaks of this problem and it also points us to some of the significant and daunting consequences of not being in charge of our attention (Citton, 2017; Harris, 2019; Williams, 2017). In the digital realm, for example, we are conditioned to an expectation of instant gratification (Mischel, 2014; Zuboff, 2019). We are becoming habituated to give in to our irritable reaching at great speed—‘fact & reason’ are only a few ‘clicks’ away, so why wait for anything? Because of this, we are increasingly unaccustomed to tolerating the experience of being in uncertainty. The liminal space between knowing and not knowing (French& Simpson, 2000) can be experienced as unbearable and the lives we lead now seem to be geared increasingly towards the elimination of uncertainty whilst, paradoxically, at the same time revealing more of it in daily life. James, the middle manager we encountered above, has an important insight when he realises that he needs to be granted permission to attend to his own wellbeing at work. We are developing a tendency to think of ourselves as powerless victims without the authority to decide where to place our attention. Unthinkingly, we give way to whatever seems more able to control it. A threatening consequence of living within the surge of stimuli offered by the Attention Economy is precisely this—we are at risk of not only feeling but also being powerless when we are up against these vehicles of attentional capture. In the absence of a deliberate practice, we may indeed become less and less able to reclaim and freely direct our attention (Williams, 2017).

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James concludes that he needs to find a way to self-authorise in order to liberate his attention, and this insight grows out of the challenge he is given to attend to his own wellbeing and self-care for 100 minutes per week in paid work time. The small but significant changes in how we work with attention can affect the bigger changes, but without a deliberate practice, we have little hope of consciously creating the conditions to be in uncertainties, Mysteries and doubts without reaching for distractions or the safety of known solutions. Yet, developing a deliberate practice of attention is difficult, demanding and at times, dull. It requires us not only to deal with the pressures and anxieties generated by a complex techno-economic, political, and cultural context, but also to face challenging aspects of the self, with deeply ingrained habits of thought, feeling and action. In the illustration above, James notes how reluctant he is to give attention to self over measurable performance outputs. We are habituated to seek satisfaction in the immediate gratification of justified distraction, such as attending to the things on your to-do list rather than, for example, developing the potentially longer-term benefits of expanding our attention span.

A Deliberate Practice of Attention When we consider the role of attention, we also need to explore our common narratives about it and what may have brought these about. In the scholarly debate on attention (Anderson, 2016; Arvidson, 2003; Gallagher & Zahavi, 2008; Ganeri, 2017; Wallace, 2006; Watzl, 2011; Wu, 2014) a plethora of conflicting views reveal themselves. As Watzl states, ‘[…] the opinion that there might not be a unified subject matter in the study of attention is now widespread among scientists’ (2011, p. 13). We can safely conclude that there is currently no unified theory of attention and Watzl continues to ask whether we can even assume a shared phenomenology of attention against the lack of a shared understanding of what attention is and how it works. We perceive this absence of consensus as a springboard for creative engagement with attention. Whilst Watzl’s question is legitimate on philosophical and scientific grounds, it nevertheless seems possible to communicate and share experiences of giving, receiving, wanting, or avoiding attention as we go about our daily lives. Assuming that our albeit diverse experiences of attention are at the very least comparable, we can perhaps agree to disagree about theories of attention and accept, for now,

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that it remains one of those Mysteries in consciousness studies that we must practice being with, without an irritable reaching. There are implications when we let go of collective definitions and unified theories—one being that we may be more inclined to adopt common narratives about attention, rather than engage creatively with its phenomenology. This tendency to reach for certainty in shared narratives about attention may be rooted partly in the lack of wider recognition of its significance in how we understand what it is to be human, and partly due to the virtual absence of a deliberate practice of attention in the everyday.1 A common and powerful narrative about attention that has been widely adopted in recent years is that it is a finite resource (Gabaix et al., 2003; Huberman, 2017). Indeed, the idea of an attention economy points to exactly that: the allocation, or administration, of finite resources and the implications of transaction and trade, competition and coercion, poverty and wealth. As Huberman (2017) states, [...] content providers vie for the limited attention of people by resorting to strategies aimed at maximizing the amount of attention devoted to their content. These strategies range from the personalization of content, impactful videos, and click-bait headlines to the dynamic rearrangement of items in a given page to suit the needs of the user. In all these cases the ultimate goal is the same: to draw the attention of users to specific content before they drift away to something else. (p. 3)

As we consider the consequences of this, we may wish to pause for a moment and entertain a thought experiment: what if attention is in fact not approached as a finite resource? When Huberman reminds us that we commonly value what is scarce, not what is plentiful (p. 1) is this an idea we are ready to promote and perpetuate without scrutiny? What if we have too readily adopted the notion that the administration of attention plays out within a limited field restricting it to a finite set of behaviours that respond to a limited number of stimuli? Imagine for a moment the possibility that a deliberate practice of attention generates more attention—just like we exercise to get fitter or work out to get stronger? 1 We state this whilst also recognising the powerful contribution of the Buddhist tradition, in which practices of attention have been researched for millennia (Ganeri, 2017), and we also acknowledge the emergence of mindfulness practices. Yet, the influence on our global society of these practices remains limited compared to the power of the Attention Economy over our attentional behaviours.

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If we imagine that attention, with practice, can be augmented and heightened, and that it is essentially within our gift to reclaim it, then we can begin to challenge the paradigm that attention is subject to scarcity and resource allocation. Once we have the courage to reimagine attention and experiment with it, we have begun to reclaim it and with it, we may reconnect with a new sense of agency. This thought experiment is based on the possibility that there are more ways we can attend, and that one practice of attention can differ from another both phenomenologically and philosophically. We will go on to explore an example of this below, but first we must recognise some of ethical implications of what we have explored about attention so far.

Attentional Ethics Can we imagine a world where attention is a privilege that is given or received by consent, not captured, tracked, and traded without our explicit consent? If so, a deliberate practice of attention must seek its moral justification in the development of an ethical attitude of consent (Weil, 1952) and to do this, we must begin to hold ourselves to account in our attention practice. How might an ethical attitude of consent be developed and what are the implications if we do not? As we saw in the case of James above, he identifies guilt as one of his obstacles to accepting Project 100. His sense of obligation to the company is rooted in a mindset where output is the higher aim of his attention rather than attending to care of the self (Bülow & Simpson, 2020). James was strongly influenced by the common belief in modern organisations that attention to care of the self in worktime is frowned upon and associated with a lack of commitment to the job. We tend to build our attentional habits around such external expectations—the ones we are raised to meet, the ones we develop as we enter society and the expectations that arise from relations and encounters. We also build our attentional behaviours around a response to the wealth of stimuli that meet us in everyday life. The lived experience of attentional capture, as described by Zuboff (2019), is easily illustrated: go online and search for anything on Google, then wait for a few minutes and visit a couple of other sites. Notice the adverts posted on any sites you might visit in the coming weeks. We have at our fingertips more proof than we need that what we are perceived to want is being analysed through our clicks—the results of our attentional

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behaviours—and the impact is tangible. Without a deliberate practice of attention, we are at risk of being caught in an echo chamber of our own past desires—a situation we had little control over and did not knowingly sign up to inhabit. The echo chamber phenomenon also pertains to the world of work, and it is a prominent feature in the landscape where James and other managers operate. Both poacher and gamekeeper, James and his colleagues must navigate a marketplace where the success of any product or service is contingent upon the results of a fierce competition for consumer attention. The ethical implications of this development have not been addressed by governmental regulations on data protection or ‘cookie consent’ banners that leave us with the option to accept or spend considerable time on the alternative. When Crawford (2015) calls the current global situation a cultural crisis of values, he proposes that we are slowly becoming confused about what it is worth paying attention to. Equally, we are rapidly forgetting, or disconnecting from, what we are being distracted from. Zuboff (2019) argues that the tracking and trading of our attention equates to the commercialisation of private human experience. Accustomed to the immediate gratification provided by the virtual environment and the culture of replacing with a click, rather than repairing with mastery, we will need to tolerate a high level of cognitive dissonance if we are to achieve a new attentional ethics (ibid.). Undoubtedly, a transformation at the level of values will filter down to the level of behaviour with some resistance (Bülow, 2020) and this may be rooted in our instinctive and habitual irritable reaching after fact & reason, rather than being inspired, like Keats, by a search for Truth, Beauty and Goodness. More than a search, Weil (1952) developed the idea that Truth, Beauty and Goodness is the result of full and undivided attention. In response to this vision, Ramsey (2014) puts her finger on what seems to characterise the experience of James and others, described above, when she asks— How often to do we attend to the truth of the matter in our leadership practice? How fear-based are our decisions and were we to attend to truth, beauty and goodness, would we put our financial sustainability, our reputation and our brand at risk, or would we in fact start to become ethical leaders? (p. 17)

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Within the context of James’ experience, the implications of reclaiming or liberating our attention can be experienced as a risk to commercial success—James had a long-standing tendency to focus on outcomes for the business rather than on care of the self. Directing his attention away from the immediate requirements of the business, even for 100 minutes per week, would instigate questions about his commitment to its purpose and success. James’ experience points to the level of cognitive dissonance that we must come to terms with when we start to engage our attention differently and more thoughtfully. If we scrutinise yet again, the underlying assumptions embedded in our common narrative about attention, we see that it pertains not only to its assumed finitude, as discussed above, but also to its very nature. Giving and receiving attention is a non-verbal intersubjective verification. The idea that we need to develop a deliberate practice of attention (Bülow, 2020; Ramsey, 2014; Weil, 1952) is no more radical than the invitation to develop a practice of breathing, which is common in many wisdom traditions. The giving and receiving of attention, when understood and practiced with diligence, reveals itself as one of the most sacred and intimate exchanges possible between sentient beings. In this light, we may start to recognise the longing to reclaim our attention (Williams, 2017) and with it, the urgent call for a new attentional ethics.

Evenly Suspended Attention Earlier, we proposed the possibility that there are more ways we can attend, and that one practice of attention can differ from another, both phenomenologically and philosophically. This is an exploration of an expanded notion of the nature of attention, and it goes hand in hand with the challenge to the hypothesis that attention is, and can only be experienced as, finite. We noted in our discussion of being without that Keats observed how we can be prevented from being in uncertainties by what Needleman (1990, p. 167) called ‘dispersal’ into emotion, physical action, or explanation in response to the anxiety of uncertainty. Negative Capability and the development of a deliberate practice of attention has the potential to bring about a dynamic dialogue with the stories that inform our inner states, rather than leave us to engage with these from a place of fear. In that same vein, we position attention as the phenomenon of being with. The deliberate practice of being with requires us to discern

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and realise conscientious ways of giving and receiving attention in each moment. This invites us to develop the capability of being without (French & Simpson, 2015) and that we do not immediately seek certain truth— even if it means that we need to let go of our favourite narratives about what we think we know (Bülow, 2020). As discussed earlier, there is no unified theory or agreed language of attention. Our everyday notions of attention (Doughney, 2013) tend to conceive of our experience of attention as either focused or scattered (Goleman, 2013, 2014). A practice-oriented contemporary treatment of the practice of attention can be found in the work on mindfulness (King & Badham, 2019; Ray et al., 2011; Vogus & Sutcliffe, 2012). Mindfulness has become an umbrella term for a range of different approaches. Making an important contribution to bringing clarity to the complexity, Badham and King (2021) have recently conducted a review of the extensive literature, distinguishing two key dimensions in understanding the range of approaches to mindfulness. Firstly, the nature of the experience—individual or collective (personal thought, emotion and action versus relational thought and action); and, secondly, its purpose— instrumental or substantive (performance, well-being, and sustainability versus reflection on purpose and transcendent meaning). Together, these suggest four categories of literature on mindfulness, each with a distinct focus. Negative Capability, however, can be distinguished from the mindfulness literature in one fundamental respect: that the latter involve approaches that have a clear focus on selected phenomena. The practice of attention arising from Negative Capability precedes the selection of a focus in relation to the individual, collective, instrumental, or substantive. This has been identified and explored in the literature as ‘evenly suspended attention’ (French & Simpson, 2015, p. 13). The idea of evenly suspended attention comes from the German gleichschwebende Aufmerksamkeit and is a term introduced by Freud (1975) to describe the analytic attitude. It has also been translated as ‘evenly distributed’, ‘hovering’, ‘circling’, ‘free-floating’, or ‘poised’ attention. This is where the analyst avoids focusing on anything in particular and maintains a nonselective, yet receptive, stance (Snell, 2013, p. 184). This is a practice of not fixing one’s attention on a particular aspect of a patient’s behaviour, attitude or narrative in order to avoid the temptation to rush to what is already assumed about the patient or their symptoms. The importance of

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practicing evenly suspended attention in the context of therapeutic interventions was picked up by Bion (1970) who argued that evenly suspended attention allows the analyst to maintain the inner spaciousness needed for an engagement with the, as yet, unknown and uncertain. There is no doubt that, even within the field of psychoanalysis, there is confusion about the practice of evenly suspended attention, leading to its neglect (Epstein, 1984). In part, this relates to a misunderstanding of the difference between unfocused attention that is of low quality (referred to above as ‘scattered’) and the characteristics of the practice of a heightened quality of attention. Evenly suspended attention is not focused in the way that Badham and King (2021) describe the different foci of attention in mindfulness, but neither is it ‘scattered’ or unfocused. In this regard, we find it helpful to consider two simple premises. Firstly, human beings have the capacity to attend to attention—we notice how and to what we give attention. Secondly, we can turn our attention outward or inward at will, which Marshall (2001, p. 335) refers to as ‘inner and outer arcs’. From this, it follows that human beings have the potential to differentiate attentionally and to direct attention intentionally (Bülow, 2020). To talk of a heightened quality of attention would be to indicate the extent to which a practice of attention is differentiated and intentional. Most high-quality forms of attention will differentiate and intentionally select a limited range of phenomena upon which to focus. By contrast, a high quality of evenly suspended attention is not narrowly selective but intentionally ‘circles’, ‘floats’ or ‘hovers’ over a wide range of phenomena, simultaneously. Following Marshall (2001), it is helpful to think of the practice of evenly suspended attention in both inner and outer arcs. We practice evenly suspended attention in the outer arc when we are capable of being in the uncertainties in front of us. If we are capable of being without an irritable reaching, we give time and spaciousness to the complexity of the situation in which we find ourselves, attending simultaneously to a range of phenomena without focusing on any in particular. This precedes choosing to focus on specific issues, which at these later stages draws on different practices of attention, which may be informed by the mindfulness literature. This was illustrated in Chapter 3 when Esha was faced by an external threat but decided not to draw speedy conclusions, not to make decisions and not to act. Further, she facilitated a process to engage with the uncertain situation through the collective attention of the team. She invited her team to practice what can be compared to

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evenly suspended attention and encouraged them to avoid focusing in on recognisable problems or familiar solutions. We practice evenly suspended attention in the inner arc when we are capable of being in the uncertainties inside of us. This draws our attention to the significance of self-knowledge in leadership development and the invitation to engage in continuous processes of self-examination. Through an intentional and differentiated attention hovering over our inner landscape, we can become aware of the sources of our ‘irritable reaching.’ Cunliffe (2008) suggests that our behaviours are ‘reflexes – habitual and instinctive’ (p. 134) and the practice of evenly suspended attention in the inner arc can lead to insight into these habitual patterns.

An Experience of Surrender Raelin (2007) argues that mastery is achieved in the development of habitual and instinctive behaviours that lead experts to be capable of being in the uncertainty of multiple possibilities by ‘drawing upon a vast repertoire of complex cognitive maps to reframe problems and to discriminate from one pattern into another.’ Reminiscent of Keats’ suggestion that Negative Capability is a basis for high achievement, his explanation of this is as follows: Slavish adherence to particular theories, modes of thought, or preconceived criteria for appropriate action, would most likely block this level of reasoning in action. Indeed, the expert does not as much stop and think about which theory and procedure should be used next as keep alive, in the midst of action, a multiplicity of views of the situation. (p. 502)

This is precisely the contribution of the practice of evenly suspended attention in both the inner and outer arcs. Being without ‘any irritable reaching after fact & reason’, it is possible to utilise intentional and differentiated attention that does not focus in on one solution or another—at least not until order begins to emerge from chaos. Experts have learned through experience that knowledge comes later in the process and that it is often not so much discovering the answer as it is that new patterns of understanding are created. Those who lack the insight that comes with sufficient experience of mastery are prone to believing that uncertainty reflects a lack of knowledge and capability. This is where anxiety can undermine the knowledge and capabilities that one does have, and

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this anxiety is the stimulus for an ‘irritable reaching’. The development of evenly suspended attention in both the inner and outer arcs is thus an essential component of learning to lead in uncertainty. Here, we can consider Esha’s approach in a new light—we are back in the boardroom where she challenges the natural fight/flight response to crisis and facilitates a space for collective, creative engagement with uncertainty. What if she had shared this approach with the team as an actual practice of evenly suspended attention? What kind of legitimacy would that give to a possible repetition of this method or, indeed, a whole new way of managing adversity and the unforeseen? A deliberate leadership practice of evenly suspended attention could be a doorway to new ways of engaging with strategic decision making in the workplace. When we dare to challenge the common framing of attention as finite and singlepointed, we begin to open up to the possibility that it may have many facets and forms. The practice of evenly suspended attention is an experience of surrender—an experience of the liminal space we inhabit when we find ourselves between knowing and not knowing (Simpson & French, 2001) but with an inner attitude of receptivity and beholding (Anderson, 2016, p. 199). Evenly suspended attention involves an ability to step back inwardly, and this inner gesture helps avoid the focused attention we so easily drift into by stepping forward inwardly, as if we are striving, or reaching towards something (Bülow, 2020). The inner attitude of ‘waiting’ can help. The state of waiting is linked to the state of not knowing—when we are waiting, we are by default in uncertainty. Weil made the following proposition which links back to the ethics of attention— […] the ethical quality of ‘patiently waiting’, avoiding the temptations of self-interested positions, in that waiting, deepening one’s understanding of the power that attention conveys. (as cited in Bowden, 1998, p. 62)

Weil’s observations shed some light on why Freud might have called for an analytic attitude that invites the analyst to detach from any distinct element or detail of an event in order to be with the whole scene. If his idea of gleichschwebende Aufmerksamkeit involves being in a waiting state, hovering over the scene, it depends on our ability to adopt an attitude of non-selective receptivity, avoiding memory and self-interested positions— indeed, it is an exercise in being with unknowing .

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French and Simpson (2000, 2015), Ganeri (2017) and Snell (2013) all propose that in essence, evenly suspended attention represents a path to self-knowledge, and they emphasise the transformative potential it has for self and for others. This is one of the many reasons why a deliberate practice of attention is integral to the experience of Negative Capability and its contribution to leadership practice. Esha and James, in their separate ways, find a new sense of individual agency through the deliberate practice of attention. When we started this chapter by bringing to awareness the power of narratives and how these inform our decisions and actions in life, we highlighted the need to reclaim our attention in order to freely discern what matters most and in turn, what we need—and want—to give our attention to. Furthermore, the practice of attention is an invitation to understand what is required to create the conditions for an experience of Negative Capabilityand how this can enhance our discernment processes. Negative Capability as another way of being, can bring us closer to the truth in the moment (French & Simpson, 2000) and give us the same confidence and capacity to be without as we encounter when we reach after fact and reason.

References Anderson, F. (2016). The dynamic phenomenology of occurent thinking. Phenomenology and Mind, 10, 196–205. Arvidson, P. S. (2003). A lexicon of attention: From cognitive science to phenomenology. Phenomenology and the Cognitive Sciences, 2, 99–132. Badham, R., & King, E. (2021). Mindfulness at work: A critical re-view. Organization, 28(4), 531–554. Bion, W. R. (1970). Attention and interpretation. Heinemann. Bowden, P. (1998). Ethical attention: Accumulating understandings. European Journal of Philosophy, 6(1), 59–77. Bülow, C. v. (2020). The practice of attention in the workplace—Phenomenological accounts of lived experience (Doctoral thesis). University of the West of England. Retrieved from https://uwe-repository.worktribe.com/output/475 0905 Bülow, C. v., & Simpson, P. (2020). Negative capability and the care of the self. In L. Tomkins (Ed.), Paradoxes of leadership and care: Critical and philosophical reflection, new horizons in leadership series. Edward Elgar. Citton, Y. (2017). The ecology of attention. Polity Press. Crawford, M. (2015). The world beyond your head: How to flourish in an age of distraction. Penguin (Kindle Edition).

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Cunliffe, A. L. (2008). Orientations to social constructionism: Relationally responsive social constructionism and its implications for knowledge and learning. Management Learning, 39(2), 123–139. Doughney, L. (2013). Folk, theory, and feeling: What attention is. Dissertation, La Trobe University. PhilPapers. https://philpapers.org/rec/DOUFTA. Accessed 13 July 2018. Epstein, M. D. (1984). On the neglect of evenly suspended attention. Journal of Transpersonal Psychology, 16(2), 193–205. French, R., & Simpson, P. (2000). Learning at the edges between knowing and not-knowing: Translating Bion. Organisational & Social Dynamics, 1, 54–77. French, R., & Simpson, P. (2015). Attention, cooperation, purpose: An approach to working in group using insights from Wilfried Bion. Karnac. Freud, S. (1975). Schriften zur Behandlungstechnik (Studienausgabe). S. Fischer/Taschenbuch. Gabaix, X., Laibson, D., Moloche, G., & Weinberg, S. (2003). The allocation of attention: Theory and evidence. American Economic Review, 96, 45 pages. https://doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.444840 Gallagher, S., & Zahavi, D. (2008). The phenomenological mind (2nd ed.). Routledge. Ganeri, J. (2017). Attention, not self . Oxford University Press. Goleman, D. (2013). The focused leader. Harvard Business Review, December. Retrieved from https://hbr.org/2013/12/the-focused-leader. Goleman, D. (2014). Focus: The hidden driver of excellence. Bloomsbury. Harris, T. (2019). Humane: A new agenda for tech (44 min. watch). Center for Humane Technology. https://humanetech.com/newagenda/. Accessed 30 July 2019. Huberman, B. A. (2017). Big data: Big data and the attention economy. Ubiquity Symposium, (December), 1–7. King, E., & Badham, R. (2019). Leadership in uncertainty: The mindfulness solution. Organizational Dynamics, 48(4), 1–15. Marshall, J. (2001). Self-reflective inquiry practices. In P. Reason & H. Bradbury (Eds.), Handbook of action research (pp. 335–342). Sage. Mischel, W. (2014). The marshmallow effect: Understanding self-control and how to master it. Random House. Needleman, J. (1990). Lost Christianity: A journey of rediscovery to the centre of Christian experience. Element Books. Raelin, J. (2007). Toward an epistemology of practice. Academy of Management Learning & Education, 6(4), 495–519. Ramsey, C. (2014). Management learning: A scholarship of practice centred on attention? Management Learning, 45(1), 6–20.

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Ray, J. L., Baker, L. T., & Plowman, D. A. (2011). Organizational mindfulness in business schools. Academy of Management Learning & Education, 10(2), 188–203. Simon, H. (1971). Designing organizations for an information-rich world. In M. Greenberger (Ed.), Computers, communications, and the publicinterest. The Johns Hopkins Press. Available at: https://www.digitalcollections.library. cmu.edu. Accessed 27 June 2020. Simpson, P., & French, R. (2001). Learning at the edges between knowing and not-knowing: ‘Translating’ Bion. Organisational and Social Dynamics, 1(1), 54–77. Snell, R. (2013). Uncertainties, mysteries, doubts: Romanticism and the analytic attitude. Routledge. Vogus, T. J., & Sutcliffe, K. M. (2012). Organizational mindfulness and mindful organizing: A reconciliation and path forward. Academy of Management Learning & Education, 11(4), 722–735. https://doi.org/10.5465/amle. 2011.0002C Wallace, B. A. (2006). The attention revolution—Unlocking the power of the focused mind. Wisdom Publications. Watzl, S. (2011). The nature of attention. Philosophy Compass, 6(11), 842–853. Weil, S. (1952). Gravity and grace (E. Craufurd & P. Kegan, Trans.). Routledge. Williams, J. (2017). The attention economy. Available from YouTube https:// www.youtube.com/watch?v=xxyRf3hfRXg. Accessed 29 Aug 2019. Wu, W. (2014). Attention. Routledge. Zuboff, S. (2019). The age of surveillance capitalism: The fight for a human future at the new frontier of power. Profile Books.

CHAPTER 5

Leadership

A popular image of effective leadership is of an individual in a position of authority with exceptional capabilities, possessing knowledge that others do not. This derives, in part, from a cultural fixation on heroic individuals, whilst it is clear to us that leadership practice is never a solo endeavour— individual contributions are important, but effective leadership is typically a collective process rather than the action of one person. Moreover, whilst the exercise of leadership will clearly need to draw upon knowledge of one form or another, it is the ability to work proactively whilst in a state of not knowing that is also an important aspect of the leadership function. Of course, it is not merely the popular image of leadership that tends to have a focus upon knowing: the academic, the teacher and the consultant are typically looked to for their knowledge more than their ability to sustain an inquiring approach in the midst of uncertainty. However, Petriglieri and Petriglieri (2015, p. 640) have argued, to reclaim their social value, business schools need to help aspiring managers acknowledge, approach, work with, and learn from tension and contradictions, ambiguity and anxiety.

In the workplace, there is often a strong temptation to seek to resolve these tensions in a rush for certainty. This is what Keats means when he talks of an ‘irritable reaching after fact & reason’. However, as we saw © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 C. von Bülow and P. Simpson, Negative Capability in Leadership Practice, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-95768-1_5

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in the story of Esha (in Chapter 3), an essential contribution of effective leadership practice, at least in part, emerges from the capacity to hold the tension and to live with the uncertainty evoked by ambiguous and sometimes contradictory alternatives. This ability to hold two or more ideas simultaneously means that such leadership often comes from more than one individual, each voicing a different perspective or insight. This presumes a capacity for dialogue, a quality of listening and of individual and collective Negative Capability, which allows the complexity and challenge of the situation to be appreciated. Implicit in our discussion of leadership is that it is better understood as a process (Uhl-Bien, 2006) that may emerge from any individual or group of individuals, and this not necessarily requiring positional authority or outstanding ability (Gronn, 2002). We find helpful Barker’s (2001, p. 491) description of leadership as ‘a process of transformative change where the ethics of individuals are integrated into the mores of a community as a means of evolutionary social development’. These ideas will be addressed most directly in Chapter 8, where we will explore ‘the dynamics of collective will’ and leadership as ‘a process of dynamic exchange and the interchanges of value’ (ibid.). The role and function of those contributing to organisational leadership is clearly different to that of the poet, and even Keats was careful to note that it was particularly in relation to literature that he saw Negative Capability as a quality contributing to high achievement. However, some have given attention to the potential contribution of the arts within leadership education, including the influential Carnegie report (Colby et al., 2011), which inspired a special issue on the topic (Statler & Guillet de Monthoux, 2015). This literature challenges a reductionist view of leadership practice centred on knowledge derived from logical empiricism and rational choice. For example, with echoes of Negative Capability as being ‘without any irritable reaching after fact & reason’, Chia and Holt (2008) conceive of an art of leadership as an immersive process, arguing, [An] overemphasis on representational knowledge stymies any sense of management as an immersed perceiving, coping, and sense-making process: a set of skilled integrative social practices which may draw from representational forms of knowledge, but which, as a practice, is more an art than a science. (p. 473)

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In a similar vein, Adler (2006) states that, because of increasing levels of turbulence and complexity, existing knowledge is not always sufficient, and that constant innovation is required, drawing on the creative capabilities of the artistic temperament. Of direct relevance to the contribution of Negative Capability, Adler highlights the importance of a heightened quality of attention, arguing that, similar to the historic role of artists, leaders today must have the courage to see reality as it actually is, even when no one else has yet appreciated that reality. Such reality-based perception is not easily acquired, either for managers or for artists. (p. 494)

Harrison et al. (2007, p. 332) argue that the ‘enhancement of practitioner capabilities using the insights of the humanities remains underexplored’. In this regard, our interpretation of Negative Capability offers a particular avenue for further exploration: in contrast to the instrumental and productive tendencies of modern organisational cultures, the experience of complexityand uncertainty can be engaged with as an opportunity for a creative expression of being in the world. In Colby et al. (2011, p. 29), we find that ‘the current troubles of the world economy… may stem in no small part from blind trust in an exclusively economic view of business and the world’. In a similar vein, and building on Adler’s work, Starkey and Tempest (2009) propose the redesign of business schools, eschewing the fragmentation of a disciplinary approach driven by the dominance of the financial and economic (see Harker et al., 2016). They contend that ‘the humanities are our best resource in teaching us how good citizenship and good business go together’ (p. 576). Proposing that a more comprehensive approach is required, one that encourages greater imagination in the face of the challenges of complexity, they state, this will require the creation of a new business school and business mindset in which it is more widely understood how economic capital depends upon social and cultural capital. (p. 579)

Bringing together these arguments with those of Petriglieri and Petriglieri, above, we will illustrate the contribution of Negative Capability to working with tension, contradiction, ambiguity, and anxiety

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through an analysis of the self-reported experience of Bill Abbott, a senior manager within the British Prison Service, in dealing with a riot.

Uncertainty and Contradiction in Organisational Leadership As well as exploring the inner work required to support his leadership practice, we will explore the outer arc of his experience (Marshall, 2001) by drawing on the work of the sociologist Bell (1996). He frames capitalism as inherently more complex than we tend to assume, characterised not as a single, coherent system but as three distinct and contradictory realms—the cultural, techno-economic, and political. There is a tendency within modern society to collapse the tensions between the three realms, reducing uncertainty by allowing one or other to take precedence. The alternative to such ‘an irritable reaching’ after certainty is to hold the contradictory tensions of the three, which requires us to draw upon Negative Capability. A brief overview of Bell’s distinctions and ‘disjunctions’ (p. xviii) between the three realms is provided in Table 5.1. In summary, Bell argues that the underlying principles of these three realms are inherently antagonistic. Thus, for example, the axial structure of the technoeconomic realm, which requires hierarchy and specialization for enhanced efficiency, conflicts with the cultural impetus for the realization of the Table 5.1 A summary overview of Bell’s (1996, pp. xvi–xvii) three realms in capitalist society Realm

Purpose

Axial principle

Axial structure

Principles of change

Techno-economic

Wealth maximization

Economizing

Utility and efficiency

Culture

Self-expression and self-gratification Conflict regulation

Self-realization

Bureaucratic coordination through hierarchy and specialisation Fulfilment of ‘whole’ person

Politics

Equality

Representation and participation

Existential questions Democratic reform

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‘whole self’ and the requirement for participation and representation in the political realm. When confronted with the inherent contradictions of the three realms, a pragmatic approach will often draw upon a set of default responses. These are inherited patterns of behaviour that have been developed and adopted in order to simplify the complexity of the task, allowing action to be taken under pressure of limited resources and time constraints. We saw this in the earlier illustration (Chapter 2), where the behaviour of the Board is directive, making clear that they anticipate Esha using the senior management team (the hierarchy of the axial structure) to rapidly develop a solution (utility and efficiency) to the financial problem (techno-economic realm). Such patterns of behaviour build up over time in the organisation and tell a story about what managers should give attention to (Gabriel, 2000). This simplifying strategy is aligned with a reductionist approach of considering the realms separately, which serves to reduce the experience of complexity. It is precisely when managers need to act in the ‘spaces between’ realms that they encounter specific, unpredictable circumstances that call for more than default responses. The question for managers, then, is whether they are more inclined to draw upon existing knowledge, with the risk that it may be invalid, or to explore the uncertain specifics of the presenting situation. The latter might seem the better choice but when speed, efficiency, measurable outcomes, and career are considered, the response that requires being with uncertainty and being without tried and tested knowledge is typically the least preferred option. Certainly, Esha was conscious of her vulnerability, the likelihood of personal criticism, a possible threat to her position and potentially negative career implications. The value of Bell’s model, for our purposes, is not that he favours one realm over another but precisely that all three realms are of significance. The techno-economic realm prioritises societal gains over those of the individual and the role of management is to place an emphasis on wealth creation and the efficient use of resources. The political realm is concerned with the benefits to citizens that are achieved through collective participation, exemplified in features such as social harmony and cohesion in contrast to segregation and social conflict. The role of management is to place an emphasis on mechanisms for representation, collaboration, and the achievement of civic order. The cultural realm is concerned with the

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achievement of human potential, meaning and purpose, and management will emphasise the provision of education, the realisation of human potential, and support for cultural enrichment. Of course, we can identify differences in belief amongst managers about how these purposes and principles might best be achieved. However, in the following illustration, we will focus on the challenge of determining how to work with the inherent contradictions that exist between these three realms. This is implicit in Esha’s narrative, but we will explore this in more detail in the experience of a British Prison Governor responding to a crisis erupting in his institution.

Illustration: The Prison Governor To illustrate and develop our argument, we draw upon the personal account of Bill Abbott (2000), the Governor of a British prison. In this first extract, we gain an insight into how he understood his role in relation to some of the inherent contradictions within the Prison Service. We suggest that this account admirably demonstrates Bell’s (1996) argument, which is that there is nothing that can be done to ‘solve’ these ‘tensions’, requiring Abbott to be capable of performing his role whilst being in uncertainties. What is unusual, and important, is that Abbot is aware of these contradictions and consequently able to give them attention. The Prison Service statement of purpose reads, ‘H.M. Prison Service serves the public by holding in custody those committed by the courts. Our duty is to treat them with humanity and help them to lead law-abiding lives in custody and on release.’ The statement is contradictory in the senses that secure custody and humane treatment do not sit comfortably together. Humane custody is the soft underbelly of security. In one sense it appears that the statement both creates and reflects the tension within the organization. It leaves the governor to manage the tensions. There is a sense in which as governor you feel you are working in tension, with tension, and by tension. It would be easy to change the word tension to adrenaline. Alternative renderings are in uncertainty, with uncertainty, and by uncertainty; and in stress, with stress, and by stress. Tension is the more objective and conveys the reality of the creative potential. The way in which the role of governor is taken up will condition the outcome.

In this we see the contradictions between the political realm (power and control exercised to ensure secure custody) and cultural realm

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(humane treatment of the ‘whole person’). The tension is created by the potentially contradictory outcomes of different actions. For example, humane treatment might involve offering inmates increased levels of freedom and discretion, which would require a reduced level of security. Bill manages this tension not by discovering the answer but giving attention to the creative potential. Building on this account of an ongoing experience of contradictions inherent in his role, we present the following as an account of a specific experience of leading in uncertainty. In this episode we hear illustrated the exceedingly complex dynamics that can emerge in a crisis. In terms of his ‘thinking’ capabilities, there is a powerful sense in the narrative that Bill was drawing on extensive knowledge, almost certainly helping to contain his anxiety, but in relation to this situation he was at best drawing upon ‘half-knowledge’. We are given a sometimes brutally honest account of what it can be like to find oneself in a place of responsibility whilst experiencing uncertainty and doubt. It all began when the Prison Governor’s phone rang… I was telephoned at home on a Sunday morning. There was a sit-down protest in a secure exercise yard. Attempts to engage the prisoners in discussion had failed. I decided to attend the prison and went to the Emergency Control Room. I instructed that a full unit of Control and Restraint trained staff be got ready and sent a new negotiating team to meet the protesters. As the negotiators approached, the prisoners managed to rip out several iron bar railings and broke through the secure gates and onto the inner roadway of the prison. In the Control Room I was going through several shades of pale. I saw the potential for another Manchester [prison riot] if the prisoners broke away. I refused a staff request to withdraw because I still believed we could hold the day though I admit I was not certain how. It was a matter of faith in the staff. Three prison officers appeared from the wings wearing shirtsleeves. Iron bars were thrown at them, but one had the courage to assert his authority and ordered them to put the bars down and return to the wing because they had gone too far. They did just that. It was about staff and prisoners taking up their roles correctly. In Liverpool prison the staff have always been in control and the prisoners have always understood that. On this day, this reality came to our rescue. Perhaps my belief was a reflection of that known reality. Events began to crowd in on me and there were too many competing pressures. There was a need to meet with the police, with the press, with staff, with a very angry trade union. There were several operational decisions to be made to ensure continual control of the prison and there was a need to decide

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about visits for the many prisoners who had not been involved. Headquarters decided that the incident was over and closed the incident room. My belief was that we had prevented a major riot and saved a prison. At 18:00 hours a concerned Board of Visitors insisted that I stopped to eat, and they produced jam sandwiches and chips from the Mess. The day came to an end, and I finally went home only to face a message from a member of the staff care team that everyone was blaming me. There was no respite even at home. It was not until the following afternoon that Headquarters realized what had occurred and part of their concern was to debrief ministers. There were commendations for the staff and that was very helpful in managing the aftermath. Again, it takes weeks to recover from something like this. It is not only the prison that has to recover but also the Governor. The next worry was when I realized how much money I had spent when I called in extra staff to support the prison. It was helpful to hear the Director of Finance suggest it could be a learning exercise for new government ministers in how quickly the prison service could spend money to contain an operational emergency.

This was a serious challenge and tested Bill’s leadership practice and philosophy. The fear of ‘another Manchester’ is a reference to the Strangeways Prison Riot of 1990 that continued for 25 days (Boin & Rattray, 2004). Subsequently, numerous studies had developed ‘best practice’ guidance for such events (Useem et al., 1996). Even so, we do not get a sense of Bill reaching for the book, as it were, no ‘irritable reaching after fact & reason’. Instead, he prepared appropriately, making it possible to give his attention to the uncertainties of the situation: he chose to ‘attend the prison’, went to ‘the Emergency Control Room’, mobilised the ‘Control and Restraint trained staff ’, and ‘sent a new negotiating team to meet the protesters.’ There is little or no evidence of a belief that he, as Governor, knew the answer: ‘I still believed we could hold the day though I admit I was not certain how’. He exercised authority but did not attempt to take control. There was no attempt at heroics. Negative Capability is demonstrated, perhaps most poignantly, in Bill’s refusal of the staff request to withdraw. This was one of those moments that had the potential to go terribly wrong. However, we observe a leader capable of being in uncertainty in relation to the relative power of inmates and prison staff (political realm). Describing himself as ‘going through several shades of pale’, he admitted doubt in the efficacy of his

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organisational role, although, ultimately, he understood that the situation was resolved by ‘staff and prisoners taking up their roles correctly’ (techno-economic realm). What emerged was a courageous and professional act on the part of a prison officer. Bill’s reflection on this occurrence is filled with uncertainty and some sense of Mystery (‘a matter of faith in the staff ’). His phrasing is noteworthy in relation to Keats’ emphasis on the importance of living ‘upon our pulses’: ‘reality came to our rescue’. Bringing a poetic sensibility to leadership practice it could be argued that this narrative captures a certain beauty in a human encounter on the edge of chaos. We see how Negative Capability lay behind a heightened quality of attention. He was able not merely to cope with the stressful demands of the situation and stay aware of the presence of others, but also to retain the capacity to think insightfully and to behave with an appropriate authority (‘I decided… I instructed… I saw… I refused…’). The details of his narrative after the event demonstrate attention to the fullness of his experience—from the seemingly trivial simplicity of being forced by the Board of Visitors to sit down to eat something (cultural realm) to the stressful demands of managing the tensions erupting between him and various stakeholders (political and techno-economic realms). Further, when one considers why he did not merely use the power and authority at his disposal to take control, we see him taking up his role with a clarity of purpose to work with the enduring tension of ensuring secure custody (political realm) whilst maintaining the humane treatment of prisoners (cultural realm). These all reflect ongoing and irresolvable contradictions. The narrative is notable in the high quality of attention to his own experience as well as to the events that occurred. However, this is not a narrative that emphasises his knowledge or actions or reactive feelings. They are present in the description, but as narrative observations rather than prescriptions. There is no evidence of any attempt to ameliorate the pain and suffering endured in this stressful and dangerous situation: ‘It is not only the prison that has to recover but also the Governor’. Nor is there any attempt to paint a picture of good leadership. We are left with the impression of a manager who understands that his role is to turn up, being there in uncertainty. However, this illustrates the need for self-care in leadership practice.

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Care of the Self In Chapter 3, reflecting on the actions of Esha and her leadership team, we noted the importance of strength of conviction and courage when drawing upon Negative Capability. For Esha and Bill, their behaviour was a risk. We will now consider the importance of self-care when practicing leadership that is counter-cultural and can leave one open to criticism and attack. Moreover, we will explore some of the deeper links with Negative Capability, as a developed approach to self-care can contribute more than just the ability to recover, which Bill describes—it also offers the potential for a transformation at the level of our being (Hadot, 1995). From this perspective, self-care becomes central to the ability to draw upon Negative Capability. There are ancient traditions of exercises for the inner work of selfcare. For example, self-examination was a practice deeply embedded in the early cultures of India and Egypt, contributing to an early form of life-long learning, giving a person a sense of meaning and direction in life (Hadot, 1995, 2004). The significance of self-scrutiny and the invitation to develop phronesis, or practical wisdom (Hadot, 2004), are themes that have been addressed in the contemporary leadership literature (Case & Gosling, 2007, 2010; French & Simpson, 1999, 2000, 2015) although the link to a practice of attention (Bülow, 2020; Ramsey, 2014) and the development of Negative Capability is still embryonic. Mirvis (2008) advocates ‘consciousness-raising experiences’, identifying this as an important aspect of the literature on emotional intelligence (Ashkanasy & Humphrey, 2011; Boyatzis et al., 2002; Lindebaum, 2009; Walter et al., 2011). Similar themes can be found in Petriglieri et al.’s (2011) theorising of the ‘personalization of management learning’ and Dyer and Hurd’s (2016, p. 293) exploration of the ‘very messy’ processes of personal learning through critical reflexivity. Mirvis argues, … experiences that stimulate introspection and include time and space for ‘inner work,’ whether in the forms of reflection, meditation, prayer, or journaling, can all deepen one’s sense-of-self. (2008, p. 175)

Bringing old and new together, there is potential to also draw upon Foucault’s (1990, 1997) review of the ancient developmental practices of ‘Care of the Self’ (heautou epimeleisthai). Recent literature has indicated

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its potential relevance to organisation studies (see Raffsnøe et al., 2019) but little attempt has so far been made to identify the implications for leadership practice (Bülow & Simpson, 2020; Tomkins, 2020). Reminiscent of Keats’ deep reflections throughout his letters, it is a practice of philosophical inquiry into self. Indicating why this is worthy of particular attention in relation to Negative Capability, Hadot (1995) makes clear that it is concerned not merely with the development of the individual as a thinking, doing and feeling subject, but comprises a range of developmental exercises that ‘have as their goal… the metamorphosis of our being’ (p. 127; see also Munro, 2014; Randall & Munro, 2010, p. 149). Moreover, related to our discussion in Chapter 4, Hadot (1995, p. 85) argues that attention is the key to such developmental practices. Hadot (p. 84) categorises the exercises as meditations, ‘remembrances of good things’, intellectual exercises (e.g., reading, listening, research, and investigation), and more active exercises (e.g., self-mastery, accomplishment of duties, and indifference to indifferent things). This list suggests that the Care of the Self might pander to the solipsistic concerns of some modern approaches to personal and professional development (Tomkins & Ulus, 2015). On the contrary, Foucault is clear that this practice is not selfish and ‘is not an exercise in solitude, but a true social practice’ (1990, p. 51). As well as a transformation of the self at the level of being, Hadot states that these developmental practices also ‘have as their goal the transformation of our vision of the world…’ (Hadot, 1995, p. 127)—a theme that we pick up in our discussion of an emerging sense of purpose (Chapter 6). There are a range of social structures that both support and constitute the Care of the Self, for example, in drawing upon the services of ‘the private consultant… a life counsellor, a political adviser, a potential intermediary in a negotiation…. professor, guide, adviser, and personal confidant… kinship, friendship’ (Foucault, 1990, p. 52). Hadot (1995, p. 82) asserts that, through the practices of Care of the Self, the individual is re-located ‘within the perspective of the Whole’. A transformation occurs not only at the level of being but also in the way in which things in the outer arc (Marshall, 2001) are seen. The exercises are designed to give a new perspective on the world and to develop a capacity for a heightened quality of attention that is inherently social: ‘the work of oneself on oneself and communication with others are linked together’ (Foucault, 1990, p. 51).

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There are several related experiential learning processes that have seen something of a renaissance in recent years, including meditation (prominent in the mindfulness literature), retreats, various kinds of study, conversation, friendships, and guides, including coaches, consultants, and advisers (see, for example, Hay & Samra-Fredericks, 2019; Marques, 2012; Purser & Milillo, 2015; Segers et al., 2011; Stacey, 2012). However, the interpretation of these practices and the motivation for their use is often linked to short-term outcomes or guided by a ‘blind trust in an exclusively economic view of business and the world’ (Colby et al., 2011, p. 29). This tends to foster a remedial focus at the level of need (e.g., stress management, career development, problem resolution). This is important, and a valuable function of these aspects of self-care, as we saw in Bill Abbott’s experience. By contrast, the traditions of Care of the Self are based on an aspiration for a developmental transformation in our vision of the world and in our being, that is they bring us back to the inner and the outer arc. When we reflect on Bill Abbott’s leadership practice in his narrative, we see evidence of his ability to challenge narrow visions of life in a prison. We know that he had a disciplined practice of inner work, supported by consultants skilled in supporting those involved in leadership to experience connectedness with source (Long, 2015).

Space for a New Idea Our primary purpose so far has been to explore the specific contribution that Negative Capability can make to leadership practice when working in uncertainty. This has required us to articulate an interpretation of Negative Capability, which we have described in two aspects: ‘being in uncertainties’ and being ‘without any irritable reaching after fact & reason’. We began by suggesting that one of the most important contributions is to allow those exercising leadership to recognise and accept that s/he does not know. This is to acknowledge that not only is an appropriate solution not known but also that the problem is not yet clearly understood. Consequently, another contribution of Negative Capability to the practice of leading in uncertainty is to leave open a space, in time, thought, feeling and action, within which the manager does not resort to

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old, unexamined, and potentially inappropriate solutions. This spaciousness provides opportunity for a new and more relevant idea or course of action to emerge. In our illustrations we have demonstrated that Negative Capability is about being there, staying in the uncertainty, and encouraging others to do the same. Being in uncertainty, without any irritable reaching, can support a practice of a heightened quality of attention to an inquiry into the unique complexity of the current context. This context includes the individual’s inner world as well as the outer arc of the organisational situation. The contribution of Negative Capability thereby precedes the moments when those involved in leadership choose to focus on selected phenomena in the decision-making process. Through our illustration, we have demonstrated how leaders can take up their role with a sense of purpose that goes beyond a narrow focus on technical and fiscal responsibility. If capable of being in uncertainty, it becomes possible to inquire more deeply into the tensions and contradictions between the socio-economic, political and cultural realms. However, this cannot be achieved from a reductionist perspective, which can arise from uncontained anxiety and self-doubt. From this perspective, a typical response is to focus on purpose in one realm to reduce the demands of attending to purpose in the other two. By contrast, the experience of Negative Capability supports an engagement with complexity without a flight into simplifying strategies through a heightened quality of attention. As Bill Abbott made clear, this does not provide mastery in the sense of knowing all the answers and feeling comfortably in control. What it can offer, however, is an approach that may be more relevant to the requirements of the situation and leaves open the possibility that an appropriate course of action might emerge. The insights gained from the inner work of self-examination are not merely an essential support in challenging times but also contributes to a transformation at the level of being and, consequently, of our vision of the world. We will explore this further in our inquiry into purpose in Chapter 6. In the previous chapter, we noted that the existing literature on Negative Capability overlaps with that on mindfulness, which might help to identify a bridge between the practice of evenly suspended attention and the range of other attention practices. Such an exploration of the relationship between the different forms of attention is an essential component in the development of a scholarship of practice centred on attention and its influence in the development of those involved in leadership,

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as well as in the business school curriculum. This is one of the ways in which business schools can address the limitations of a reductionist worldview in leadership education (Petriglieri & Petriglieri, 2015), which has contributed to the growing ‘disconnect’ (a ‘separation’ also explored by Grint, 2010) between managers and other stakeholders—notably, but wider than, employees and community members. Whilst our inquiry into the nature of Negative Capability has addressed this issue only implicitly, we have demonstrated through our illustrations how the implications for practice include a need for courage, trust and a preparedness to be vulnerable—a theme that will be picked up again in Chapter 8. Through the development of the practice of evenly suspended attention, those involved in leadership can learn to be receptive not only to a complex range of issues but also to other stakeholders. Whilst inevitably a risk, this can encourage a greater depth of connection with others—a heightened quality of attention that fosters a more open way of being with self, community, and context.

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CHAPTER 6

Purpose

The literature on the role and function of purpose in leadership practice is vast (Trevor, 2019) and is typically understood as the rationale for an organisational vision and the active expression of organisational values. The classic papers by Zaleznik (1977) and Kotter (2001) argue that setting direction for change through a motivational purpose is one of the primary functions of leadership. The emphasis not merely on managing the complexity of the present situation but on seeking to improve or develop in some clearly defined manner. As such, we can reach for a known purpose with positive capabilities —by doing things in certain ways in the pursuit of definable outcomes. By contrast, it is also possible to experience and work with a sense of purpose when drawing upon Negative Capability without the need to specify a definable outcome. Such a sense of purpose can be experienced as emergent, gradually revealed over time. Moreover, we sometimes experience it finding us and it does not always require conscious effort our part. From this perspective, purpose is more than a rationale for the pursuit of certain outcomes but can be related to a deeper sense of meaning in the leadership process, something that reflects connectedness with source, as we discussed in Chapter 2. For Keats, his sense of purpose was revealed in his pursuit of Beauty, Truth and Goodness in and through his poetry. In the context of leadership practice, both the definable and undefinable

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aspects of purpose are of value. This creative tension will be explored in this chapter.

Defining Purpose The prevailing tendency to define purpose through the articulation of knowable means and ends (Weston et al., 2021) is a consequence of the pursuit of utility that has come to dominate thinking in the Western world. This mindset has adopted ‘purpose’ as an effective engine for growth. Purpose, framed in this way, can be readily packaged, sold, and bought as a commodity, much like attention, as we explored in Chapter 4. It is hard to argue with the fact that a leadership practice that utilises purpose in this way can contribute to key performance measures. However, we also see this as one of the contributors to a dysfunctional relationship with the environment that is lacking harmony and the overuse of natural resources. Although there have been some positive developments in recent years, we have a long way to travel. The influence of utilitarianism is still a sine qua non for ‘good’ leadership—a requirement for ‘progress’ and ‘growth’ are still generally prioritised by leaders, and this is demanded by many stakeholders, even where there is unmistakable evidence of the need for other strategies. The expectations of political and business leaders to continue strategies for economic growth that are detrimental to the environment is but one prime example of this. Leaders find themselves compelled to operate under a broad guiding principle, which is difficult to challenge within the utilitarian matrix of reasoning. Case et al. (2011) suggests that the common approach to purpose as goal setting has its roots in economism and utilitarian philosophy and in this ‘scientific’ and so-called ‘value free’ attitude to decision making, ethics are also reduced to a matter of quantitative calculation. However, rationality, self-interest, and the pursuit of wealth are means, rather than ends, and so we find ourselves lurching from one means to another, always seeking to find out how to move on to the next stage of measurable growth and further development. Desperate to find something of enduring meaning, our endeavours have become more frenzied and allconsuming with the consequence that busy-ness, stress and overwork are the hallmark of organisational life.

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A Sense of Purpose Negative Capability can contribute to the inquiry into the imbalanced use of purpose-driven action by bringing to our attention the importance of a sense of purpose in the context of ongoing uncertainty. There are times when the assertion of a defined purpose is an avoidance of the challenges of not knowing, rather than a solution. This is where we find ourselves at the current time in relation to the major global crises that we face, and in which leadership within organisations as well as nation states has such an important role to play. In Chapters 2 and 3, we positioned Negative Capability as a way of being in uncertainty, rather than a way of doing (a positive capability) and have suggested that Negative Capability can be experienced at two different levels. Before we proceed to look more closely at the different dimensions of purpose, it is worth revisiting these arguments again. Firstly, we can experience Negative Capability at the level of the ordinary, where we are faced with not knowing in an everyday context of what is essentially knowable. We are suggesting that the not yet known, at the level of what is knowable, demands of us that we learn to be in uncertainty without irritably reaching for answers and solutions. The illustrations with Esha Patel (Chapter 3) and Bill Abbott, the Prison Governor (Chapter 5), told of their experiences of Negative Capability in the context of leadership practice at the level of the ordinary—a level where we can learn to be in uncertainty without seeking concrete or conceptual closure. Secondly, we have introduced the idea that Negative Capability can be experienced at the level of the extraordinary, where we encounter unknowing in the context of the unknowable. Here, we need to surrender established knowledge structures and habitual ways of doing things (Grisold et al., 2020) in the moment and embrace the challenge to our sense of identity that this momentary renunciation of our givens might instigate. Being in unknowing in this way is an invitation to acknowledge that which lies beyond our normal understanding derived from the evidence of our senses and rational intellect. Keats was pointing to this ontological dimension of Negative Capability when, drawing on ancient Greek philosophy, he used the language of the Transcendentals (Beauty, Truth and Goodness). Long’s (2015) description of connectedness to source brings us closer to a more inclusive, contemporary language for what is described by her as that which ‘may come from an overall purpose

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beyond individual egos’ (pp. 9–10) and we will explore the implications of this notion in more detail below. When we consider purpose in the context of leadership with Negative Capability, it thus involves learning to be aware of, and awake to, the different dimensions we have described—that is to say, we can (a) learn to be with uncertainty in the context of the not yet known at the level of the ordinary and we can (b) learn to be with the unknown: in the context of the unknowable at the level of the extraordinary—whatever each individual may ascribe to that experience. Both levels require something different to the prevailing tendency to define purpose through the articulation of knowable means and ends. Without being overly idealistic, we suggest that we can learn to lead our organisations in ways that start to build and rebuild depths of connection with others and the earth, but it requires that we start to balance out (not replace) the so far unrivalled, common characterisation of purpose in terms of ‘progress and growth at any costs’. This requires an awareness and acceptance of how purpose expresses itself in different ways in different dimensions. We propose that this is a way of promoting less transitory ideas of meaning and happiness through establishing connectedness to source (Long, 2015) in our leadership practice. It calls on us to consider how we may create the conditions for an experience of Negative Capability as part of organisational life and how we might position purpose within this endeavour.

Illustration: The Social Entrepreneur In our exploration so far, we have challenged the one-eyed view that purpose must forever drive progress and growth—that it is always to be known and then achieved, and that it therefore only requires our positive capabilities. We have also introduced the possibility that purpose can be experienced at different levels. Trevor (2019) captures the need for balance and depth in the ways that we operationalise the notion of purpose when he suggests, It is incumbent upon an enterprise’s leadership to make their purpose as relevant as possible to all stakeholders by constantly revisiting why the enterprise does what it does and why it matters. As my Oxford colleague Andrew White describes it: ‘The outcome of this process is not a polished

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statement of purpose – but significant decisions grounded in a deep understanding of purpose characterized by a quiet sense of service to something greater than the immediate needs of customers and short-term demands of investors’. (pp. 72–73)

Negative Capability can contribute to engaging with an undefined sense of purpose—a dimension of purpose that is grounded in depth of understanding and reflected in a quiet sense of service to something greater than the common expectations upon leaders to deliver more of a prescribed outcome. The following accounts provides an illustration of integrating these dimensions of purpose in strategic leadership practice. Shola had never considered herself a social entrepreneur, but that was how others described her. In her own mind, she was a seasoned Deputy Head who had dedicated all her natural enthusiasm to the worthy cause of running one of Zimbabwe’s larger secondary schools. Over the past two decades she had reported to an ambitious Head of School whom people described as a traditional educator with uncompromising ideas about what kind of education young people need. A year ago, Shola had taken a leap into the unknown and left a very secure job at the school to start a fundraising campaign. She wanted to address some of the urgent local issues she had witnessed first-hand as Deputy Head and the purpose of her fundraising efforts was to build a new centre, a building, dedicated to promoting a more contemporary form of education, better health for pupils and new employment opportunities in the region. The campaign had been arduous, but it had energised Shola to feel a new sense of fulfilment. The day she received the long-awaited news about the results of her fundraising efforts, she found herself sat motionless in the office chair, silent and overwhelmed with gratitude. She had gathered immense local and regional momentum, as well as substantial financial support based on the core elements in the purpose statement: education, health, and employment. These urgent and indisputable priorities of her region had carried the campaign – and her – through the trials and challenges of a long, hard year of constant work and no play. When she considered the extraordinary impact of the many awareness-raising activities she had facilitated, there was a sense in which she thought of the work as accomplished – even without building the new centre that had attracted the funds.

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This sense that the work had been completed, inspired her to see the purpose of the project with different eyes. Perhaps the purpose was more than the building of a centre. Shola decided in that moment to call her advisory board together for a conversation about where to go from here. The advisory board had representatives from all corners of the region, from future beneficiaries of the Centre and from industry. Shola had been fortunate to connect with a multicultural network of entrepreneurs – a community of young people just starting up in business, as well as experienced practitioners, all of whom she felt had truly understood the nature of the challenges of the last year. The board did not disappoint – they responded immediately to her call and showed up on the day of the meeting with words of praise for Shola on her achievement . As people arrived and settled in with coffee and cakes, there were excited questions about the building project and timelines for it. As the meeting was about to start, Shola felt uneasy, and a growing nervousness distracted her from the praise and glory. Since the day she called the board together, she had become increasingly convinced that the campaign itself had revealed a new and, perhaps, more important dimension to the work – one that had not been apparent to her before. Underneath the uneasy feeling, she suspected that the three core elements of the purpose statement failed to capture the essence of what she had set out to achieve and that the deeper purpose of the project had emerged in the process of fundraising. As she considered it now, quietly looking at the excited gathering, she realised that the funds had been pledged to achieve a particular goal, but not necessarily to fulfil what she now felt was a deeper or more profound purpose. Shola fetched pen and paper. ‘Goal and purpose are different,’ she wrote, ‘As I reach for the stars, it is in my reaching that I find purpose, not in the stars themselves.’ The ‘reaching’, in this case, was about building a community of hope. Perhaps this project is about community-building, not a physical building. Shola paused, ‘Maybe there are different kinds of purpose: the purpose that comes from responding to an external need – the kind of purpose that can be explained to anyone at any time in terms of measurable outcomes; and then, there is the kind of purpose that emerges from within, unready for words, more of a sense...’ As the meeting was about to begin, Shola sat with this insight and noticed a mild panic.

We end this account at the point, just before the board meeting is about to start, when Shola is realising the consequences of her insights. She had come to understand that there are more dimensions of purpose—and the ‘mild panic’ she described was a natural response to the responsibility

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of also being expected to deliver on the stated aim of the fundraising campaign: a physical building. Whilst the emergent version of purpose Shola is now aware of is more of a sense, it is clear to her that she must articulate it to the board and give it a more prominent place in the project plan. Shola knew how difficult this would be.

A Balancing Act A red thread in our illustrations so far points to the balancing act that those involved in leadership must learn to master as they strive to simultaneously address external expectations and follow their sense of purpose when working with uncertainty. Esha Patel and Bill Abbott, in their experiences of living through a crisis, were both faced with external expectations that carried the risk of framing their leadership decisions as irresponsible. It can be argued that they managed to carry out this balancing act successfully enough, working in line with defined, expected outcomes as well as being guided by a sense of purpose. In the case of Tom and Jean (in Chapter 2), they lost their balance and the confidence of the board and ultimately were ousted. These were all situations in which the external expectations were substantiated and expressed by superiors, who were not fully aware of, or necessarily in agreement with the basis for the decisions made. However, the same issue may also pertain to our own narratives about what the external expectations might be: we heard the reluctance and concern in James’ account (in Chapter 4) about giving attention to care of the self as he engaged in Project 100. Yet, it was the CEO who instigated the project and, in this case therefore, James’ challenge is to manage his own story of external expectations—that is, of giving attention to tangible, measurable outcomes, rather than meeting the actual expectation of his CEO. When Shola experienced mild panic at the thought of explaining her emerging sense of purpose to the board, it would have been anchored in a commitment to ‘do the right thing’ for the project—a sense of service and duty that was as strong as her emerging sense of purpose. When confronted with both the outer and the inner calling to fulfil organisational or individual purpose, the ability to master this fine balancing act, and the faculties of discernment needed to make good leadership decisions, are contingent upon our level of commitment to self-knowledge. The courage to take an unusual step that is not anchored in experience

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or knowledge at the level of the ordinary, but that simply aligns with our own sense of what seems right, good, or true at that very moment, requires a level of courage in the face of uncertainty that Keats described with the image of ‘falling continually ten thousand fathoms deep’ (Letter to Reynolds, 3 May 1818 in Gittings, 1970, p. 92). As we have discussed, those involved in leadership in the knowledge economy are generally educated to reach for fact and reason, rather than to discern and work creatively with what emerges in and out of the present moment. This is not only linked a growing impatience and inability to attend in and to the present moment (Crawford, 2015), but also to our general reluctance to accept what the present moment has to offer (Bülow, 2020; French & Simpson, 2000). When we encounter an emergent sense of purpose, it is not enough to simply register or recognise it: we must find ways of being with this sense, balancing internal and external expectations whilst being mindful of the imagined and potentially erroneous expectations that may linger in our outdated or inaccurate narratives. At its best, this balancing act and process of discernment may be experienced as a creative tension that we can learn to use as a springboard for self-examination. Engaging with an emerging sense of purpose in this way requires poetic sensibility and individual agency and this is what we will go on to explore next.

Working with Emergence How do we go about integrating the emergent dimension of purpose? How do we embrace the not yet known at the level of the ordinary, in our leadership practice? Here, we will take inspiration from the account of Bill Abbott and what we described (in Chapter 5) as a poetic sensibility and look at the significant contribution of imagination and creativity. It is no coincidence that it was a poet, Keats, who first sensed and named the importance of Negative Capability as a way of being in uncertainty. In our current societal consensus reality, science is the prevailing touchstone for truth, rather than merely one valid method of inquiry amongst others. In parallel, the arts are increasingly perceived as merely a source of entertainment, rather than as another potentially legitimate method of inquiry that can extend our epistemology (Coghlan & BrydonMiller, 2014) and expand our ontological repertoire (Fabre Lewin, 2019; Seeley, 2011; Seeley & Reason, 2008). Just as the arts provide diverse lenses through which we are invited to see the world with fresh eyes,

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purpose as an emerging sense we can learn to be with can open us up to new dimensions in our leadership practice. The arts offer important lessons for leaders in developing ways of being with an emergent sense of purpose. A characteristic of the artistic process that is particularly significant for our exploration is the experience of the flow state (Csikszentmihalyi & Nakamura, 2009). In our inquiry into purpose as an emergent sense, we will focus on two important aspects of the phenomenology of flow, (a) the role of ‘me’ and ‘self’, and (b) the role of mastery in the rediscovery of legitimate individual agency. In an in-depth inquiry into the lived experience of the flow state, Csikszentmihalyi and Nakamura describe the loss of self-consciousness and the fading of ‘me’ from awareness (p. 92) as a prevalent feeling. This is an aspect of the phenomenology of flow that opens the door to an experience of an emergent sense of purpose. Giroux (2015) frames the role of ‘me’ in our current ‘selfie culture’ as a ‘paralysing infantilism, marked by a crisis of history, memory, and agency’ (p. 156). This raises legitimate concerns about the implications of what he calls a ‘market-driven, moral economy of increased individualism and selfishness’, a situation that he suggests poses a significant risk to a ‘larger notion of caring, social responsibility and the public good’ (p. 157). When purpose is framed only as a means to an end, it is at risk of perpetuating an embedded societal expectation that has grown out of an unbalanced relationship with the environment. Whilst attempts are being made to change it, everyday decisions in large parts of the world are still dominated by a mindset that struggles to let go of a lifestyle that demands the overextraction of natural resources in a celebration of ‘me’ rather than ‘us.’ The flow state offers an opportunity to experience what happens when we allow the ‘me’ to be absorbed in an activity or process. They highlight the following significant characteristics of the phenomenology of flow— an intense and focused concentration on what one is doing in the present moment, merging of action and awareness, a loss of awareness of oneself as a social actor, a sense that one can control one’s actions (that is, a sense that one can in principle deal with the situation because one knows how to respond to whatever happens next), distortion of temporal experience (typically, a sense that time has passed faster than normal), and the experience that the activity is intrinsically rewarding, such that the end goal becomes an excuse for the process (p. 90). So, what can happen in the flow state is that we come to a new understanding of what motivation feels like, what really matters to us and

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what the self can do when the ‘me’ gets ‘out of the way’ (for literature exploring the distinctions between the ‘me’, the ‘I’ and the ‘self’, see James, 1890; Mead & Morris, 1962; and Aboulafia, 2016). The conditions required for being in flow are similar to the circumstances in Shola’s account, where she becomes aware of an emerging sense of purpose after a period of full absorption in her fundraising campaign. The feeling that the end goal becomes an excuse for the process is particularly prominent in Shola’s story. A primary condition for being in flow and becoming sensitised to an emerging sense of purpose is that the inner commentator—the ‘me’— must be immersed to the point of silence and for an uninterrupted period of time. The arts, as well as manual labour, offer ways in which we can engage creatively and practically with our imagination in a dynamic dialogue with the natural resistance of matter as a pathway to an experience of being in flow (Crawford, 2015; Sennett, 2008; Taylor, 2012). The typical professional will struggle to see themselves achieving this on an average day in the office or on the road. However, we learnt from James’ account of engaging with Project 100 that even the short, regular experiences of this nature, where the attention is liberated from a focus on measurable outcomes, can have an immediate positive effect and offer lasting change. This leads us to the role of individual agency and mastery in recognising a sense of purpose when it emerges. Mastery is crucial to our confidence levels and ability to self-authorise and it is the bedrock for a growing sense of legitimate individual agency (Crawford, 2015). The lack of time to focus on each individual task during a working day, and the resultant absence of regular absorption, can deprive us of the opportunity to develop mastery and without it, we can quickly get stuck in what Williams (2017) describes as the treadmill of incompetence. This is the state we are in when we have updated our operating system yet again and now have to work out how to use the applications we had just learnt to master. Csikszentmihalyi and Nakamura (2009) argue that when we regularly experience our challenges as greater than our skills in this way, we become first vigilant, then anxious. Forced to work like a scattergun, simply to keep up with the multiple stimuli of the everyday, our attention slowly loses its natural inclination to respond to absorption and we lose the ability to sustain it at will. Crawford (2015) argues that individual agency, and doing purposeful things, is a necessary antidote to the attentional and

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social fragmentation of our everyday lives (Bülow, 2020). An advocate for the importance of manual labour, Crawford also believes that we are rapidly being fundamentally de-skilled—simply because we are no longer required, or even invited, to understand how most things actually work. This creeping sense of passivity and dependence is where our sense of personal agency becomes illusive (Crawford, 2015). As with all new ventures, Shola’s success relied completely on her sense of legitimate individual agency. Her experience of a new sense of purpose emerged whilst in flow: organising awareness-raising activities, mobilising new networks of people, providing meaning and happiness to sponsors and future beneficiaries, giving hope to her local community and bringing them together. In her account, we learned that the stated purpose—a physical building—was an important motivator and driver throughout the campaign and in this regard, it was the springboard she needed for being in flow. This is an important point to emphasise: we are here advocating the recognition of the different dimensions to purpose, not favouring one dimension over the other. Yet, if we do not see equal value in the emerging sense of purpose because it is not stated from the outset, or necessarily measurable in terms of tangible outcomes or financial gains, we are disallowing our imagination to play its rightful part in our strategy. We are also at risk of preventing our sense of individual agency from realising its full potential in service of the different dimensions of purpose. Furthermore, we are potentially losing touch with the level of the extraordinary and with it, the experience of connectedness with source (Long, 2015). We have proposed that purpose, when framed only in terms of growth and progress or as a means to an end, is at risk of perpetuating a mindset that has landed us in a fragmented world driven by the pursuit of questionable morals. The lessons offered by the arts to leadership practice (Taylor, 2012) give us a map of how to create conditions for flow experiences, mastery and a sense of legitimate individual agency. If we can find the courage to draw upon Negative Capability, then we have a greater chance of welcoming flow and the mindset of the artist. In this way we can seek to develop mastery of the self in the face of uncertainty—mastery specifically of the commentator of the ‘me’ that reaches for fact and reason rather than being with truth-in-the-moment (French & Simpson, 2000). As with Bill Abbott’s leadership during the prison riot, which we described in terms of poetic sensibility, Esha Patel demonstrated a high level of creativity and mastery of the ‘me’ when she led her team through

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a crisis without reaching for immediate solutions to satisfy the expectations of the board. The outcome for Esha and her team was an emerging sense of shared purpose that inspired the development of an entirely new strategy.

References Aboulafia, M. (2016). George Herbert Mead and the unity of the self. European Journal of Pragmatism and American Philosophy, 8(1) [Online]. http://jou rnals.openedition.org/ejpap/465. Accessed 27 Nov 2021. Bülow, C.v. (2020). The practice of attention in the workplace—Phenomenological accounts of lived experience (Doctoral thesis). University of the West of England. https://uwe-repository.worktribe.com/output/4750905 Case, P., French, R., & Simpson, P. (2011). Philosophy of leadership. In A. Bryman, D. Collinson, K. Grint, B. Jackson, & M. Uhl-Bien (Eds.), SAGE handbook of leadership (pp. 685–727). Sage. Coghlan, D., & Brydon-Miller, M. (2014). The Sage encyclopedia of action research (Vol. 2). Sage. Crawford, M. (2015). The agenda with Steve Paikin. https://www.youtube. com/watch?v=Cie2Mw2uvJg. Accessed 18 Aug 2019. Csikszentmihalyi, M., & Nakamura, J. (2009). The concept of flow. In C. R. Snyder & S. J. Lopez, Oxford handbook of positive psychology (pp. 89–105). Oxford University Press. Fabre Lewin, M. (2019). Artful bodymind: Enlivening transformative research methodologies. Coventry University, Centre for Agroecology, Water and Resilience. Coventry University. French, R., & Simpson, P. (2000). Learning at the edges between knowing and not-knowing: ‘Translating’ Bion. Organisational & Social Dynamics, 1, 54– 77. Giroux, H. A. (2015). Selfie culture in the age of corporate and state surveillance. Third Text, 29(3), 155–164. Grisold, T., Klammer, A., & Kragulj, F. (2020). Two forms of organizational unlearning: Insights from engaged scholarship research with change consultants. Management Learning, 51(5), 598–619. Gittings, R. (1970). Letters of John Keats. OUP. Long, S. (Ed.). (2015). Transforming experience in organisations: A framework for organisational research and consultancy. Routledge. James, W. (1890). The principles of psychology. H. Holt and Company. Kotter, J. P. (2001). What leaders really do. Harvard Business Review, 79, 85–98. Mead, G. H., & Morris, C. W. (1962). Mind, self, and society: From the standpoint of a social behaviorist. University of Chicago Press.

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Seeley, C. (2011). Uncharted territory: Imagining a stronger relationship between the arts and action research. Action Research, 9(1), 83–99. https:// doi.org/10.1177/1476750310397061 Seeley, C., & Reason, P. (2008). Expressions of energy: An epistemology of presentational knowing. In P. Liamputtong & J. Rumbold (Eds.), Knowing differently: Arts-based and collaborative research (pp. 25–46). Nova Science. Sennett, R. (2008). The craftsman. Allen Lane. Taylor, S. S. (2012). Craft, art, creativity, and leadership. In Leadership craft, leadership art. Palgrave Macmillan. Trevor, J. (2019). Align: A leadership blueprint for aligning enterprise purpose, strategy and organization. Bloomsbury Business. Weston, S. J., Hill, P. L., & Cardador, M. T. (2021). Working toward a purpose: Examining the cross-sectional and longitudinal effects of work characteristics on sense of purpose. Journal of Personality, 89, 244–257. Williams, J. (2017). The attention economy. Available from YouTube: https:// www.youtube.com/watch?v=xxyRf3hfRXg. Accessed 29 Aug 2019. Zaleznik, A. (1977). Managers and leaders: Are they different? Harvard Business Review, 55(3), 67–76.

CHAPTER 7

The Work of Leisure

Modern notions of organisational leadership are typically dominated by a work ethic that emphasises long hours of dedicated effort in the achievement of defined tasks, with the highest value ascribed to activity and productivity. One of the reasons that the theme of leisure is important in the study of leadership practice is precisely because of the tendency to value overwork as a virtue; not merely failing to recognise the potential contribution of leisure but to actively exclude it. By introducing a consideration of leisure, we are not seeking to question the importance of hard work. The tendency to define leisure as the opposite of work is unhelpful and it is busy-ness, not work per se, that is the more enlightening antonym. It is noteworthy that the etymological root of the word ‘business’ is the Old English term bisignis, meaning anxiety, and that the meanings of business as ‘being busy’ and ‘working on an appointed task’ developed from the twelfth century. As a result of this longstanding over-valuing of busy-ness, the potential contribution of leisure tends to remain unrecognised, ignored or actively excluded, ‘now almost forgotten’ (Skidelsky & Skidelsky, 2013, p. 9). This can lead to the prevalence of ‘devouring time’ and a lack of ‘free time’ (O’Loughlin, 1978, p. 99; see also Robert, 1980). We introduce the phrase ‘work of leisure’ as a complement to the work of production. Productive work is concerned with wealth and job creation

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and the development of an effective societal infrastructure (food, agriculture, housing, education, transportation, health, and social care). The work of leisure, by contrast, plays a role in learning and inquiry in relation to an exploration of the indefinable qualities of a sense of meaning and purpose and of connectedness with source. Leadership practice will involve giving attention to the need for an appropriate balance between leisure and production. It is an overemphasis on the latter that has led to a lack of balance that has contributed to a culture of busy-ness and overwork. There are few who would argue with the proposition that many who find themselves involved in leadership would benefit from greater attention to the place of leisure in their lives. However, in relation to Negative Capability, we are drawing attention to the requirement for a particular form of leisure. The common modern understanding of the term is of time away from work, rest as merely the absence of productive work (see Case et al., 2012, p. 354 for a critique of this notion). By contrast, we are drawing on an ancient view of leisure as a form of work that is not focused on producing an outcome but is concerned with the search for something not yet known. To adapt Keats’s phrasing, it is work as inquiring into what is not known, even the unknowable, without any irritable reaching after a defined outcome. So, for example, it is through the work of leisure that we can find, or be found by, a sense of purpose, as discussed in Chapter 6. The work of leisure is to give oneself to a process of inquiry. This might be thought of as learning or research, but of a particular kind. It is an inquiry that is not specific about its goal and is open to being surprised. Keats pointed to the importance of the work of leisure in his comparable phrase, ‘diligent Indolence’ (Letter to Reynolds, 19 February 1818, in Gittings, 1970, p. 65), and painted a picture of someone choosing a poem and then undertaking the work of leisure to ‘wander with it, and muse upon it, and reflect from it, and bring home to it, and prophesy upon it, and dream upon it’. This is leisure as a form of work involving the maintenance of an open, receptive attitude and is essential for some aspects of philosophy, learning, inquiry, and connectedness with source (Long, 2015). Giving time and space to the work of leisure provides the opportunity to draw upon Negative Capability in leadership practice. As in Chapter 6 where we discussed the importance of a balance between a defined purpose and an unnameable sense of purpose, it is again essential to hold together

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two contrasting ideas: in this case an understanding of the work of leadership as both productive and leisurely. Productive work is associated with mastery, power and control. By contrast, the work of leisure is concerned with contemplative inquiry and receptive vision, which can permit unplanned transformations in understanding and insight.

Illustration: EARThSus Within Western society the wisdom of productivity and growth goes almost unquestioned: surely increased wealth, greater output, expanded capacity is always a good thing, isn’t it? This question is raised in the following illustration, which is an anonymised account based on an action research intervention with a charitable organisation, which employed over 200 staff at the time. We use it to explore the potential contribution of the work of leisure to leadership practice at the organisational level. We suggest that an over-valuing of the work of production can lead to a momentum for growth that is difficult to resist, even when it results in dysfunctional levels of busy-ness and losing touch with a sense of purpose. It is implied that the work of production needs to be balanced with the work of leisure to achieve a strategic-cultural fit in the leadership of the organisation. eARThSus has a vision for changing the way that society thinks about and looks after the environment. It has been supported financially through a combination of philanthropy and its own endeavours, with major income streams from both sustainability consultancy and the sale of art and crafts. Following its creation in the early 1990s, the venture grew slowly, in line with the increasing interest and involvement of the local community. As word of their philosophy and ethos became more widely known, new national and international markets for the retailing side of eARThSus began to emerge, as well a steady increase in consultancy work. Over the last decade, eARThSus has begun to experience relatively rapid growth, to the point where five years ago a need was identified to further professionalise its business operations: it had reached a size where it was no longer possible for the lean management team to keep up with the growing level of activity. It was with great relief to existing managers that the senior team grew to include not merely the divisional heads with an Executive Director, but also specialist managers occupying corporate roles: Directors of Operations, Finance, Marketing and Development.

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This growth in the senior team made it possible to envision further plans for expansion, particularly identifying new income streams from a diversified product range. In addition, the sense of momentum encouraged the development and marketing of new commercial training and research services that built on their experience of sustainability consultancy. Wealthy investors provided capital to develop these initiatives, recognising the income generating opportunities. However, after two years there was an increasing sense of dissatisfaction with the slow rate of growth in commercial revenue and some began to suggest that there was a need for a more business-like ethos within the organisation. The management team were, again, being required to work harder and faster to try to keep up with growing expectations. The senior management team of eARThSus was facing a major organisational development challenge in evaluating the strategic options available to them to successfully increase revenue streams that would serve organisational ambitions as well as to appease investors. Consequently, there was a sense of concern and urgency within the organisation and the community, and this expressed itself in two ways. The first, and more prominent amongst the managers, related to the challenge of generating additional income, made particularly difficult by the likelihood that several of the newer commercial ventures would fail to break-even in the coming year. There was growing pressure not merely to address existing challenges but also to identify new revenue streams. The second expression of concern, predominant within certain sections of the staff body – notably volunteers and supporters within the local community – was a sense that eARThSus was not the organisation it used to be and that things felt different, somehow. This was expressed in several ways but included a concern that the original sense of purpose was being lost. Some in the senior management team noticed this second concern and raised the possibility that eARThSus could address the current situation by considering alternatives to a push for revenue growth. For example, one strategic option being voiced was that a more sustainable business model might include the decision to stabilise the level of activity and even to reduce the number of initiatives and turnover, permitting eARThSus to return to being less complex in management and organisational structure. It was recognised that this was a valid option but it was argued against by the majority of the senior team because it was seen as a sign of defeat.

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The strategic issue was never resolved but a very large donation by a wealthy philanthropist bought eARThsus some more time. However, this did not stop several senior managers and major supporters of the charity from leaving.

The work of leisure involves having the time to give attention to a sense of purpose that is meaningful and connected with source rather than being preoccupied with what is compelled or merely expected: ‘time free for its own sake, time in another dimension from that of the busy world, free time not as escape but as fulfilment’ (O’Loughlin, 1978, p. 5). This is difficult to achieve in organisations, at all levels of power and influence, because many are caught in a spinning hamster wheel of overwork, personal and collective ambition, and unexamined, potentially unrealistic, expectations. Without making time for the work of leisure it was difficult for the management team, collectively, to create the conditions for Negative Capability, in contrast to the story of Esha and her management team in Chapter 3. At eARThSus the pressures and expectations of the current situation proved too much and the conflict in the management team remained unresolved. The driving force remained a clear expectation that the organisation would strive to meet the key performance indicators as defined. This clarity of goals and purpose overshadowed the sense of purpose that many remembered as the original motive force of the organisation. In the following discussion, we argue that the conscious administration of ourselves in our leadership practice involves taking ourselves, our thoughts, values, and aspirations more seriously. This will contribute to the development of organisational cultures in which it is legitimate to take up the authority to question the world around us, including the organisations in which we work, and to ask whether the situation is as it should be and what we want. This was ultimately lacking in eARThSus. To do this, we will first develop our argument that the work of leisure can support the work of production, and vice versa, both making a distinctive contribution to the quality of leadership practice. It is possible to take a more extreme position and argue that the purpose of the work of production is to make possible the work of leisure. This is not our argument here, which is for a more balanced acknowledgement in the workplace of both forms of work, but it is helpful, briefly, to consider this proposition.

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Ancient Philosophy and the Place of Leisure Weber (1939) asked whether we live to work or work to live. The answer given by the ‘protestant ethic and spirit of capitalism’ as it has developed in the modern era appears to be the former. By contrast, Aristotle’s answer to Weber’s question is, ‘We are busy in order to have leisure [scholax¯ omen]’ (1984, p. II, 1861 [1177b 4]). Indeed, the original Greek is even clearer in that the term translated ‘busy’ is ascholoumetha, literally ‘without leisure’ or ‘unleisurely’. This latter translation reflects the ancients’ tendency to define being busy with productive work as an absence of leisure. It is the same in Latin, where leisure is otium and work negotium, the negation of leisure. This is the opposite of the modern tendency to define leisure as the absence of the work of production. Aristotle is implying that to some extent we must, of necessity, reluctantly even, be unleisurely and productive in order to support a life of leisure. This linguistic dimension to the discussion of leisure brings into focus the significance of leisure in relation to culture. The key ingredient in both the Greek and the Latin terms for the work of production (without leisure) is the negative element: ‘a-’ and ‘neg-’. Both suggest, therefore, that it is possible to conceive of productive work as the denial of something positive, and in both instances the positive experience to be negated was the same: leisure—skol¯e, otium. This is more than an immature resistance provoked by ‘having to work’, and is not just a game of words, ‘an etymological curiosity’ (O’Loughlin, 1978, p. 7). Rather it is a vivid reflection of the restrictions that ‘our culture’s poverty of imagination’ places on leisure’s potential (Skidelsky & Skidelsky, 2013, p. 9; see also Allen, 1989; Barrett, 1989) and in this we are drawing attention to leisure’s potential relevance in the workplace as well as for personal development and fulfilment. The way affirmation and negation overlap in the words ascholoumetha and negotium highlights a crucial question: to what attitudes and activities does any culture attribute positive value? What is taken away or negated to create an understanding of valuable work? This is the context in which Aristotle’s assertion that ‘we are unleisurely in order to have leisure’ is disorienting to the modern mind. It is precisely because it reverses our sense of reality—of what is right. An appreciation of the work of leisure as of greater value than the work of production is particular to the practice of philosophy ‘in the traditional

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sense of Plato, Aristotle, Augustine and Aquinas… In [which] the philosophical act is a fundamental relation to reality, a full personal attitude which presupposes silence, a contemplative attention to things’ (Pieper, 1952, p. xx). Of course, it is leadership practice that is our concern here, and not the practice of philosophy. However, through this brief reflection on a philosophical tradition we seek to highlight the potential value in leadership practice of an enhanced quality of attention in our ‘fundamental relation to reality’ and the significance of this in the workplace. In terms of a broader organisational agenda, our argument is relevant to the challenges of sustainability and responsible management and the impact of organisations in the modern global context (Laasch & Conaway, 2014). It is valuable to understand the central importance of leisure in some philosophical traditions, which highlight the contribution that this might bring to the workplace. Its neglect runs the risk of continuing to build a society in which individuals struggle to find meaning in existence. In such a context, the acquisition of wealth and materialism can become a substitute for finding a sense of meaning and purpose, but the satisfaction derived from this is invariably short-lived.

A Culture of Leisure Writing in Germany soon after the end of the Second World War when there was a desperate need to rebuild after the devastation, Pieper (1952) started his essay, Leisure, the Basis of Culture, with an objection to the idea that: ‘Now of all times, in the post-war years is not the time to talk about leisure’ (p. 21). He argued that beyond the immediate issues of survival, this was in fact the most important time to consider leisure because it is one of the foundations of Western culture. The cultural assumptions upon which the basic decisions about rebuilding were being made should be identified and analysed, not just taken for granted. The very thing that might be hanging in the balance was whether the ‘new house’ was to be built in the Western tradition, in which leisure has had such a central significance. Although we have drawn here on the tradition of leisure that evolved in the ancient world, it is important to recognise that this exploration of tradition is not just what T.S. Eliot called ‘some pleasing archæological reconstruction’ (Eliot, 1920/1997, p. 39). The essence of the tradition was ‘handed down’ in a way that enabled it for centuries still

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to be ‘kept alive’ (Coomaraswamy, 1977, p. 444). Illich (1993) has identified the work of Hugh of St. Victor (c.1096–1141) as representing the last expression of a culture of leisure before it became less dominant: ‘Hugh demands that the reader who desires to reach perfection engage himself in leisure (otium)’ (p. 63). The ‘reader’ addressed in Hugh’s ‘study of reading’ would have been a monk desiring to be engaged with monastic leisure, otia monastica (ibid., pp. 61–64). Leclerc puts the matter succinctly: ‘The whole organization of monastic life is dominated by the solicitude for safeguarding a certain spiritual leisure’ (Leclerc, 1982, p. 19). This ancient tradition of leisure has re-emerged at various points in the history of the West, for example, in the Renaissance of the fifteenth century, where Ficino’s engagement with and reworking of Plato and other classical writers led him to talk of ‘The usefulness of the leisured life’ (Ficino, 1483, p. 193), but also in the nineteenth century, where Lamb (1833/1922) describes his experience in a manner reminiscent of Keats’ description of ‘diligent indolence’, above: ‘I am Retired Leisure. … I walk about; not to and from’ (p. 172). More recently, Cayley (1992, p. 8) has argued that ‘true learning […] can only be the leisured pursuit of free people’. A significant transition away from valuing a culture of leisure appears to have occurred at the time of the Enlightenment, exemplified in Kant’s denial of the role of the intuitive, receptive, and contemplative mind in the development of knowledge, which he held to be discursive. In 1796, Kant explicitly contradicted the romantic and intuitive philosophers of the time, stating that in philosophy, ‘the law is that reason acquires its possessions through work’ (quoted in Pieper, 1952, p. 8). Further, utilitarianism pervades post-Enlightenment thinking, demanding effort that will result in a measurable outcome, thus placing the emphasis firmly on the work of production, and so accentuating the inclination to make an association between leisure and idleness. However, as a moral philosophy based on the belief that ‘value depends entirely on utility’ (Jevons in Kerr, 1962, p. 40), utilitarianism has been argued to sacrifice truth on the altar of efficiency (Fournier & Grey, 2000, p. 17), defining the good in terms of market share or profit as ‘the sole criterion of value’ (Block et al., 2016, p. 22). The challenge facing any attempt to reclaim greater balance between the work of production and the work of leisure will include countering these powerful societal forces. This context offers an impoverished

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agenda in the human search for purpose and connection, limiting organisational practice to the pursuit of the ‘useful’ rather than knowledge and experience that is meaningful. Keats’ maxim that all knowledge should be proved by experience, ‘upon our pulses’ as it were, makes clear that it is not that the Romantic philosophers were not empirical in their approach, but rather that they did not limit their understanding of the sources of knowledge to the five senses alone, but looked instead to the engagement of the whole being in empathetic and contemplative vision, ‘a science of intuition’ (Seamon, 1998, p. 14). From this perspective, work arises from the natural concern to meet human needs and gives attention to the mobilisation of resource, with activity leading to productivity. However, also from this perspective, leisure is not merely in-activity but rather a being without any irritable reaching after fact & reason, a letting go of these all too human concerns and pre-occupations of the work of production. As Pieper (1952) has argued, Leisure is not the attitude of mind of those who actively intervene, but of those who are open to everything; not of those who grab and grab hold, but of those who leave the reins loose and who are free and easy themselves – almost like a man falling asleep, for one can only fall asleep by ‘letting oneself go’. (p. 28)

Conscious Administration The philosophy of ancient Greece understood the work of leisure as an important feature of societal effectiveness, including but not limited to economic success. From this tradition leisure is primarily associated with learning. The Greek skol¯e, meaning leisure, is the etymological root of the word ‘school’, reinforcing the argument that certain forms of learning and inquiry are concerned with the work of leisure. This is a notion that still survives in the much-debated idea of the ‘liberal’ or ‘free’ arts (Pieper, 1952, pp. 54–56, also Colby et al., 2011; Nussbaum, 1997; Skidelsky & Skidelsky, 2013). Understood in this sense leisure plays a key role in providing the opportunity to understand the complexities of human interaction and to appreciate how the pursuit of a multiplicity of values must combine to create a healthy society. However, this goes beyond understanding such educative leisure as another form of productivity because it involves the

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practice of attention to the pursuit of non-utilitarian ends. For example, Nightingale argues that, Aristotle wants his educational system to produce the free men [sic] who will rule and act virtuously in civic affairs, but he also wants these men to experience the more radical freedom that accompanies activities that are ‘not for the sake of’ anything or anyone. (2004, p. 247)

The grounding of post-Enlightenment thinking in utilitarianism, rationality and empiricism—Blake’s ‘single vision and Newton’s sleep’ (Davis & Pound, 1996, p. 148)—shuts out other visions of reality. In opposition to the forces of Enlightenment, the thinkers and practitioners of the Romantic period, including Keats, drew on the ancient springs of Platonic, neo-Platonic and Renaissance models (Raine, 1985). This was not ‘philosophizing’ in the sense of constructing a system of ideas but was rooted in theoria, contemplation, a form of knowing beyond theory (Case et al., 2012; Nightingale, 2004). This is related to our discussion of care of the self in Chapter 5, which is concerned with a knowing which ‘is always experience, or rather it is an inner metamorphosis’ (Hadot, 1993, p. 48). Hadot (1995) refers to this as ‘philosophy as a way of life’, exemplified in Socrates who ‘had no system to teach. Throughout, his philosophy was a spiritual exercise, an invitation to a new way of life, active reflection, and living consciousness’ (p. 157). In an organisational context, philosophy—like leisure—is not a term that sits easily as having relevance to the practical demands of the workplace. However, just as we are clarifying the work of leisure as contributing to the practices of learning and development and the search for a sense of meaning and purpose—in the same way the ancient understanding of philosophy as a way of life is concerned with relevance to everyday practice, enabled through a certain quality of thinking and being. This applies to both leisure and productivity and might be understood in a contemporary context not as an expression of the love of wisdom (the Greek philos sophos ) but as the conscious administration of ourselves in all aspects of our leadership practice. Put simply, this involves taking ourselves, our thoughts, values and aspirations more seriously. It is to take up the authority to question the world around us, including the organisations in which we work, and to ask whether the situation is as it should be and what we want—to question our ‘fundamental relation to reality’ (Pieper, 1952, p. xx). A conscious

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process of ministering to ourselves in seeking to achieve the meaningful, purposeful life that we desire requires the courage to ask and engage with challenging questions. For example, ‘do I take my personal values seriously in the workplace or am I merely a hired hand offering time and effort in exchange for pay?’. In both the work of leisure and the work of production, this involves gaining an understanding of the required cultural values (personal and organisational), clarity about our intentions (what is the focus of our aspiration?), the quality and focus of attention, and the aptitudes needed to perform effectively. Thinking deeply and critically about each of these aspects of our context and practice constitutes the conscious administration of ourselves. We will now discuss some practical implications of the conscious administration of ourselves in reclaiming a greater balance between the work of leisure and the work of production. We will do this by means of an illustration of an innovative approach to the appraisal and development interview. This demonstrates the potential relevance of the work of leisure to self-leadership and the process of attending to personal and corporate values.

Illustration: StraightMeadows Inc. The new HR manager of StraightMeadows Inc. identified several worrying metrics in the performance of several divisions in the organisation, including high staff turnover and sickness absence, when compared to industry benchmarks. She initiated a cultural change programme seeking to bring a greater sense of ownership and commitment throughout the organisation to corporate mission and purpose. One aspect of this was a review and redesign of the appraisal and development interview process. What she had inherited was typical of the type of approach used at many organisations. Each year every staff member was required to complete a written review of their major activities and a selfevaluation of their performance against the objectives set at the previous appraisal. The subsequent thirty-minute interview with the line manager involved working through this self-evaluation and comparing this against the results of a 360-degree feedback and various performance metrics obtained from the management information system. The outcome of the interview was

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an agreed evaluation of performance and the setting of goals for the following year. The new system required line managers to be re-educated to focus not merely upon performance against individual goals but to perform a more holistic review of each staff member’s behaviour, attitudes and disposition, including their quality of attention to organisational purpose and culture. In other words, the question that line managers were required to explore with their staff was not just ‘have you met your goals?’ but ‘how are you performing as a vital part of this organisation?’ This required more time than the previous approach – typically in the region of two hours – as well as a more exploratory, inquiring conversational style.

Alongside other initiatives, this shift in approach contributed to a significant decrease in staff turnover and sickness absence rates. The original approach focused on the essential productive work of each employee and required them to be clear on their individual goals. Critical to the success of the new initiative was that it was not merely replaced by a more extensive array of performance measures. On the contrary, an entirely different way of thinking underpinned the new approach, which shares many similarities with what we have called the work of leisure. This was to encourage each staff member to engage in the conscious administration of themselves, with the support of their line manager, taking seriously their personal values and encouraging them to bring these into the workplace. The invitation to every staff member was to talk about who they are and what matters to them, not merely to talk about what they do. More than this, the opportunity was offered to do this in a ‘leisurely’ manner—giving time and attention not primarily to functional activity but to a genuine exploration of what it might mean to have a sense of connection with work colleagues and to a sense of purpose. The task of the line manager became one of understanding what was meaningful to each individual and to engage in a goal setting process that took a more holistic perspective. At its best, this involved the integration of personal and organisational values—not through the imposition of corporate priorities, but by surfacing genuine similarity and connection between the two. One significant outcome of this, reported by staff as well as line managers, was that as individuals gained a greater sense of where and how their own interests and values aligned with those of the organisation, many began to take a greater level of responsibility for their work and their potential contribution to corporate interests. This is one

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example of the way in which it can be possible to challenge the duality— and break down the boundaries—between the work of leisure and the work of production. In Table 7.1 we summarise the key elements of our discussion of the work of leisure in relation to the work of production. We have suggested the need to reclaim the balance between these two forms of work, which requires the conscious administration of ourselves in the workplace. Achieving this balance requires a recognition that an organisational culture needs to value process-relational behaviours of learning, development, and reflective inquiry alongside task-related activities of productive achievement. The conscious administration of the work of leisure gives the required space and quality of attention to the human need for encounter, connection with others, and a sense of meaning and purpose. This supports and interacts with the equally necessary process of wealth generation and job creation, which is essential for the development and maintenance of a healthy societal infrastructure. Table 7.1 The conscious administration of the work of leisure and of production The conscious administration of work

Work culture

Focus of intention

Work of leisure

• Process and relationship oriented • Learning and development • Reflective inquiry • Bringing the whole self to the workplace • Achievement oriented • Cooperative approach to the task • Proactive engagement with appropriate tasks • Efficient and effective

• Human encounter • Search for meaning • Search for a sense of purpose • Search for connection with source • Wealth generation • Job creation • Development of societal infrastructure (food and agriculture, housing, education, health and social care, transportation)

Work of production

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Long, S. (Ed.). (2015). Transforming experience in organisations: A framework for organisational research and consultancy. Routledge. Nightingale, A. W. (2004). Spectacles of truth in classical Greek philosophy: Theoria in its cultural context. Cambridge University Press. Nussbaum, M. C. (1997). Cultivating humanity: A classical defense of reform in liberal education. Harvard University Press. O’Loughlin, M. (1978). The garlands of repose: A literary celebration of civic and retired leisure—The traditions of Homer and Vergil, Horace and Montaigne. The University of Chicago Press. Pieper, J. (1952). Leisure: The basis of culture (A. Dru, Trans.). Liberty Fund. Raine, K. (1985). Defending ancient springs. Golgonooza Press. Robert, J. (1980). Le Temps Qu’on Nous Vole: Contre la Société Chronophage. Seuil. Seamon, D. (1998). Goethe, nature, and phenomenology: An introduction. In D. Seamon & A. Zajonc (Eds.), Goethe’s way of science: A phenomenology of nature (pp. 1–14). State University of New York Press. Skidelsky, R., & Skidelsky, E. (2013). How much is enough? Money and the good life. Penguin Books. Weber, M. (1939). The protestant ethic and the spirit of capitalism (T. Parsons, Trans.). Allen and Unwin [Reprinted: Routledge, 2005].

CHAPTER 8

Passion

In our final theme of passion, we explore the heart of a leadership practice that is not dependent upon knowing. In fact, we will explore in this chapter how it is sometimes an absence or lack of something— perhaps knowledge or some other resource—that stimulates the passion, the desire, to know, to have, to do, and/or to be. We have discussed how working in uncertainty, when drawing upon our Negative Capability, can stimulate inquiry as the work of leisure. There are moments when it is the search itself, a search for something currently lacking, that provides a sense of meaning—even if we cannot define the purpose, the something, of our search. We are motivated to give ourselves to the work, even if we do not have a specific productive outcome in mind. It is the desire to fill the sense of lack within us that can generate our passion for the task. It is in this respect that the experience of Negative Capability, of being in uncertainty, draws our attention to an often-forgotten aspect of passion in leadership practice: the importance of surrender and humility, that can operate alongside proactivity and drive. The etymological root of the word passion is the Latin pati and Late Latin, passio, meaning ‘suffer’. Indeed, this is also closer to the original English meaning of the term. For example, in the Christian tradition, the Passion of Christ was the period following his three years of active ministry and describes his surrender to arrest, trial and crucifixion. This suggests an understanding of passion in leadership practice that can comprise both an active drive © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 C. von Bülow and P. Simpson, Negative Capability in Leadership Practice, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-95768-1_8

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towards a defined purpose and a receptive acceptance of the challenges of the situation, sometimes with just a tenuous sense of purpose. When associated with Negative Capability, passion is being without an irritable reaching after mastery and control and is an acceptance of things as they are, even if things are not to our liking. This can still be an intense passion, but it has a different quality to the experience of being driven to achieve a defined goal. In its more positive forms, acceptance can feel like dwelling in the place where you want to be. More challenging are those times when a sense of dread and anxiety is overwhelming, but we hold ourselves to the task by an act of will and dogged determination— we hang on in there, our passion stopping us from being indifferent, but without any irritable reaching for a resolution. We will begin our inquiry through one of the classic explorations of passion in Plato’s Symposium (1994), and, in particular, through the figure of Eros. In his study of its relationship with the polis of Ancient Greek philosophy, Ludwig (2002) argues that Eros ‘occurs in cases in which the desire, whether sexual or not, becomes obsessional and the subject of desire becomes willing to devote nearly all his or her life, time, or resources to achieving the goal’ (p. 13). The use of the term ‘obsessional’ is probably not helpful, as it tends to be associated with a misguided intensity of focus that is irrational and ill-founded. When associated with Negative Capability, passion can certainly be beyond ordinary rationality, particularly when it involves a level of sacrifice without obvious personal gain. However, what Ludwig captures is the level of devotion, the giving of oneself entirely, to a goal or, indeed, an undefinable sense of purpose. It is in relation to a practice of inquiry that Eros is understood in the archaic sense of ‘educative love’ (Hadot, 1995, p. 158; see also Campbell, 1976, pp. 228–229; Sheffield, 2006, p. 2). In this respect, Cunliffe’s (2009) suggestion that there are similarities between academics and leaders is helpful for our purposes: ‘Both involve responding to challenges, thinking critically, seeing situations in new ways, being able to deal with uncertainty and ambiguity, learning from experience and mistakes, knowing yourself, and (especially when teaching/ leading at this level) being passionate about what you do’ (p. 88). Symposium was a setting within which a group meet to inquire into a chosen topic together. This form of gathering was not uncommon at the time of Plato and the design of symposia was for each person to take a turn making a speech around a particular theme—a leisurely

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context, conducive to a shared inquiry. The mutuality in this method, as well as in their discourse, is a theme we will explore in more detail later in this chapter. The key figure in this dialogue is Socrates, who provides an example of leadership in his approach to philosophy and educative love. This discussion will then be brought into the modern era through an extended illustration of the complex experience of founding an organisation.

Socrates and Plato’s Symposium In our discussion of Negative Capability, we have pointed towards a wisdom that lacks knowledge but is not ignorance. In this vein, our discussion will consider the example of Socrates, as teacher and leader, who famously compared himself to a person who thought himself wise and knowledgeable, and reflected, I thought to myself, ‘I am wiser than this man; for neither of us really knows anything fine and good, but this man thinks he knows something when he does not, whereas I, as I do not know anything, do not think I do either. I seem, then, in just this little thing to be wiser than this man at any rate, that what I do not know I do not think I know either.’ (Plato, 1966, 21d5)

In what is sometimes referred to as the Socratic paradox, of knowing that he does not know, we see echoes of Negative Capability in being without ‘any irritable reaching after fact & reason’. However, we have a concern about the way in which the use of impressive terms like paradox, and indeed the equally prevalent notion of Socratic irony, means that the message of not knowing can so easily slip through our fingers—or be unthinkingly negated. What can be left is an admiration for Socrates brilliance in taking up a ‘pose’ as the one who does not know, drawing others to offer their knowing, only for Socrates to dismantle their reasoning. The profession of not knowing is reduced to a method, albeit with a good, educative intent. We do not refute the value of such a method, but we challenge the interpretation, conscious or otherwise, that he is the one who knows. Given that everyone else is shown by Socrates not to know, the logic of this interpretation is that he is ‘the one who is supposed to know’ (Lacan, 1977, p. 232). We desperately want ‘someone who knows’ whom we can call teacher or leader. However, Socrates is clear: he does

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not know anything ‘fine or good’ and he does not think he knows either. This is, perhaps, the greater irony and paradox: that our irritable reaching after fact and reason makes it so difficult to allow capable teachers and leaders to be ordinary human beings and not to idealise them. We are, however, made aware by Socrates himself of the positive capabilities that he does possess, including those that relate to passion or, as he so beautifully describes it, ‘the art of love’ (Plato, 1994, 202a). In Symposium, Socrates is equated with Eros and in this dialogue, Plato set out to explore the nature of love not in an abstract sense but through a series of eulogies on the mythical figure of Eros. This takes place in a gathering of friends who have come together to eat and drink. On this occasion, the chosen theme was Eros—the mythical embodiment of human desire (Plato, 1994, 177d). We will focus on the penultimate speech, by Socrates, who takes the opportunity to recount a conversation he says he once had with the visionary seer, Diotima, his instructress in the art of love. Eros is described by Socrates as a ‘daemon’—not divine but one who is at home in both the ordinary and the extraordinary, the ineffable and the everyday, free to move between gods and humans as a guide, messenger, or interpreter. Diotima, told Socrates about Eros’ parentage and the circumstances of his conception. The bare bones of the story are these: The gods held a party to celebrate the birth of Aphrodite (goddess of love and beauty). One of the guests, Poros, the god of Plenty, wandered drunkenly into Zeus’s garden to sleep. Meanwhile Penia (meaning poverty or lack), a mortal who regularly gate-crashed parties of this kind to beg and pick up whatever she could, spotted an opportunity to improve her situation through having a child by Poros. So, she lay with him, and she conceived Eros, born, therefore, from the union of the divine and the mortal, plenty and poverty, resource and lack.

In the characters of Penia and Poros, this allegory describes the dynamic interplay between lack and possession as the genesis of passionate desire. There are several aspects of the story that allow us to understand the place of passion in leadership practice, drawing upon Negative Capability. Firstly, there are the implications that arise from Eros’ genetic inheritance. Plato’s choice of his mother makes lack the driving force at the heart of the experience of desire. Further, in Plato’s schema, Penia represents lack, poverty, need, and want, but she is coupled with Poros, a

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father who represents both resource—that is, plenty or wealth, something available and accessible—and resourcefulness—that is, scheming, cunning, invention, and expediency as a modus operandi. It is important to note, however, how Penia’s awareness of her own lack shows that she was already resourceful enough to know what it is that she needed—and to contrive to access it. Whilst without knowledge and resource, she had a developed practice of attention. An intriguing and significant dimension of the story is that Penia could only approach Poros and mate with him when he was both drunk and asleep. In Greek myth, the gods did frequently seek out humans who were especially attractive, but we are told that Eros took after his mother in being insensitive and unattractive, ‘a vagrant, with tough, dry skin and no shoes on his feet’ (203c). The fact that Poros was incapacitated— ‘drunk on nectar’ (203b)—is, therefore, significant. This is reminiscent of our inquiry in Chapter 7, in that leisure is the attitude of those who are ‘free and easy themselves—almost like a man falling asleep, for one can only fall asleep by ‘letting oneself go’ (Pieper, 1952, p. 28). It seems to indicate precisely that he had to let go of his divinity and resourcefulness for Eros—passionate desire—to be conceived. Being without any irritable reaching after fact and reason, he was available for Eros to be conceived.

The Experience of Lack There is a generative link between Eros’ parents, whose names are Poverty (Penia) and Plenty (Poros), lack and resource and, in some respects, this is comparable to bringing together the intense receptiveness characteristic of the work of leisure with the dedicated resourcefulness required to engage in productive work. The presentation of the characteristics of passionate desire is unequivocal: it arises not from completeness but incompleteness; not from fulfilment but absence. Socrates argues that an understanding of passion must proceed from this critical starting point: passionate desire arises from want and want from lack (Sheffield, 2006, p. 47). Desire arises only where want is perceived and experienced as such, but we do not experience our want if we are not prepared to engage with the reality of our lack. Passionate desire is fuelled by a sense of purpose, which is to fulfil a sense of lack. The first difficulty in accessing our Negative Capability is that it requires letting go, or as Pieper (1952, p. 28) suggests, putting to sleep

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all knowledge and resourcefulness. However, a lack of knowledge and the experience of uncertainty is emotionally challenging because it makes us like Penia: poor, weak, vulnerable. This contrasts with the perception that desire has its origins not in the experience of lack but in the value of an objective goal, a definable purpose. From a perspective that highlights positive capabilities, the motive force in leadership arises from either positive emotion, like drive and motivation (Goleman, 1998; Kouzes & Posner, 2012) or a negative emotion, such as the fear of failure or underachievement. In relation to the latter, Kotter and Cohen (2002) argue, ‘People change what they do less because they are given an analysis that shifts their thinking than because they are shown a truth that influences their feelings ’ (p. 1, italics in the original). However, for Socrates passion is logical, not emotional, and is generated by an awareness of what is lacking leading to the rational desire to fill that lack with something good. A philosophical engagement with lack can provide a rational rather than an emotional basis for pursuing a sense of purpose. As a rational argument this is appealing, particularly when contrasted with a fear-based motivation for change. However, it is easy to focus on Poros and forget about Penia: desire has its origins in the experience of lack. Whilst emotion is not the basis of passion for Socrates, it is rational to acknowledge the emotional reality of lack, including the experience of uncertainty, which can be anxiety provoking. This is what Ogden (1992) has evocatively labelled the ‘primitive edge of experience’. This is not infrequently the experience in contemporary organizations, which can be ‘experienced as unstable, chaotic, turbulent, and often unmanageable’ (Gould, 1993, pp. 49–50, cited in Gabriel, 1999, p. 282). In such circumstances, the desire to engage with reality will be thrown into tension with a fear of the unknown: The human condition is a vulnerable one (for we are human, like Penia, not gods like Poros) and we are hard-wired with defensive mechanisms to protect us in situations of uncertainty and the primitive experience of lack (Bion, 1961; Lacan, 2006; Winnicott, 1990). Negative Capability is required to contain the emotional challenges of opening ourselves to the reality of a situation.

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Illustration: Founding Synergico We will now illustrate this through the personal account of a leader’s fluctuating experience of setting up an organisation. What follows are two accounts from the journal of Iris Kazan, the founder and Chief Executive of Synergico. 22 February 2011 We are two steps away from incorporating Synergico… the seed funding is secured, and inquiries are turning into actual orders as I write this. It feels amazing to have instigated a project that stimulates so much debate – I see renewed confidence in the sector, new hopes... but also new doubts and, sometimes, an encounter with some of the old fears too. The email inbox is overflowing with congratulatory messages. I am held in high regard for what has been achieved, no doubt about it. Yet, the polarising conversations continue, and I am very much in the middle of them at board level. Whilst I see myself as someone with a good idea, they see me as the official founder and as such, my views carry some weight, for sure, but I am not finding the board meetings easy at all, and it worries me. I have been astonished to experience myself reverting to a shy pupil in a class of loudmouthed others who presumably ‘know better’. Why am I allowing this to happen? I have left some of the meetings with a bitter taste of disappointment – mainly in myself… it is as if I am not allowing myself to say what I stand for, which, by the way, is what they all signed up for, frankly. I am focusing on all the things I am not. Too often I find it impossible to speak from my rightful place of agency and ownership. No, I speak from an absence of it. What is it that has this hold over me – where is my dignity and self-respect? So, what is my situation? When I look at it objectively, or from their point of view, I see a woman who is at least fifteen years younger than most of them. They are all men (enough said). They are from here in most cases, I am foreign. They are entrepreneurs, CEOs and philanthropists, driven and validated by their successes. By comparison, I am not an experienced founder or leader. I have led initiatives before and been successful, but never on this scale, I am not yet formally appointed as the Chief Executive, but it is assumed that I will be.

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Against this backdrop, I feel like I have lousy cards in my hands and yet, I do have one card that I suspect no one else holds right now: I sense what this company is about – I feel it deeply. And it is more than a felt sense: it tastes like knowledge, though of course it is not in the normal meaning of the term – I cannot know what has not yet been manifested … what I have is the paradox of certainty within all the uncertainty. There was something about the way that I have managed to convey the vision of Synergico that inspired people – there was something about it that made these busy board members, who all have other (more than) full time jobs, gather around my idea and spend unpaid hours challenging, refining and endorsing it before they finally decided to sponsor it with their money, time or both. So really, what am I worried about, even if I let them battle it out in meeting after meeting and let myself disappear into the shadows? I guess it makes me wonder about the shy girl in a noisy classroom – can she lead? In the last six months, I have hosted five orientation meetings all over the country for stakeholders, prospective customers, and potential sponsors. After the first one, a major sponsor came up and said, ‘I can see that you are a leader … this bodes well for the success of Synergico!’ At the time, I wasn’t sure why he said that. I felt I had done nothing leaderly, or out of the ordinary, but as I continued the roadshow, I realised that something grabbed these people. There was something that inspired confidence. So, after the last meeting, I decided to analyse the responses I had received from participants. As I read the messages, emails, and notes on what had been said in the meetings, it pointed to something that I can only describe as magical: it sounded like people had come away from the meetings with a version or an echo of my own felt sense of Synergico’s purpose, of my sense of certainty within the uncertainty. I think one of my main tasks now is to build on this momentum, without losing the magic, without being too eager to ‘nail it’ or put it all into words. They respond to the magic, not decrees or a cake recipe. They talked about ‘a spirit of creativity’, ‘imagining what this could be’, what it could mean for them collectively and individually. Yet, I am also responsible for creating certainty, security and solidity. I understand now that I need to learn to hold the balance – like a tightrope walker everyone is looking at… I need to balance the magic and the mystery with pragmatism and expediency. Inside myself, I am also walking a tightrope, but no one can see that: they imagine that I have all the cards in my hands but can’t see that I don’t have any; they see a leader, but I feel like a follower; they can see that I am certain in uncertainty, but I know without knowing. 18 April 2018

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I always mark this day – it is my private anniversary of the first time I wrote anything down about Synergico and what it might become. It was the day I decided to ‘do it, whatever comes – even if it takes me for the rest of my life’. Bold statement to make back then. I remember the certainty I felt on that day and, bizarrely, it didn’t get any less even when the really tough challenges came. Today, nine years on, I sit with the question that is also on other people’s lips: how did I pull this off – whatever gave me that resilience? There is a sense in which what has been achieved feels otherworldly – some staff say about the last seven years at Synergico that ‘it has been a bit out of this world’ and I agree. I can recall so many times where I had to use skills I didn’t possess, know things I absolutely didn’t know, make decisions without any useful information, and respond urgently to major issues with no speaking partners around. I have been to some lonely and desolate places during this time. We have a large team now and they are working hard. Someone (who reports to someone, who reports to me – this still makes me smile!) said the other day, ‘you know, I have never pulled a sickie around here... I don’t need to cos I don’t want to … first time in my career.’ I looked him straight in the eyes and said, ‘best compliment ever, Taiki!’ But then he ruined it by asking about the company vision – he had heard that we were doing some work on it. What he had heard was almost right. The senior management team believes that we need an elevator pitch for Synergico – a quick inspiring pitch that people will respond to ‘not a long boring story about what we do and how we do it’ (I know this is aimed at me). They suggest that I am best placed to author the pitch, which is very strange, as I have been barred from writing copy for the website… ‘too wordy,’ they say. When I queried this request, I was told that it is ‘time to put that X factor into words’. Where to start? I could ask Taiki to explain why he doesn’t pull a sickie. The management team is doing what a management team should be doing – they are thinking about our sustainability and preparing for competition in the world of social media where we must be succinct if we want any attention at all. It depresses me that I agree with them, and it concerns me that I feel such resistance to the idea of an elevator pitch. I promised myself that I would never kill the vision by trying to fix it in place with words that can’t be changed the next time the question is asked. I have survived several years of working eighty-hour weeks, I have swallowed discrimination because of gender, age and nationality, I have been called ambitious (and not as a compliment) … but in all of that, I never lost my connection with vision and purpose – not in the delirium of success or even in the dark hours of failure. It is like being in love – it makes you invincible. But how do you answer

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someone who asks, ‘Why are you in love?’ So, I guess I want to say to anyone I meet in the elevator ‘take the stairs with me … and you have to surrender if you want to understand this.’ All of us, Taiki, the management team and me, we share something – I just don’t know what it is, and I cannot find the words.

This account of Iris’ experience illustrates how passion in leadership practice can be understood not as a motivational emotional state but a rational, dynamic process. Plato equates Socrates, the archetypal philosopher and lover of wisdom, with Eros, the daemon of love and desire; both occupy an intermediate space, between lack and possession, whilst one seeks Wisdom, the other Beauty. In a similar manner, leadership practice involves being ‘in movement’ within this twilight zone: mediating a change from the current situation in the pursuit of a desired purpose, which comprises not merely the work of production but also an alignment with a meaningful existence, connectedness with source (Long, 2015). In the context of Negative Capability, we have suggested that passion in leadership practice invites us to surrender knowing and control in service of an acceptance of things as they are—whilst also responding to what a situation requires. We see in Iris’ account that she is striving to hold a delicate balance between a necessary pragmatism and her relationship to source—the latter expressed in her connection to vision and a sense of purpose. In that balancing act, Iris is operating at the level of the ordinary with an awareness of what emerges at the level of the extraordinary, ‘something magical ’. Iris is ‘negotiating’ her experiences at these levels in the description of the encounter with Taiki in particular. Her desire to understand the ‘X factor’ of Synergico—a desire she also shares with the senior management team—is being tested in her reluctance to ‘never kill the vision’ with her own words. Iris wonders if she could just let Taiki speak of his experience rather than go away and articulate an elevator pitch in isolation. This is not avoidance of a task, rather it is an inner gesture that points to the significant role of mutuality in passion.

Mutuality in Shared Inquiry We mentioned the role of mutuality above when we introduced the method of inquiry found in Plato’s Symposium—a nonhierarchic, dynamic work of leisure in a conversation between co-inquirers around a theme.

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It is worth noting here that mutuality is also associated with what is often viewed as the highest form of love, Agape—framed in a number of wisdom traditions as selfless love, ‘measured in action—in good will, kindness, forgiveness, and compassion toward others’ (Templeton, 1999, p. 3). More recently, Carvalho et al. (2020) suggested that this form of love is a critical component in leadership, and they argue that ‘humility, forgiveness, self-sacrifice, impartiality, empathy, and emotional control which are founded on agape are critical behaviours for leaders to transform the lives of others’ (p. 114; see also Badaracco, 2002; Collins, 2001). In the context of leadership with passion, Andolsen (1981) proposes that mutuality is to be receptive and at the same time active—and she elaborates ‘[r]eceiving can be an active posture as for example when one ‘receives’ a guest. Love is the active affirmation of the goodness and beauty of the other’ (p. 77). As an aspect of passion in leadership practice, mutuality safeguards against the distortion of surrender, which can turn into demeaning passivity or submissiveness and ultimately lead to the loss of legitimate individual agency, as discussed in Chapter 6. In Iris’ accounts, the recurring theme she is reflecting on is her encounters with others—be it the early board meetings in which she experienced a distorted kind of surrender as a temporary loss of agency, or in the analysis of responses from the five early orientation events where she was able to share with the participants the tacit expression of her connectedness with source (Long, 2015). In these reflections, she is making sense of her experience of founding Synergico in terms of her encounters with others and we are reminded of Hadot (1995), who writes, […] Socratic philosophy is not the solitary elaboration of a system, but the awakening of consciousness, and accession to a level of being which can only be reached in a person-to-person relationship. (p. 163)

Such mutuality provides the containment that is missing when we lack knowledge and allows us to draw upon the experience of Negative Capability, being in uncertainty, supporting a level of consciousness required for the practice of attention. Likewise, we can also reflect on the story in Chapter 3 of Esha Patel, who surrendered all external expectations as she drew on her Negative Capability. In a dynamic conversational process with her senior management team, like a symposium perhaps, she asked

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individuals to bring their thoughts and reflections—but not answers— and what emerged was an innovative and unexpected outcome for the organisation. Not in splendid isolation, but in conversation. Passion in leadership practice can open the door to a love of the deed (Steiner, 1999), a love that does not blind us to pragmatism or reason but gives us inspiration and resilience to take moral action (ibid.). Such a love is rooted in mutuality. Passionate leadership as love of the deed resonates with Levinas’ (1999) notion of philosophical awakening as the ‘aspiration to a wisdom, that is not knowledge, that is not representation, that is love. Love of a wisdom other than the intelligible giving itself to knowledge’ (p. 8).

The Ladder of Love By associating leadership practice in this way with passionate desire, we focus attention on the experience of leadership characterised not so much by knowledge as by belief (Socrates ‘mean’ between knowledge and ignorance). This will be a variable experience—for a time characterised by confidence, conviction, even apparent certainty, fluctuating or oscillating with periods of uncertainty, doubt, and disillusion. From Poros is inherited confidence in a capacity for scheming and deliberation whereby the choice of the ‘good’ can be evaluated. Penia, in her ignorance, may stumble upon the beautiful and the good, but lacks the capacity to determine whether the object meets her need. It is Poros’ wisdom that must provide passionate desire with the capacity to determine the proper object of attention. This wisdom is summarised in the ‘ladder of love’, which is articulated by Diotima (Symposium, 210a– 211b). She proposes a practical approach, which is to ‘use the things of this world as rungs in a ladder’ (211c), which is a transition from what we have called the ordinary towards the extraordinary. The first step up is simply to love ‘one attractive body’. After this is a progression from one to two to many and then away from particular people or ‘attractive bodies’ to physical beauty in general and to the beauty of people’s activities. The final level is ‘no more and no less’ than beauty itself; that is, not attached to any specific object, but ‘in itself and by itself, constant and eternal’ (211b). At this level, it becomes clear that every beautiful object ‘somehow partakes’ of this beauty—so archetypal to human experience that it could be called divine; hence the fact that

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it is often capitalised: Beauty. In the tradition that spans Western intellectual history, it is at this level that Beauty, Truth and the Good are taken to represent one and the same thing. These are the Transcendentals that provided the sense of purpose to Keats in his work, as discussed in Chapter 2. However, we must remind ourselves that we are not dealing with a post-Enlightenment rationality. Inherited from Poros is not sure and certain knowledge but a form of knowing that might guide our desire. This is a philosophical process of theorizing, remaining aware that any knowledge gained is always tentative, provisional, and that any theory developed remains ‘dynamic’ (Corvellec, 2013, p. 23). Indeed, rather than a system of ideas, the etymological root of the term theory in the Ancient Greek is theoria, a spiritual journey or pilgrimage undertaken by the theoros —the seeker after divine knowledge. This is the ascent of the ladder of love. This dynamic process of discovery is the fluctuation from Penia to Poros, the philosophical act in Eros that leads to the development of wisdom. Such development entails a gradual appreciation of the higher goods that will address the sense of lack more adequately, as a sense of purpose emerges, develops, and transforms over time. We saw this in the story of Shola in Chapter 6 where, as we saw, this takes time, and it is to be anticipated that Eros will not take us straight to a final destination. It takes time because the capacity to evaluate the desired good involves a contemplative attention that is better described as an act of belief or faith (Eigen, 1981; Simpson, 1999, 2020). Brient (2001) argues that the philosophical shift in the era of the Enlightenment made it difficult to establish an ethical framework to guide human action, previously intuitively realised through an engagement with the ladder of love and Aquinas’ simplex intuitus veritatis, the ‘simple intuition of truth’. Utilitarianism struggles to find any basis for final judgement, like that found by faith in the unsayable, indefinable top of the ladder of love. Without Negative Capability, an irritable reaching for utility, a definable purpose, dominates and any ‘end’ merely becomes a ‘means’ in another endeavour. Brient argues that the consequence of this is that, pursued through successive iterations, meaning eventually becomes meaninglessness: humans have a need for a ‘governing principle’ (logos ) through which human conceptualisation can remain connected and therefore meaningful. However, Brient argues that such a principle will always remain an act of faith.

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This is not the faith of ‘blind obedience’ to authority figures but rather a receptive attitude of mind, the contemplative practice of leisure wherein ‘[t]he mode of discursive thought is accompanied and impregnated by an effortless awareness, the contemplative vision of the intellectus, which is not active but passive, or rather receptive, the activity of the soul in which it conceives that which it sees’ (Pieper, 1952, p. 9). It is somewhat paradoxical that the move away from faith towards reason laid the platform for the modern dependence upon ‘heroic leadership’ in which we so often seem to be trapped, even in these post-heroic times (Grint, 2010). Heroic, all-knowing leadership is not characteristic of a Socratic philosophy in which reasoned questioning in the realm of faith, between ignorance and knowledge, is the context in which individual and collective will is dynamically forged. This is why a vision or purpose set without mutuality, by an isolated leader, will not resonate with Eros. Different individuals, leaders and followers, will be at differing stages of understanding and development— they will be on different rungs of Diotima’s ladder. We saw this illustrated in Chapter 7 in the eARThSus illustration. It is through the dynamic interplay of experiences of lack and resource, of Negative Capability and positive capabilities, that the creative process is mobilised towards the identification of a vision and, subsequently, an experience of fulfilment, the eradication of lack. Without the resourcefulness provided by Poros, Eros would have received only the motive force from Penia. The spirit of Poros, and of the productive work ethic, should not blind us to the fact that in the human condition knowledge is not the norm. It is this fluctuation that is the norm, this dynamic faith combining doubt and certainty, sometimes coming with the extraordinary in the experience of Mystery, which suggests no easy solutions to the challenges of such a leadership practice. There are no quick fixes; no externally imposed regulatory frameworks or leadership development programmes guaranteeing to develop the requisite virtues. Those involved in leadership will be tested in relation to their lack as much as their resourcefulness. Their passionate desire might have given a clarity of purpose and become articulated in a vision for the good, but circumstance might expose their penury. This was illustrated in the story of Tom and Jean in Chapter 2, where their desire to be seen as the ‘ones who knew’ led to controlling behaviour that alienated those around them: mutuality and a shared love of the deed was lost.

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However, Eros is an intermediary who communicates between the gods and humankind, providing knowledge and wisdom, but inevitably humans err: ‘Es irrt der Mensch, so lang er strebt.’—‘For man must strive, and striving he must err’ (Goethe, 1949). Persistence in leadership practice from this position of lack, through a passion that draws upon Negative Capability, offers the potential to develop the necessary resilience required for leadership (Youssef & Luthans, 2007).

References Andolsen, B. H. (1981). Agape in feminist ethics. The Journal of Religious Ethics, 9(1, Spring), 69–83. Badaracco, J. L. (2002). Leading quietly: An unorthodox guide to doing the right thing. Harvard Business School Press. Bion, W. R. (1961). Experiences in groups, and other papers. Tavistock Publications [Reprinted: Routledge, 1989]. Brient, E. (2001). From vita contemplativa to vita activa: Modern instrumentalization of theory and the problem of measure. International Journal of Philosophical Studies, 9(1), 19–40. Campbell, J. (1976). The masks of God: Occidental mythology. Penguin Books. Carvalho, F. K., & Mulla, Z. R. (2020). The power of love (AGAPE) in leadership: A theoretical model and research agenda. South Asian Journal of Management, 27 (4), 96–120. Collins, J. (2001). Level 5 leadership: The triumph of humility and fierce resolve. Harvard Business Review, 79(1), 66–76. Corvellec, H. (Ed.). (2013). What is theory? Answers from the social and cultural sciences. Liber CBS Press. Cunliffe, A. L. (2009). The philosopher leader: On relationalism, ethics and reflexivity—A critical perspective to teaching leadership. Management Learning, 40(1), 87–101. Eigen, M. (1981). The area of faith in Winnicott, Lacan, and Bion. International Journal of Psychoanalysis, 62(4): 413–33. Gabriel, Y. (1999). Organizations in depth: The psychoanalysis of organizations. Sage. Goethe. (1949). Faust (P. Wayne, Trans., Part One). Penguin [Reprinted: Penguin, 1954]. Goleman, D. (1998). What makes a leader? Harvard Business Review, 76(6), 93–104. Grint, K. (2010). The sacred in leadership: Separation, sacrifice and silence. Organization Studies, 31, 89–107.

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Gould, L. (1993). Contemporary perspectives on personal and organizational authority: The self in a system of work relationships. In L. Hirschhorn & C. K. Barnett (Eds.), The psychodynamics of organizations (pp. 49–63). Temple University Press. Hadot, P. (1995). Philosophy as a way of life: Spiritual exercises from Socrates to Foucault. Blackwell. Kouzes, J. M., & Posner, B. Z. (2012). The leadership challenge (5th ed.). Wiley. Kotter, J., & Cohen, D. S. (2002). The heart of change: Real life stories of how people change their organizations. Harvard Business School Publishing. Lacan, J. (1977). The four fundamental concepts of psychoanalysis. Hogarth Press and the Institute of Psychoanalysis. Lacan, J. (2006). Écrits (B. Fink, Trans.). W. W. Norton. Levinas, E. (1999). Alterity and transcendence. Columbia University Press. Long, S. (Ed.). (2015). Transforming experience in organisations: A framework for organisational research and consultancy. Routledge. Ludwig, P. W. (2002). Eros and polis: Desire and community in Greek political theory. Cambridge University Press. Ogden, T. H. (1992). The primitive edge of experience. Aronson. Pieper, J. (1952). Leisure: The basis of culture (A. Dru, Trans.). Liberty Fund. Plato. (1966). Apology, translated by H. N. Fowler Plato in twelve volumes (Vol. 1). Harvard University Press; William Heinemann Ltd. http://www.perseus. tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.01.0170%3Atext%3DA pol.%3Asection%3D21d. Accessed 26 Mar 2016. Plato. (1994). Symposium (R. Waterfield, Trans.). Oxford University Press. Simpson, P. (1999). The place of faith in management learning. Management Learning, 28(4), 409–422. Simpson, P. (2020). Leadership. In S. Schwarzkopf (Ed.), Routledge handbook of economic theology. Routledge. Sheffield, F. C. C. (2006). Plato’s symposium: The ethics of desire. OUP. Steiner, R. (1999). The philosophy of freedom (M. Wilson, Trans.). Rudolf Steiner Press. Templeton, S. J. (1999). Agape love: A tradition found in eight world religions. Templeton Foundation Press. Winnicott, D. W. (1990). The maturational processes and the facilitating environment: Studies in the theory of emotional development. Karnac Books. Youssef, C. M., & Luthans, F. (2007). Positive organizational behavior in the workplace: The impact of hope, optimism, and resilience. Journal of Management, 33(5), 774–800.

CHAPTER 9

Concluding Thoughts

To consider Negative Capability requires Negative Capability. We cannot measure, quantify, describe, or even practice Negative Capability—it is not an objective that can be met or a task that can be ticked off the todo list, nor is it a goal one can be set. Yet in the context of leadership practice, the implications of Negative Capability for working in uncertainty are immense and the impact can be experienced by us, the people we work with, and those we aim to serve. As with love, we experience Negative Capability at the level of being as we become attuned to its nature, recognise its phenomenology, significance and impact upon self and others. With Negative Capability, Keats invited us to develop a particular mindset in order be without ‘any irritable reaching after fact & reason’ when working in uncertainty. Indeed, it has been said of Keats that, unlike Wordsworth and Shelley, he ‘had no theories, yet in the sense appropriate to the poet – in the same sense, though to a lesser degree than Shakespeare, he had a “philosophic” mind’ (T. S. Eliot quoted in Ou, 2009, p. 12). We have explored how this philosophical mindset entails a depth of personal inquiry—a commitment to self-knowledge, the practice of a heightened quality of attention, the work of leisure—and we have demonstrated how we may start to engage with the multiple dimensions of purpose and begin to understand the value of passion as acceptance and suffering as well as enthusiasm in leadership practice. Through all these © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 C. von Bülow and P. Simpson, Negative Capability in Leadership Practice, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-95768-1_9

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thoughts, feelings and actions, Negative Capability is experienced as existential at the level of being when we transcend our natural dependence upon thought, feeling or action.

Philosophy as a Way of Life In trying to understand what kind of mindset we are talking about here, we can take inspiration from Hadot (1995) who draws our attention to the practices of ‘Philosophy as a Way of Life’, a tradition that has clear echoes in Keats’ life and work. A poet and a practitioner, Keats tested his ideas against his experience proved on the pulses—as he spelled out in the difficulties of evaluating Wordsworth’s talent: And whether Wordsworth has in truth epic passion, and martyrs himself to the human heart, the main region of his song – In regard to his genius alone – we find what he says true as far as we have experienced and we can judge no further but by larger experience – for axioms in philosophy are not axioms until they are proved upon our pulses: We have read fine ______ things but never feel them to the full until we have gone the same steps as the Author. (Letter to J. H. Reynolds, 3 May 1818 in Gittings, 1970, p. 93)

Whilst we cannot explain Negative Capability without falling into the trap of framing it in ‘positive’ terms, we can test our own experiences and prove it on the pulses, as indeed we have sought to demonstrate with the illustrations that weave through the chapters. At this point, it is worth reiterating that with our focus on Negative Capability in this book, we are not assigning less value to positive capabilities in leadership. Rather, we are deliberately giving attention to the greater challenge of situating something that is both crucial and intangible for practitioners in a knowledge economy that still over-values knowing at the expense of attending to not knowing. This is somewhat paradoxical, as the very nature of the knowledge economy, with its ambition to grow, develop and improve, places us on a regular basis at the edges of knowing and not knowing (French & Simpson, 2000). If we dare to occupy this liminal space between knowing and not knowing, however, we will soon discover that this is where our leadership matures—this is where we feel the grit that becomes the pearl. It follows that the very idea of Negative Capability will be uncomfortable

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to some, anxiety provoking to others, but intriguing to those who sense its value for working in uncertainty and who, perhaps, are attracted by the Mystery. In all cases, drawing on Negative Capability requires careful discernment and that is the final matter we will explore.

Negative Capability and Situational Awareness Any leadership practitioner that seeks to become attuned to Negative Capability should be mindful of the potential challenges they might face in their own context. We have drawn attention to the inner work required, the need to address external expectations—imagined as well as actual— and the potential consequences of making leadership decisions that are not automatically justified by the typical demonstration of established ‘fact & reason’. In the following we provide a far from exhaustive list of issues that should be given careful attention. A culture that values work of leisure. The dominance of a productive work ethic has compromised our relationship with the work of leisure. The experience of leisure is not absent in organisations (in the shadows and the informal) but it is all too often employed for productive ends and it rarely, therefore, becomes a space where we can draw on Negative Capability. In such circumstances, any attempt to work with Negative Capability, allowing individuals to be open about their lack of knowledge and to resist the desire to move too quickly to solutions, will require the creation of sub-cultures of leisure. This will, in all likelihood, be a testing political process, requiring careful attention to issues of power, boundary management and skilful negotiation. To highlight the significance of this point, we may recall James’ experience of participating in Project 100 (in Chapter 4) and his reluctance to engage with a practice of attention, even in a legitimised culture of leisure. In different ways, Esha’s story (Chapter 2) and the eARThSus illustration (in Chapter 7) highlight the challenges of gaining political traction when there is a requirement to let go of pervasive notions of ‘best practice’. Freeing ourselves from limiting expectations. In a context where the leader is typically seen as the one who is supposed to know and should act decisively, practices of letting go and being without may seem counterintuitive and can quickly become sensitive issues—personally, interpersonally, and organisationally. Managing the expectations others may have of us, as well as our own, is complex and requires the courage to swim against the current until this way of working in uncertainty is no longer misjudged.

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Shola’s account (in Chapter 6) touched on this very issue and her felt sense of mild panic, as she prepared to explain her emerging sense of purpose to the board, revealed her reluctance to challenge the limiting narrative of external expectations. Iris is confronted with external expectations from her team (in Chapter 8) and she reflects on how her version of a connectedness with source (Long, 2015) has helped her to remain accountable also to her own vision, even when stronger and more powerful voices took over. Being judged and misunderstood. The security of certainty and resource, even as fantasy, is typically more appealing than dealing with the judgment or anxiety we encounter at the primitive edge of experience. Actively letting go of resource, in any form, can appear to common sense as an act of negligence, if not stupidity. Perhaps even more than creating sub-cultures of leisure, an explicit engagement with lack and not knowing runs the risk of becoming an act of political suicide (remembering, perhaps, the nature of Socrates’ demise). Yet, we can take inspiration from the stories of Esha (in Chapter 3) and the Prison Governor (in Chapter 5) where they take the risk of staying in not knowing during a time of crisis. We can learn from this that in some circumstances it requires highly developed faculties of discernment and confidence as well as personal resilience to draw on Negative Capability. The need to have and be open to persuasive logic. Faith is no longer understood to be fundamental to the human condition nor an associate of reason. On the contrary, the term raises concerns of fundamentalism, particularly when associated with the practice of leadership. Whilst we are not advocating the adoption of a particular faith, drawing upon Negative Capability in the pursuit of a sense of purpose requires the development of an attitude of faith, trusting in Beauty, Truth and Goodness, as logos, to reveal themselves as governing principles. It may be politically wise, also, to have a genuine and clearly articulated, definable purpose that relates to the pragmatics of the current situation. In the illustration with Tom and Jean (in Chapter 2), we get the impression that what started out as a passionate vision that inspired people to join their project developed into a single-mindedness that ultimately alienated them from both staff and board. We can take from this that we need to be versatile in our ways of communicating our passion. We also need to engage with sophistication and empathy, aware of the different dimensions of purpose that will be at play when we invite others to work with us. Passion is intimately linked

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to mutuality—operating alone in an echo chamber of one’s own logic increases the risk of failure. Inquiry is not for everyone. A philosophical mindset requires a commitment to development and change that cannot be assumed. For example, in his acclaimed study of experiences in groups, Bion (1961) observed ‘the hatred of a process of development … a hatred of having to learn by experience at all, and lack of faith in the worth of such a kind of learning.’ (p. 89). We can validate that not everyone is ready for a commitment to self-knowledge, or the practice of attention in a culture of leisure. For some people, such ideas will seem archaic and even vexing in what feels like a legitimate pursuit of facts and reason. As leadership practitioners we must be respectful of this diversity and we are well-advised to develop an acute sense for when we may inspire, innovate, or educate others with our ways of being in uncertainty, and when we need to simply embrace our differences and agree to engage with it in different ways. What is crucial, however, is that we never assume the unreadiness of colleagues and coworkers but give ourselves permission to gently explore what is possible in a given context. Only then will we start to experience ‘what is present (the here and now) through the lenses of what is absent (the not-yethere)’ (Glaveanu, 2017, p. 171), giving wonder and surprise a place in our leadership practice and engage with the art of the possible. It would be ironic and misguided to create dogmas around Negative Capability and its validity or significance in leadership practice. It may well be neglected and misunderstood in current leadership literature, but that does not necessarily mean that it needs to be front and centre in our endeavours. What we can reasonably hope for and encourage is that, when it is needed, we create a space for Negative Capability—if not explicitly situated and explored in our organisational culture, then at least in our own leadership practice. The implications of Negative Capability for working in uncertainty are simply too important to be ignored or rejected at this time in our evolution. We suggest that the global challenges we are facing now conveys a resounding call to reimagine the role and place of leadership practice and individual agency in our world.

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References Bion, W. R. (1961). Experiences in groups, and other papers. Tavistock Publications [Reprinted: Routledge, 1989]. French, R., & Simpson, P. (2000). Learning at the edges between knowing and not-knowing: Translating Bion. Organisational & Social Dynamics, 1, 54–77. Gittings, R. (1970). Letters of John Keats. OUP. Glaveanu, V. P. (2017). Creativity and wonder. The Journal of Creative Behavior, 53(2), 171–177. Hadot, P. (1995). Philosophy as a way of life: Spiritual exercises from Socrates to Foucault. Blackwell. Long, S. (Ed.). (2015). Transforming experience in organisations: A framework for organisational research and consultancy. Routledge. Ou, L. (2009). Keats and negative capability. Continuum.

Index

A acceptance, 4, 100, 108, 115. See also sacrifice; suffering; vulnerability achievement, ix, 2, 8, 17, 46, 52, 74, 95 fear of failure or underachievement, 104 attention attentional ethics, 41–43 attention economy, 38, 40 deliberate practice of, 22, 35, 39–41, 47, 116 evenly suspended, 43–46, 47, 64 heightened quality of, 22, 31, 41, 45, 53, 59 involuntary capture, 37, 38, 41 B balance in work ethic, xii, 83, 87, 90, 93 needed in setting purpose, 71, 72, 75, 84, 108 relationship with environment, 70, 77

Beauty, Truth and Goodness, 8, 9, 17, 42, 69, 102, 108–111, 118. See also Transcendentals business schools, 2, 51, 53, 64 C care of the self, 41, 43, 60–62, 75, 92 complexity and mindfulness, 44 and practice of attention, 22, 45, 52, 63 and purpose, 69 and reductionism, 55 and the work of leisure, 91 and uncertainty, 31, 53 challenges of, 27 context, 39, 54, 63 in leadership, 53, 57 of inner work, 31, 37 political, 31 theory, 26 connectedness to source, 10, 62, 69, 71, 72, 79, 84, 87, 95, 108, 109, 118. See also purpose, sense of

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 C. von Bülow and P. Simpson, Negative Capability in Leadership Practice, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-95768-1

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D doubt, 12, 26, 37, 58, 105, 110, 112 self-doubt, 63

E enthusiasm, 4, 115. See also passion extraordinary and connectedness with source, 79 at home in, 102 brought into the everyday, 7, 12, 15 ineffable, 6, 72 in leadership, 12, 18, 71 Mysteries, 10, 112 ontological, 12 search for transcendent truth, 11 Transcendentals, 7, 17

F faith, 17, 111, 112, 118 French, Robert, 25, 26, 38, 44, 47, 48, 60, 76, 79

H Hadot, Pierre, 7, 24, 60, 61, 92, 100, 109, 116 humility, 99 and transcendence, 15 in leadership, 109

I inner work, xiii, 31, 35, 54, 60, 62, 63, 117. See also self-knowledge; transformation, self Inquiry and attention, 30 and educative love, 100 and passion, 14 and philosophical mindset, 115

and purpose, xii, 63, 71, 77, 84 as work of leisure, 84, 91, 99 at the edge of (not) knowing, 6 contemplative, reflective, 103 in the absence of knowledge, 32 into being, 29 into complexity, 63 into lived experience, 77 into self, 61 Keats, 8, 12, 29 method of, 76 Negative Capability as method of, 10 shared, 101 stimulated by lack, 14 intensity artistic, 7 K Keats, John, 6 and achievement, ix, 2, 46 and philosophy, 9, 92 being without, 35, 115 courage, 76 had no theories, 115 life and personal philosophy, 23 ontological inquiry, 71 philosophical inquiry, 12, 61 poetic sensibility, 76 proven upon our pulses, 59, 91, 116 search for Beauty, Truth, Goodness, 42 sense of purpose, 69, 111 suffering, 27 work of leisure, 84 knowledge economy, 1, 76, 116 not knowing in a, 27 L lack

INDEX

and purpose, 104 and resilience, 113 dynamic interplay with possession, 102, 103, 112 emotional experience of, 104 experience of lack, 103–104 of balance, 84 of faith, 119 of free time, 83 of knowledge, 101 of Negative Capability, 6, 10 passion arises from, 99 political risk of admitting, 117 primitive experience of, 104 leadership, 51–64 a contested notion, 2 and uncertainty, 18, 26, 47, 57, 62. See also working in uncertainty leadership education, 2, 52, 64, 112 shared responsibility, 15 leisure, 83–95. See also work of leisure lived experience of attentional capture, 41 of flow state, 77 of Negative Capability, 22, 24 love, 13, 17, 102, 109, 110, 115. See also passion agape, 109 educative, 100 ladder of love, 110–113 of the deed, 112 of wisdom, 92, 108 selfless, 109 Socrates and art of, 102

M mindfulness, 44, 62, 63 mutuality, 108 and containment, 109 and love, 109, 110 and passion, 119

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a safeguard, 109 as receptive and active, 109 in setting vision and purpose, 112 in shared inquiry, 101, 108 mystery, 8, 12, 24, 25, 59, 106, 112, 117

N Negative Capability, 21–32 as existential, 3, 5, 31, 116 a way of being in uncertainty, 3, 5, 58, 63 being without, 2, 24, 31, 35, 43, 44, 91, 100, 103, 117 difficult to write about, 5. See also unknown/unknowing experience of, 3, 24, 30, 35, 38, 48, 63, 72, 99, 109 Keats on, 6–12 requires Negative Capability, xiii, 6, 115 not knowing edge between knowing and, 6, 47, 116 in leadership practice, 2, 17, 18, 22, 51, 71, 116, 118 primitive edge, 104, 118 the experience of, 13, 27

O ordinary and extraordinary, 9–12, 100, 102, 108, 110. See also extraordinary a sense of what is right, 76 Keats interest in, 6, 18, 71

P passion, 4, 99–113. See also love and acceptance, 100, 115 and conviction, 16

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INDEX

and humility, 99 and love of the deed, 110 and mutuality, 108, 109, 118 and purpose, 110, 112, 118 and suffering, 99 and surrender, 99, 108 arises from lack, 103 communication of, 118 for inquiry, 14 for the task, 99 fuelled by purpose, 103 genesis of, 102 in Plato’s Symposium, 100 intense, 100 rational, 104, 108 Wordsworth, 116 philosophy, 84 of Ancient Greece, 9, 71, 88, 91, 100 of freedom, 11 of John Keats, 11, 23, 25 Socratic, 109 philosophy as a way of life, xiii, 7, 24, 92, 116 Plato, 89, 90, 100 Plato’s Symposium, 100–104 ladder of love, 110 poetry subtlety, 15 positive capabilities, ix, 2, 5 not less important, 6 open-mindedness, 5 patience, 5 tolerance of ambiguity, 5 practice of attention. See attention purpose, 69–80 and capitalism, 55, 63, 91 and flow, 78 and mindfulness, 44 and passion, 103 and the work of leisure, 84 and the work of production, 87

clarity of, 59, 112 defined, 69–72, 75, 83, 84, 87, 90, 99, 104, 111, 118 different dimensions, 71, 72, 74, 79, 115, 118 engine for growth, 70 function of leadership, 69 Keats, 24, 69, 111 multiple dimensions, 100 sense of purpose, xi, xii, 2, 37, 61, 63, 69, 71, 73, 75, 76, 84, 87, 89, 92, 94, 100, 104, 108, 118 shared, 112 undefined, 70, 100. See also purpose, sense of; unknown/unknowing

R rationality, 111 and logical empiricism, 52, 92 and self-interest, 70 Socratic thinking, 104 receptiveness, xii, 25, 44, 64, 85, 90 and acceptance, 100 and inquiry, 84 and mutuality, 109 work of leisure, 103, 112 reductionism, 26, 52, 55, 63

S sacrifice, 15, 24, 100 self-, 109 self-knowledge, ix, 2, 46, 48, 60, 63, 75, 76, 115, 119. See also inner work transformation, 42, 60, 61, 63, 85 Socrates, 92, 101–104, 118 suffering, 4, 23, 24, 27, 59, 115 surrender, 46–48, 71, 99, 108, 109

INDEX

T transcendence, 9, 12, 15. See also connectedness to source; purpose, sense of; unknown/unknowing and leadership, 15 dangers in leadership practice, 9, 16, 17 experience of, 10, 18 inclusive understanding of, 9 Keats, 7, 18 marginalised in leadership studies, 9 sense of purpose, 44 unknowable, 17 Transcendentals, 9, 71, 111. See also Beauty, Truth and Goodness transformation. See also inner work; self knowledge in vision of the world, 61–63 self, xii, 42, 60, 61, 63, 85 U unknown/unknowing, 15, 17, 18, 26, 47, 71, 72, 84, 104. See also transcendence apophatic spiritual traditions, 5 unsaying, 6, 10, 29, 111 utilitarianism and techno-economic realm, 54 dominance of, 70, 90, 92, 111

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V vulnerability, 55, 64, 104 W work expanded epistemology, 4 work ethic, 83. See also work of production working in uncertainty, 6–18 creative tension, 70 positive capabilities, 13 tensions, 54, 56, 59, 63, 76 work of leisure, 4, 25, 94 and a philosophical mindset, 115 and conversation, 108 and learning/inquiry, xii, 84, 85, 91, 99 and receptive vision, xii, 85, 103 and self-leadership, 93 and sense of purpose, xii, 84 and societal effectiveness, 90, 91, 117 balanced with work of production, xii, 83–85, 87, 90, 93, 95 Keats, 84 time and space, 84, 87 work of production, 83, 85, 87, 90, 93, 95, 108, 112, 117. See also work ethic