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Business Culture Leadership

How to Speak Up With Courage: See Something? Say Something!

As an executive producer in digital media, I’m drawn tragic and preventable story of the film, Rust. What happened?

I remember how Brandon Lee died after being shot by a prop gun, and the directorial hubris that contributed to the Twilight Zone helicopter crash. We become so engrossed in cinematic story telling, in part, because the of its realism, which can be dangerous to capture.

One of the remarkable outcomes from the Challenger tragedy is that low-level engineers foresaw the risk of o-ring failure, but project leadership failed to recognize the level of risk, and downgraded the priority of remediation. Same with low ranking agents deep in the bowels of intelligence agencies with early concerns of flight school infiltration that failed to rise to meaningful action that might have prevented terrorist attacks on 9/11. History is replete with preventative disaster, or at least mitigated loss, from the Titanic to Halifax, Pearl Harbor to Hurricane Katrina. There were always warning signs.

And so it goes with Rust.

I can’t imagine Halyna Hutchins’s husband who is undoubtedly reeling in early stages of grief marked by disbelief after the accidental shooting of his wife by Alec Baldwin. Apparently they spoke by phone, shortly after the shooting, where he said the actor expressed confusion and a remorseful conciliatory tone.

I’m reticent to cast blame on the inexperienced armorer Hannah Guiterrez Reed who admitted her inexperience on set, though she had been deep knowledge of firearms, and had been on many sets with the legendary armor Thell Reed, her father. On the set of Rust, she split her attention between being armor and prop master, a resourcing issue overseen by the film’s producer, who also happened to be the shooter. And remarkably, earlier in the day, members of the film crew quit in protest of unsafe working conditions.

How can this be? How do we mitigate risk on mission critical work?

Fundamentally, I think the answer is summoning the courage to speak truth, no matter how difficult. Or at least not lie, by commission or omission.

I’m practicing this lesson myself. I have a personal tendency to not speak up when I intuit my words won’t matter. I’ve long dismissed this dreadful practice as being staunchly Gen X, embracing the angst of my low population sandwiched between Boomers and Millenials. We’re old enough to know The Greatest Generation, and lived through the real threat of nuclear annihilation. Our culture, music, films and literature express underlying frustration with the insufferable state of being. Gen X wanted change, not tearing institutions down.

Our solution? Shut up, it doesn’t matter, carry your cross and continue. Raging against the machine

I’ve come to learn we’re wrong. Or at least not quite right. Our eff-it attitude is rooted in helplessness and fear. Fear turns to anger, then resentment, contempt and ultimately nihilism. We care too much to let the world fall into cynicism and despair.

Fortunately, we’re smart enough to not dismiss sage advice, but I fret our timeline is too small. It’s a folly for a modern man to ignore his ancestors, to assume we know better than those who dreamed big with less energy and technology, who laid the foundation for everything we know and have today.

Raging against the proverbial machine hasn’t been sufficient. We have to articulate problems as we see them. We have to listen carefully, in humility, and hone our disposition toward justice and mercy, to develop the intelligence and courage necessary to avoid pitfalls.

And so it went with the production of Rust. Emphasis is mine:

This tragedy is not just down to cost-cutting measures or crew fatigue. Wolf says movie sets can be so intimidating, staffed with young crew members who are star-struck or cowed by a demanding director or just thrilled to be working in the industry, that most would never speak up

From the NY Post. Steve Wolf is a firearms and special effects expert in Hollywood.

In Pursuit of Truth, Beauty and Good

The ancient Hebrew texts of Sirach offers timeless counsel on the practicality of speaking truth coupled with wise silence.

One is silent and is thought wise; another, for being talkative, is disliked. One is silent, having nothing to say; another is silent, biding his time. The wise remain silent till the right time comes, but a boasting fool misses the proper time.

Sirach 20:5-7

The knowledge of the wise wells up like a flood, and their counsel like a living spring. A fool’s mind is like a broken jar: it cannot hold any knowledge at all. The mind of fools is in their mouths, but the mouth of the wise is in their mind.

Sirach 21:13-14,26

Written 2200 years ago, this sage advise doesn’t mean wise people need to be silent. On the contrary, they need to speak up, and properly discern the right time to do so.

Sirach captures the idea of capital-T Truth as a universal spirit, originating in ideas and intuition, and animated in our communication. We participate in the advancement of Truth by speaking it, even roughly, to bring reality to life.

My favorite leaders in business are those who have the courage to listen, to encourage dialogue, and to share bold opinions. Personally, I flourish in these environments because I believe an idea can come from anywhere. Truth has a way of revealing itself in the collective good of earnest people pursuing a noble goal.

I’ve watched organizations and micro-cultures lose the core value of dialogue. In these environments, I’ve grieved the loss of my own voice and others like me who drown in a sea of prideful certainty.

You can spot loud cowards when they thwart inspiration. They’ll uprooting the very source of potential, with skepticism and snark. They offer bad advice unsolicited, and lead with criticism. If an idea is incomplete, they’ll not iterate. They withhold encouragement, let alone a better way. They lack imagination. They see the world in terms of scarcity instead of abundance. They see people motivated by power, not purpose. They murder ideas with little daggers like sales forecasts and weak budgets, senseless deadlines and quarterly results.

To wit, beauty is crafted in order. We don’t build great cathedrals and engineering marvels without systems. Knives are wielded by madmen and master chefs, to cut and to kill.

We bring about Beauty in Truth for the common Good.

Feature image is The Pórtico de la Gloria, en la Catedral de Santiago de Compostela created in 1075. Since the 9th century, countless pilgrims have walked the “camino” Way of St. James the Great to visit the shrine and burial site of the apostle. Santiago de Compostela is the capital city of Galicia in northwestern Spain. The Old Town district is designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Photo by Axencia Turismo de Galicia.

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Culture Faith

A Grief Observed in American Cities

This summer I had the unplanned occasion to visit the two deadliest sites for mass shootings by a single gunman in the United States.

On a rare rainy evening in Las Vegas, I strolled alone five miles, from the McLaren car rental terminal to the Linq hotel. As I walked the desolate southern end of the Las Vegas Strip, Southwest flights with optimistic gamblers roared over my head close enough for me to see the pilots’ faces. At the Welcome to Las Vegas sign, tourists queued patiently for selfies with an Elvis impersonator. I passed by the old Glass Pool Inn made famous in Casino and Leaving Las Vegas.

Approaching Mandalay Bay, the golden windows seemed to have lost their glittery luster since I first saw them in 1999. I looked to the 32nd floor corner where Stephen Paddock fired more than 1000 rounds down on a crowd of concertgoers in an open cement lot across Las Vegas Boulevard, killing 60 people. Standing in the breach, thinking of terrified people taking precious little shelter, one gets a sense of his cowardice in shooting helpless victims from a makeshift sniper’s nest.

Pausing at the site brought to mind my own mortality, of senseless death, and strange claims of bravery by apologists of extreme violence. Terrorism can never be held as an act of courage because it’s fundamentally an act of taking, not giving. It’s selfish, not sacrificial. Courage is a universal human virtue just as theft is a universal vice. In our bones, rational people know that indulging in one’s murderous rage is not courageous.

It’s far more difficult to master one’s passions, to face the inherent struggle of life head-on. Thoreau is right.

“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation. From the desperate city you go into the desperate country, and have to console yourself with the bravery of minks and muskrats. A stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the games and amusements of mankind. There is no play in them, for this comes after work. But it is a characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things..”


Henry David Thoreau

As I scanned the Mandala Bay windows, I thought of how I’ve done the same in Dallas, looking toward the sixth floor of the Texas School Book Depository where Lee Harvey Oswald shot President John F. Kennedy. In a moment of awestruck, I wondered why, and what I might do if I were in the crowd. Or more terrifying, if I looked down on a hapless crowd with dead malice in my heart.

The City of Dallas has done our nation a great service in preserving the place for people to grieve, to never forget the horror of innocence lost through violence. Televised. Dealey Plaza has an air of the sacred, set apart from the world, outside of time, inside an outdoor cathedral with walls of steel and brick and noise and bustle.

Not so in Las Vegas. There isn’t a memorial.

I attended the University of Texas in Austin in 1996, thirty years after Charles Whitman’s shot and killed 15 people from the Main building tower, which at the time had been the deadliest shooting by a lone gunman in US History. In 1966, nearly four years after Kennedy’s assassination, Whitman took a high perch and fired down on victims going about their day. As the first mass shooting in a public place, his violence precipitated the creation of police SWAT tactics, and the continual rise of militarized law enforcement.

Two months after visiting Las Vegas, I walked along Orange Avenue in Orlando looking to the entrance where Omar Mateen sustained a three-hour killing spree at the Pulse nightclub. He continued unabated, killing 49 people, and injuring 53, until first responders breeched a rear wall with overwhelming force to end the violence.

In both Orlando and Las Vegas, revelers planned a fun evening of music and dancing, never imagining the extraordinary danger they’d soon face. Both shootings happened at night to an unsuspecting and vulnerable crowd.

I have friends who abandoned plans to be at each location the night of each shooting. The next morning in Las Vegas, a flight attendant friend recalls a quiet flight out of town full of collective trauma. One girl in particular stared out the window vacantly in soiled clothes. She had no luggage, having abandoned it and gone straight to the airport from the scene of the shooting. Upon landing, she burst into tears, overwhelmed from the safety of home and her survivor’s guilt. In Orlando, a friend happened to take an alternate route home after his service shift instead of his routine of grabbing an 3am donut across the street from Pulse. Their stories makes the events feel personal.


Reflecting on these events and firearms in general, I think reasonable people recognize legitimate and matched defense against an unjust aggressor as both a right and grave duty in preservation of the common good. Unfortunately, civil discourse inevitably departs from legal and moral debate, and into the realm of rights and justice, us and them. Both sides argue ad nauseum, I’ve nothing interesting to add except my wonder that the foaming rage of society’s bellwether issues might be deeply rooted in individual temperament. Too often logic and compassion give way to the exposition of strange alligator brain circuitry around safety and protection like autonomic disgust, gag reflexes, in-group/out-group suspicion and personal identity within these groups.

Instead, I’m wondering about deeper questions.

Why does the blood of martyrs galvanize movements?

We see the best example of explosive growth following Christian martyrs who give their lives, in stark contrast to terrorists who take lives. This is true in ancient and modern times, throughout the world.

Spending time at the Pulse memorial, amid the images of smiling friends and sorrowful artifacts, one laments the grave evil of taking life. In our natural repulsion to violence, we can look past differences to see individual people. In the faces of victims and their grieving families, we recognize injustice and vulnerability, and if we’re lucky, the very face of Christ.

Even for non-Christians and non-believers, Christ is the ideal of human vulnerability, a sinless life given in exchange for every injustice ever committed anywhere at any time. Even if people cannot articulate their feelings of injustice, they feel it in their body as easily as a child senses unfairness in a game.

Why is there not a memorial in Las Vegas?

Planning has been underway a long time, yet the movement hasn’t yet coalesced in memory of loved ones. The answer is probably rooted in circumstance:

  • Superstition – Las Vegas is fundamentally a gambling town, where Frank Sinatra implores Luck to be a Lady Tonight, and the MGM redesigned its lion entrance that scared the whales away. Like a barren concrete desert, the otherwise prime real estate is forever marred by tragic loss.
  • Destination – Many of the victims traveled to Las Vegas to see the concert. I can’t imagine the pain of family members in making arrangements to bring their loved ones home, let alone have the creative energy to participate in an appropriate memorial.
  • Shadows – The marketing mantra, “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas,” plays into the secretive nature of sin. The attitude gives license, a wink-wink-nudge-nudge inside approval of boorish behavior. Perhaps in Las Vegas, a mass killing is on the end of a wide spectrum of degradation best left unspoken, like another hole in the desert.

Why are we drawn to visiting sites of terror?

Insisting on the preservation of life is an act of love, a fundamental principal of morality. An act of defense may have the unfortunate double effect of preservation of life and taking of life, where one is intended and the other is not.

Like Oklahoma City, these memorials are best when they reflect deeper values of life. The macabre is alluring because it foretells our own future. We cannot look away.

Feature image is México by Graciela Iturbide (1990) at the Fundación MAPFRE in Madrid. The image captures the startled flight of a murder of black crows from the safety of a live oak, perhaps from gunfire, allegories of death, danger, a bad omen and in stark contrast to the Holy Spirit commonly depicted as a white dove.

Categories
Business Leadership

Takeaways from Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less

Everyone is on a quest for their own sense of meaning. Maintaining a proper sense of perspective is essential.

I received a timely gift from my friend and colleague.

Adam Griffin sent several folks in WordPress VIP a copy Greg Mckeown’s book Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less. I listened to the Audible version at 1.5x speed over the weekend and felt a sense of micro renewal.

Adam describes the book as something he returns often. Given the current global reality, he thought it would be helpful to focus on “small hinges that swing big doors.” (Love that!)

Key Takeaways…

There is a path to our highest contribution. Mckeowen asks, at the end of your life, will you say, “I wish I’d been less true to myself and done all the nonessential things others expected of me?”

Our highest contribution matters most. On any given day, we have things we could do and should do. The could is the easy stuff, the should is the hard stuff. If we’re not prioritizing the should stuff, it means we’re borrowing from our future success.

I can do anything, but not everything. This means the things we choose to do need to have our full attention, especially when stress runs high. This is a great reminder, especially for people that wear lots of hats (like me).

If you don’t prioritize your life, someone else will. We all have people vying for our attention, which is limited bandwidth. Prioritizing our time is a gift we can give to ourselves and to others. Don’t rush to make other peoples problems your own.

Trigger phrases need disruptive thinking. Taking a note from Stephen Covey’s famous maxims, Notice and change phrases…
“I must!” –> “I choose.”
“It’s important!” –> “Only a few things matter.”
“I can do both.” –> “I can do anything, but not everything”

Trade-offs are an inherent part of life! Saying yes to something means saying no to something else. Instead of thinking about what you’re sacrificing, think about where you can go big.

I especially appreciated McKeown’s long view on metanoia, or change through inner conversion. Our work in digital media blends form and function, art and tech, the mystical and lucid. Mckeowen encourages the modern thinker to read the classics in philosophy and literature. He swims in the deep end of the pool with theological concepts of chronos and kairos, a refreshing surprise within a business text.