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The American View: Welcome to 2025 – The Dangers of Chasing the Next Great Idea

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Welcome to 2025, where, right this minute, some well-meaning executive has discovered a miraculous secret technique for comprehensively overhauling their organisation. A secret that, once fully embraced, will rocket their company’s share price into the stratosphere. A secret so powerful that it’s guaranteed to transform the most mediocre products, processes, and performers into cosmic rock stars. Our exhilarated executive is planning to return to the office this week like Moses striding down Mount Siani, clutching a dog-eared business book like it was a stone tablet, ready to evangelize the new Great Idea™ to the awaiting corporate horde. 


If you’re a praying person, pray this executive isn’t one of yours. These Great Ideas™ always turn out to be terrible experiences for everyone involved. Not because the improvements they offer aren’t useful, but because of the intense ardour they inspire in their most fervent acolytes. 


This annual tradition of businesspeople discovering a new Great Ideas™ came to mind last week while my wife and I were shopping in quaint downtown Grapevine – the self-proclaimed “Christmas Capital of Texas.”  Grapevine is a small town just up the motorway from us that’s renowned for its charming downtown. Even better, the mercurial Texas weather made the day perfect for leisurely browsing. 


We visited our main destination, the local Warhammer store, and finished our gift shopping. Delighted, we decided to wander Main Street since we had nowhere else to be. The weather was warm. The sun was shining. Everything was going well, as if we’d stumbled into the opening act of a Hallmark Christmas Movie™. Strangers were smiling at one another in accordance with Texas social traditions. All was right in the world … if you had amnesia and forgot all about our recent election, the Gaza business, the war in Ukraine, et al. But, you know, take comfort where you can. 


Things started turning weird as we passed two men running soundchecks at the corner of an intersection. The fellows’ gear looked like they were preparing to shoot a YouTube video or maybe a TikTok short, but their expressions made it look like they were getting ready for some sort of drudgery. Strange, but whatever. Free country. Mind your own business. We left the fellows alone. 

I think we both unconsciously recognized the potential threat these blokes represented. Something about them just seemed … hostile.

My wife and I proceeded north to the town centre, then crossed over and came back on the other side of the street. We poked our heads into a few shops, as you do, and were surprised to notice a shift in the vibe. Across the street, at the intersection where we’d assumed a video was going to be shot, someone was speaking into an amplified sound system. As we got closer, we realized that the bearded member of the AV crew we’d noticed earlier was proselytizing. Loudly. Angrily, even. UUUUUGGGGGHHHH. 


While not illegal, this sort of “street preaching” is annoying. At best, it’s an unwelcome interruption and, at worst, a personal attack by a pushy stranger on one’s religious beliefs. I could see people who had been dining outside leaving their tables to escape the noise. Other shoppers and walkers started to shift to our side of the street to get away from the preachers, avoiding the awkwardness of a possible conversation.


As we came nearer, we realized that the proselytizers had prepared for just such a reaction. They’d posted two of their own on our side of the street, opposite the obnoxious bloke with the loudhailer. We were going to get a confrontation no matter where we went. See previous, re: UUUUUGGGGGHHHH.


A scowling young man holding what looked like a deck of cards lunged towards me and arrogantly demanded to know if I’d “heard the good news.” I knew exactly what this bloke meant and what movement he represented. I grew up surrounded by evangelical Protestants and was subjected to lots of their aggressive conversion tactics starting when I was eight. Been there, endured that. 


I knew that trying to ignore the aggressive fellow would only embolden him. Rather than make a scene, I smiled politely and told him “I have, yes.” It was a completely true statement; I’ve been on the receiving end of this technique more times than I can count. 


That didn’t satisfy Zealot Boy. He scowled harder and thrust one of his cards at me. “Take this!” he demanded, trying to push a “get out of hell free” card into my hand. I shook my head and said “No thank you. Don’t need it.” That courteous refusal set the fellow off … as I’d expected. I didn’t want to provoke a conflict; if this fellow had been from one of the more mature and learned denominations our encounter would either have ended there or else segued into a polite chat about theology. 

Several of my dearest friends are professional clerics. I’m quite happy talking shop with them and exploring what they’ve learned in their studies.

Alas, no. This fellow was too much like the zealots I grew up with. He was suffused with Absolute Certainty™ and, in his capacity as the Chosen Saviour of All Mankind™, could only comprehend my refusal to submit to his demands to be a diabolical repudiation of his entire belief system … or something like that. He flushed and berated me loudly for not accepting his card. It was my “duty” to his deity, he bellowed, that I accept this deputization and immediately go forth and convert heathens. I knew his lines by heart. Same confrontation, different day. 


Maybe my expression inspired him to reconsider. [1] Maybe he spotted a more timid prospect behind me and figured his odds would be better bullying someone else. Maybe a peeved Zeus paralysed his vocal cords from Mount Olympus. Whatever happened, I strolled away; Zealot Boy didn’t follow. 


As we drove home, I considered just how similar Zealot Boy’s zeal reminded me of the True Believers™ I’d met at work. Every other year, it seemed, someone in power would get inspired by some management methodology or other – didn’t need to be new, just inspirational – and launched a Cubicle Crusade™ to change their world. Might be Total Quality Management, Choices, or big-A Agile, they’re all the same: some clever boffin conceived a genuinely good idea and someone else expanded that idea into a life-changing, miraculous, world-changing program. Evangelists and consultants preached the program’s magnificence (for a paltry £500/hour). Inspired business leaders “saw the light,” then attempted to convert their workers into unquestioningly loyal crusaders who joyfully brought forth their glorious new world of quality circles, radical honesty, Jira tickets, or whatever. 

 

Personally, I don’t have beef with any of the aforementioned reformation programs. Their core ideas have legitimate potential and often deserve to be studied and tested. Even Zealot Boy’s source material has good stuff in it. If ZB had started off asking how I felt about the Beatitudes and their relevance in the modern world, we could’ve had a fun and fulfilling conversation. I can say the same about topics like little-a agile software development, et al. 


The trouble is, that’s not how True Believers™ like Grapevine’s Zealot Boy think or act. Once someone gets fired up with “life-changing” revolutionary spirit, conversion and obedience become more important to them than content or conduct. It’s not enough for other people to do the things their world-changing Great Idea™ requires; other people must BELIEVE!!!!™ the world-changing Great Idea™ with all the apocalyptic fervour of a 11th century crusader on a meth bender. To be clear, I’m not claiming that business reformers are religious fanatics. Rather, I argue that most extreme of the True Believers™ in the business world emulate the binary, us-versus-them fanatical approaches of the more fringe-elements of various historical and contemporary faith communities. [2] To be honest, I’ve witnessed more bile-spewing hate and ideological condemnation come from secular businesspeople than I ever have from religious folks. That’s my experience; your mileage may vary.

It was a secular business executive who repeatedly threatened me with a baseball bat at work, not a religious person. So … yeah.

That’s what worries me about at the start of every new year. When a senior executive discovers a Great Idea™ from some book, video, or trade show demo, their unchecked power within their organisation allows them to do to their workers what Zealot Boy couldn’t do to me: compel obedience and stifle all objections. When a street preacher demands that I change my religion, I can walk away. At most, there might be a short scuffle. When a Chief Whatever Officer orders me to put on a robe and chant to Azatoth until my department achieves ISO 9001 certification, however, the only option I have to resist them is to quit my job … which (in America) quickly leads to bankruptcy and death. Not a fair fight. 


That, in turn, is why I dread the intoxication and messiah complex that all-too-frequently comes from overreaching business gurus and high-dollar consulting firms. To be clear, I’m not opposed to trying new things at work. What I can’t stand is being forced to participate in the cult-like pseudo-religious fervour that’s often “required” to implement the next new Great Idea™. In my experience, striving to retain your integrity when everyone around you is enraptured by doctrine is exhausting, frustrating, dehumanizing, demoralizing, silly, and – inevitably – futile. These Great Idea™ never deliver on their miraculous promises. How could they? If they were truly miraculous, you wouldn’t need an army of £500/hour consultants to achieve them …


If you can, I strongly urge you to rein in your executives’ expectations when they deliver you the next Great Idea™ (whether it’s inscribed on a stone tablet or not). Take what’s useful and appropriate from the new doctrine and set aside the next. Remind them that culture change takes a long time. Belief alone won’t transform a company into something it’s not. If they want to improve quality or output or whatever, focus on the fundamentals … and skip the pseudo-religious trappings. They’ll get more cooperation from their people with honest pragmatism than they ever will from fanatical evangelism. 

 

[1] I was once told by a senior officer that I have “resting murder face.”
[2] Be they religious, secular, or somewhere in-between.

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