The Trouble with Rules
Maybe I just have an inherent problem with authority. But whenever I see a new rule published for the first time, I recoil forcefully. My guard goes up. My mind closes. Natural resistance sets in.
I’m not a trekkie, but I do recall the “Trouble with Tribbles” episode of the original series. Therein, the Enterprise crew is gifted with a fluffy, adorable, purring creature, which is promptly brought aboard. There it reproduces with an asexual mystery rivalled only by its profligacy. Soon, the ship is crowding to the gills with tribbles, which threaten food supply and become a general nuisance stifling the Enterprise’s basic operations.
Rules can be as seductive as purring tribbles. They present themselves as creatures of comfort. They bring certainty, stability, predictability. Having them around makes our decisions easier, requiring us to think less so we can take more actions, which is also comforting in institutional cultures where “can-do” is an article of faith rather than simply a good attitude.
But rules, like tribbles, have a habit of inconspicuously fornicating in the dark corners of any enterprise. They multiply and become prolific. They prey on the good faith of organizations until they become so numerous that they asphyxiate creativity, innovation, and even fundamental judgement.
This seems as mysterious as the tribbles’ ability to reproduce, but when it comes to rules, there is something far less mysterious going on. It’s the basics of organizational behavior.
In any organization, there will be an earnestly sought desire by individual members to make their mark. When an individual creates or enforces a rule implicating his or her role in the organization, s/he becomes part of a constituency. Rules give rise to constituencies wedded to their fervent enforcement, around which the organizational role of the individual is defined.
Example. When I was in the Air Force, a rule was invented stating that every deploying airman needed to present his chemical warfare suit and mask for inspection. Even if the gear was not to be taken to the deployed environment because their was zero risk of using it (e.g. Afghanistan), the inspection was nevertheless required. Around this rule, mobility supervisors built their roles, hired underlings, and defined their importance. They were constituents of the rule, which kept them in business during a war against terrorist groups lacking chemical weapons … even if the rule was invented for the Cold War.
When something implicates your livelihood and sense of professional importance, you safeguard it energetically. And you grow it. Next, an inspection tag, then an inspection interval, then a special bag for the gear, then a different kind of charcoal lining for the suit, then a new filter for the mask. All the while, actual necessity wanes, but the rules multiply like woolly little creatures comforting everyone by obviating the need for critical thinking.
And woe betide the intrepid thinker who dares victimize the tribbles. Creating rules is easy, because who argues with something that is making everything clearer, better, more stable. Try destroying a rule and you will know the pain of trying to dig up a tree with your bare hands — be it a young birch or an old redwood — after it has had the chance to develop a complex root structure. It is all but impossible to destroy rules, because paradoxically there is generally no process to repeal them. They gained sponsorship for enactment, else they would not exist. So it takes senior sponsorship to kill them, and what senior manager has time to entertain the folly of taking unnecessary risk for the sake of reducing mid-level red tape? Not much incentive for this, especially given the ease by which senior managers can hand over their roles frequently, leaving long-term thinking to the next guy or gal.
The net effect of rule multiplication is a stifling of creativity at the middle levels of an organization, where innovation is most key.
Rules, contrary to their comforting nature, create increasing levels of formal authority. The more formal authority exists in an organization, the less space can be inhabited by informal authority … comprised of influence, inspiration, and ingenuity.
When bright minds cannot create, they disengage. When they disengage for long enough, they become susceptible to the attractions of other environments where creativity is championed. When they are sufficiently seduced by the promise of better conditions, compensation becomes almost irrelevant and they leave. When this happens enough, an organization is starved of its creative potential. It then stands still or slows down while the competition accelerates away. This is how great companies die.
Tribbles are cute, but in sufficient numbers, they will kill you. Rules are the same, and should be accepted as gifts only over the careful suspicions of wary recipients.
Tony Carr is an American writer, manager, veteran, and strategist. He is a former combat pilot and squadron commander with an M.A. from George Washington University and a J.D. from Harvard Law School. Tony is the founder of The Colosseum Blog and writes from Manchester, United Kingdom.
