• by Kaila Colbin , Featured Contributor, July 10, 2015

Zappos is having a hard time.

Over on Pando, Paul Carr -- who readily confesses he himself was burned by Zappos founder and CEO Tony Hsieh -- takes evident delight in detailing the difficulties the organization faces as it attempts to transition to “Holacracy,” a self-management structure developed by Brian J. Robertson.

Holacracy is the perfect management system for the Age of the Internet: it’s decentralized, platform-focused, built around a concept of circles that are not all that dissimilar to nodes in a network. But it has its challenges:

“In theory,” says Carr, “the ability for anyone to… set office policy is a great way to cut out red tape. But sources inside Zappos tell me it quickly became a very effective way for junior employees to try to force through terrible ideas, including ones that had already been rejected.

“’The technology department at Zappos hated it,’ a senior employee told me. ‘They were already the recipient of every bad idea in the company.’ Under Holacracy, they suddenly no longer have the authority to veto all those bad ideas… ‘Now you have to listen to idiots,’ one source told me.”

In case you’re wondering, this column is not about the merits or disadvantages of Holacracy. This article is about what we’re really trying to do when we implement this kind of system: influence human behavior to achieve results.

Turns out the “behavior” bit is more important than the “system” bit. Holacracy can work, if the individuals are committed to it and approach it with genuine openness and honesty. But so can a more traditional work structure -- if the individuals are committed to it and approach it with genuine openness and honesty.

Two weeks ago, I quoted author Peter Drucker on measurement. Now I return to him. Speaking about human behavior, he observed, “You can’t legislate morality.”

In other words, no decentralized system can force people to behave well with each other. The structure is less important than the commitment, less important than the openness, less important than the honesty.

Recently, a woman I know, Alanna Krause, penned a fascinating post about rethinking leadership. “It’s not the tools that are important,” she says, “[I]t’s the cultural context of meaningful participation.” (Emphasis mine.)

My mother used to have on her wall a little four-step list of instructions for life: “Show up. Pay attention. Speak the truth. Be open to outcomes.” Taken as a whole, the list is profoundly powerful, but here, I want to focus on just one element: the third one.

“Speak the truth.” Or, as I like to think of it, “Have the courageous conversation.” It’s deceptively simple, and somehow devastatingly challenging. I think we’re more afraid of having difficult conversations with each other than we are of public speaking -- at least, I observe many more people speaking publicly than I do people dealing directly with their issues in a clear and open way. I know for me it is one of the hardest things to do -- but it is also one of the most impactful, by several orders of magnitude.

“I’ve noticed there’s tension between us.” “I don’t feel we trust each other.” “Our relationship isn’t working, and I’d like us to figure out why together.” It takes a brave person to name the subtext aloud, namely because, in order to fully deal with a problem, we have to face our own role in creating it, to accept and acknowledge our imperfections. But it’s worth it. It’s the only way interpersonal issues ever get truly addressed.

You don’t need Holacracy to speak the truth. Anyone can do it. Just take a deep breath, forget about the management structure… and begin.