Disagree Without Offending

My uncle always said, "Sam, it's OK to have lively disagreements with people. Just don't let anyone walk away offended." He loved to debate, had no qualms about sharing his opinions and asked inquisitive questions, not only for his own education but to see if you'd really thought deeply about your point of view. It didn't matter if you hauled asphalt for a living or sat in the C-suite. If you had a point of view, you should be prepared, and feel privileged, to defend it.

Too often, our work environments sit at one of two extremes: too agreeable or too unapproachable. Sometimes we shy away from challenging opinions for fear of rocking the boat or upsetting the apple cart. We can be too nice. Other times, we hold back because of how a challenge will be received, whether it gets quickly dismissed or we get disparaged for speaking up. We can be too mean.

As Marcel Schwantes writes in Inc., Steve Jobs relied on the collective brilliance of the people around him. He believed leaders were meant to be challenged, and he built a culture where new ideas were presented often and challenged professionally. Will a leader always be right? No. Will the best idea always come from the leader? No. Will ideas be debated with the intent of moving the business and the people forward? Yes.

There's an older version of this, too. In medieval times, a king would hold court, presiding over an assembly where the affairs of the kingdom were presented and heard. It was a mix of formal and entertaining. Coming from the village to the majesty of a king's castle was surely overwhelming, and that likely shaped how people responded to the king's proclamations or brought their issues forward. Even with the musicians and jesters entertaining everyone, you get the sense the king may have been buying a little agreement.

But a king's court wasn't just a place. It was also the people in it. The court served as counsel to the king, wise advisers who traveled with him and offered insight. Whether in formal sessions or out in the villages, they made sure the king's issues were heard, that the king heard the issues of the people, and that wise opinion was considered.

I imagine rule was less democratic than it sounds, but there are lessons here. The musicians and jesters could turn an intimidating setting into one of joyful collaboration. And the king kept his court close, knowing their counsel would make him a more successful king.

In the end, someone still needs to be the decider. You can't rule by committee. But you also can't lead well if you sit at either extreme: too shy to speak up, or too overbearing to listen to what's being said.