When what you’ve got doesn’t work
I’ve spent the last 10 days in one of the most magical cities on earth, Paris. And, what I’ve noticed is the French propensity to keep old stuff.
I’m not just talking about the billion-dollar rebuild of Notre Dame following the catastrophic fire of 2017. I’m talking about the re-conceptualisation of the iconic industrial-art nouveau 1905 department store, La Samaritaine, reopened last year after decades in mothballs, and the contemporary extension of the famed brutalist 1960s Terminal 1 at Charles de Gaulle airport.
I saw all three during my stay, and I was impressed by French designers’ ability to discard what doesn’t work and keep what’s essential.
In the case of the CDG airport building, the 10-storey cylinder that looks like it’s been dropped from an alien craft has been retained, but linked via under-runway escalators to stunning new airport gates and passenger amenities. With La Samaritaine, they’ve kept the essential structure, roofline and glazing of the ‘glasshouse’ frame, and then adjoined modern curved glazed buildings housing the ‘cool’ modern brands and electronics departments.
You walk from one to the other, moving across decades seamlessly, marvelling at how well it all hangs together.
Question: When you’re rebuilding something, how do you recognise the kernel of what must be preserved of the old?
Radically honest retrospection
Annie Ernaux is in her 80s. She has lived, humbly and quietly, on the outskirts of Paris since the 1960s. And, she won the Nobel Prize for literature in 2022.
Have you even heard of her?
Neither had I until this month’s visit to Paris when, out of sheer curiosity, I picked up her novel, “The Years”. Like all her 20 or so novels, it’s an auto-biographical creation of a moment in time, in this case, the long moment of 60 years between 1940 and 2000, in the life of a woman living in the suburbs of Paris (herself, of course).
It’s as incisive an emotional and sociological work as I’ve ever read, which compelled me to read three more of her books in the space of a week (yes, they’re mostly very short).
And, what struck me, and why she was awarded a Nobel Prize, was her unflinching and brutal honesty about her own life. She has written a gripping novel about her loss of virginity in the last 1950s (“A Girl’s Story”), one about her 1964 abortion that I read in a single sitting over several glasses of wine in a cafe (“The Happening”), and another about her obsessive 1980s affair with a Russian diplomat (“A Simple Passion”).
In each, she doesn’t just describe the facts, but her interior life — what she thought and felt — and, most importantly, her willingness to admit her ignorance, her failures, her limitations.
This brutal honesty sits well with me, as I’ve noticed that the organisations that do best strategically are those which can admit retrospectively to their faults and failures, but at the same time, recognise their unassailable strengths which define who they truly are.
Question: What do you need to honestly assess in your organisation’s autobiography?
Taken for granted
I’m in Nairobi and I spent today in the company of a 30-something Kikuyu woman who taught me (and my wife, son and nieces) about the intricacies of Kenyan ritual cooking.
In case you’re wondering, mukimo is a starchy blend of mashed potato, pumpkin leaves and maize, while ugali is maize stirred with boiling water until it solidifies into a stiff ball. We ate both — ideally with fingers only —- mopping up a goat stew, katchumbari (think guacamole without lime), cabbage salad, and an exotic boiled mash of leafy greens (amaranth, anyone?). It was delicious.
That’s the cooking part, but what about the ritual element?
Well, it turns out that this food is served at all Kikuyu celebrations: births, deaths and marriages. And, we found out lots about Kikuyu marriages: how most are economic, with a bride price haggled over between representatives of the two families, on the wedding day. (If no agreement can be reached, the parties separate). How traditional marriages allow the husband to take additional wives, without the first wife’s consent, providing he can has the means to not just offer each wife a separate home, but pay the dowry, or bride price for each.
What I found most interesting was not the stories of our host, but the reaction of my nieces, both empowered young Western women in their early 20s. They were shocked, even incredulous, and protested loudly at such injustices. My wife sagely pointed out that our own culture was not materially different until the turn of the 20th century: women in Western countries couldn’t own property, or divorce unilaterally, or lay claim to children after separation either.
Our host agreed that Kikuyu wedding practices such as the ritual of a bride chewing on a boiled goat’s ear, to signify submission to her groom (symbolic of her lowly status coupled with her ability to listen closely to her husband’s words) needed to change, yet, her desire for cultural transmission meant that it probably wouldn’t.
Question: In your organisation, what seismic change do you want people to take for granted in future?
As always, I love knowing you’re paying attention and enjoying reading, so please take a second to click the heart below. And, if you’re inspired to make a comment, please do that too.
When you read this, I’ll be embarking on a week-long safari on the border of Kenya and Tanzania, so see you next Friday!
Andrew
You've inspired me to read Annie Ernaux. And I wanted to say how much I enjoy your 5 minute reads each week. I'm impressed with your ability to publish something each week that is insightful and thoughtful. I appreciate how much thought and consideration and time must go into this each week and I just wanted to say Thank You.
I’m inspired to read Annie Ernayx works now! I do wonder how we record our organisation successes and learnings in our fast pace work, the art of adaptation