A short Friday post on an idea which I thought was much more ubiquitous on this ‘stack than it actually is; it’s always there in the background but I’ve only actually written about it once, two years ago when I had a lot fewer readers.
It was on my mind because of Wednesday’s Brompton post, because the single idea that’s probably stuck most in my mind over the last decade was something in a throwaway remark Will Butler-Adams made, when he was describing the problem of the “chain pusher plate boss”, a little lump of metal on a bicycle frame that has to be absolutely precisely positioned or the gears will stick.
That phrase was “respect for the problem”.
I think it’s a really important attitude of mind for anyone interested in management or policy to have. If the problem deserves your attention, it deserves your respect. It might turn out that it is simple, or silly, or easy to clear up, but you have to begin from a position of taking it seriously, and believing that it has the potential to be very deep or tricky. As it turned out, the problems Brompton had with the chain pusher plate boss involved stacked tolerances across three separate machines, one of which was at an external supplier. And the only way to solve it was to make huge changes to the organisation of the manufacturing process, to introduce a big program of preventive maintenance of the jigs and moulds, which were getting very gradually bashed out of shape by the manufacturing itself.
Not all problems – not even all problems at Brompton – are this complicated. Some things really are as simple as they look, and even some complicated problems are amenable to Gordian solutions. But everything ought to be treated as if it had the potential to be a symptom of something more much deep-seated and structural, until analysis has shown otherwise. Be very suspicious of people who don’t appear to be respecting problems, something which is usually evidenced by jumping to solutions without having put in the work to establish that the problem is what they thought it was.
[Envoi: I was reminded of a household version of Chesterton’s Fence the other day, when I found myself saying “if you don’t know why the bunnies have been shut out of the kitchen, you definitely shouldn’t be letting the bunnies back in the kitchen!”]
But often there's the metaproblem that we don't all have the same problem. The person who wants the UK to do its part in a global system of refugee protection doesn't have the same problem as the Labour minister who wants to get through the next news cycle or the right-winger who just wants to stop people from coming. Sure, we can get them all on a news programme and have them shout at one another about the boats, but while for the first person the problem that needs to be engaged with requires a lot of engagement with the facts and history, that's not the same problem the other two are dealing with, let along respecting. As someone in the first category, I would love for them to have to respect my problem, because then they'd stop spouting simplistic nonsense, but since it isn't their problem, they won't.
New favourite example of Chesterton's Fence, that's certainly worth the admission price for something to have at the back of one's mind.
On respecting the problem, strong agree, except except. I think the key difference is what you do. The right position is not half-way between charging in without thought and standing back sucking your teeth discussing all the ways it could be difficult without actually ever doing anything.
Respecting the problem in this context should mean - I want it to mean - that you have to actually engage with trying to fix it, and learn and adapt your strategy accordingly. That means that your efforts have to be an attempt to fix it - not just blundering in - but also be open to changing tack if your first try doesn't work.
Have a Malcolm: As a younger man I was sometimes frustrated by my father-in-law, who would fix stuff by immediately doing the simplest, most obvious thing he thought of. I fancied myself much smarter, thinking it through, measure twice cut once sort of thing. Sometimes he was faster that I would be (and he definitely did get more done), sometimes he very much was not because he'd make things considerably worse. But we're actually very similar in that we both have a theory about what's going on and make practical, rational efforts to fix it, and change tack if the problem reveals itself as more challenging. Now I've more experience of what other people do (and realising the collapse of DIY skill in Gen X and later), I see that the big difference is between people like the two of us, and those who just kick it in frustration and break it further, and those who stand back and complain about it without being willing or able to do anything.