We had the chance to see Benjamin Zander, conductor of the Boston Philharmonic, live and in color last week at a local PTO event. He is every bit as dynamic, funny and inspiring in person as his TED lecture indicates. He is also unpredictable, so I’d suggest (should you ever see him live) that you not sit in the back row, nor admit that it is your birthday.
As he was discussing the Art of the Possibility, he told this story: Benjamin’s father fled Hitler’s Germany and came to the U.K. with four children and wife in tow, having lost his home, possessions, occupation and language. At some point, with Hitler in Paris and the war going badly for the Allies, the Zanders and other German Jews were placed in an internment camp on the Isle of Mann—essentially a barbed wire enclosure filled with tents. Benjamin said the conditions were so depressing for some of the men that they simply stared at the barbed wire all day.
So, what did his father do? He looked around, said “There are a lot of smart people here,” and formed a university. There were, of course, no blackboards or books, but there were 40 classes a day.
That’s what Zander means by the “art of the possibility”; it’s not “positive thinking,” it’s finding the opportunity and the goodness in every situation.
If you need additional inspiration, you might try Terry Teachout’s new biography of Louis Armstrong, Pops. (Here’s a review in the Washington Post.)
Armstrong, born in “the Battlefield” neighborhood of New Orleans in 1901 to a 15-year old, part-time prostitute, and abandoned at birth by his father, went on to become one of the true American geniuses of the twentieth century. Teachout had access to over 600 hours of new recordings made by Armstrong, who was as prolific on tape and typewriter as he was on trumpet, and would have had (I’m guessing) the single greatest Twitter following in the world were he alive today.
You’re probably familiar with the Steve Jobs graduation speech where Jobs connects the events of his past and concludes that if he hadn’t dropped out of school, been fired by Apple and been struck by cancer, he probably wouldn’t be the success he is today. Well, if an 11-year old Armstrong hadn’t stolen a .38 from one of his many “step-fathers” and shot it into the air in celebration on New Year’s Eve 1912, he would never have been picked up by the police and sent to the Colored Waif’s Home for Boys. And, there would be no Louis Armstrong, at least the one we know.
The story just gets better from there--and it comes with its own brilliant soundtrack, all available on iTunes.
Finally, I don’t write much about Sensitech, but in our work diagnosing problems in Food and Pharmaceutical “cold” supply chains, we’ve become pretty good at--for lack of a better way of saying it--letting our customers know when they should panic. And, more importantly, when they should not.
In other words, a customer might accept 25 loads of perishable products this week, and maybe 1,000 loads this year. Some of these deliveries of (lettuce and fish and French fries and vaccines and blood) will be out-of-spec—too hot, too cold, too dry, too wet, too late, etc. The trick is to be able to separate the signal from the noise.
Indeed, some of those out-of-spec deliveries are well within what we would expect, given the nature of the specific supply chain (careless loading, equipment in need of repair, road heat in Phoenix in July, etc.). There might be a need to improve the entire system, but panic over a single, slightly out-of-spec delivery is a waste of time and energy.
Having said that, some of the loads really are problems—and when those “outlying” events occur, quick reaction is critical.
So it is with all of our lives; we are buried by data, and are constantly searching for ways to separate signal from noise. Want to weigh 160? Step on the scale tomorrow morning and you are 161. Panic? No, because when you step on the scale the next morning you are 158.5. Too much salt, skip dessert, drink lots of water, run a few extra miles—all you are seeing is the noise of life.
But, if you step on the scale one morning and it’s 162, and then 164 the next: Signal. Panic, or at least one less trip to the fridge tonight.
Now, apply these scenarios to the world of terrorism. Someone wants to take flying lessons: that’s noise. Someone wants to take flying lessons but doesn’t want to know how to land the plane: that’s signal. Similarly, someone gets on an international flight, pays cash, and checks no bags—that might be signal. Someone sews explosive into his underwear: Signal. Panic.
The question is, how much do we pay to find out? What’s the real risk of dying at the hands of a terrorist in America ? And if 1,900 Americans die today from a variety of preventable causes, how much are we willing to invest to save those lives?
Paul Campos, a professor of law at the University of Colorado , penned a brilliant piece in this weekend’s Wall Street Journal called “Undressing the Terror Threat.” The article speaks directly to this issue of noise vs. signal, panic, and what Campos calls the “politics of cowardice.”
And, while it addresses some difficult topics, Campos gave me--in an odd sort of way--the same shot of optimism that Zander and Armstrong did.
It’s a combination of “it ain’t as bad out there as you think,” “others have had it a lot worse and prospered,” and “there’s a lot more opportunity if you just look for it.”
A good signal--without panic.
Happy Monday!
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