CATHEDRALS AND CHEATS

Did Mr Zuckerberg reach peak smiley face in 2017? In June that year, as Facebook reached 2billion users, Mr Z compared his company to a church.

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He said that Facebook could ‘fill the gap left in people’s lives left by the decline in churches, as well as other organisations’ and that ‘a lot of people now need to find a sense of support and purpose somewhere else’.

It got worse.

He talked of the world ‘being a little brighter now’, and how such a community – also termed ‘meaningful communities’ – needs ‘great leaders’, like a ‘pastor who cares for the well-being of their congregation’.

It takes your breath away, doesn’t it?

While the scale of this strange combination of irony-deafness and messianic self-aggrandisement impresses, it also distances.

Mr Z feels like an extreme case.

And we may miss parallel behaviour in our own organisations.

As the current revelations around Cambridge Analytica, data scraping, and betrayal of privacy on a galactic scale unfold, it’s worth looking at where hypocrisy turns into cheating. And betrayal.

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Belonging to a church, an organization, a group, a community involves at some level, a contract. The members are offering something and expecting something in return, even though it is almost never made explicit, and may involve an exchange of the measurable for the emotional.

Mr Z and his Fakebook company were apparently offering the means to community and to belonging.

They were apparently taking in exchange demographic and pychographic details of the community members and selling them to known third parties.

It’s a workable contract isn’t it?

But we now know the degree to which this was not the actual exchange.

In series of self-exculpatory feats of post-rationalisation, Mr Z has made arguments involving ‘best intentions’, and ‘honest error’.

The same points have been made by Boards who have failed, by Directors of badly implemented change programmes, by management bodies in so many organisations.

When unspoken contracts have been broken, new honest contracts are needed.

None of us will stay if we think the pastor at the cathedral has been cheating.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

IS ANYONE HOME?

E80pxtreeverywhere feels kind of quiet. No sign of the usual stampede to gyms and weight loss classes, no sign of a tidal surge to the sales. And fewer perky ‘let’s start where we left off’ emails than I remember.
So just when it felt safe to go back into the water, Mr Facebook pokes us with the sort of new year resolution that trumps us all.
(Wager no 1 of the new year: The everyday meaning of ‘Trump’ will change during 2016)
Mark Zuckerberg, who’s previous new year resolutions have included learning Mandarin, is going to build a House Robot to help run his home and to look after his baby daughter.
gizmodo.com/mark-zuckerbergs-2016-resolution-build-an-ai-to-run-hi-1750819422
bbc.co.uk/news/technology-35219247
You find yourself looking down at your to-do list and feeling so much smaller, don’t you?
But hang on a minute.
A ‘something’ to help you run your house.
Our homes, our ‘houses’ are of huge significance.
The home is an ancient and enduring metaphor for the self, common to nearly all languages.
Mind palace, the house of the mind, the body as a house, furnishing the mind, body as temple…the list goes on. It isn’t an abstract or academic metaphor. We use the idea consistently. Where we live – and often by extension where we work – symbolizes our own selves.
I looked down at that list again and felt better.
In every team or brand or organisational challenge I come across we will eventually find that some element of missing accountability – of not taking responsibility – is at the heart of the problem. (Sometimes it’s unconscious, sometimes not)
So in one sense, Mr Zuckerberg is aiming to devolve responsibility, to give away some of himself. Who will be ‘at home’, in his home?
Suddenly the previously mundane to-do list seems completely joyous.
And only one resolution on there, to do exactly the opposite of what Mr Facebook is suggesting. Take full charge of your own ‘home’.