Driving Ambition: Where To Get It

Driving Ambition! It’s a novel of murder, labour relations and self-driving cars!

If you want a dead tree version, the link here will take you to the publisher’s website.

If you want a version in pixels, click here for Kindle and here for Kobo, and here for a DRM-free version for those of you who know what to do with one of those.

For content previews, you can of course read a sample on Amazon, and you can also see me reading Chapter One here.

And if you want to buy one direct from the author– just flag me down at any event I’m attending!

Toxic leadership: Joffrey Baratheon, and Daenarys Targaryen (again)

This is a rather appropriate time to get to toxic leadership, since today is the day people in the UK vote in the European elections, and also because of the controversy currently raging among Game of Thrones fans about Daenarys’ story arc and how it ended.

The source text I’m relying on is Dennis Tourish’s excellent bproxy.duckduckgo.comook The Dark Side of Transformational Leadership. In it, Tourish argues that the traits which management studies types celebrate and valorize in leaders aren’t actually positive in and of themselves; charismatic and visionary leaders can be massively narcissistic and selfish, transformational leaders can be emotionally manipulative; transactional leaders can refuse to admit they’re wrong. Indeed, one of the real dangers of behavioural theories in particular is a reluctance to consider the negative aspects of the behaviours identified as “leadership qualities”, and the valorization of leaders over all, in management studies, has, Tourish argued, led to such disasters as the 2008 global recession.

In Westeros, arguably even more leader-focused than management, the negative results are plain to see, playing out over eight seasons. However, a useful example is provided by Joffrey Baratheon, precisely because he’s such an obvious hate figure. He’s clearly selfish, nasty, power-obsessed, bullying, sadistic and casually homicidal. However, to take the point, none of that in and of itself actually detracts from his leadership ability. It makes decent political sense to have Ned Stark executed, and also to marry Stark’s daughter off as fast as possible to Tyrion, cementing the Lannister claim to the North while leaving Joffrey himself free to make an even more politically useful marriage to Margaery Tyrell– showing he has more sense in that regard than Robb Stark. None of this is to say that Joffrey is at all someone you’d want in charge of anything, let alone the Seven Kingdoms; but it’s to point out that the same skills and traits that can make a good leader, can also manifest in less positive ways.

To take a more recent example: Daenarys Targaryen firebombing Kings’ Landing from dragonback surprised many viewers, but it’s not at all out of keeping with what we discussed in the earlier entry on her leadership style. Indeed, it’s positively logical that a charismatic leader would be more inclined to a display of power to intimidate the opposition, even if it also alienates potential allies, than in thinking about long-term relationships (which are rather more the province of the transformational leader). The traits which gave her the strength to claw her way up from a pawn in the marriage game to conquer a continent, left unchecked, are the same ones that lead to her murdering innocent civilians simply because they had the misfortune to be born under Lannister rule.

The lesson to take from all of this is not only to keep a sharp eye on the leadership, wherever you are. It’s to ensure there are checks and balances in place. Both Joffrey and Daenarys’ homicidal tendencies could have been held in check by a system holding the ruler to account, and might even have survived the series had there been some system for removing them that doesn’t resort to out-and-out assassination.

Next week: gender and ethnic diversity with the Greyjoy siblings.

Alternative pathways to promotion: Ramsay Bolton

To recap from the discussion of Robb Stark, the Baratheon Brothers, and why male sexuality matters in Westeros two weeks ago: legitimate career progression is a pretty straightforward thing in Westeros, on the face of it. To become a leader, you have to be the eldest surviving legitimate son of the current/former leader.

However, as in any organisation, the official career path is not the only one. It’s worth noting that at the outset of the final season, literally no leader in Westeros (or even Essos or Braavos), aside from Jon Snow, actually fits the official criteria for political leadership. Admittedly, there is a bloody civil war going on, but the means for alternative forms of progression usually has to be in place before a crisis of that magnitude hits.

The main alternative form of progression, as discussed before, is through murdering the incumbent. However, as we also discussed before, this is a problematic means of progression, for the obvious reason that a healthy society needs to discourage people from killing their leaders. Hence the reason why Jaime Lannister couldn’t take the throne; why Robert Baratheon had to fit as many of the other criteria for leadership as possible (or seem to, at any rate); and why his leadership was problematic nonetheless.

Some Westerosi organisations do offer different pathways to promotion. The church, the Maesters, and the Night’s Watch, of necessity, have leadership pathways that are more or less merit-based. However, they’re also more rigid on the gender front than the nobility (women can rule, if problematically, under some circumstances; women can never be Maesters or join the Night’s Watch, and septas clearly rank well below septons in the church), making these organisations at once more and less flexible in a crisis. Furthermore, in all cases they’re barred from political leadership under all but the most extreme circumstances; the High Sparrow may have come rather close to establishing theocratic rule in Westeros, but that was more a sign of how badly the established order had broken down than anything normal and legitimate.

This brings us to the case of Ramsay Snow, later Bolton, and how his career demonstrates the existence of at least one alternative pathway to leadership beyond staging a coup. At the outset of his storyline, Ramsay Snow’s status as an illegitimate son bars him from leadership; however, he makes himself useful enough to his ostensible father, Roose, that the latter has him officially declared legitimate (and Ramsay also makes certain that his father has no other surviving offspring which might supplant him).

Furthermore, both Boltons take advantage of the fact that the near-total extermination of the Starks (and the absence of the surviving family members) has left a power vacuum in the North. However, while arguably might would make right in those circumstances, clearly other factors are helpful; Theon Greyjoy’s attempt to take over Winterfell by claiming to have murdered the two younger Starks only left him with a tenuous claim at best, while Ramsay’s marriage to Sansa, given the rule about governance passing to female offspring in the absence of surviving fertile males, gave him more of a social claim to the North.

Of course, none of this is to mention that Ramsay is also a psychopath, who nobody sane would want in charge of a church raffle let alone one-seventh of a country. Given that not only did Roose Bolton break the rule against not killing the person you’re taking over from (though admittedly Walder Frey took most of the blame for that) and both Boltons repeatedly break rules of hospitality and truce, and show what any management expert would describe as fairly awful personnel management skills, their governance of Winterfell was inevitably doomed to be short term.

But that takes us to next week’s subject, toxic leadership, so we’ll leave matters there.

 

Leadership Lessons From Game Of Thrones Special: The Battle of Winterfell, or How Not To Lead

Last time,  I said the next entry would be about alternative career patimagehs and Ramsay Bolton. Well, forget that, because I watched “The Battle of Winterfell” at the weekend, and I think we need to take a moment to talk about it.

People who know more about tactics than I do have written about the problems with that aspect of it, so I’m not going to do a blow-by-blow of what’s wrong with it militarily. However, I have spent a while talking about leadership on Westeros, and so I feel compelled to point out that this whole episode is a pretty good example of how not to do leadership.

1) Failure to designate authority. Who, exactly, was in charge of that battle? You don’t always need a clear, hierarchical chain of command, and in this case they’d evidently decided on doing the battle in small autonomous units rather than according to an overall plan, but you do need some allocation of responsibilities. The only people who seemed to have someone in charge and directing things were the Unsullied, and of course no one else noticed what Grey Worm was doing, because it seems the Westerosi are racist (while I’ll be coming back to this in a future post, this is a very good example of the problems poor diversity management can cause for any organisation). Jon and Daenarys may be up on the dragons and Tyrion and Sansa in the crypts (on which, more later), but Edd, Jaime, Brienne and Torvald are all perfectly capable of directing a battle better than they do here.

2) No system for operating at multiple levels. It’s helpful to leadership if they’re able to understand the big picture, and the smaller one, so as to get everyone on the ground level working towards a larger goal. While the dragonriding team can’t communicate with the ground, this is where Bran’s ability to warg into ravens could have provided a useful asset. Mind you, the lack of people in authority might make it hard to figure out who to pass the information on to.

3) Lack of flexibility. Almost any operation needs fine-tuning as it goes along, whether it’s an audit, an acquisition, or a battle for your lives against the zombie hordes. Nobody at Winterfell appears to be showing any interest in deviating from the previously-worked-out plan, staring dumbly as the wights figure out how to get over the firewall.

4) Failure to utilize available skills. Tyrion, in the crypt, has evidently figured out Problem #2, and mutters about how he and Varys ought to be out there helping to guide the battle. Sansa shoots him down on that one, but he’s actually perfectly right. None of those three are fighters, but Tyrion at least is good at thinking of tactics on the fly, and they’re all intelligent people, and yet they’re all locked up in the crypt where they can’t actually be of any use to anyone. Not that it would matter much, because there’s also the problem of…

5) Poor communications. If you’ve got the person, or people, up in the tower, surveying the field and coming up with changes as needed, you need some system to communicate those to the people on the front lines. This is why there were drum and bugle signals in earlier times. Now, it’s a fair point that you’re assembling a force that’s quite diverse in terms of its tactics and background, but it’s not an insurmountable problem, since presumably everyone, in this case, is on board with the basic mission and wants to complete it without dying.

So, the Battle of Winterfell is not just a failure of tactics, or dragon-wrangling, but of leadership. Next time: I really will get around to Ramsay Bolton, I promise.

Traditional pathways to promotion: Robb Stark and the Baratheon brothers

iuOne of the problems with teaching organisation studies, is that people assume that the principles apply only to modern organisations. Businesses, and maybe to a lesser extent other organisations like charities, NGOs, public sector institutions, and so forth. While it’s true that organisation studies were developed with those in mind, that doesn’t mean you can’t see similar principles in action elsewhere.

Take the case of pathways to leadership. All organisations have them, whether they’re a Fortune 500 company, a grassroots campaign to save a local monument… or a medieval-ish fantasy kingdom embroiled in intermittent bloody civil wars.

The conventional criteria for becoming a leader in Westeros are generally pretty simple. You have to be the oldest surviving legitimate (and able-bodied) male offspring of the current leader. There are variations: in Dorne, for instance, gender isn’t a criterion for leadership (though legitimacy and survival certainly are), and the case of Jorah Mormont shows that you can be formally barred from leadership despite meeting all those criteria.

Hence our case study of Robb Stark, who, after the death of Ned, is, as his oldest son, unproblematically accepted as Warden of the North.

A less explicit criterion, though, is that the man in question also has to be fertile, and, ideally, has to demonstrate this with actual (or potential) offspring. While we’ll be exploring the complicated issue of gender and leadership later, this is why eunuchs, while they can be socially “male” in other ways, are unequivocably barred from formal leadership pathways. More than that, though, the offspring also have to be, ideally, from the right woman. Namely, your wife. We’ll call this the “sexuality rule”.

The driving force behind the entire plot of Game of Thrones, however, is that this pathway is so rigid that exceptions to the rule, however minor or justified, are always problematic. There’s a clear rule that, in the absence of legitimate male offspring, succession passes to female offspring, but the leadership of every single female leader has been problematic and challenged (it’s worth noting that, in “The Last of the Starks”, Bran is seriously suggested as a more legitimate ruler for Winterfell than Sansa, despite being disabled, not wanting the post, and having shown literally no leadership skills at all at any point in the series). More to the point, while everyone seems to accept that it was necessary to murder the Mad King and that Robert Baratheon was the most acceptable candidate to serve as a replacement, his leadership is, as discussed before, weak and problematic; the fact that, despite appearances, he has no legitimate offspring, is as much a metaphor for the problems with him as a monarch as it is a reason for the rest of the country to plunge into chaos on his death.

Which then brings us to Robert’s siblings. Under circumstances in which Robert had come to the throne via the usual pathway, then his brothers would be logical candidates for succession in the absence of legitimate male offspring. The problem is, Robert didn’t. So neither Stannis nor Renly have as much of a legitimate claim to the throne as they would under normal circumstances. Hence the fact that both brothers are contesting the throne, rather than it passing relatively unproblematically to the eldest.

Renly is further problematised under the unspoken sexuality rule. Which is half of the reason why his wife Margaery urges him to get her pregnant as soon as possible. Significantly for our topic here, the other reason is that one of the ways in which women can legitimately govern is as regents for under-age male offspring (hence Cersei’s path to leadership), but again, we’ll be discussing that later. For this post, it’s worth noting that this is why I’m calling this a sexuality rule, rather than a fertility rule– Renly may well be fertile, but his homosexuality means he’s reluctant to produce legitimate (or indeed any) offspring, in much the same way that the problem with his brother Robert’s offspring isn’t biological, but down to the animosity between him and his wife.

Furthermore, the fact that Robert’s succeeding to the throne through murdering the incumbent was accepted as legitimate, throws open the door for conquest becoming another legitimate path to the throne. Hence the fact that Robb himself also contests the leadership of the Seven Kingdoms.

And the sexuality rule also, ultimately, calls into question Robb Stark’s own seemingly unproblematic claim to leadership. Because although he does have legitimate offspring (or at least potential offspring), he’s actually married the wrong woman.

The point of Robb’s insistence on marrying for love, and consequently breaking his agreement with the Freys, is that, in one fatal way, he’s unsuited for leadership. As his mother Catelyn– herself married off to cement a political alliance– knows, part of being a leader in Westeros means sublimating your personal relationships (and, as Renly also fails to observe, sexuality) to the system of marital alliances which dominates the country. So, as with the war of succession following Robert’s demise, Robb’s fate during the Red Wedding stems from his failure to follow the rules of the leadership pipeline as much as from Walder Frey’s desire for revenge.

The lesson for Westeros watchers? There’s been a lot written about Westeros being focused on the control of female sexuality, but it’s worth noting that male sexuality, is also subject to strict, if tacit, controls.

The lesson for non-Westerosi organisations? Don’t be too rigid when developing your leadership pathways, and ensure that at least some of the less traditional ones are recognised and accepted as legitimate.

Next episode: alternative pathways to leadership, with the Bastard of Bolton.

Praise for Captain Artie Quelch!

From this month’s Short Fiction reviews in Locus:

“I especially want to highlight an alternate-history piece by Fiona Moore: ‘‘Every Little Star’’ imagines an alternate timeline of space travel where Ludmilla Kovalenko was the first human launched into space (but not successfully returned). She inspired breakthroughs in both technology and the gender barrier, and Captain Evangeline Artemisia Quelch (Artie) is a former space pilot now commanding a moon base, although she still has to deal with the condescendingly sexist press. Her heroic exploits have left her with lingering claustrophobia, and she is now somewhat uneasily settled into a desk job; a friend’s invention of a kind of rudimentary VR reopens her horizons. It’s a great story, well thought out and well dramatized.”

If you haven’t read it yet, you can do so for free here.