Measuring Our Way Towards the Future, The Deceitful Path Forward

“Yeah man, I think Eddie wouldn’t go.” 

To many, that might sound like any unimportant reply in a random conversation midway through its lifespan, but to a select few, a statement that conveys a very clear message. 

As mankind has traversed through the ages in its journey of self discovery; inquisitively observing, patiently probing, meticulously transforming; we came to adopt the notion that it pays to repeat what works, and developed a deep understanding that we could manipulate our environment to a greater or lesser degree of precision in a way that would sway the winds of luck in our direction. What no doubt began as accidental discoveries progressively became standard procedures that all but guaranteed survival, with innovation gradually leaking into the affair; but as we’ve all experienced, without a carbon copy, replicas tend to lose their fine details. 

Early era tools essential for survival like hunting, butchering, digging, grinding, and other sorts of cathartic activities, were fabricated in proportion to its speculated user; the size of a palm would dictate the breadth of an obsidian blade, the extension of a forearm would establish the length of an spear, the height of a hunter would state the span of a bow and the extent of an arrow body. Half a palm, a hand short of the forearm, an arm’s length to the opposite shoulder; reliable, but non transferable. In a pre-mass production era it wasn’t a bug, it was a feature; the limitation of proportions as units of measurements wasn’t pitted against production quotas. After all, it was on a need to have basis. 

Even reaching into contemporary history, relatively, the unit of measurement based on proportions was sufficient given the production constraints and limited capacity for precision; “good enough” was… well good enough. The need to establish standard units of measurements arose only after it became apparent that localized units were not easily correlated or comparable. When trading with distant civilizations, language was merely one of the hurdles that hindered a fair or equitable exchange of goods in a reliable fashion; making sure that our measurement of mass was comparable to theirs was a  concern of merchants, tradesmen, and city-state leaders. 

Eventually, maybe, mankind got tired of being suspicious and decided to add a sprinkle of reliability establishing standard units of measurement, a singular reference that would not only allow uniformity, and precision but most importantly replicability, and comparability. Luckily, or coincidently, humanity’s propensity to innovate and an inclination to persevere merged with the arrival of this new convenience that translated innate properties into quantifiable features. Devices, instruments, contraptions, gadgets, and systems that promised to lighten the burden, lessen the strain, and even hinted at increased production seem to have only been held back by the absence of standardized units of measurement; now mankind could manage larger crops, build larger ships, build reliable roads, measure the circumference of the earth, and even present dashboards to aboard of directors. 

Perhaps an eagerness to thrive driven by a long track record of successful application of standard units led us to overstretch ourselves and reach beyond their abilities to bear functional information about the tangible properties of our world. Deep into the present, far removed from the barley fields of early civilizations, we demonstrate an incredible capacity to invent units of measurement. Though we have obviously reached a limit as to what we can measure in the tangible world, we see no limit and step into uncharted territory, proposing a new yard-stick, a new thermometer, a new gauge that we claim can measure the future. 

As reliably as the thawing that follows the arrival of spring, there is a moment in the realm of business when the instinct to squint our eyes towards the horizon as we strive to see the future becomes inescapable. As sure as a bull moose will charge anything ranging from a lemming to another moose during the peak of the rut, through the planning and strategy phase of the year leaders across organizations desire beyond all else a unit of measurement for strategy. So what do we do? We desperately jab our hands into the air with the hopes of grasping something that promises to measure our strategy; or in some sense resembles a glimpse into the future. 

Outside of the production rooms, warehouses, finance offices, sales rooms, and maybe the IT’s dungeon; there are very few tangible elements to measure and track in the business realm. Beyond volume, units, cash, purchases or complaints, and clicks everything else becomes proxies, indexes, and in general the mathematical product of a relationship between known business elements. We have, however, seem to have convinced ourselves that a few data points of these neo-units to the right, after “now”, as a protrayal of the future of business as forecasts, projections, or trends; coincidently confirming assumptions about our strategy. We can, afterall, predict the weather, right? 

Unwillingly allowing planning to seep into the strategy phase and usurp the throne for which it is not fit, simply because we understand the language it speaks: numerical, traceable, proportional. Nevertheless countless thought leaders have preached to the four winds that projections, trends, forecasts, estimates or otherwise any quantifiable components of business are not strategy. One of the foremost recognized authorities on strategy, Roger L. Martin, states in this book A New Way To Think that “creating great choices requires imagination more than data”. 

A Hawaiian Island native whose incredible feats left an indelible mark in history, Edward Aikau, led his life on a principle that undoubtedly set him apart not only in his local community, but on the world stage. His passion for the sport of surf led him to single handedly redefine mankind’s stature against the ocean’s might. The North Shore of the island of Oahu is home to one of the fiercest and deadliest breaks in the world, if it were a restaurant it would have a fourth Michelin star. Devoted surfers from around the world make the pilgrimage to test their mettle on the polished overhead wave that thunders as it breaks even on the smallest days. 

During the late 1960’s and early 70’s, the local lifeguard affectionately known as “Eddie” would regularly be sighted alone paddling out towards the lineup on days when, by all measures of sanity, the conditions were considered to be “too big”. Recorded as “often riding waves in the 30-50 foot range”, even on the days when the waves surpassed this range and grew to be 60 and 80 footers, Eddie was a prominent presence in the water that unquestionably mastered the ride. There seemed to be no condition which held Eddie back, his name becoming synonymous with reliable confidence, skillful mastery, and calculated execution. 

In his absence, Eddie became a unit of measurement in the surfing community, his feats as the proportions of stoic confidence that follows diligent preparation. More than an assessment of the tangible properties of the wave, Eddie has been a measure of preparedness; an introspective exercise in honest self evaluation and frank appraisal of capabilities, rather than an accumulation of optimistic and frivolous desires. Capacity rooted in ability. 

On those days when the sets hit a peak in the season, surfers will gather on lookout points and contemplate paddling out or staying on shore: “What do you think man?”. The size of the wave is irrelevant, when in reality the inquiry is directed inwards. 

A well known fact in business is that guarantees are as abundant as hair on a frog’s back; it wouldn’t be recommended to hold one’s breath on finding one. So it is, no surprise that any measure of the future is as useful as an ashtray on a motorcycle. Strategy, a conundrum that eludes quantification, is best scrutinized through the fiber of its architect: confidence, skill, and ability to execute despite unpredictability. Eddie never expected a smooth ride, but held the experience based conviction that he would adapt deep within the unknown. 

His strategy, most likely preparedness.

We could safely conclude that the only truly logical answer when our strategy is put to the fire and someone asks “But will the strategy work?” is an Oahu beach observation of the path ahead and state with confidence: “Yeah, Eddie would go”.

Besides if it didn’t make at least flinch a little, is it really strategy?