Right Kind of Wrong: How the Best Teams Use Failure to Succeed - Amy Edmondson

Introduction:

“Intelligent failures provide valuable new knowledge. They bring discovery. They occur when experimentation is necessary simply because answers are not knowable in advance.

I’d go so far as to say that insisting on high standards without psychological safety is a recipe for failure—and not the good kind. People are more likely to mess up (even for things they know how to do well) when they’re stressed. Similarly, when you have a question about how to do something but don’t feel able to ask someone, you’re at risk of running headlong into a basic failure. Also, when people encounter intelligent failures, they need to feel safe enough to tell other people about them. These useful failures are no longer “intelligent” when they happen a second time.

Eskreis-Winkler and Fishbach conducted five studies to test the hypothesis that failure, rather than promoting learning, actually undermines it. In one study they asked participants a series of questions starting with identifying which of two symbols from a fictional ancient script represented an animal. Afterward, one group of study participants was told, “You are correct” (success feedback). The other group was told, “You are incorrect” (failure feedback). To see how well they learned from each type of feedback, participants were given a follow-up test. This time they were asked to look at the exact same symbols and asked to identify which one represented a nonliving entity. Sounds pretty straightforward, right? Yet those who had been told they were correct in the first round scored higher in their second test than those told their answers were incorrect. Over and over, people learned less from being given information about what they got wrong than about what they got right.

It stands to reason that social media is shaping our behavior in ways that make sharing problems, mistakes, and failures harder than ever. Both research and firsthand accounts focus on the harmful effects of constant exposure to others’ success, fun, and photoshopped perfect looks. Explicit mentions of failure, or failure avoidance, are rare, and social media’s emphasis on unblemished successes further inhibits healthy attitudes toward failure. Spending considerable time on social media creates a risk of seeing ourselves as failures by comparison to the edited lives that others are living.

What Wiseman noticed that day can be seen as a vital element of TPS: a deeply ingrained belief that problem-solving is a team sport. Failures are opportunities for improvement. Competent professionals are expected to successfully execute most of their tasks, so successes are not seen as worthy of colleagues’ valuable time. Hence the “puzzled” look on Mr. Cho’s face. Puzzlement occurred because an expected behavior (share your problems so we can work on them together) didn’t happen, while an unexpected one (bragging) did. What I love most about this story is that Wiseman’s boasting would not have raised an eyebrow in 99 percent of work environments I’ve studied. We are socialized to share accomplishments and good news in front of the boss. Nothing puzzling about it! The most impressive result of TPS in my view is that the system normalizes failure—bad news, requests for help, and problems alike. It creates a community of scientists. Not incidentally, the essence of failing well is thinking like a scientist.