Redesigning an Airplane While Flying – An Extract from Arun Maira’s ‘Transforming Systems’

Ravi was a successful CEO. His company was frequently cited in business journals as a well-managed company. Ravi’s picture had also appeared on the covers of many business magazines. He was a popular speaker at business seminars. His company’s stock was often recommended by stock market analysts as a stock to buy and hold. He was a distinguished alumnus of one of Indian’s best management institutions and management students aspired to be recruited by his company. He was a role model for them.

He settled into the rear seat of his BMW saloon and the chauffeur drove off. The quarterly call with analysts had gone well. His team had anticipated the usual questions about pressures on margins, effects of recent regulatory changes, anticipated increases in sales, and earnings guidance for the next quarters. However, it seemed to Ravi that some young analysts wanted to show off their analytical prowess. They had tried to point out inconsistencies in the calculations. Despite the minor interruptions, his team had been on top of their numbers.

He picked up a business newspaper from the neat pile placed beside him on the seat. The story of alleged malfeasance in a large financial services company continued to unfold on the front page. Other stories of corporate frauds and fugitive CEOs who had escaped from the country were now relegated to inside pages. The editorial page had an article about the failure of corporate boards generally, and their independent directors; in particular, to prevent such breakdowns in corporate governance. The paper included the mandatory page with long lists of stock market prices and their movements. Inside it was also a full-page sponsored splash about corporate social responsibility (CSR). It had a photo of several corporate representatives in a discussion about CSR, along with some stories about their companies’ CSR activities. Ravi noticed that one of the companies whose CSR activities were highlighted had been in the news for many months when local communities had protested against the pollution of the water and soil caused by its factory in their area.

The thought that there seemed to be two worlds that were not connected with each other running parallel struck Ravi. One was the world of analysts and the stock market. The other was the world in which other people lived. People in the stock market world did not seem to be concerned about the other people. Ravi remembered a cartoon by R.K. Laxman, whose cartoons had been appearing on the front page of India’s largest selling daily for many years. In this cartoon, Laxman shows two beggars squatting at the foot of the stairs to the Bombay Stock Exchange. Two portly stockbrokers are descending the stairs with ear-to-ear grins on their faces. One beggar says to the other, ‘Oh good. The stock market has gone up. Now life will be good for us!’

Ravi’s father had worked his whole life as an officer in a large, public-sector bank. He had risen up the ranks to a mid-level position. His mother had been a schoolteacher and she had taught mathematics and science. They had brought up two children—Ravi and his younger sister, Sushma. His parents were determined to provide their children the best education they could afford. Sushma and he had studied in the best private schools, run by Christian missionaries. Both the children had learned their values from their parents, which were reinforced in their school. Honesty, simplicity and caring for others were values they imbibed. They understood the importance of hard work and striving for excellence.

Both his parents had retired some years back and lived in a modest house his father had bought in Delhi, with the help of a loan from his bank when he was working. They had small pensions, and his father also had some investments in mutual funds from which he obtained a small supplemental income. Sushma was married. She worked with a think tank in Delhi, and lived with her husband, who was an officer in the central government in another part of Delhi.

His parents lived comfortably, albeit simply. They said they did not lack anything. His father owned a small Maruti car, which he drove himself. They visited friends and their relatives occasionally. Both loved music, and they went to classical Indian music soirees. His father was now over 75 years old, and his mother was not too far behind. They had a part-time help at home. They liked to live independently. However, their bodies were ageing and needed more visits to doctors. ‘To the garage, like my old car’, his father would say repeatedly to whoever asked how they were and laugh at his own joke. Sushma kept an eye on them. Ravi would drop in to visit them whenever he travelled to Delhi. And they would come to stay with him in Mumbai once a year around Diwali or New Year when Ravi could take some time off from work.

Ravi had made his parents proud by being selected for admission to an Indian Institute of Technology (IIT). These prestigious institutes had been set up by the Government of India, in collaboration with the best international engineering colleges in the world, including MIT in the USA, in the 1960s, to provide young Indians with excellent education. The IITs have become the most sought-after institutions in India for post-school education. Thousands of young people compete in a rigorous selection process, and the best of the best are selected.

After graduating from the IIT, Ravi sat for another competitive examination. This time, it was for admission to an Indian Institute of Management (IIM). These institutions for postgraduate education were set up a few years after the IITs, once again in collaboration with the best international management schools. Students from the IITs competed for admission to the IIMs The admission funnel narrowed further. The best of the best young Indians got through. Ravi was one of them.

The IITs were set up principally to produce engineers for industry, whereas the IIMs taught marketing, finance and other management subjects. The career trajectories of the best Indians who joined the IIMs were transformed—from shop floors of industrial companies to better-paid positions in marketing and finance, consumer companies, advertising companies and banks. Big companies would show up at the campuses of the IIMs to aggressively hire the best Indian talent to grow their businesses. That is how Ravi had landed a position as a senior management trainee with one of the most admired consumer goods’ marketing companies in the country, where he did very well.

Ravi’s son was studying computer science at Cornell University in the US. His daughter was planning to study design in New York. His schoolmates believed that Ravi had done very well in life.

When Ravi was diligently studying in school and at the IIT, he had no vocation in mind. He simply did his best at whatever he was expected to do and competed with his peers to the best of his capabilities. He had done so throughout his life. He hardly paused to reflect on the point of the race, and the purpose of his life. But recently, he was compelled to do so at a meeting of CEOs he attended.

Ravi was appointed the CEO of his company when he was 45 years old, with much fanfare in the media because he was considered very young to be a CEO of a large, prestigious company. Soon after, he was invited to a special meeting of selected CEOs organized by the Confederation of Indian Industry. The meeting was to discuss what business leaders could do for India. It was conducted by an international management consultant who specialized in the development of leaders in business.

The consultant started the meeting with a brief fifteen-minute presentation about the forces shaping the world of business internationally, and the internal and external forces India must contend with in its quest for sustainable, inclusive and faster economic growth. Then, he asked the twenty-five CEOs, who had assembled, a question—‘What do you care about most in life?’

He asked the CEOs to silently think about this for a couple of minutes. He prompted them to visualize what the world around them would be like if what they most cared about became more evident in the world.

Ravi remembers the meeting very well. The silence went well beyond the couple of minutes they were allowed. Many CEOs, including him, began writing notes on the pads placed beside them. After a while, the consultant asked them how they felt about those few minutes. Several of them said that they valued the time, albeit very brief, to reflect on a profound question they hardly ever asked themselves amidst the commotion in their lives.

The consultant wondered if they would like to talk to the other CEOs on their round table regarding what they cared about. Ravi recalls that they had all gone around the table and had listened to each other. Then, the consultant asked if they had any observations to share. All said that they appreciated the opportunity to talk ‘heart-to-heart’ with their peers. They noticed that they all cared about their families and the condition of communities. They were also concerned about persistent poverty and inequities in the country. Some added that they cared about making their companies forces for universal good.

What followed is vivid in Ravi’s memory. A participant interrupted and said that no one had been truthful. When asked why, he said that no one had admitted that what they cared about most was making more money, which was what they really did, according to him. There was a reaction from others. They said, ‘We must speak for ourselves. Do not cast aspersions on our honesty.’

Ravi remembers the incident vividly, mainly because he was stung by the accusation, as many others were. Yes, he could not deny that he liked making more money. Why not? And he liked being respected for leading a company that was loved by investors and business analysts. But money and respect from his business peers were not what he cared about most deeply. He cared a lot about the happiness of his children, his wife, and his old parents. Poverty, signs of which he could see around him every day and stark statistics of which the consultant had presented at the opening of the meeting, troubled him. He would have liked to do much more to improve the living conditions of the poorest people of the country, and to give their children hope for a better future.

Since that thought-provoking meeting, Ravi had redoubled his efforts to keep a balance between his work life and his family life. However, he had not been able to do enough about the condition of the society. He was a champion for the CSR programmes of his company. However, they seemed to be only frills attached to the business operations of the company to attract public attention, whereas the thrust of the business operations was squarely to produce more profits and value for investors. Recently, the Indian government had passed a law requiring all companies to spend 2 per cent of their net profits on CSR. His company easily met that requirement and had been spending more than that even before the law was passed.

The more fundamental question that the law had skirted around was how a company made its profits in the first place. What impacts did a company’s products and production processes have on the health of people and the environment? What impacts did the company’s business practices have on the fabric of the society? For example, how did it treat its small suppliers, and how did it expedite the regulatory clearances they needed? In other words, the concern should be with how 100 per cent of the profits were produced, and not whether or not the 2 per cent of the profits had been spent on CSR.

The consultant in the CII meeting gave a definition of true leadership. He said, ‘A leader is he or she who takes the first steps towards what he or she deeply cares about, and in ways that others will wish to follow.’ Leadership begins with caring for a cause and a commitment to it. It is unlikely that there will be deep passion if one is merely complying with objectives set by others. A leader is the one who takes the first steps towards what the leader is committed to, even if they are risky steps. He does not wait for others to test the water.

Without followers, a leader cannot be a leader. Persons in high positions and with authority over others, like CEOs, ministers and generals, can make people follow them, with carrots and sticks, even when people do not subscribe to the goals the person has set. They are loosely referred to as leaders of their organizations. But what about people like Mahatma Gandhi, whom millions followed even if it meant making great sacrifices in their own lives? Gandhiji had neither official authority over his followers nor did he have any means for financially rewarding or punishing them. Yet, millions followed him voluntarily because they knew he cared for what they cared for—the freedom from various political, social and economic oppressions.

This was a very powerful definition of leadership. Ravi had returned to it many times since that meeting and wondered what he should do about what he most deeply cared for, which was affirmed in his mind when the participants were provoked by the challenge from one of them. As the CEO, he cared about the performance of his company and for the returns produced for investors. In fact, it was his duty. However, he cared for something even deeper—to make the world better for everyone, not just shareholders. And especially to make the world better for the least privileged people.

Ravi realized that, in a humble way, what he cared about was also what Mahatma Gandhi had cared about. And as the CEO of a large corporation, he had command over large financial resources, which Gandhiji did not. So, he wondered what was coming in his way to take the first steps towards what he deeply cared about. Why could he not direct the resources of his company to make the world better for everyone?

He thought again about the call with the analysts. CEOs have to account to many people, not just themselves. They have to comply with regulations and reporting systems. They are an integral part of a large socio-economic system, with many institutions interlocked with each other—corporate laws, stock market regulators, etc. They cannot decide what purpose the corporation should fulfil in society on their own.

The challenge was like redesigning an airplane in flight. If the change in the design of the propellers got ahead of the corresponding change required in the design of the wings, the plane would crash and take down everyone in it. Therefore, whoever in the system decided to take the first steps to make a radical change would have to carry others along.

When Ravi came home, he seemed very preoccupied. ‘A penny for your thought,’ his wife asked. ‘Making profits is easy; changing the world is hard,’ Ravi said to his bemused wife. It was a statement Ravi had heard somewhere. But he couldn’t remember where.

How does one keep one’s feet grounded in current reality while shaping a new reality one wants to create?
How can one change a system of which one is only a part?
How do you redesign an airplane while it is flying?

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