We are part of something bigger than we can imagine. Our role today is a tiny part of a truly enormous picture we cannot begin to conceive. In that picture we all have a role to play, from the smallest and most lowly serf, to the grandest prince. Our future as a species relies on each of us fulfilling that role, however humble. In this picture we are all equal. To fail to see this is to be blind and most monumentally ignorant.

To have a free Mandela, we needed a student demonstrator failing their course in a London college. To have a young entrepreneur we needed a Bill Gates creating a windows system. To see the beauty of the dawn across the mountains from my office, we need a window cleaner.
RH

I learned a very good lesson while working for Intrawest Corp., in 2001. This was when the company was thriving and leading the world in Ski resort management. I worked for the VP of Marketing, and we were making advances in our data management and marketing which pushed the technological resources of the time to the limit.

It’s always tempting to try and strive for a perfect solution. ‘Being the best’ is a phrase which is bandied around very easily. However, it’s also fairly meaningless if the best is so costly there’s no point trying to market it. Even the term ‘best’ is very subjective. Our task was to create a system for marketing via email, that would draw on data collected over the previous 5 years or so. Because of the internal politics of the company, using our own tech department was considered a law cast in stone.

There was however a problem. Firstly they’d never built email systems drawing on this type of data. True enough, it was merely technology, and could be done, but the learning curve would be steep. Secondly, the tech department, while very competent, were already over stretched. This new project would draw many hours of time, probably five or six hundred hours at the very least. Completion, even working with the best estimates, would be four to six months.

True enough, it would eventually interface perfectly with all the data, and all updates would be virtually instantaneous. Those updates had importance, often being the difference between a $350 sale and a $365 sale. The project would cost hundreds of thousands of dollars, at the very least – however there was a budget.

When an outside company came along who had already built virtually the same product we needed there was resistance. Why should we go outside the company – we have our own tech department! Some very influential individuals felt affronted at the thought that someone outside the company might be able to do the job at all, and maybe even better.

At the time the idea of Email Marketing was still in its infancy, and no-one really knew what return a campaign may drive. Risking a commitment of several hundred thousand dollars, particularly on a project that was not internally managed, required a leap of faith which to those with an internally focused mindset, was almost monumental. To settle for a system that did everything, except the instant update of data, was to settle for partial success.

In actuality the update of data was achieved, though there was a small delay (something like a couple of hours). Instead of a six month implementation, we went with the outside company and rolled out the first campaign two weeks after the decision was made. The tech department wasn’t happy, and pointed out that the system only did 90% of what we required.

The new system was introduced early enough to catch the early season skiers for that year – a key moment in the ski industry as it sets the pace for the entire season. No one really knew what would happen with the first campaign and the expected revenue was not thought to be high, perhaps a few thousand dollars. In reality campaign number one generated no less than $850,000 revenue over a three day period. The way marketing would run in the company changed from that moment forward. In the following months we would subsequently run three or four campaigns a day – often with similar results.

And the lesson? Well, we could have waited six months and reinvented a wheel which had been built very well elsewhere. We could have gone for that additional 10% of functionality. It would have cost us a ski season, and when you are marketing 9 ski resorts that’s a lot of money. Sometimes 90% really is enough.

Overcoming Self Doubt.

In 1993 a small region in South Sudan became the centre of some heavy fighting. A group of Irish nurses from the charity Concern were in the centre of a tiny enclave in the town of Kongor, operating under the UN umbrella of Operation Lifeline Sudan. As news filtered out to the aid outpost in Northern Kenya, from which the UN monitored the clashes in the war torn country, it became clear they were at considerable risk.

I read the sporadic reports and pieced together a growing picture as the clashes grew from a simple upsurge in fighting to what was increasingly obviously a major offensive on the part the rebel SPLA. It was Friday, and by the time the nearby locations had reported, already mid day.

From the dusty outpost in Lokichogio I jumped on a plane to Kongor, to get a feel of the situation on the ground. As Information Officer, I was the senior UN official in the field and wanted to know how seriously the fighting was going to affect aid operations in the area.

I stepped out of the little six-seater aircraft and walked out across the dry airfield. Only a week before I had been at the same place and the place had been awash in a sea of humanity as aid poured into the place, and 28 tons of food had been unloaded from a Hercules aircraft. Yet today there was not a soul around.

I chatted with the nurses and a French logistician. All seemed bemused that the place had become comparatively deserted. There were a few soldiers in evidence, and only those refugees who were too sick to walk. In a couple of short days the population had dropped down from 25,000 to perhaps three of four thousand.

There were vultures circling in the hot heavy air, and the recently arrived nurses were edgy, not really sure what should be happening. There was an almost surreal atmosphere to the place. I stayed a couple of hours, and then flew south to another small health post, where we touched down. When I chatted with a few of the rebel soldiers there, it became obvious that there was a big movement of soldiers in the area to the north.

By the time the little plane had left me back at Lokichogio I was growing increasingly certain that in the next few hours Kongor would not only be over-run by fighting, it would be destroyed and the six nurses in the health post would be added to the growing number of dead on the operation. Something else was nagging at my mind about the situation. When I went back into my notes about the SPLA, from when I’d covered the war for Associated Press, I realized that the rebel leader, John Garang, was born in Kongor. More tellingly, his birthday was the following day. This would be a valuable prize in his eyes.

I’d met Garang many times. He was single minded and obsessive, and most of all proud. There are times when we can see the future so obviously it might as well be written out in front of us like a screen play. Garang’s soldiers were going to take his birthplace the following day, and give their leader his birthplace as a birthday present.

There was absolutely no doubt in my mind that the UN staff would be killed in such an action. In South Sudan at that time, that was always the way it played out. There would be casualties ‘caught up in the fighting’. In truth, UN staff would be massacred as witnesses to the resulting human rights abuses which inevitably followed fighting were an unacceptable risk for the soldiers.

What followed had the air of a farce about it. I got on the radio to our headquarters at Gigiri in Nairobi. The recently appointed director of the operation had left for the day. He would be away till Monday as he was flying to the coast. He’d only been in the job a couple of weeks, and prior to Sudan had been posted in Geneva. I asked for the number two on the operation, but he had taken a trip to Malawi and was not expected to be back until the middle of the following week.

When I asked who else was available the radio operator told me that the only other senior staff member available was someone called ‘Rob Hadley’ but he is in Sudan at the moment, beyond the reach of communication.

The situation was growing ridiculous. We had to get a plane into Kongor to move out 8 staff, 6 nurses and two logisticians. It had to happen at first light. Evacuating an aid operation is a serious business, and is not done lightly. There are many lives that would be lost by even a day of interruption, and it is usually a decision that only the director can make. As the clock ticked by, I wondered if our staff would even make it through the night.

Unable to reach the director I decided that I would authorize the evacuation, though I clearly had no authority whatsoever to do it. When I talked to the air ops controller, a flight was arranged for first light and a radio message was sent to Kongor telling all staff to attend a meeting on the airfield an hour after sunrise. Radio messages are deliberately left ambiguous as we knew that the rebel factions monitored our broadcasts. Getting the staff out at the earliest time in the day was essential as I felt sure the offensive would start with the dawn, true to SPLA form.

I spent a sleepless night and watched the early flight leave. Every seat was needed, so riding along was not an option. By the time the plane picked up our staff I was in a sweat about the whole business, knowing I was right to pull our staff out, but also aware of the resulting loss of life that would follow from the local population. Yet leaving our staff in place would only make the situation many times worse. If we lost those staff, the health post would be closed down for months, if not permanently – resulting in a substantially greater loss of life all round.

A bemused and surprised group of nurses stepped off the plane into Lokichogio that day, June 23rd 1993. They were not happy about the evacuation, however they were disciplined and understanding. We chatted about it under the trees at the edge of the camp, and I explained my reasons.

In the meantime finally someone had reached the director, from Mombassa and he was raising hell. “Who was evacuating the staff out of his operation? Who did they think they were!”

Things were getting hotter by the minute in the mid day sun. Meanwhile, things seemed very quiet in Kongor. So much so that it began to look like the town was entering a peaceful and uneventful weekend. There is something gruesome and all consuming as self doubt creeps in. What was my analysis based on, anyway? A hunch here, a guess there, but not much more. My actions would likely result in the needless death of hundreds of people who needed medical treatment.

I listened to the silence in the radio shack, where we could monitor SPLA transmissions. All that seemed obvious was that the airwaves were silent. Unsupported, a refugee population of the type that had descended on Kongor dies at the rate of about 10% a day. If I was wrong my actions were going to have dire consequences. No one was going to be particularly interested in the reasons for my actions. In the meantime, the airwaves between Mombassa and Lokichogio were alive with requests for reports and justification. I felt I was aging years with every hour that passed.

And then we started hearing rebel radio traffic. Nuer and Dinka phrases, short at first and then more protracted. Then shouting, panic and even sounds of gunfire as radio operators called in support in what turned into a major battle. An overflight of the town late in the day revealed the UN compound destroyed, and over run.

We received word from the SPLA later that day that Kongor had changed hands in heavy fighting. It was now back in Garangs hands. The new occupiers communicated that they would welcome the return of UN staff at our convenience. We would be able to reintroduce our staff in the morning, and their valuable work would be able to continue.

On my return to Nairobi I was hauled over the coals for what I did. It went against every procedure in the UN book. Not only had I evacuated a UN operation without authority, I had mobilized millions of dollars of equipment and moved non UN staff without any procedural oversight. Worst of all, I had offended our new director who felt he should have been allowed to make the decision. The fact that a delay of a few hours would have prevented evacuation was of little relevance. He was doubly angry, because he was Irish, and the nurses I’d pulled out were his compatriots.

A few years later I was passing through Nairobi and bumped into the head nurse of Concern. She’d been one of the nurses in Kongor. She told me with understated dignity and calm, that she was very happy that they’d got out that day. They all knew in retrospect that they would not have made it through that fight, if they’d remained on the ground in Kongor. I still get Christmas cards from a couple of them. No one really remembers the director of that operation these days, but at the time he seemed awfully important. Thank god I followed my instincts and didn’t allow myself to waiver.

Self doubt is a curse and will hurt you and others. Trust yourself and go with the result of your most rational thoughts. Even if you are wrong, you’ll have done the right thing.

Many years ago in London the motorcycle couriers used to play a game with traffic. The work was extremely dangerous, London having some of the highest traffic density in the world. Riders were very much aware that a single accident could not only end their job, and destroy their motorcycle, it could quite easily result in severe injury. It was however well paid, and drew many of the young men willing to take a chance.

So, a game of dare developed. If a careless driver cut up a rider in traffic (cut them off dangerously), the rider would wait until an opportunity to slip past came, as it inevitably would, and would then gently slow his bike down. The bike would keep moving , but increasingly slowly until eventually the driver came to a halt. The rider would then wait and wait… And almost always the driver would get out of his car in a rage.

The rider would then pull away, perhaps ten yards, and shout something less than entirely complimentary at the driver. Faced with a dilemma, the driver would then either return to their car or go after the rider. If they went after the rider, he would of course move a little further away – always just a little beyond the reach of the driver. Whenever the driver got a little closer, the rider would pull away.

The object of this dangerous and facile game was simply to draw the driver as far from his car as possible. I would never suggest anyone do this – or be drawn into it. The conclusion was always the same. The drivers rage would draw him further and further from his vehicle until eventually he had a long walk back, seething with rage. At times the driver would find himself a mile from his abandoned car – which on more than one occasion would end up towed as it was a traffic obstruction.

What the couriers knew was this – when we are blinded by anger we become easily manipulated. Just like a bull charging a red cloth – the target we are presented with seems like everything, and we become completely enslaved to our own anger and stupidity. And success? Even if we reach that red cloth, it’s just a red cloth.

Everyone loses their temper at some point. Recognizing the fact and swiftly taking a step back, calming ourselves, and regaining control is an essential skill if you would like to avoid being manipulated and toyed with. The skilled General knows that if he is confronted with an enraged enemy, he need only relax and take control to find an easy victory.

Anger is a close relative of determination. One is positive, the other negative. If you suffer from a short temper, your best option is to learn to divert your anger into the positive emotion of determination. Alternatively, you could simply accept that you will always be manipulated by those who know how to play with your emotions.

I have a friend who told me a story of her childhood. It was a time she spent in Turkey, with a huge extended family. As a five year old she would ride around the local village on a beautiful grey horse.

A child of great privilege, she enjoyed riding through the village and around surrounding farms. She was greatly envied by the other children as she rode past them. A happier little girl you could hardly imagine.

When she would go to the city other members of her family would ask her how she liked the country life. She told them excitedly of the adventures she had on her wonderful horse. They would smile and probably laugh to themselves thinking those adventures were largely made up, although they weren’t.

To be so young, to have a horse that was the envy of all her friends, and to ride through villages and hillsides so freely was a young girls dream come true. Her friends numbered not only the local kids, but also the calves, goats and sheep, not to mention the cats in the village which she would feed fish caught from the stream nearby.

As she grew she became a very proud young lady and a confident one. She felt the world was at her feet and why wouldn’t it be? She had all she could wish for.

Then came a day when she was talking about her horse and one of her uncles said to her, “Young lady, that’s not a horse.”

“Of course it’s a horse, don’t be so silly,” she replied.

“No, my girl, look in this book. You see? It’s a donkey..”

She looked at the picture, and sure enough it looked very much like her horse. In fact as she looked at pictures of horses, and compared them to her own, it pretty soon became evident that she had for the last three years been riding a donkey, and a pretty ropey one at that.

Her life did change a little after that. She would study the animal encyclopedia often and she became an authority on the animals about the village. While she kept it quietly hidden within, she decided not to trust people quite so freely.

She loved her donkey – but now he was ‘just’ a donkey. Something was lost that would never be regained, and some of the girls cousins would tease her about her ‘horse’.

And then came a day when all the children were playing in an area far from the village, in an abandoned farm. There was a well there, and through some mishap a child ended up falling into the dark hole and down into the water. Such things had happened before, and this would not be the first child that drowned in an abandoned well. The other children ran back towards the distant village to try to get help. In the cold black water far below it was clear the frightened boy would not last for very long. He was already too weak to pull himself up on the rope that held the bucket far below in the well.

Calling down to him, she told the boy to tie the rope around his chest. She was far too weak to pull him up, but she called to the aging donkey, and he trotted over to the side of the well.

She took the rope from the well and looped it around her donkey’s neck, and began leading it steadily away. This weight was nothing for the old, but still stout little donkey, and very easily the child began to climb up towards the light. In a few minutes he was standing beside the well, wet and frightened, but otherwise unharmed.

From that day on, no one teased her about her donkey.

Horse? Donkey? Who cares. It worked.

Part of this course deals with the value of understanding perspective and seeing the big picture. It’s easy for us to get caught up in our own sometimes narrow view of the world. In this advertisement published by The Guardian Newspaper in the United Kingdom we see a great illustration of ‘perspective’.

Do you have any examples in your own life how you found that a changed perspective totally altered the outcome you eventually tried to achieve?