In an antiheroic organization, the company can be about something more than the charismatic hero, more even than the hero's "vision" for it. The leader and the company aren't one and the same. The antiheroic leader -- who is guided by who-not-how and is always inviting others to take their turns leading -- makes room for others to feel proprietary about what the company is. That encourages people to imagine meaningful ways they can help form the vision and make it real. They see an unusual chance to have an impact.
An antiheroic organization, as a result, is able to enlist contributions from people who would never involve themselves with charismatic organizations because they would never be interested in an enterprise whose direction they couldn't affect. By making room for them, you attract people who aren't followers, who aren't looking for the kind of leader who will save them from the anxiety of responsibility.
Instead of the parent-child relationship that exists between charismatic leaders and their followers, the antiheroic leader ends up with an organization of adults.
Antihero's Rule No. 4:
Forget superman. Be a part of something.
And finally, here's the command to resist emotional temptation -- because the adulation that comes with leading charismatically is seductive. And when you stop building a charismatic/heroic organization, what you will lose is easy to see: You don't get to be a hero anymore. You'll lose something else, too, though. You'll lose your isolation.
Doug Mellinger, the PRT founder, in telling the story of his conversion epiphany, describes how he's come to wonder why anybody would want it the charismatic hero way. "I've had that feeling -- of being the guy whose desk everything ends up on," he said. "It was horrible. Every morning I'd wake up and pray that somebody out there would save my ass. And I said to myself, 'I can't live like this.' And then I realized" -- he slowed down his narration here, lowered his voice for emphasis -- "I don't have to.
"Forget the hero stuff," Mellinger said. "I don't want a hero mentality anywhere in our business -- anywhere in my life. Everybody thinks you have to be a hero to build something. Bull. Do it together. Ask the right questions. Stuff doesn't have to be so hard."
If what you lose is obvious, then so is what you gain: Give up being a hero and, suddenly, you don't always have to perform like one anymore. Not only don't you have to supply all the momentum, all the know-how, all the emotion, you also don't have to fear that if you stop, so will everything else. When it's all about you -- the cult of the charismatic CEO -- you're separated from others. Being a hero is lonely. As an antihero, you get to be a part of what you've created. You get to be fed. At a time in American life when it may be what people crave as much as anything, you get to be part of a community.
Michael S. Hopkins is an Inc. editor-at-large. Research assistance: Charlene Niles, Inc. editorial information manager.
Are Bush and Chirac More Alike Than They Realize?
By Sasha Issenberg
In the struggle for George W. Bush's soul, where Crawford, Texas, and the Ivy League are his yin and yang, the greatest contradiction is not that he likes both to clear brush and to toss horseshoes. As a wartime president, he has been able to make decisions that look cowboy -- strong-willed, forceful, go-it-alone -- but that are informed by corporate leadership techniques likely picked up as a Harvard M.B.A. "He has been decisive and clear," says James O'Toole, professor of leadership at USC. "Bush has not been paralyzed. His administration is very good at the big, bold action."
Along with the television pundits, management experts, too, pay close attention to how those in charge behave in wartime. What they see suggests that, despite the different demands of leadership in government and business, there may be something to learn from the styles of Bush, Blair, Chirac -- and perhaps even Hussein.
Jeffrey Sonnenfeld of the Yale School of Management gives Bush an A+ for "thoughtful risk-taking" -- "unlike the grades he got when he was back here on campus." Bush, however, gets a C from Sonnenfeld for his ability to set expectations and criticism of his use of personal dynamism: "A trip to the Azores was hardly global outreach."
British Prime Minister Tony Blair is the only wartime leader who defied public opinion at home, which made his arguments most credible. "Blair showed incredible honesty and integrity," says Sonnenfeld. "It's amazing how he put his own self-interest in jeopardy." The suspicions about what was really driving French President Jacques Chirac -- business ties with Iraq? a political appeal to anti-American attitudes? -- were evidence that he was not being straightforward about his motivations, says Harvard Business School professor Abraham Zaleznik. Plus, there is a danger when boldness becomes narrow-minded stubbornness. "The lesson from Chirac," says O'Toole, "is that it is dangerous to believe that you're right. [Leadership] requires humility and a willingness to understand that there are two sides to every issue. There is a lot of George Bush in Chirac and a lot of Chirac in Bush."
Instead of dismissing his critics, Blair engaged them -- in particular, Sonnenfeld notes, by "seeking out an audience on television with hostile interviewers to vent the worst of it." Says O'Toole: "Showing respect for people who disagree with you is important -- you really want to encourage healthy dissent." You also want to offer convincing visions of the future. "Bush didn't talk enough about what a free country could mean," says Sonnenfeld. Nor did Chirac offer a vision. "Rather than offering an alternative, he was essentially in denial of the problem," Sonnenfeld says.
It is, of course, too late for Saddam Hussein to learn from his mistakes. "He gave the appearance of being a good communicator," says O'Toole, "but it depended on force. In any organization, you can force people to comply, but that doesn't mean they really buy into it."
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