Reflections from Someone Still Learning to Lead
If you come by the Obiter office often enough, I will probably try to show you a video called “Give Me Compliments.” It was made by Kollectivet, a group of musically inclined German comics. The video is absurd; it went viral on Instagram years ago; and its premise is simple. The singer wants compliments for the simplest, most quotidian tasks expected of him. One memorable line is: “I dressed myself today! No, freaking, compliments!”
At the risk of explaining a joke, “Give Me Compliments” draws its comic value from a kernel of Kantian thought. It is not laudable to do the bare minimum. Of course the singer was not complimented for getting dressed, or going to work on time, or merely “doing his best.” Those are the background expectations of our society. And that brings up the topic of this week’s reflection.
WHAT WE EXPECT OF LEADERS
We hold leaders to a higher standard – a different ‘bare minimum.’ Leaders can forget that, and as the Editor of Obiter, I know I have. When complaints flow in despite my effort, time, and enthusiasm, I instinctively want to parry them with references to why Obiter is running well.
In doing so, I would be forgetting the lesson of “Give Me Compliments.” Running the paper well is the bare minimum expected of me. There is nothing laudable about getting articles, or printing the paper on time, or merely doing my best. I do not deserve compliments for doing what is expected of me as an Editor. I took on the office, and I took on the responsibilities.
I thought about this recently, in response to some hard-hitting feedback about Obiter. Why do I find “Give Me Compliments” so funny, when sometimes I act no differently? This week I tried to find the disconnect, and in the process, I reflected on what I have learned about leadership through Obiter.
CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM
Success is exciting. It is also distracting, and the bright lights of a well executed project can relegate important deficiencies to the shadows. While basking in the glow of good work returning results, I occasionally lose sight of my core responsibilities – for example, by failing to communicate effectively with our team. So cue the Larry David credits, and watch me mistake an accomplishment for a good job as Editor.
A good leader can handle successes without losing perspective. But that is a learned response. Accomplishments make us feel that we are in control — our actions turned a desire into reality. That feeling can be distracting when we just focus on what is going well, while glossing over our failures. Keeping track of both is the learned response.
If you lead a team (especially volunteers), and you fail to explain how the team’s work adds to the final product, engagement will wane, and the accomplishments will cease. For your team members to share in your sense of satisfaction, they need a leader who communicates their roles in the project.
I could do a better job of communicating the value our team members add. That leadership quality is not just for editors; it translates neatly to legal practice. The most frustrating assignments I completed as a summer law student were the ones where I had no context, and no explanation for the timelines expected of me. When every assignment was due “tomorrow,” and some assignments came with clear reasons for their urgency, I found it hard not to prioritize the better-explained work.
A critic on this point will not be satisfied to hear that the paper is printed on time, or that sponsorship is up this year. It takes a lot of work to be Editor, and to carry out the attached duties, but that is no excuse for poor communication.
YOUR ROLE IS TEMPORARY, BUT MISTAKES LAST
Mistakes matter more when you have less time. Typically, Obiter’s Editor-in-Chief serves a one-year term. The Editor has eight months to oversee and publish twelve issues. In the preceding summer, the Editor appoints the Editorial Board, and the team works to secure around $15,000 from sponsors (so the paper can break even).
We missed a publication deadline last year, and by that, I mean we cancelled an issue. Our team had a hard time finding content last January, and the consequences compounded. We had no time for a make-up issue, and I had to communicate that to our sponsors. Some of the content we received for the cancelled issue was pushed to the next, but some became stale. An even harder conversation was with our writers, when I had to explain that their pieces – which were good – could not be published, because of our errors. Our content comes from volunteers, and we probably lost authors as a result. As Editor, I felt responsible for those consequences, which could have been avoided if we had more time.
This is my second year as Editor, and I am grateful for this second term. Last year, I learned hard lessons. Our paper has small tolerances for editorial error, and any mistake quickly attracts criticism. Our readers see the print issues, but much of the Editor’s role is unseen. This year, I have only contributed a few printed pieces to Obiter. The bulk of my role is managing a team of intelligent, creative students who are stretched thinly between overlapping extra-curricular commitments.
I still find it hard to take criticism about Obiter, but I am working on that. Readers point out typos and articles they dislike. Staff comment on our internal operations. Those are fair bases for feedback, but fairness does not make it easier to take. I am no athlete, but it sometimes feels like I am playing baseball, and having just barely slid to safety, someone has the nerve to say: “your uniform is a bit dirty.”
Instinctively, I want to point out what Obiter is doing well, but that misses the point. I signed up for this role; I benefit from it, and the responsibilities matter. Mistakes compound, and my short term as Editor could have lasting effects.
YOU CANNOT TEACH INTEREST
Earlier this year, I described Obiter’s succession planning as a keenness contest. I advanced quickly from editorial cartoonist to Editor because I care about this paper, and I showed ambition. Many of the skills required to run Obiter overlap with the skills Bay Street law firms look for: research, writing, communication, time-management, and teamwork. I think there are many students who have the talent to run this paper. Only a few ever consider doing so.
There are many projects I would like to complete as Editor. I am learning that only some are possible. Our editors have different sized roles with the paper, and while I am willing to commit all of my spare time to the paper, that would be an unreasonable expectation of our whole editorial class.
A good leader can help people discover their interest in something, but a leader cannot create that interest. It has to come from within. Every year, Obiter’s creative output is limited by the amount of time its editors contribute to its projects. We are having a great year, and that is thanks to editors who have done more than fulfill their official roles.
I am still learning how to reach a balance between the time I invest, the time I expect of our editors, and the real concern of volunteer burnout.
Obiter can be a vehicle for our editors to do remarkable things. I have five months and seven issues left as Editor, and in that time, it is my job to lead the team. The lessons I have learned so far will help, and I am optimistic about what we can do together.
When this year ends, Obiter’s impromptu leadership training course will enrol new students. In deciding which students those will be, keenness is all.