Excerpts from Zen and the Art of Mission Design

by Jan Griebe, Ph.D.

Excerpts

from the Foreward

Contained in the atmosphere that surrounds us is a perpetually unfolding, living panorama of premeditated, pre-staged actions that together create our reality in chaotic unison. At the foundation of this magnificent process is a relatively simple but profound system through which concepts are converted to reality. ZEN and Applications of MISSION DESIGN discusses that system, its related theory, and its underlying dynamics through narratives originating from actual case studies. Philosophy, theory, and application are interwoven through the use of metaphor and are designed to leave behind a message that readers will understand and be able to apply effectively to their careers as well as their personal lives.

The first three chapters are dedicated to the discussion of some of the higher-level concepts and may require a little more effort than subsequent chapters. I strongly suggest that the reader cover these in sequence as they serve as the foundation for the remainder of the book.

Enjoy!

from Chapter 1 ...Defining Missions

Since I am almost always asked, ‘why is it important to define a mission?’ I contemplated the response I would use that day assuming that this project would be no exception. Sitting quietly at my assigned desk, I searched for options available to me after having conducted this session on previous occasions.

While roaming the corridors of my memory, an image long since forgotten emerged from beneath varying shades of darkness. I saw myself in the early days of my career feverishly writing on a chalkboard. A small group of young men in plaid shirts and khaki pants engrossed in the discovery of new learning hung on every concept I presented. They provided the details I needed to prove my theory. In return, I provided creative solutions to lingering problems. The memories of the chemistry, the dynamics, the awesome results, the wow, was what I would draw on to provide the motivation I needed. I lingered there, revisiting their faces and recapturing the intensity, the focus, and the shear joy of being in the midst of this event. Then the memory faded, and for a second I wondered if that was really the way it was.

But today would be different I unnecessarily reminded myself, because each group had been different, no more, no less, both different and yet the same. The question remained, ‘what would I say to this group?’ What compelling message would I leave, and how would I deliver it?

I pondered the conditions under which Roger and I had been awarded this contract. The complexity of the dynamics involved in defining this mission was wide ranged. Three large companies, all of which had previously been competitors, had created a limited liability corporation through which they would jointly pursue a multi-billion dollar contract to manage and operate a large nuclear laboratory. Each of the three companies possessed distinctively different skills. Consequently, each placed emphasis on the aspects of the mission that fit most closely within its area of expertise. One company possessed significant strengths in nuclear research, while the second firm’s strengths fell in the area of engineering and construction. The third player placed significant value on environmental technologies. All three of these elements, engineering, research, and environmental technologies, were of significant importance to the success of the mission. Due to the competitive nature of these entities, and since the contribution of each player was of equal value, defining the mission required arbitration. Our firm’s reputation in the field of mission theory led us to the role of arbitrators of this process.

Since the task involved both leading the discovery of an appropriate mission and creating a consensus among the disparate groups, our mission included both defining and integrating the mission concept. To accomplish this we would use a process for defining missions that was unavailable through any other source.

After contemplating the situation for some time, I decided I needed a break. A stiff cup of coffee might quicken my intuitive process and with appropriate motivation, I might, like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, deliver a delightful surprise.

The clock ticked, and as I drank the last drop of coffee from my cup, its hands arrived on five minutes to the hour. Inspiration appeared in the near distance as the caffeine kicked in. As it crystallized, my energy level rose. Finally, as visual images of myself emerged, an internal dialog began. I was on!

I left my cubicle and headed for the auditorium. Arriving at the rear of the room, I hesitated while I imagined myself walking down the carpeted isle towards the stage. I watched as I climbed the stairs and then moved across the stage to its center.

Still watching, I imagined myself taking a position in the center of the stage. From there, I heard myself say, ‘I’d like to tell a story to those of you who might ask why it’s important to define a mission.’

At this moment, I knew the exact course I would take. Following the same path I had mentally rehearsed, I advanced down the carpeted aisle, up the stairs and to the center of the stage. From there I began, “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, my name is Jan Griebe. As many of you know, my partner, Dr. Roger Griebe, and I have been asked to assist you in developing a mission for the company you are currently in the process of forming. Roger will be joining us in a few moments. In the meantime, I’d like to share with you a story.” ...

from Chapter 8 ...Assessing the Management System

... Again Roger initiated the discussion, “Strategies are the intellectual structure through which the execution of the mission is focused. Good strategies are made up of a thoughtful mix of philosophy, function, logistics, and timing. They are handy in that they allow the mission to be subdivided into accomplishable components. Together strategies connect and intertwine like neurological networks in the brain, guiding the development of the mission while ideas are converted from thoughts to physical realities. ...

... Broke/fix strategies limit the mission’s ability to envision its long-range success in enough detail to produce strategies necessary to carry it through the duration of its life expectancy. The primary motivating factor behind a broke/fix strategy is the condition of urgency. Urgent conditions cause the mission to shift its focus from a futuristic view, in which time allows for many actions to occur in sequence, to a set of conditions that collapses time into an immediate window where many things must be accomplished simultaneously. In a collapsed-time state, the perception of the size and volume of tasks often becomes overwhelming, allowing urgency to become the primary sorting criteria. Once this takes place, the mission slips into a state where crisis becomes routine and adherence to a long-range plan becomes less important. ...

from Chapter 10 ...Problem Solving Diagnostics

Diagnostics had become the mainstay of our business long before the concept of management assessments entered the consciousness of this industry. Even though diagnostics were readily employed, a firm definition of the concept remained undeveloped. We were almost always asked to determine why a particular problem existed. Sometimes we were asked to establish a root cause; however, this was usually not the case because root cause analyses were relatively new, and they have been traditionally more closely associated with technical issues than management issues. So when the term “management assessment” was first introduced, it was used as a tool through which a broad-based diagnostic could occur.

It wasn’t until a few years later that the differences between diagnostics and management assessments were actualized. Once this distinction was made, management assessments became the instruments most often used to determine the effectiveness of the management system. Diagnostics, on the other hand, were used to identify causes of problems and designed so that recommendations could lead to project plans and solutions.

The nuclear industry was in the early stages of this thought process when we were asked to participate in a management assessment of a national laboratory. Our client, the assistant under secretary for environment, safety, and health, wanted to know why reactor irradiation samples designated for use in determining the degree of embrittlement occurring within one of the research reactors had been removed three years earlier and left on a shelf untested. Since a team of technical experts was already on board, a management team was assembled and asked to determine how weaknesses in the management system contributed to the issue. Roger and I were invited to be a part of that team.

Through our contacts in Washington, D.C., Roger and I had already been asked to develop a management assessment methodology. Fortunately we had finished the development of the methodology just days before DOE headquarters decided they wanted to review management practices at this particular lab.

I remember clearly the day we arrived on location. It was early Spring, about 7:30 a.m. on a Monday morning. Most of the other team members were already there by the time Roger and I arrived. Dew hung heavily on the grass and leaves as the sun crept across the early morning sky. Morning sunlight danced across the soft white petals of the dogwood blossoms as the process of issuing badges began.

While engaged in this process, I imagined, that this was an ancient ritual, a ceremonial rite of passage, the formal act of accepting one into the community as dignitaries, people to be escorted, catered to, and in some ways feared or with which to be reckoned, not because of our physical strength or our desires to rule and conquer. No, we were here to judge and, in satisfying those judgments, would bring change in the carefully crafted psychological landscape that held together the grand illusion that the work carried out here was important - so important that normal safety and environmental precautions could be circumvented, ignored, or employed at will.

World-renowned experts spent their lives here. Some had helped win World War II. The efforts of men who had worked here had contributed to the Korean and Vietnam wars. Almost all those remaining were to contribute either directly or indirectly in the fall of the Iron Curtain and thus the winning of the Cold War. Their sheer presence was immense. They were larger than life. In ancient times they would have been gods. Many of them were celebrities, the top of the world’s scientific ranks, the movers and shakers in many circles, the insiders on thinking critical to the world’s political structures. In some respects they were the keepers of world peace in that much of the work done here contributed to maintaining a balance of power. This balance was largely maintained through the capability to design and participate in the development of means for mass destruction.

We were sent there to judge the actions of these men. I was the master-mind behind the assessment criteria and the youngest, least-experienced, yet full-fledged member of the team. Flanked on both my left and right were players of magnitudes, in most cases, equal to those being judged. How I landed there, half the average age of the team membership, judging this group and taking the lead on a major section of the assessment, is a mystery I am not yet able to explain beyond believing that it was part of my destiny.

Those escorting us had decided that the team would be processed for clearance in mass. As each person was cleared, we were removed from behind the turnstile into a cleared but carefully guarded area just beyond the entrance. I was the first to be cleared.

As I waited for the others, I examined what I could see of the facility through the plate-glass windows that surrounded me. One- and two-story buildings made of concrete block perched on the sides of a rolling landscape. Streets, just wide enough for two cars to pass, wound around the buildings and through the hillsides like well-worn footpaths. Stately pines reached towards a bright blue sky dotted with soft white clouds. Oak, maple, and walnut trees reigned in a supreme fashion over the landscape, some of which was cleared with early morning dew glistening off blades of grass sheered to a consistent height. Further on I could see slightly taller buildings made of red brick and trimmed in white. Dark green shutters framed rectangular window panes stacked in rows of eight.

As I stood there, waiting alone for the others, I felt the emergence of a slow moving current driving upward from some place deep inside of me. Had I known this place before or was this feeling associated with an accumulation of stories that I had heard. What was it communicating? How did it fit within the scope of the role I would play here?

Rounding the corner, I could see a new car approaching. The early morning sunrays danced off a glistening, shining coat of silver paint, characterizing an automobile far newer than its surroundings. In the contrast I could see that not much had changed. In fact, few external changes had been made to this site since its original construction. With this realization came a longing for a simpler time when people walked across narrow streets to borrow cups of sugar from neighbors, a time when a sense of direction was inherent to almost everyone, when people fought for human rights, when family served as the centerpiece of everyday life, and when war was fought with honor. The longing lingered even after I adjusted my senses to the reality that whether or not those times were simpler was more a matter of perception than fact.

Roger was the next person cleared, and as he emerged from beyond the turnstile, I commented, “Look at this place. It’s straight out of the fifties.”

He laughed, “A good portion of the scenery before you was actually built a number of years before you were born. If I remember correctly, work began here in the early forties, prior to the end of World War II.”

“It’s sort of spooky that everything is so much the same, don’t you think?” I reflected.

He continued, “Well, much of the exterior was probably built in the forties and fifties and, in some cases more recently. But don’t be fooled by what you see. Technology inside that infrastructure is way in front of what the marketplace calls leading edge. This is Buck Rogers land.”

Shortly thereafter the rest of the team joined us. An escort showed us to our offices where our project was officially kicked off. The team leader, who was a DOE employee from DOE headquarters, initiated the meeting through a formal round of self-introduction. Through this discussion I developed an immense appreciation of the talent available through a large government entity. At the head of the table sat the team leader. He had personally selected the team members. He had had working contact with all of them or knew them directly, with me as the one exception. He started the introduction with the man on his left, a Ph.D. whom the team leader had known for twenty-four years. He listed off the accomplishments attributed to this person along with his personal knowledge of this man’s superior work and commitment beyond the call of duty. He continued around the table, until he came to me.

At this point he stopped, silently read a biography that had been provided to him by Roger, looked up at the men around the table and said, “We have a new member among us. If this biography is accurate, she is half your age and has twice your IQ.”

Half-hearted chuckles rattled across the thin air that hung between us. Few women, very few women indeed, had graced the professional ranks of this group. The stage was set.

Roger sat next to me, and on the other side of him sat our friend Jim, whose introduction closed the circle and brought to a conclusion this portion of the meeting. With that out of the way the team leader asked me to lead the discussion of the methodology. I did so, and it became obvious, due to the nature of the assignments, that Roger, Jim and I were not only members of the team, but we would also provide additional technical support to team management. The three of us were assigned the heart of the assessment. Roger looked at the contractor’s corporate management system. I was responsible for reviewing the laboratory’s management system. Jim looked at the technical system, and the remainder of the team was assigned various parts of the laboratory’s productive axis.

With our assignments in place we retreated to the individual offices to which we had been assigned. Reams of documents waited there. Roger, Jim, and I decided to take an hour or so to get organized, after which we would walk across the lab grounds to the cafeteria for lunch.

Tulips and daffodils grew along the edge of the path to the cafeteria. The grass was bright green and the coolness in the air lingered. I absorbed the beauty of the day as we approached the cafeteria building. Suddenly my attention was diverted. Strips of yellow tape with the magenta markings of which I was most familiar, having toured the insides of reactor areas in nuclear plants on many occasions, stretched along the sides of the path and down the walkway all the way to the door of the cafeteria. I surveyed the area. Large areas near other buildings were also cordoned off.

I pointed this out to Roger and Jim and asked, “Can this be true? Is the entire front yard of the cafeteria contaminated with radioactive debris?”

Jim offered, “It certainly would lead you to believe that.”

Needless to say, we were more than a little skeptical about eating in this environment. Only later would we realize the implications of what we saw. We finished our lunch quickly and promptly returned to our designated offices, where we spent the remainder of the day and the early evening hours pouring over the material and making notes on the lines of questioning each of us would pursue.

The sun had fallen at least an hour before we left the site. Very briefly we scouted the small town in search of a restaurant that would not have already been overwhelmed by members of our team. We needed time to discharge the energy we had accumulated during the day. When it was obvious that choices were limited, Jim asked if I liked catfish. Even though I don’t particularly enjoy catfish dishes, I knew that Roger did, so I agreed to go with the two of them to a small place that had been recommended to Jim by one of his interviewees.

“It isn’t too far,” Jim promised. “It’s my understanding that its about fifteen miles east on that road that runs past the airport.”

We found the restaurant with relative ease. As we pulled up to the front, we could see a small clapboard house with a tin roof nestled underneath a canopy of ancient oaks. A porch on the front welcomed us with two friendly rocking chairs. Inside a warm fire radiated just enough heat to curb the chill in the air. We were sent to wait on the back porch for a few minutes while a table was prepared. I had walked to the edge of the porch when I realized that the structure was perched on the downside of a small hill, and a creek ran under the edge of the elevated porch and downward through the woods and eventually, I imagined all the way to the sea. As I watched it bubble and gurgle its shallow ripples across the top of the rocks, I thought about the innocence in the beauty of nature...

from Chapter 19 ...Job Design

... I moved to the white board in the corner of the room. “You will remember,” I began, “that The Theory of Missions™ teaches us that for a mission to manifest as a reality, a system must form around it, and this system contains three interacting components. Those components are the mission, the environment, and the commitment. What we find when we investigate each of these components is that, in general, the primary work associated with the system is contained in the mission component, that resources are found in the environment, and the commitment component determines what will be valued. Further we learn that these three interacting components replicate themselves over and over millions of times per day in missions both large and small and that through this very elegant but complex system, reality as we know it is held in a perpetual state of evolving dynamics.

“What we haven’t discussed is how this perpetual state of dynamics is held in place throughout the various dimensions of the mission. Our current method for seeing mission structure is by looking at it in a one-dimensional or flat format. Today let’s imagine that we can see a mission as a holographic, living image. Try to imagine the mission system by seeing clearly each of its components connected in a three-dimensional format.” ...

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