“I’m pained by how much of my life I spent failing to see and respond to the humanity of the people around me,” Lou began. “I was so deeply self-deceived that I felt like the whole world was against me. My employees didn’t care enough, work hard enough, think smart enough. My wife didn’t show enough appreciation or support. My son—” Lou paused. “My son was an embarrassment to our family, wasting his potential almost out of spite. Everything was everyone else’s fault. I was convinced I deserved better.
“Eventually things came to a head, and it all happened at once. Cory, my boy, was caught using drugs his senior year of high school. I almost didn’t speak to him for the entire time he was in youth detention, and things didn’t get any better when he came home. He was rude and belligerent, and he broke our family rules. Within three months, he was arrested again and went to a treatment program.
“At the same time, five of my six executives walked out of the company, including Kate. I later learned that some people in the company were calling it the March Meltdown. I couldn’t believe they would abandon me like that, after all I’d given them.
“I was hopelessly lost, unable to see how I was contributing to the conflicts in my deteriorating relationships.
“And the relationship where I felt most justified and blameless was with my son. I tried all the punishments and rewards I could think of with Cory, but it all backfired. It took me a long time to understand why.”
Lou’s mouth twisted. “No matter how often I claimed that what I was doing was for Cory’s own good—the grounding, the bribes, the lectures, the curfews—the truth was that each of my responses was inward. It was all about me.
“I wanted our family to be viewed in a certain way, wanted our neighbors to think the Herberts had it all together. Cory’s behavior threatened that. And it threatened my identity as a successful parent. He was ungrateful, and spoiled, and undisciplined. He was an obstacle to the life and reputation I was trying to create. The truth is, I cared about my image more than our relationship.
“It’s the same mistake I was making at work,” Lou continued. “I claimed my actions were all for the good of the company, but my ego was at play. Some part of me was threatened by the competency of others. I felt like I had to prove that I deserved to be CEO, had to defend my image as the ‘right man for the job,’ so I shot holes in other people’s ideas and seized control instead of trusting them.”
“I bet that went over well,” Tom said.
“About as well as you’d guess,” Lou said. “Anytime you objectify others, you provoke resistance. I wasn’t letting my leaders lead. My own self-image was more important to me than our company’s success. And my executive team was tired of feeling unseen and unappreciated, and so they left.
“Looking back, though, it’s almost funny how unsurprising the escalation was, both at work and at home. I wasn’t seeing my son or my team as people, and so they resisted me in just about everything I did.
“Most conflicts follow this same predictable pattern. Objectification invites objectification. Justification provokes justification. Blame and excuse spark defensiveness and counterblame. The inward mindset is as contagious as the common cold.”
“What Lou is saying is critical to understand,” Theo said. “When we are self-deceived and inward toward others, we invite them to be inward in return. And what else could we expect? If we don’t see and care about their humanity—their needs and wants and hopes and fears—if we are indifferent, manipulative, or even hostile toward them, then their defensiveness, resistance, and hostility should come as no surprise.”
“But what is truly fascinating and terrible,” Lou said, “is how we use the negative responses of others—the very behavior that we helped provoke—as further evidence to support our distorted views of them.
“We call this dynamic collusion, where two inward parties are mutually inviting the very behavior or response they claim to resent in the other, almost as though they both had agreed to keep the cycle going. It’s the way that self-deception can spread like a sickness.”
Lou paused. “I’m curious,” he said. “Where have you seen collusion show up here at Zagrum?”
Tom and Ana looked sideways at each other, each wondering what the other was thinking.
The room was oddly quiet.
“What is it?” Lou asked. “Believe me, nothing can shock this old cat.”
“Well,” Tom said slowly. Then, thinking better of it, he looked at Ana. “Should we talk it through now?”
“As good a time as any, I guess,” Ana said, unconvinced.
“The collusion is between our two teams,” Tom said.
“Of course!” Lou said with a smile. “The old Product and Sales collusion!”
Tom and Ana shot each other quizzical looks.
“That one comes back to life every few years if it’s not carefully watched,” Lou said.
“Well, it’s alive and well,” Ana said, only slightly relieved.
“Okay, then,” Lou said. “How do you know it’s a collusion?”
“Well,” Ana said, “because both of our teams are contributing to the problem.”
“That’s a solid indicator. But collusion is even more involved than that,” Lou said. “When parties in a conflict are inward toward each other, it’s almost like they’ve decided to work together to keep the conflict going. Let me describe how it played out between me and Cory, then we can look at the dynamic between your teams.”