I and It - two directions for living and working

178px-Martin_Buber_portraitMartin Buber, a towering philosopher of the last century, points out that there are essentially two choices in our relationships with people.In an I-You relationship, the other is a person to us. Mysterious, never completely knowable, and of infinite value simply because they are.In an I-It relationship, the other person is a means to an end, of no more interest than an object or any other entity that could give me what I want. An 'it' is simply there:

to sell toto do what I want them to doto make me feel betterto show me how talented I amto provide for meto bolster my self-esteemto be the target of my scornas an escape from something elseto idoliseto be dismissedto get out of my wayto make me my coffeeto deliver the figuresto make me look goodto blameto be manipulatedto take my mind off thingsto make me happyto ignore

An 'it' is anything but mysterious, simply of value to me as long as they perform according to my expectations.We've built the world of work around turning people into 'it', because it looks like it makes things manageable. That people are mysterious and unpredictable is inconvenient. It makes us anxious. So as long as people are objects and can be understood, it seems we can have them do what we want, and we can organise and corral them on a grand scale. And because of this we've built our society and many of our relationships with others in the same way.The tragedy in all of this for each of us is that we're never separate from our relationship with others. Relate in an 'I-It' way to others and pretty quickly you start to become an 'it' yourself.I-You relating starts by seeing the extraordinary, unfathomable human being that's present with you in any conversation, in any interaction. You could start next time you buy a coffee, next time you reach the supermarket checkout, next time you speak with a colleague, or with your loved ones.Being in the world with this way is not only the foundation of compassion, it's the necessary step for freeing ourselves from all the ways we too have become objects, means-to-an-end rather than fully, courageously alive.

A yes isn't a yes unless you can say no

Unless you're willing to offer a genuine, clear 'no', we can never be sure that your 'yes' really means anything at all.The burdens we make for ourselves and others by saying yes but meaning no cause endless difficulty. Agreements that everyone knows are insincere from the start. Commitments taken on with a heavy heart. Deferring, delaying, avoiding what's important. And the institutionalisation of yes that isn't really yes leads to relationships, organisations, perhaps even societies burdened by resentment and insincerity.The saddest part of all of this is that people who say yes to everything are usually just trying to help. Say yes now, deal with the fallout later.How about finding a way to say 'no' with courage, clarity and compassion so that we can free a 'yes' for what brings life and possibility to ourselves and others?

Nobody's irreplaceable

"Nobody's irreplaceable", they say.And one sense, of course, it's true because we've made it that way. Most organisations are set up to minimise the differences between people. Job descriptions, competency frameworks, 'behaviours' all attempt to smooth out quirks, individuality, weirdness so that someone else can slot right in.It's (apparently) much easier to manage things that way. But how much it diminishes people, calls on them to hold back what only they can offer.You, replaceable? People might say so. But it's only really true if you're showing up as part of the machine, a cog like any other, no rough edges, no surprises.We've set up a world which obscures the unique contribution that each person has to make. A world that encourages you to avoid truly showing up because it's unpredictable. But we need you. If you don't bring what only you have to bring, it doesn't get brought.Here's a wonderful poem by Mary Oliver that has another way of saying all this.

It begins at Olduvai

Olduvai Hand AxeThis is the Olduvai hand axe. It sits in a far corner of the British Museum, nestled among artifacts from earliest human history. It's around 1.2 million years old. It's strikingly beautiful. And it marks the beginning of the distinctively human practices of tool-making and art that lead directly to what you'll find here.Hand axes are among the first great inventions of humanity, and probably came into being at the dawn of the development of both language and culture. They made it possible for the first time for people to cut with skill and precision, and would have opened up the possibility of turning animal skins and wood into products that went far beyond the immediate need for food.They mark the moment when we extended ourselves from living in the world as it is to actively and consciously shaping it, when we first began to create the complex web of tools, words, work and culture that - a million or so years later - could bring about the society of today.Millions of hand axes have been discovered around the world, but what makes the Olduvai axe so striking is that it's much bigger than can be comfortably held in the hand. Its size renders it unusable for most purposes. In all other respects it's a perfect tool - beautifully balanced, sharp edged, symmetrical - the result of many hours of skilled and careful labour. But it's also a work of art, with a purpose that is a much symbolic as practical, an expression of the artfulness of its maker. That it was made at all reflects the human concern for beauty, for creativity and ingenuity, and for expression. And it's deeply entwined with the practical world of making and doing, the work of providing for a life well lived.The industrial age of the 20th century taught us that efficiency and predictability were to be prized above all else. Big organisations, mass production, standardisation all became possible. But the rise in living standards this brought still left many people's experience of life flat, mundane. When we've tired of climbing the ladder or pursuing status, we find that living fully, fiercely, artfully and courageously are needed to lift us beyond the ordinary into the life and work from which we can make our fullest contribution. The Olduvai hand axe, from the dawn of our history, is a reminder of this - and the inspiration for everything that follows.