Alas, it’s time once again to revisit VUCA. Early in the pandemic, I gave two presentations about dealing with uncertainty. Institutions were struggling to respond to COVID. Many people were freaking out. But not me: I had a conceptual framework that helped me make sense of what was going on. Now that we’re again living through uncertainty, I wanted to share what I said at the time. Turns out, I never wrote about the framework itself. Let’s correct that. When contexts shift, it’s harder to act skillfully. The end of the Cold War was such a time. The tense order that emerged after World War II had ended; military leaders had to make decisions in unfamiliar territory. In response, the U.S. Army War College produced VUCA, a framework for describing unsettling contexts. It’s an acronym of their four main characteristics: Volatility: things are changing fast and often. You may understand what’s happening, but the pace of change makes it hard to respond skillfully. Uncertainty: you may understand the challenge’s basic cause and effect, but not much else. Key knowledge might be missing, but you don’t know. Complexity: the challenge has too many factors and components to grok. You have access to information — perhaps too much to connect the dots. Ambiguity: the situation is unclear, even if you have information. Causal relationships aren’t obvious, and past experiences may not apply. These four characteristics are often rendered in a 2x2 matrix. One dimension measures the degree to which we can predict the results of our actions. The other measures how much we know. For example, if we can’t predict outcomes and lack reliable knowledge, we’re in ambiguity. If we understand the situation but things are changing rapidly, we’re facing volatility. Adapted from a diagram by Nate Bennett and G. James Lemoine in the Harvard Business Review As you may expect, different characteristics call for different responses. My understanding comes from Bob Johansen’s VUCA Prime framework, which I paraphrase here: Volatility calls for vision. Draw a clear, compelling picture of where you’re heading beyond the current turmoil. Uncertainty calls for understanding. Look past headlines to the deeper forces driving change. Complexity calls for clarity. Map the system; get a grip on the entities and relationships driving change. Ambiguity calls for agility. Take the next small step; get your bearings; correct course quickly. Keeping cool isn’t easy, but it can be done. It requires some detachment. Tune out the news and take a longer-term view. Read the Stoics. Ask yourself: what’s the worst that could happen? How much is actually under your control? How can you take care of yourself, your family, and your community? Managing and structuring information flows is crucial. You need systems that surface the right information — clear, trustworthy, timely, and aligned with your goals. Information architects can help, since our focus is designing environments that support insight and skillful action. Above all, don’t panic. Nobody guaranteed this would be an easy ride. Change is the nature of things. If you panic, you’ll freeze or thrash about; either response makes things worse. Business as usual isn’t in the cards for us, but acting skillfully can be. If you found these ideas useful, check out Johansen’s Leaders Make the Future, which offers ten skills leaders can develop to thrive in a VUCA world. Much of what I know about the subject comes from this practical, well-grounded book. (Aaand… I just realized there’s a new edition — time to re-visit!)

Conversations on the Traction Heroes podcast are proving highly relevant. To wit, episode 7 delves into how the questions we ask ourselves influence our ability to act skillfully. This came up in the context of dealing with uncertainty. Specifically, Harry brought to the conversation the following fragment from Rich Diviney’s book Masters of Uncertainty: To remain grounded in the sphere of what you know and control, cultivate a habit of asking yourself better questions. The brain operates with a question-answer mechanism: it continuously assesses the surroundings with questions and then conjures answers. This typically happens subliminally and instantly, faster than you can notice. You can, however, participate consciously in this process and influence your thoughts and feelings by introducing your own questions. When you introduce a question into conscious thought, the mind is compelled to come up with answers. The problem is that it’s all too common to default to reactive, negative, and sometimes emotion-laden questions such as “Why am I so bad at this?” or “Why can’t I succeed?” Your brain will immediately begin to give you answers to these—yet the answers will not lead to enlightenment. Rather, they will spiral you into further negativity and anxiety. Masters of Uncertainty steer their thoughts with better, more effective questions — questions that center on what they can ascertain and influence. Well aware that knowledge morphs into power, they prime their minds with inquiries like “What do I know? What can I control?” The brain can’t help but answer these questions in ways that put you at the helm. These are the inquiries that empower and hone your focus on traversing uncertainty, not succumbing to it. I hadn’t heard of Masters of Uncertainty before, but I’m reading it and hope to do a book notes post soon. Working with uncertainty is especially relevant now, given the changes rocking global markets. At least part of the secret to navigating turbulence is learning to keep your cool. It’s not a new idea (the Stoics and Buddhists said this centuries ago) but it’s worth revisiting — and internalizing. Traction Heroes ep. 7: Better Questions

During week 14 of the humanities crash course, I explored foundational myths of Western Culture — written during the Roman Empire when decadence was setting in. I paired them with a classic film about social decadence set in mid-20th century Rome. Readings Gioa’s recommendations were a bit more open-ended this week: books 1 and 2 of the Aeneid, book 1 of Ovid’s Metamorphoses, and “selected Roman poems and aphorisms.” Rather than read a whole book, I sought out some of these latter shorter works online. I also read the most famous section of the Satyricon. The Aeneid is one of the classic epic poems of antiquity. Written by Virgil between 29 and 19 BCE, it aimed to formalize founding myths for the Roman Empire. It’s a sort of sequel to the Iliad and explicitly echoes the Odyssey’s structure. Fortunately, I only had read the first two books: Book 1: As Aeneas sails toward Italy after the events of the Trojan war; the gods conjure a storm that scatters the fleet. Aeneas and his crew are shipwrecked on the coast of Libya. The goddess Venus guides them to nearby Carthage, where Queen Dido is building a new city. She asks Aeneas to tell his story. Book 2: Aeneas recounts the fall of Troy, focusing on the Trojan horse episode. Despite warnings, the Trojans bring the gift horse into the city, only to be overwhelmed by the Greek soldiers hiding inside. King Priam is killed in the ensuing fight; Aeneas is about to kill himself in despair but the ghost of Hector urges him to flee instead. I said “fortunately” because these poems were the least pleasant reading I’ve done so far in the course. Perhaps it’s due to the translation I used, but it might also be because this work was created to glorify the Roman emperor. Like most ideological art, I found it pompous and tedious. In many ways, Metamorphoses was its opposite. Written later, (2-8 CE,) its focus is mythology drawn from the classic Greek pantheon, but parsed through Roman sensibilities. The theme is transformation: gods, demigods, and humans shapeshift, becoming plants, animals, constellations, etc. to change the trajectory of events or escape suffering Like the Aeneid, Metamorphoses also explores the foundations of Roman imperial rule, but it comes to the subject from a more ironic and irreverent POV. By focusing on change, the poem has interesting parallels with Buddhist teachings and the I Ching. Given its tone, cadence, and subject matter, I enjoyed it more than the Aeneid. The third major work this week was Petronius’s Satyricon, arguably the first Western novel. It was written during the reign of emperor Nero (mid 1st-century CE,) and only fragments survive. They present the misadventures of Encolpius and his companions Giton (a former slave and teenage lover) and Ascyltus, a friend, antagonist, and former lover. The novel portrays a morally chaotic and decadent society reveling in excess, deception, and sensuous pleasures. I read the most famous section, Trimalchio’s feast, which provides vivid descriptions of Roman excesses during this time. Characters come across as tone-deaf — especially the nouveau riche, whose vulgarity and self-importance must have seemed outrageous even to people with moral standards very different from ours. I was surprised at how richly these characters were portrayed — and how little people have changed in two millennia. Audiovisual Music: Arias by Puccini and Verdi. This is the second time during the course I’ve listened to opera: a medium I love but don’t include much in my regular rotation. This was a good opportunity to revisit some of these magnificent works. Art: Gioia recommended looking at cave paintings. I punted. Several years ago, I saw Werner Herzog’s CAVE OF FORGOTTEN DREAMS, and had my fill for cave paintings. Cinema: I read the Satyricon this week because I saw Fellini’s adaptation in college. At the time, I also saw his LA DOLCE VITA. Even though LDV is the more famous of the two, my memory of it was fuzzier, so I chose to revisit it now. Marcello Mastroianni plays Marcello, a womanizing gossip journalist drifting through postwar Rome. He has serious aspirations as a novelist, but allows himself to be swept along by the seductive currents of Roman nightlife and celebrity culture. Like the Satyricon, we get story fragments rather than a unified plot. The fragments loosely echo the seven deadly sins and seven sacraments of the Catholic Church, framing the film as a kind of spiritual inventory of modern life. I was surprised this classic film was only available to stream through Plex. It was a poor experience, riddled with ads and useless subtitles. My Italian is rusty, but I got most of the film anyway. (I may start seeing other Italian and French movies without subtitles as practice.) Reflections The common thread this week was social decadence — especially the kind that takes hold when a society grows too wealthy and powerful for its own good. I read the Aeneid as a puff piece intended to instill a false sense of pride through a constructed continuity with the Greek civilization Romans admired — and supplanted. Metamorphoses took a more lighthearted approach, suggesting all things pass and that change is the only constant. Both the Satyricon and LA DOLCE VITA illuminated the vulgarity and moral emptiness at the core of decadence, turning it into ironic — and sometimes painful — entertainment. Can we see our own time with such detachment? Can we recognize the Virgils trying to enshrine the inexcusable? The Ovids who myth-make more lightly and playfully? Or the Petroniuses and Fellinis who nudge us to laugh — and maybe cry — at the foolishness and pain of living adrift in a sensuous world? Notes on Note-taking Given my difficulties with the Aeneid, I found its Wikipedia page insightful. The summary of books 1 and 2 gave me an outline to better understand the work. As with previous weeks, I also bounced reflections off ChatGPT and summarized using the Obsidian Text Generator plugin. Both helped me grok the readings and how they relate to each other. A realization on process: writing these posts helps me focus and power through even when readings get tedious. If I hadn’t committed to sharing publicly, I likely would’ve bailed on the Aeneid. I read with more focus and attention when knowing I’ll publish these little “book reports” at the end of the week. Up Next From Gioia’s description, I expect next week’s reading — Boethius’s On the Consolation of Philosophy — will be highly relevant to our current predicament. Again, there’s a YouTube playlist for the videos I’m sharing here. I’m also sharing these posts via Substack if you’d like to subscribe and comment. See you next week!

Last week, I spoke with a business leader who’s excited about AI. But as we talked, it became clear that there’s a wide gulf between enthusiasm and creating value for a particular business. Most people’s impression of AI is based on limited use and media hype. Take the recent Ghibli-fication mania: millions are smitten with the idea of seeing themselves as a Miyazaki character. (I’m one of them!) And it’s understandable: the outputs are impressive. But AI can do more than make beautiful drawings or write compelling essays. As I’ve argued before, these aren’t the best uses for AI. Instead, we should use it to augment our abilities. But how? It’s hard to see beyond the outputs — especially since doing so entails getting more abstract. I’m still thinking about how to explain it, but three ideas are key: Businesses consist of information flows. Information exists to support decisions. Information can be optimized for better decision-making. Let’s unpack them. First, your business consists of information flows. Whatever your business is, it runs on information: how it’s captured, produced, shared, and processed. A proposal? Information. The request behind it? Also information. A standup meeting? An exchange of information. Your business creates value when it uses information effectively. Sure, that’s not the only way it creates value: the things you make and services you provide are key. But information is essential. Why? Because of the second point: information is in service to decision-making. The proposal helps the prospect decide whether to work with you. Research helps you decide whether to enter a new market. The meeting helps determine next steps. Third, information can be optimized. When I say “information,” you may think spreadsheets and databases. But that’s structured information. Most business information — conversations, documents, emails — is unstructured. Consider that meeting. It may have some structure: an agenda, list of attendees, start and end time. But the stuff you care about — what people say — isn’t structured. Even if you transcribe it, you must still think about what it means for you. AI can help tame the messy information flows that make up real work. Efforts to formalize them often kill spontaneity, nuance, and context. And even if they didn’t, there’s so much information that it’s been hard to make sense of it. But now we have AI. Don’t let the charismatic drawings distract you. That’s only a superficial application — and commodifying art is bad for our souls. Instead, focus on using AI for tasks that were previously impossible or impractical: working with vast amounts of unstructured information, playing out what-if scenarios at scale, and augmenting your team’s expertise. Information architects can help. We’ve been mapping information flows and making sense of unstructured information for decades. If you’re exploring how AI could create real business value — not just flashy outputs — let’s talk.