Not long ago I was teaching a workshop and we had just finished teaching people how to listen with an open mind, especially when they didn’t agree with what they thought was being said. On a break I listened to one of the people in the workshop talking on the phone…not listening and making absolute statements. Did I mention we JUST FINISHED HOW to listen?

Habit is a hard thing to break. It reminded me that the reason most people don’t listen is not because they don’t know how, but because deep down they don’t really want to.

U2 released their latest Album last week. No Line on the Horizon is album #12 for the band, and another #1 on the charts. U2 transcends time, generations, etc. They’ve become cultural world icons and symbols of rock music excellence.

And that got me thinking…how many bands have there been that had ONE big album, and disappeared? Even worse, what about one-hit single wonders like “I’m too sexy,” “She blinded me science,” or “Whip it” by Devo? (Yeah, I’m showing my age.) There are hundreds, probably thousands.

So is it just talent that separates enduring, great bands (Beatles, Stones, etc.) and one-hit wonders? Sound? Commitment? Practice? Timing? Probably all of those things. But as I was running on the tread mill this morning listening to both one-hit wonders and the superstars, the thought struck me that the same idea applies to each of us. If in our leadership/individual contribution we commit to leading differently, to change, and then only live what we’ve learned for a week or two, we can expect the same reputation with the people we lead: One-hit wonder.

They’ll know what we’re doing is only a fad, and they’ll wait us out until we return to “normal” (and hope we never attend another “workshop” or read another self-improvement book again). Not that they look forward to normal (if normal is less human, less effective), but they know it’s not worth the adjustments and risks on their part if, for example, we say we want people to speak what’s really on their mind and then when they do, we revert to old, closed-minded or defensive behavior. And we’ll be the “Vanilla Ice” or pet rock of businesspeople.

If you’re going to change and produce great work, that usually requires change, sustained effort and deliberate practice. Don’t manage like a fad or one-hit wonder. Make the attempts real. Commit to what makes a difference and then don’t let up. You won’t be perfect, but you will be respected for trying.

And if no one notices the change, at least you will. As Mark Twain once said, “It’s better to be worthy of respect and never receive it than to receive respect and not deserve it.”

I’ve been reading Blue Ocean Strategy recently. The book teaches how to separate your company from the bloody “red ocean” where everyone is killing each other for profitable space, attention, etc., and move to cleaner, blue ocean.

Rather than study companies, markets or industries to unlock the mysteries of business domination/greatness, the authors focused on strategy. Their angle is a cool one; the company isn’t the answer, neither is the industry; it’s the strategy that made the difference.

But there’s at least another angle to consider in moving to blue water: who built the strategy? What were the people like? How did they listen to new ideas? How did they make decisions as a team? How open-minded were they? Was it one person, or many, that found blue water? To come up with a Blue Ocean strategy, you need to be a blue ocean team. Here are a few questions worth discussing as a team to get “bluer:”

1. When’s the last time we disagreed? (No disagreement = pleasant team, probably irrelevant, maybe stupid).

2. Do we constructively debate ideas, or do we just argue individual agendas? (Do we defend our ideas to let the best idea win, or just get defensive?)

3. Are we constructively discontent? (Do we hate status-quo, or do we love the warmth of a comfort zone?)

4. What’s our attitude toward learning? (How often do we read and share what we learn? We don’t all read the same stuff, go to the same conferences, etc. do we?)

5. What’s our level of curiosity? (Do we just ask questions of logistics and execution, or do we question the purpose of something altogether?)

Blue oceans aren’t created by companies, strategies, industries, markets, etc. They’re created by people who work together. So, how well does your team work?  

In a Rutgers and University of Connecticut poll, 58% of workers believe most top executives put their own self-interest ahead of the company’s, while 67% don’t believe their bosses have the team’s best interests at heart. The only realistic way to turn those numbers toward better team dynamics is if we believe that by putting the team’s needs first, both we and the team will ultimately be better as a result.

And before anyone would buy a more we-centered approach to work, we need to ask an ironic question; what’s in it for me? The ironic answer is that the less we focus on our individual needs first, the more likely our needs will be met. Let’s explore the idea.

Imagine for a moment you’re a salesperson for IBM (or any company). In a high-performance culture, the pressure is on. Like every salesperson, you have a monthly quota. Hitting your quota could mean many things: commission, promotion, reputation, college tuition, weddings, house payments, retirement, and so on. With that pressure, you have a sales presentation to make on a several-hundred-thousand-dollar proposal. If you walk into that meeting and begin making your presentation with your focus first and foremost on your needs—to hit your numbers and get your commission—are you more or less likely to make the sale? The answer is less likely.

But why?

As soon as the client senses a me-first intent from you, that intent taints the interaction on both sides. You may oversell product features, rush through a technical explanation, mistake understanding for agreement and enthusiasm, smooth over objections, or push too hard for the close. As the client feels your me-then-we intent, they grow suspicious of what you say, become guarded about what they say, and don’t give you access to information or people they otherwise would. In turn, their trust in you goes down, you lose the sale and your company loses the revenue.

In fact, maybe you have a better product than your competitors, and the client loses the economic benefit of not getting the best solution. Everybody loses.In sales, the more important it is to meet your numbers, the more important it is to forget about your numbers and help clients meet their numbers. In other words, the more important it is for you and your company to progress, the more important it is for you to suspend the focus on that progress and devote yourself to the progress of your clients first.

The irony is that in suspending your own needs, the more likely you are to meet your client’s needs, which in turn advances the progress of your company, and therefore more likely to meet your needs.

If progress is truly our primary motivation, we won’t let individual passion and commitment to a project or idea drift into a me- or us-first, client- or company-second view. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t passionately make our case for our needs or ideas, but we should be guided by what’s best for the business and our clients, not just our own territory.

But let’s consider a tough situation outside of sales: your company is on the ropes and “downsizing” is on the horizon. Is “we, then me” unrealistic if you’re vying for a limited number of jobs? Is that a legitimate out for taking a me-first, “survival of the fittest” approach? Even though that’s a typical response, it would be exactly the wrong approach. In good times, a company needs contribution from people, and people want to keep their jobs. But do company or employee needs change in difficult times? The answer is no.

The needs for both increase when times are hard—companies need more contribution and people need job security. If “we, then me” is effective when times are good, it’s no less effective when times are bad. The irony of a survival of the fittest mentality is that as pressure for survival increases, so does the temptation to adopt a “me, then we” attitude—to be defensive about our ideas, treat colleagues as competitors, occupy time showcasing our “you can’t live without me” brilliance, and seek the acceptance of those who can send
us to the unemployment line. By definition, that decline puts us one step closer to the exit.

The more we focus on self-survival, the less likely we are to survive. “We, then me” is the most direct strategy and incentive for survival as well as moving to the next level of performance—on both sides of the equation.

I was sitting in the Atlanta airport yesterday with time to kill; too tired to read, too burned out to talk, too drained to check email, write…anything. So in a daze, I watched people of all races, color, clothing, accents, languages, voices, volumes, ages, personalities, gender, etc., pass by.

And as I watched the “human parade,” I was reminded that despite all the outward differences, we’re not really all that different from each other. It’s true that we look a lot different, but the basics are essentially the same: we want love, friendship, success, collaboration, recognition, etc. I’m surprised how often I sit next to someone on the plane that would appear on the outside very different from me, but is more alike in fundamental ways than I thought they would be after our conversation.

As I travel and work with leaders and teams from vastly different cultures and companies, I’ve come to realize that we share the same essential struggles, challenges, desires and hopes. In the most fundamental ways, all people are created equal. It doesn’t matter if you’re President of the United States, the PTA, the company you work for, or anyone else in any organization, the same human dynamics challenge each of us in “being” equals; listening with an open mind when someone looks/sounds/says differently, speaking the right words at the right time in the right way, making decisions that are we-centric rather than me-centric, being willing to lead one moment, and without hesitation follow the lead of someone else next, etc. 

But we don’t like being “equal.” Most are looking for an advantage, even if in their own mind. They let titles, tenure, age, cultural background, economic status, IQ, degrees, social status, etc. allow them to feel inferior or superior to everyone else. The lack of equality robs us of the diversity that does exist among us.

Equality is a hard thing to get. Wars have been fought over it, people have sacrificed their lives in the name of it. And we still struggle.

I think most talk a good equality game, but as Martin Luther King once said, “…[we] so often have a high blood pressure of words and an anemia of deeds.” In the way we’re tempted to label people we don’t know, we also label people we do know. We decide we don’t like them, what they do, how they look, how they talk, what they stand for, and so on.

We “know” how they’ll respond and what their motives are. We think we know whether they’ll be open, critical, creative, judgmental, or hard to work with. We justify our prejudices. But bias affects our regard and consequently, our openness with each other.  

Not only does equality erase the prejudices of the traditional, major topics like race, religion, age, creed, etc., but it also, if we allow it, erases bias based on title, tenure, position, degree, school attended, economic status, etc. It’s not easy to hold treat people as equals when they have a history with us, we have baggage about them, or a debate is hitting close to home. If that’s the case, we have to work harder to suspend judgment of their intent behind what they say or do. We have to work diligently to be free of prejudice in any form.

As hard as we try, we’ll never see people as equals in every circumstance with every person. We will slip and make mistakes, feeling unnecessarily inferior or superior to someone for some reason. But one more moment of equality is all we’re looking for. If enough moments add up, the momentum of our collective conversations and debates in an organization will shift to equality. When we hit the equality equilibrium, the power of ideas will win over prejudice, in all its forms.

Team communication takes the credit, and blame, for almost every team success or crisis. That’s because almost everything we do hinges on communication. When we have a performance review, we’re most nervous about delivering, or hearing, bad news. When a customer complains, it’s hard to listen without prejudice.

When we debate different ideas, people getting defensive and closing down is our worst fear. When it’s our turn to present a business proposal, what unsettles our nerve is the one question we may not have asked, or answered, before it’s time to stand and deliver.

There’s not a more legendary maxim in business or relationships when something’s wrong than, “communication breakdown.” Team communication is a major factor when performance falls short; strategies backfire, people aren’t on the same page, or teamwork hits a dead-end. It’s not the only thing that matters.

It’s the main thing.

And the main thing is also the hardest to fix. But not for the reasons you might think. When you ask most business people if they’ve been through teamwork communication training, the answer is a resigned, “Yes.” They’ve been taught how to listen. Ad nauseam.

When you ask the same people if they listen when it’s difficult, but needed, the answer is…uh, well, sometimes. When it’s critical that we listen but don’t, it’s not because we don’t know how, but because we don’t want to listen. Improving team dynamics and team communication is rarely about technique or “style” alone. Underneath it all, what needs to change is us.

Do we want to change, and listen, or not?

Just before midnight of Election 2008, I walked off an airplane at Philadelphia International to an empty, silent airport—except for one, hallowed corner. The eyes of five, young African-American airport employees were fixed on a television suspended over empty seats at the gate, watching the election results on CNN. I walked over, anxious to see who won because by the time I landed, the election was over.  One of the women, in awe of what transpired, turned to me, “I never thought I would see this is my lifetime.”

Her statement surprised me. I would have expected it from an older generation who had “paid the price:” marched with Dr. King, been the victim of racial slurs, denied access because of the color of their skin, or lost a job or apartment because of their race. But to hear it from someone so young surprised me. And woke me up a little as well.

As I watched the election returns with them for a moment, I said before I left for the hotel, “Watch him closely. He has the potential to be one of the great Presidents in the history of our Country.” They nodded in quiet, but joyful, agreement. To spend five minutes with those young people that night under the light of that television monitor was one of the great moments in my life, and by fate in of all places Philadelphia. They weren’t one of the 100,000 people gathered in Chicago that night to celebrate, but it didn’t matter. A quiet, hushed airport was just as memorable as Grant Park.

Barack Obama’s election to President was historical. Recently, comparisons have been made between Obama and Abraham Lincoln. Most of those early comparisons come not only because they’re both gifted attorneys and speakers from Illinois, but because of Obama’s reliance on a singular book by Doris Kearns Goodwin on Lincoln’s life that Obama seems determined by which to guide his Presidency, “A Team of Rivals.” Every person promoted to lead a team, or elected to office, should be required to read her book before taking charge.

Team of Rivals points out how Lincoln, with humility as a pivotal trait of his leadership, surrounded himself through Cabinet appointments with people who ran against him in the election, wanted his job, and didn’t necessarily like or respect him, but whom Lincoln thought were the best people for the job. Lincoln put the needs of his torn-apart Country first, not his desire to be agreed with and admired. “Sit down. What I want is an audience,” said Lincoln to Cabinet member William Stoddard. “Nothing sounds the same when there isn’t anybody to hear it and find fault with it.” When Stoddard resisted criticism of a President, Lincoln replied, “Yes, you will. Everybody else will. It’s just what I want you to do.”

In a recent press conference announcing new appointments, Obama (coincidentally named Time’s Person of the Year this morning) suggested a similar approach to avoid what he called “group-think.” “I am a strong believer in strong personalities and strong opinions,” Obama said. “I think that’s how the best decisions are made. [When] it comes to keeping our nation and our people safe, we are not Republicans and Democrats. We are Americans. There’s no monopoly of power or wisdom in either party.”

But whether or not a “team of rivals” ends up being a historically brilliant team or a destructive one, for President Obama or anyone else, depends on the level of humility that resides in the leader of that team, and the team dynamics of the rivals themselves. But humility isn’t exactly revered, or clearly understood, as a power word in politics or business, yet.

Despite the necessity of, or desire for it, humility has a mystery about it that’s both appealing and unsettling at the same time. Among appealing words like modest, polite, respectful, patient and unpretentious, humility is surrounded by unsettling negatives: apprehensive, content, fearful, hesitant, ordinary, sheepish, simple, submissive, tentative and timid, among others—words that don’t exactly establish an impression of confidence. Or as we’ll see later, an accurate one.

While humility is acknowledged as an admirable trait by most, there’s suspicion about its weaknesses—who can afford humility if it’s incompatible with winning, regardless of how admirable it sounds? That question wasn’t easy at first to square in our own minds. In an unrelenting, competitive political environment where politicians have a long-standing habit of bashing opponents, and a belief that they’ve been elected to confront the other party instead of the issues, where and how does humility fit in? For most of us who watch politics from the sidelines, but face our own governments and politics at work where we’re paid to aggressively take market share from competitors, drive revenue and profit, and compare and rank people internally for a limited supply of compensation, why and how does humility deserve even an honorable mention?

For most people, tradition holds that the opposite of excessive ego is humility, when in fact having too little ego is just as dangerous and unproductive as having too much. In the right amount ego is inherently positive, and provides a healthy level of confidence and ambition—driving out insecurity, fear and apathy. But when ego is left unchecked—either through overconfidence and giving the false illusion we’re better than we actually are, or robbing us of enough confidence that we lose trust in our ability to use our talents to capacity, ego manages us. Ego’s power is pervasive and relentless, but never neutral in how it affects our performance.

Humility is the anchor of genuine confidence between the two extremes. But since there’s a natural tendency to stray from equilibrium, when we move just right or left of center, we lose humility in degrees. That loss affects everything from one, simple conversation to strategic decisions with far-reaching implications. Imagine that the spectrum of ego is magnetic, with the strongest pull coming from the two ends. At the center, the ego-magnetic pull on either side has little effect on us. But the closer a person, team or conversation moves to the extremes, the stronger the magnetic pull, making it that much more difficult to make our way back. The longer we stay off-center, the more acclimated we become to being off-center. If we don’t quickly recover, we’re more likely to develop egotistical habits in the way we think, communicate and collaborate as a team. 

When an entire culture or team is off-center, it’s rarely the responsibility of only one person—but it can’t start without the permission of at least one person, and the steady agreement, and eventual contribution, of others. But whether we’re consistently or momentarily off-center, ego’s drive is so strong only humility pulls us back. That point will need to anchor Obama and the strong personalities he’s appointed to his Cabinet, if his success is to resemble Lincoln’s. It’s not a care-free or easy track. If it were, more Presidents would do it and more leaders would break the gravitational pull of ego and mediocrity to perform with genuine confidence and great results.

If you were to put humility under a microscope to discover its DNA, one of the properties you would uncover would be a trait we labeled in our research, “Duality,” or simply said, I’m Brilliant, and I’m Not…

To read more about the ideas and research behind this article click here and download the whitepaper titled, “The Next Level of Leadership.” To read more about our research and work on team dynamics and performance, download the whitepaper, “The Ultimate Team Dynamics,” while you’re there.

Fortune writer Anne Fisher wrote a short article last month on office politics in a tough economy with layoffs straight ahead. The question that prompted her “Ask Annie” piece was basically, should I ignore the politics, point it out to the “higher-ups,” or join in? Our suggestion is to keep focused on doing your best work, and take a “we, then me” approach. It’s counter-intuitive, but not counter-productive.

But is a “business first” request unrealistic to people vying for a limited, or decreasing, number of jobs? Should she jump in the mix and take a “survival of the fittest” approach? Even though that’s a typical response, it would be exactly the wrong approach. In good times, a company needs contribution from people, and people want to keep their jobs. But do company or employee needs change in difficult times? The answer is no.

The needs for both increase when times are hard—companies need more contribution and people need job security. If “we, then me” is effective when times are good, it’s no less effective when times are bad. The irony of a survival of the fittest mentality is that as pressure for survival increases, so does the temptation to abandon humility and adopt a “me” attitude—to be defensive about our ideas, treat colleagues as competitors, occupy time showcasing our “you can’t live without me” brilliance, and seek the acceptance of those who can send us to the unemployment line.

As we start to play that game, ego takes control and our performance decreases. By definition, that decline puts us one step closer to the exit. If ego minimizes our strengths (which it always does when managed poorly), we won’t be judged on what we’re capable of contributing, but on what ego’s counterfeits allow us to contribute. The more we focus on self-survival, the less likely we are to survive. “We, then me” is the most direct strategy and incentive for survival—on both sides of the equation.

In a recent USA TODAY article, Del Jones writes about the lack of apologies recently in business. In addition to no apologies, there are apologies in disguise.

“I’m sure that I’m supposed to act all sorry or sad or guilty now that I’ve accepted that I’ve done something wrong.” said Pete Rose when he admitted to betting on baseball. “But you see, I’m just not built that way. So let’s leave it like this: I’m sorry it happened and I’m sorry for all the people, fans and family it hurt. Let’s move on.” If you’re an avid baseball fan, is his apology acceptable? If we apologize, defensiveness doesn’t allow a genuine apology; we go through the motions.

In an article for Governing magazine, Alan Ehrenhalt identifies a second strategy—the “I’m right, you just misinterpreted me” strategy. Ehrenhalt describes how Massachusetts State Representative Ellen Story got herself into hot water for saying the state under-funded mental health because of the “predominance of Irish Catholics in authority-making positions.” She said the Irish deemed retardation to be God’s will. After colleagues called her view “bizarre,” she apologized to “anyone I offended” by the “poor choice of words.” The warmth of her apology? Thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit.

The final defensive maneuver in the form of an apology is an unwilling about-face. On the campaign trail years ago, presidential hopeful Howard Dean said he wanted to be the candidate for “guys with Confederate flags on their pickup trucks.” After getting blasted in the press for the next twenty-four hours, Dean did a one-eighty: “I think I made a mistake. I apologize for it. I think it’s time to move on.” Was he truly sorry? The Reverend Al Sharpton told Dean: “You are not a bigot, but you appear to be too arrogant to say, ‘I’m wrong,’ and go on.” When asked why he didn’t apologize earlier, Dean said, “I tend to be somebody, who under pressure, tends to fight back.” But insincerity only serves to keep everyone as unforgiving, unapologetic, and entrenched in their opinion as they were before.

In time, we become more insensitive to our mistakes and develop a natural inclination to “fight back.” Unfortunately, we fall back on that inclination not only when faced with outright challenge or accusation, but when someone is trying to help us.

Joe Torre is one of the best team leaders I’ve observed in any arena (not just sports). The way he handles the pressure of his job, the media exposure, the second-guessing, the “boss” when he was in New York, is exactly the kind of leader we write about in egonomics. Although times have been great for Joe recently in LA (they won a playoff series for the first time in years), read what Torre said while being  grilled by the New York media about the stability of his job while in his last year there:

“I’ve got a job to do. I certainly don’t go out there managing to try to keep my job. I  can’t concern myself with what might happen. The losing is much worse than the questioning, so don’t worry about it. Knock yourselves out.”

The Yankees won four World Series championships in the first five years of Torre’s tenure and nine consecutive AL East titles. But they haven’t been to the World Series since 2003, and they haven’t won it all since 2000. Regardless, Joe doesn’t get defensive, compare his record to others, showcase his past accomplishments or just say what he thinks everyone wants to hear.  “I’m going to do the best I can…This is my responsibility. I certainly don’t want to pawn it off. I’m in charge here.” Leaders like Torre are rare. So are their accomplishments. Here’s a little more about Joe from Wikipedia:

Torre was named manager of the Yankees on November 2, 1995. Even though he had never played or managed in the American League, and even though the New York City press thought his hiring to be a colossal mistake, greeting him with headlines such as “Clueless Joe”, it was with the Yankees that he enjoyed the greatest success of his managerial career, leading the “Bronx Bombers” to the playoffs in each of his eleven seasons (1996-2006) with the club.

Imagine taking a great job like manager of the Yankees, and  being welcomed with a headline, “Clueless Joe.” That’s when humility, and fierce personal resolve, separate the great ones from everyone else. At some point in all of our lives we’ll meet resistance, injustice, prejudice, or disparaging remarks. Pure ego, without humility,  will try and push us to meet it with the same venom.

We’ll face our private moments of self-doubt and discouragement. And contrary to quick-fix popular belief, it usually isn’t a 30-second epiphany  or one simple rule or “secret” that erases the doubt or overcomes our challenges. It’s hard work, bruises, cuts, scrapes,  and courage. But eventually we emerge a different person, usually with remarkable and uncommon results. When we look back on it, it will be our humility and resolve that made the difference, not our ego alone.