I'm really glad to be able to spend this time with you, and I'm honored to have a full hour to introduce you to something that I am particularly passionate about—understanding complexity and helping others navigate uncertainty.
So, I am going to share my screen and get started with the presentation. If you can, just let me know if you're able to see the screen or not. Okay, great.
One of the reasons why I'm really excited is that I've been working in this field of complexity for many years, and in the past, I sometimes felt a little bit like Chicken Little or the little boy who cried wolf when I introduced people to the idea that the world is complex and that there are uncertainties we cannot manage away or control. But over the last year, I think most of you would agree—especially in 2020—we've all been given a bit of a master class in uncertainty.
What's happening now is that some of our really deep-seated, sometimes unconscious, beliefs are being challenged. I can speak for myself—even though I've been working in this space for so many years, I have felt really challenged by the levels of uncertainty that I'm facing now. Decisions that in the past seemed quite simple have suddenly become difficult to make because we don't have information we feel we can depend on.
It’s as if some of the old patterns have broken down. For example, when I speak to my financial advisor, he tells me that investment patterns are no longer the same, and they don’t know what to do. Some of these thinking patterns, these stories we've come to believe over the years, are now being challenged—such as the belief that stability and certainty are normal and that periods of uncertainty and instability are temporary. We tend to assume that things will soon go back to "normal," which means stability and certainty. But what we need to learn how to deal with now is the reality that instability and uncertainty are, in fact, normal.
We've come out of a period over the last few decades where we've been lucky to have relative stability, but now we find ourselves in a world of continuous, high levels of uncertainty. In the work I do, especially with decision-makers, people are feeling unmoored. We are in uncharted territory together, and it feels as if we no longer have solid ground to stand on. But that's not necessarily true—not everything has changed. However, that feeling of instability can be deeply anxiety-provoking.
What we find is that we are continuously on a boundary of knowing and not knowing, of feeling competent and incompetent. Many of us are being challenged by the fact that the things that made us successful in the past, the things that brought us to where we are now, are no longer sufficient—they're no longer working for us. So, we have to start thinking anew. I believe it was Abraham Lincoln who said, "We need to think anew and act anew." That means we need to unlearn a whole bunch of things while continuously learning.
Much of what I do when I play the role of a thinking partner for decision-makers is to help them navigate this uncertainty, providing them with new ways of looking at the world and new tools to help them make sense of it. I love this quote from a colleague of mine: "Those who will thrive in the future—individuals as well as organizations—are those who are able to turn anxiety into creative energy."
This is so important because, very often, I see executive teams faced with uncertainty, needing to make decisions without the necessary information. If they can't predict, if everything around them feels unstable, instead of channeling that into creative energy, they become paralyzed. That confusion, that inability to draw on past experience, can either lead to decision paralysis or, alternatively, to decision hedging, where leaders avoid prioritization out of fear of making mistakes.
This idea of turning anxiety into creative energy is something I want to focus on today. I believe much of it starts with understanding that we interact with, and are embedded in, different kinds of systems. Over the years, we've almost been seduced into believing that everything around us is ordered, that we operate within one kind of system. But today, I want to introduce you to different kinds of systems and explore their implications.
To do that, let me share a story. When I was young, like many of you, my first taste of mobility was learning to ride a bicycle. This was my first interaction with what I’ll call a mechanical system. It was a relatively simple system. My parents helped me learn how to balance and stay on top of it, understand traffic rules for safety, and fix a flat tire or a broken chain. It was mostly a world made up of known knowns.
As I grew up, I was introduced to a more complicated machine—my first car. My first attempt at driving was with my father in the passenger seat in a deserted parking lot. I had to figure out the mechanics—how to pull away, change gears, and apply the brakes. It was complicated, but as long as I stuck to quiet roads, had expert guidance, and was dealing with known unknowns, life was still relatively predictable.
Then, one day, I ventured out into traffic, and everything changed. Suddenly, I was confronted by multiple variables I couldn't control. I had to be aware of not just my car but other road users. I didn’t know if they were paying attention, following the rules, or even sober. I had to become situationally aware, recognizing patterns and adapting. No longer was I alone on an empty road—I was now in a system where my actions influenced others, and theirs influenced me.
Small changes—like one person braking unexpectedly—could create an emergent traffic jam. Over time, driving behaviors changed. Here in South Africa, for example, we've seen that more and more people treat traffic laws as suggestions rather than rules. The more people break the rules, the more it becomes the norm, and a new culture emerges.
Now, with modern cars being connected to the internet, we’ve added another layer of complexity. Suddenly, we're not just interacting with fellow drivers on the road—we’re connected to a global network, which introduces risks like hacking. This illustrates the complexity of human systems—our intelligence, intentionality, and multiple identities all interact in unpredictable ways.
Beyond this, we are embedded in even bigger systems. The car I choose to drive—whether it’s electric or not—has an impact on the broader ecosystem and entire industries. Suddenly, there are unresolvable tensions between, say, sustaining the petrochemical industry (which employs thousands) and protecting the health of our planet.
This is the nature of complexity. It arises from the connections between things, not necessarily from the things themselves. As we become more connected, the world becomes more complex; as it becomes more complex, it becomes more uncertain.
Understanding complexity has profound implications for business—how we manage, strategize, and deal with people. If we recognize that our organizations and industries are complex systems, it changes how we interact with them.
We cannot reduce complex systems to their parts or assume that patterns will repeat. We must move away from linear thinking, understand that unintended consequences are inevitable, and focus on safe-to-fail experimentation instead of large-scale, rigid transformations.
At the heart of all this is the need to cultivate curiosity and openness, value diverse perspectives, and embrace continuous learning. Complexity isn't something to be feared or controlled—it simply is. And if we learn to navigate it with adaptability and creativity, we can thrive in this ever-changing world.