Beyond Planning Series - Article 2: Patterns in the Storm
- William Haas Evans
- 2 days ago
- 42 min read
Updated: 3 hours ago

(This is Part 2 of the Beyond Planning Series. Part 1: The Great Unraveling can be found here.)
Learning Jazz: How Coherence Emerges Without Scores
The groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned
To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave,
And spread the roof above them—ere he framed
The lofty vault, to gather and roll back
The sound of anthems; in the darkling wood,
Amid the cool and silence, he knelt down,
And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks
And supplication.
— William Cullen Bryant, "A Forest Hymn" (1825)
Prelude: The Forest That Remembers
Both my parents were teachers. Summers off for adventures and camping. In my early teens, we drove cross country. Green Mountains to the Cascades, stopping at just about every national park and Civil War battle site we could. Sleeping bags. Coleman stove. My father navigating with paper maps spread across the hood of our old red camper.

I remember we stopped in Utah and camped outside Fish Lake. The ranger told us about Pando. Forty-seven thousand trees, she said. But not trees. One tree. One organism. Connected beneath the ground by a single root system. The heaviest living thing on Earth. Maybe 16,000 years old. Maybe older. Nobody knows for sure.
The leaves shimmered in the breeze. Forty-seven thousand trees moving together like a single breath.
Each stem of Pando ("I spread" in Latin) lives maybe 100 to 150 years, she explained. Then dies back. But the root system persists. Sends up new shoots. Replaces what dies. Maintains the whole through continuous transformation of parts. For millennia.
I couldn't stop thinking about that forest. Back in school that fall, we were reading the romantics in English Lit. Bryant. Emerson. Thoreau. The Norton Anthology with its tissue-thin pages. I kept connecting what they wrote about nature to that grove in Utah. "The groves were God's first temples." Bryant was writing about forests showing us something cathedrals couldn't. Something about how complexity organizes itself. How wholes emerge from parts, divine order. How something could be so vast and so singular. How the parts could keep dying while the whole kept living. How 16,000 years of winters and fires and droughts hadn't stopped it.
I've carried the memory of that summer and Pando with me ever since. Over the past 40 years, Pando has struggled to thrive. Struggled to survive. The story is complicated (technically complex). Multiple causes. Interlocking failures. Pando is now experiencing the kind of systemic breakdown that looks obvious in hindsight but was invisible as it unfolded.
In most areas of the grove now, there are no young trees. No middle-aged trees. Almost entirely elderly stems. Scientist Paul Rogers put it this way: "Imagine walking into a town of 50,000 people where everybody is 85 years old."
Aerial photographs from the late 1930s show crowns touching. Dense. Continuous. Healthy. But starting about 30 to 40 years ago, gaps began appearing. Spaces where old stems died and no new growth replaced them.

The root system is still trying. Still sending up shoots. But mule deer and elk eat them before they can mature. Without young stems to replace the old, the organism cannot renew itself.
For millennia, Pando lived in balance with the browsers. The predators kept them moving. Wolves. Bears. Cougars. They prevented the herbivores from concentrating long enough to prevent regeneration.
But we eliminated the predators because they threatened our cattle. The deer and elk populations exploded. With nothing to fear, they stayed in place. Browsing constantly. Preventing every new shoot from growing tall enough to survive.
We also suppressed the fires. Aspens need fire to trigger mass shooting. To clear competing vegetation. To create conditions for renewal. But we spent a century preventing fire because we thought we were protecting the forest.
We broke the feedback loops that kept the system vital. The predation that controlled browsing. The fire that triggered regeneration. The balance between death and renewal.
Rogers says it plainly: "While Pando has likely existed for thousands of years, it is now collapsing on our watch."
We have tried to save it with mechanical interventions. Starting in 2005, managers began installing eight-foot fences. As of 2025, approximately 80 percent of Pando's landmass is fenced.

Inside the fences, new stems thrive. Young shoots reaching heights not seen in unfenced areas in decades. The root system is still vigorous.
But you cannot fence 700 square miles of wildlife habitat. You cannot fence an ecosystem. The fences are expensive and porous. Deer find ways through. And they do not restore the predators. They do not rebuild the feedback loops. They manage symptoms while the underlying system continues to degrade.
We ended cattle grazing in 2024. We conduct prescribed burns. We monitor and measure. We manage inputs and outputs like engineers troubleshooting a machine.
But Pando is not a machine. It is a living system embedded in a larger living system. The problem is not insufficient control. The problem is that we broke the relationships that allowed the system to regulate and rejuvinate itself.
This is how we think when we think mechanically. Like watchmakers.
There is a reason we think this way.
For more than a century (it goes much further back), we have been taught to see organizations as machines. In 1911, Frederick Winslow Taylor published The Principles of Scientific Management. One best way to do everything. Break work into smallest parts. Measure. Standardize. Control inputs. Optimize outputs.

These concepts gave us the assembly line. Time and motion studies. Organizational charts. Performance metrics. The entire vocabulary of management as machine operation.
We still say "cog in the machine." "Well-oiled machine." "Working like clockwork." We call people "human capital" and create departments called "human resources," and consultants talk about building a "feature factories."
The language reveals the thinking. If organizations are machines, then workers are interchangeable parts. Leaders envision. Management plans. Workers execute. Control from the top ensures predictable outputs.
But organizations are not machines. Neither are forests. These are facts, and these particular facts are perniciously persistent despite our desires to make them so.
Both are complex adaptive systems. Living networks where the wholes emerges from relationships between parts, not from central control. Systems of interconnected subsystems. Patterns form through responsive processes, not prescribed procedures. Coherence arises from continuous dialogue, not hierarchical direction.
When you treat a living system like a machine, you get Pando's fences. Mechanical barriers around an organic problem. Control without understanding. Intervention without relationship. Managing symptoms while the system degrades.
For 16,000 years, Pando organized itself without central control. The root system coordinated 47,000 stems without a plan. Each part adapted locally. Sunlight here. Shade there. Rocky soil. Moist earth. Every stem different but serving the same whole.
Feedback loops operated continuously. Predators kept browsers in check. Fires triggered renewal. Death created the conditions for growth. The parts connected through relationships, not commands from headquarters.
The system was not optimized for extraction, or exploitation, but really great at scale and resilience. It survived because it could adapt. Because parts could sense and respond. Because relationships created positive feedback loops that compounded over millennia.
This is how complex adaptive systems thrive when we do not break them.
But we did break it. Not through malice. Through misunderstanding what kind of system it was. We thought we could improve it through control. Each intervention made sense in isolation. But together they slowly dismantled the ecology and broke the relationships. They prevented the adaptation that had sustained the system for 16,000 years.
This is the pattern we need to recognize.
Look at large corporations. In 1980, the top ten S&P 500 companies included IBM, AT&T, seven energy giants. Today only Exxon remains near the top. The rest merged, fragmented, or were eclipsed by companies that did not exist forty years ago.
Of the 500 companies on the original Fortune 500 list in 1955, only 52 remain today. That is 10.4 percent. Nearly nine out of ten are gone. Bankrupt. Merged. Acquired. Or fallen so far they no longer make the list.
Many are names no one remembers. Armstrong Rubber. Cone Mills. Hines Lumber. Pacific Vegetable Oil. Giants in 1955. Forgotten by 2025.
The average lifespan of an S&P 500 company collapsed from 33 years in 1965 to a forecast of 14 years by 2026. At this churn rate, half of today's S&P 500 firms will be replaced within a decade.
Like Pando, companies face environmental and market change faster than they can adapt. Their feedback loops operate on a quarterly tempo. Their sensing mechanisms prove inadequate. Their response capacity becomes overwhelmed when most of your capacity has already been sequestered pursuing last year's priorities..
The challenge is adaptive capacity. Can the system sense environmental change and respond (with adequate resources) faster than the change compounds? When adaptive capacity cannot match the rate of change, even strong organizations struggle.
The solution is not better or tighter control with more detailed dashboards. The solution is better understanding of what kind of system we are trying to help.
This is where Jazz comes in. Obviously. Jazz musicians have understood this for generations.
They create coherent performances without scores dictating every note. They maintain the whole while each part adapts. They achieve coordination without central control. No dashboards! Through enabling constraints instead of detailed operating procedures. Through fast feedback loops instead of predetermined plans. Through continuous sensing and response instead of standardized procedures.

The bandleader calls the tune. "Autumn Leaves. G minor. Medium ballad." Six words of strategic intent. Everything else emerges from listening and responding.
Each musician observes what others are doing. Orients to where the music wants to go. Decides what to contribute. Acts. Then observes the result and adjusts. Multiple feedback loops operating simultaneously. Faster than thought.
The whole remains coherent. The parts continuously adapt. No one controls. Everyone contributes. Patterns emerge from responsive dialogue rather than being imposed from above. This is what Pando has done for 16,000 years before we interrupted it. This is what organizations are learning to do now.
But first they have to stop thinking like engineers troubleshooting broken equipment and start thinking like ecologists restoring living systems.
This is where Article 2 begins. With the recognition that organizations can't rely on strategic planning to build their capacity for resilience. They must learn to sense and respond. To recognize patterns as they emerge through interaction. To make sense under uncertainty. To navigate through ambiguity with situational awareness rather than predetermined plans.
We need a different mental model. Not the machine metaphor of 20th century scientific management. Not even just the forest metaphor of complex adaptive systems. We need the jazz metaphor. The ability to improvise coherently within a shared framework. To sense what is emerging and respond with skill. To maintain strategic intent while adapting tactics in real time.
This is what Louis Armstrong understood in 1928 when he played the opening cadenza to "West End Blues."
Jazz Interlude #1: Louis Armstrong – "West End Blues"
I must have listened to that recording five hundred times. The opening sixteen bars that Armstrong played in 1928 are the perfect sonic metaphor for sense-making under uncertainty. That cadenza was not in the arrangement. No one told him to play it. The composer did not write it.
Armstrong heard something in the moment and brought it into being.
The pattern was there in possibility. In the harmonic structure, in the tradition, in his years of practice. But it took his particular sensitivity to recognize it. His particular skill to manifest it. This is pattern recognition as patterns emerge. Not prediction. Not planning. Sensing what wants to happen and helping it happen.
What Armstrong did in those sixteen bars changed what every trumpet player after him heard as possible. One musician sensing and responding created new grammar for an entire tradition. Interesting patterns get repeated. Mistakes get discarded. The tradition evolves through generations of iteration.
Organizations need exactly this capacity. Not better plans but better sensing. Not tighter control but faster pattern recognition. The ability to observe what is actually happening, orient to what it means, decide on response, act, and then observe the results. Faster than the environment changes. Faster than competitors can complete one cycle.
Overture: Constraints Shape Emergence
How Systems Organize Themselves
Here is what we have forgotten. Systems do not need to be controlled to be organized. They need constraints. The right kind of constraints.
Complex systems require constraints to organize themselves. But not all constraints work the same way. There are two fundamental types. Restrictive constraints and enabling constraints.
Restrictive constraints limit possibilities. They close down options. Think of rules that tell you exactly what to do and when to do it. Think of detailed plans that specify every step. Think of bureaucracies that require approval for every decision. These constraints reduce the system's capacity to adapt. They create negative synergies between parts that should be cooperating.
Enabling constraints shape possibilities without specifying outcomes. They provide direction without dictating the path. Think of jazz musicians who share a key signature but not a score. Think of strategic intent that defines purpose without prescribing tactics. Think of simple rules that enable local adaptation within a coherent framework. These constraints create conditions for positive synergies to emerge. The parts work together to produce outcomes greater than their sum.
Pando's root system is an enabling constraint. It provides connection and resource sharing without specifying where each stem must grow or when. The local stems can sense light, water, nutrients and respond. The whole system benefits from both the connection and the local adaptation. The relationships between the parts create the resilience of the whole.
Restrictive constraints would be like telling each stem exactly where to grow, how tall to be, when to produce leaves. The system would be brittle. Unable to adapt to local conditions. Unable to respond to change. The parts would be controlled but the whole would die.
Organizations face the same choice. Most choose restrictive constraints without realizing it. Detailed plans. Rigid processes. Approval hierarchies. These create the illusion of control while destroying the capacity to adapt.
What we need are enabling constraints. Strategic intent rather than strategic plans. Simple rules rather than detailed procedures. Clear boundaries rather than specified paths. Learning cycles with fast feedback rather than rigid plans. But, this is not chaos. This is how patterns emerge through interaction. This is how coherent wholes self-organize through relationships between parts.
The most powerful leverage points in systems are not about pushing harder or controlling tighter. They are about changing the goals, simple rules, and mindsets that shape the system's behavior. Twelve such leverage points exist where intervention can fundamentally shift system behavior.

Meadows showed us that changing parameters is weak leverage. Changing feedback loops is stronger. Changing the goal of the system is stronger still. Changing the paradigm from which the system operates is the most powerful intervention of all.
Moving from restrictive to enabling constraints is a paradigm shift. It changes what the organization optimizes for. Not predictability but adaptability. Not control but coherence. Not execution of plans but sensing and response.
The forest has been doing this for hundreds of millions of years. Pando did it for 80,000 years until the rate of environmental change exceeded its sensing capacity. Organizations are just beginning to learn. But time is running out. It is not whether to change the paradigm. The question is whether we can change it fast enough.
Jazz Interlude #2: Charlie Parker – "Ko-Ko"

Charlie Parker's "Ko-Ko" demonstrates enabling constraints in action. When you call this tune you might say: "Ko-Ko. B-flat. Fast. Cherokee changes." That is all most pros need. The twelve-bar blues structure is about as simple as constraints get. Twelve bars. Three chords. A framework so minimal that beginners can learn it in an afternoon.
But watch what Parker does with it. He generates complexity that sounds impossible. Bebop harmonic thinking applied to basic blues changes creates infinite possibilities from simple rules. Patterns emerge from enabling constraints.
Parker is not breaking the rules. He is using the rules as a platform for exploration. The twelve-bar blues is the enabling constraint. Everything Parker plays on top of it emerges from that structure. Simple rules. Infinite possibilities. Coherent improvisation that evolves through iteration. The whole becomes greater than the sum because the relationships between notes create meaning the individual notes cannot contain.
Organizations make the opposite mistake. They think complex problems require complex solutions. They create overly restrictive policies that specify outcomes and deadlines in advance. Then they wonder why the their internal system cannot adapt. Why innovation dies. Why people lose the capacity to respond, and turnover increases. They optimize the parts but destroy the relationships that make the whole work.
Parker shows us the power of enabling constraints. Give people a clear framework. Simple rules they can internalize. Then let them sense and respond to what is actually happening. Patterns emerge naturally from skilled response within coherent structure. Musicians explore, discover what works, repeat beautiful phrases, discard awkward ones. The vocabulary evolves through continuous iteration.
Strategic lesson: Enabling constraints create space for infinite possibilities by providing direction without specifying outcomes—simple rules enable complex adaptation when the parts can relate freely within the whole.
First Movement: Strategic Intent
Commander's Intent for Uncertain Terrain
Before we can talk about sense-making and pattern recognition, we need to talk about intent. Direction. Purpose. What John Boyd called the "schwerpunkt." What Professor Gary Hamel called strategic intent. What Stephen Bungay, drawing from military doctrine, calls commander's intent.
In maneuver warfare, commander's intent is not a plan. It is the single unifying purpose that allows subordinate units to adapt their tactics to changing conditions while maintaining coherence with the overall objective. Commander's intent answers three questions. What are we trying to achieve. Why does it matter. What is my intent.
Strategic intent works the same way. It is an animating dream. A direction without a destination. A key signature without a score. What jazz musicians call the head. The essential melody that everyone knows that gives coherence to whatever emerges from improvisation.
Canon had strategic intent when they decided to "Beat Xerox." Not a detailed plan. Obsession. Emotional engagement. A sense of direction that could survive for twenty years while specific tactics changed constantly. Strategic intent provides consistency to short-term action while leaving room for reinterpretation.
This is the foundation for everything else. Without clear intent, pattern recognition has no frame. Sense-making has no purpose. OODA loops spin without direction. You can adapt tactically but drift strategically. The parts move but the whole loses coherence.
The challenge most organizations face is that they confuse strategic planning with strategic intent. They create five-year plans with detailed milestones and metrics. These are restrictive constraints that kill the capacity to adapt. What they need is intent that provides direction while enabling response.
Organizations can move from detailed planning to directed opportunism by understanding the difference between orders and intent. Orders tell people exactly what to do. Intent tells people what to achieve and why it matters, then trusts them to adapt.
Orders tell people exactly what to do. They work in stable, predictable environments. They fail in complex, changing environments because by the time the order reaches execution the situation has changed. The feedback loop from action to observation is too slow. The system cannot adapt at the speed of change.
Intent tells people what to achieve and why it matters. Then it trusts them to adapt their actions to the actual situation they face. This requires three things. Clear intent communicated throughout the organization. People skilled enough to sense and respond. Feedback loops fast enough to learn and adjust.

This is where OODA loops become essential. John Boyd developed the OODA loop (Observe, Orient, Decide, Act) studying aerial combat. Pilots who could cycle through observe-orient-decide-act faster than opponents won. Not because they planned better. Because they adapted faster. Because their sensing and response created positive feedback loops that compounded advantage.
The same applies to organizations. Strategic intent gives you orientation. The tonal center. The animating dream. OODA loops give you the rhythm of response. How fast you cycle through observe, orient, decide, act determines your learning velocity. This is how the parts stay connected to the whole even as they adapt locally.
Organizations that combine clear strategic intent with fast OODA loops create directed opportunism. They know where they are going but they adapt how they get there based on what they encounter. They maintain coherence while enabling local adaptation. Coherence emerges from the relationships between freely adapting parts.
The key is developing situational awareness. Not predicting the future but sensing the present. Understanding the terrain, the climate, the forces in play. Without situational awareness, strategy is just an attractive PowerPoint of wishful thinking adorned with buzzwords.
With situational awareness, strategic intent becomes a compass rather than a map. It tells you which direction to head while allowing you to choose the path based on actual terrain. The principle guides but does not dictate. The parts serve the whole without losing their capacity to respond.
Jazz Interlude #3: Bill Evans Trio – "Autumn Leaves"
The Bill Evans Trio demonstrates this perfectly. When a bandleader calls this tune, they might say: "Autumn Leaves. G minor. Medium ballad. Thirty-two bars. Head in, solos, head out."
That is all most pros need. Six words of strategic intent.
Everyone knows the melody. Everyone knows the harmonic framework. This is the intent. This is what we are playing. But within that framework, roles shift constantly.
Evans provides harmonic direction. But Scott LaFaro and Paul Motian are not just supporting. They are participating fully in the creation. The bass sometimes leads. The drums sometimes make melodic statements. The piano sometimes drops to pure accompaniment.
The hierarchy keeps shifting. Based on who has something to say. Based on who needs support in that moment.
This is directed opportunism in real time. Clear intent combined with situational awareness. Coherence emerges from the relationships between the parts. No one controls. Everyone contributes.
You cannot plan this. You can only practice it into being. The trio could improvise together because they had developed shared vocabulary. Mutual trust. Complementary capabilities. They had internalized the intent so deeply they could respond to each moment without losing coherence.
The feedback loops between them operated faster than thought.
Organizations need this same capacity. Clear intent that everyone understands. Skills to sense what is happening. Trust to respond without checking with headquarters. Feedback loops to maintain coherence.
The principle connects the parts. The relationships create the whole.
The Business Fake Book: Three Companies That Got It Right

Jazz musicians carry something called a fake book. Not fake as in false. Fake as in basic. Portable. Minimal. A fake book gives you the melody and the chord changes. That is all. No arrangements. No orchestration. Just the essential structure every jazz musician needs to play the tune.
This is strategy distilled to essence. The fake book provides just enough structure to enable improvisation. Too much structure and you have classical music where the performer's job is faithful execution of the composer's intent. Too little structure and you have noise where no one can hear the conversation because there is no shared language.
The fake book gives you exactly what you need to play together without being told exactly what to play. It is an enabling constraint. It creates positive synergies between musicians who can now relate freely within a coherent framework.
Three companies understood this instinctively. They created business fake books. Simple rules that provided direction without dictating path. Enabling constraints that shaped behavior without specifying it. Strategic intent made operational through principles so clear that thousands of employees could improvise coherently without checking the score.
Let me tell you about them.
Four Seasons: The Golden Rule as Strategy
Isadore Sharp started with no background in the hospitality industry. The son of a modest builder from Poland. He learned the hotel business by trial and error. His breakthrough was realizing that customers would gladly pay extra for a home away from home experience. But that would only be possible if everyone was fully engaged. From managers and supervisors to bellmen, servers, and housekeepers.
The front-line staff, who have the most contact with guests, can make or break a five-star reputation.
Sharp needed a principle that could guide decisions across every level. Something simple enough to remember. Deep enough to mean something. Universal enough to work anywhere. An enabling constraint that would create positive synergies across the entire organization.
He chose the Golden Rule. Treat others as you would like to be treated.
That was it. The entire strategic framework. One principle. The business fake book reduced to a single sentence.
But watch what happens when you make that principle real. Sharp put in place the concept of the Golden Rule to show what the company expected of employees and what employees could expect from managers. It is the first rule of human rights. Honored by every major religion. But most importantly, it is actionable. You can apply it to any situation. Any culture. Any interaction.
Four Seasons hires for attitude. "We want people who like other people, and are therefore more motivated to serve them," Sharp explained at Stanford. "Competence we can teach. Attitude is ingrained."
The jazz principle applies directly to business. You cannot teach someone to swing. You can teach them the changes. You can teach them technique. But the feel for the music, the sensitivity to what others are playing, the desire to make something beautiful together. That you either have or you do not. That is the capacity for positive synergy with others.
Four Seasons gives front-line workers the authority to make most decisions they feel are needed to satisfy guests. When employees are trusted to use their common sense, they can and do turn mishaps into new service opportunities. Then what the customer remembers is not the complaint but the outcome. The parts adapt locally but the whole maintains coherence.
Simple rules deeply internalized enable this kind of improvisation. The feedback loops between employee action and customer response operate fast enough to create learning. The relationships between employees create the service culture. Coherence emerges through relationships between the parts.
The Golden Rule is the key signature. Every employee decision is the solo. The principle stays constant. The application varies with each situation. But you always know what song you are playing. The parts serve the whole without losing their capacity to respond.
Four Seasons has been named by Fortune as one of the 100 Best Companies to Work For every year since 1998. It has the lowest turnover rates in the hospitality industry. It operates 105 properties in more than 40 countries. It sets the standard by which every luxury hotel is measured.
All from one principle applied consistently for over sixty years. One enabling constraint creating positive synergies across tens of thousands of employees. The whole consistently greater than the sum of its parts.
The Parisian: What Donald Hess Taught Me Over Coffee

I knew Donald Hess when I lived in Birmingham, Alabama. We got to talking over Starbucks coffee one beautiful autumn morning back in 2017. The conversation turned to customer experience and strategy. Donald came from a family of retail giants. His father Emil and his partner Leonard Salit had built the Parisian into something special.
Donald told me a story I have never forgotten.
A woman came into the Parisian to return a complete wedding china set. The store accepted the return. No questions asked. Nothing unusual about that except for one detail. The china set had never been purchased at the Parisian. They did not even sell that brand.
They accepted it anyway.
I asked Donald why. He looked at me like the answer was obvious. "The cost of that china set was worth far less than the lifetime customer value of that woman," he said. "Plus the brand impact of that story spreading through Birmingham."
This was not a marketing decision. This was not customer service theater. This was the operating principle of the entire organization. Optimize for lifetime customer value over all other metrics. An enabling constraint that created positive feedback loops. Happy customers returned. Told their friends. Created more happy customers. The synergies compounded.
But there was another principle that both Donald and Hal Abroms insisted on that I learned from my wife, Laila. One that revealed how serious they were about empowerment. About distributed cognition. About trusting the parts to serve the whole.
"I never want to hear an associate on the floor say to a customer 'let me talk to my manager,'" they would tell their team.
Never.
That phrase meant leadership had failed. It meant they had not clearly articulated what mattered. It meant they had not empowered their associates to do the right thing for the customer. It meant the associate was putting policy ahead of people. Procedure ahead of relationship. Short-term cost ahead of lifetime value. It meant the feedback loop from customer to associate to decision was broken. The part could not respond locally to serve the whole.
No customer wants to hear "let me talk to my manager." What they hear is "I don't have the authority to help you." What they feel is "you're not important enough for me to decide." What they experience is friction. Delay. Bureaucracy. The breakdown of relationship between part and whole.
This is the opposite of what the Parisian stood for.
Every associate had the authority to make decisions that served the customer. They did not need permission. They did not need approval. They knew the principle. Lifetime customer value. They had the authority to apply it. The responsibility to apply it. The expectation to apply it. The parts could adapt locally because they understood how they served the whole.
If an associate ever said "let me talk to my manager," it revealed one of two things. Either the associate did not understand the principle deeply enough. Or the associate did not believe they had real authority to apply it. Both were leadership failures, not associate failures. The enabling constraint had failed to enable. The feedback loops were too slow. The synergies turned negative.
Donald and Hal understood something crucial. The rule against saying "let me talk to my manager" was not about control. It forced leadership to do the hard work of making principles clear and giving real authority to the people closest to customers. It forced them to build systems where the parts could sense and respond fast enough to serve the whole.
This is the difference between restrictive constraints and enabling constraints. Policies that act as restrictive constraints say "follow this procedure." Enabling constraints say "here is the principle, you have the authority, make the call." One creates bureaucracy. The other creates positive outcomes through empowered response.
This is the essence of distributed cognition. The principle has to be clear enough that everyone understands it. The authority has to be real enough that everyone can act on it. The trust has to be deep enough that no one feels they need permission to do the right thing. The parts must be free to adapt locally while serving the whole.
The system was organized around making decisions that optimized for lifetime customer value. Every policy. Every practice. Every day. And most importantly, every associate had the power to make it real. The parts served the whole by responding locally with simple principles.
I think equally important was that Parisian was a locally owned family business. The company was owned and managed by the Hess family and the Abroms family. Emil Hess was Chairman. The leader and moral compass. The philanthropy and civic leadership provided by the Hess and Abroms families is historic and continues today.
When Parisian was eventually sold to Saks for $285 million in 2006, it was specifically because of its loyal customer base. The brand had value because the principle had created relationships. The relationships had created lifetime customers. The lifetime customers had created a business worth buying. The positive synergies between happy customers and empowered associates created value that showed up in the sale price.
Our big retailers today are Amazon, Walmart, Costco, Target. We do not have the same special relationship with these large retailers as we had with Parisian and its owners.
The principle was the relationship. The relationship was the strategy. The strategy worked because everyone understood it and had the authority to apply it. Without asking permission. Without checking with a manager. The parts freely serving the whole.
This is the jazz principle again. Everyone knows the head. Everyone can solo. The coherence comes from shared understanding of what song you are playing. Not from checking with the bandleader before taking your turn. "Lifetime Customer Value. No exceptions. Take care of them." That is all most associates needed.
“Autumn Leaves. G minor. Medium swing. Thirty-two bars. Head in, piano then bass solos, out head — hold the last chord.”
Southwest Airlines: The Triangle on the Napkin
The story is legendary. Maybe even mythical. Herb Kelleher and Rollin King sitting in a San Antonio bar in 1966. Kelleher is a lawyer. King is a businessman. They are talking about starting an airline.
King grabs a cocktail napkin. Draws a triangle. Writes Dallas at the top. San Antonio on the bottom left. Houston on the bottom right. Connects them with lines.
"There," he says. "That's the business plan. Fly between these cities several times a day, every day."
Kelleher looks at the napkin. "Rollin, you're crazy. Let's do it."
Whether the napkin is literal or legend matters less than what it represents and the power the story holds. Strategy as direction, not destination. Strategic intent distilled to visual simplicity. A principle so clear you can sketch it on a napkin and everyone immediately understands. An enabling constraint reduced to geometric essence.
Southwest's simple rule was this. Make flying easier than driving.
Not better than other airlines. Easier than cars. That changes everything about what you optimize for. Not luxury. Convenience. Not meals. Speed. Not assigned seating. Turnaround time. The whole system organized around one principle.
Every tactical decision flowed from that strategic intent. Single aircraft type. The Boeing 737. Simpler gates. Easier booking. Faster turnaround. No assigned seating. Ten minutes faster boarding than competitors. Secondary airports. Lower costs. No frills. Lower prices. Each part optimized to serve the whole.
When industry analysts asked Herb Kelleher about his strategic plan, he said, "We have the most unusual plan in the industry. Doing things. That's our plan."
He explained what he meant. "What we do by way of strategic planning is we define ourselves and then we redefine ourselves. You don't change your principles or your philosophy, but tactically you adjust to outside competition and forces."
The triangle never changed. The tactics adapted constantly. The strategic intent remained fixed. The OODA loops ran fast. The parts sensed and responded while serving the whole.
This is commander's intent from maneuver warfare applied to business. The intent tells you what to achieve and why it matters. Then it trusts you to adapt your actions to the actual situation you face.
Southwest succeeded by keeping the intent crystal clear while giving enormous tactical freedom. Low fares. Frequent flights. Point to point. Everything else was improvisation within that framework. The enabling constraint created positive synergies across thousands of employees. Everyone knew what song they were playing.
The result? Southwest became the largest domestic airline in the United States. Forty straight years of profitability. Second most passengers globally. They democratized air travel in America.
All from a triangle on a napkin. One simple rule creating positive feedback loops that compounded for decades.
The triangle is the lead sheet. The key signature. The head of the tune. Everything else is the band improvising within that framework. When the bandleader calls the tune, they might say: "Make Flying Easier. Point to Point. Keep it zippy." That is all most employees need. The parts know how to serve the whole because the principle is clear.
The Pattern Across All Three
Four Seasons. The Parisian. Southwest Airlines. Three different industries. Three different eras. Three different founders. But the same underlying pattern emerges here as well. The same understanding of how wholes relate to parts. The same grasp of enabling constraints. The same creation of positive synergies.
A simple rule. So simple you can state it in one sentence. So clear that everyone can understand it.e So deep that it can guide infinite decisions.
The Golden Rule. Lifetime customer value. Make flying easier than driving.
These are not slogans. These are not marketing. These are enabling constraints. They shape behavior without specifying it. They provide direction without dictating path. They enable decision-making while maintaining strategic coherence. They create the relationships between parts that make the whole function.
Four Seasons employees can turn mishaps into service opportunities because they know the principle. They do not need to check the policy manual. They know how they would want to be treated. They act accordingly. The feedback loop from action to outcome operates fast enough to create learning. The part serves the whole without losing autonomy.
Parisian associates can accept returns of china they never sold because they know the principle. Lifetime customer value exceeds short-term cost. The relationship matters more than the transaction. The positive synergies between customer satisfaction and associate empowerment compound over decades.
Southwest employees can make thousands of tactical decisions about boarding, turnaround, route planning, customer service because they know the principle. Does this make flying easier than driving? If yes, do it. If no, do not. The parts adapt locally while serving the whole. The OODA loops run fast. The organization learns faster than competitors.
This is distributed cognition. This is how complex adaptive systems work. This is how jazz musicians improvise coherently without a conductor. This is how the forest organizes itself without a central planner. The whole emerges from the relationships between freely adapting parts guided by simple rules.
Shared principle. Deep internalization. Local authority. Fast feedback loops. Continuous learning. The parts connected to the whole through enabling constraints that create positive synergies.
Compare this to the alternative. Detailed procedures. Approval hierarchies. Policy manuals. Every decision escalated. Every exception requiring permission. Slow OODA loops. Inability to respond to actual conditions in real time. Negative synergies between parts that should be cooperating. The whole less than the sum because the relationships are broken.
Restrictive constraints versus enabling constraints. Control versus trust. Compliance versus judgment. Procedures versus principles. Negative synergies versus positive synergies. Parts isolated versus parts connected. Whole less than sum versus whole greater than sum.
The companies that get this right create strategic advantage that competitors cannot match. Because the advantage is not in the products. The advantage is in the system. The system is the relationships. The relationships are enabled by principles they have internalized deeply enough to apply autonomously. Coherence emerges because the parts can sense how they serve the whole through continuous feedback.
This is the most powerful kind of leverage point. You are not changing parameters. You are changing the paradigm. From control to trust. From compliance to judgment. From procedures to principles. From restrictive to enabling constraints. From negative to positive synergies. From parts isolated to parts connected. From machine to living system.
This is how OODA loops work. You observe what is actually happening. You orient through your internalized principles. You decide based on the situation. You act. You learn from results. You cycle again. Faster than competitors who have to check the manual. Faster feedback loops create faster learning. Faster learning creates adaptive advantage. The parts stay connected to the whole even as they adapt locally.
This is strategic intent in action. An animating dream. Clear enough to provide direction. Open enough to allow reinterpretation. Emotional enough to sustain commitment over decades. Intent that connects every part to the whole.
The Golden Rule sustained Four Seasons for sixty years. Lifetime customer value sustained Parisian through multiple generations. The triangle on the napkin sustained Southwest for forty years of profitability.
Because the principle does not change. But the application adapts to every situation. This creates both reliability and responsiveness. Both strategic stability and tactical flexibility. Both coherence through transformation and responsiveness through emergence. The whole greater than the sum because the relationships between parts create positive synergies that compound over time.
This is the jazz principle.
The changes stay the same. The solos are always different. But you always know what tune you are playing. When the bandleader calls the tune, they keep it simple. "Ko-Ko. B-flat. Fast. Cherokee changes." Or "Autumn Leaves. G minor. Medium ballad." The minimal enabling constraint that allows maximum pattern emergence. The principle that connects part to whole.
What This Means for Organizations in the Turning Point
We are in what Carlota Perez calls the turning point. The installation phase of the digital revolution is complete. The deployment phase has not yet arrived. Old institutions cannot contain new realities. Strategic planning assumes stability that no longer exists. The rate of environmental change exceeds the capacity of most organizations to sense and respond.

This is exactly when you need jazz thinking instead of classical thinking. When you need enabling constraints instead of restrictive procedures. When you need strategic intent instead of strategic plans. When you need positive synergies instead of bureaucratic friction. When you need the parts connected to the whole through fast feedback loops.
Because the turning point is characterized by rapid change. Weak signals. Emergent patterns. Situations that no one has encountered before. Decisions that cannot wait for approval. Responses that must adapt to actual conditions. This is when the relationship between parts and whole matters most.
This is when simple rules work and complex procedures fail. This is when enabling constraints outperform restrictive constraints. This is when organizations that can sense and respond faster than the environment changes create temporary advantage that they can compound over time.
Four Seasons. Parisian. Southwest. They succeeded because their principles could guide decisions in situations their founders never imagined. The Golden Rule works anywhere. Lifetime customer value applies to any customer. Making flying easier than driving guides decisions about technologies and markets that did not exist when the napkin was drawn.
The principle is portable across contexts. The application adapts to each context. This is how you navigate uncertainty. Not by predicting the future. By developing principles robust enough to guide action regardless of which future arrives. By creating enabling constraints that let the parts serve the whole no matter what situation emerges.
Strategy becomes sense-making under uncertainty. This is pattern recognition as patterns emerge. This is distributed cognition enabled by shared principles deeply internalized. This is the whole emerging from the relationships between freely adapting parts.
This is what Miles Davis meant when he said in jazz there is no failure, only the next note.
You play. You listen. You respond. You learn. The principle guides you. The situation informs you. The result teaches you. You play again. The feedback loops operate fast enough to create continuous adaptation. The parts stay connected to the whole even as they improvise.
Organizations need to make this same shift. From predicting and planning to sensing and responding. From control and compliance to trust and judgment. From restrictive procedures to enabling principles. From negative synergies to positive synergies. From parts isolated to parts connected. From machine metaphor to living system.
The forest has been doing this for hundreds of millions of years. Jazz musicians for over a hundred years. A few remarkable companies for decades, and some truly outstanding organizations for centuries.
Make the rule(s) simple enough that everyone can understand. Deep enough that it can guide infinite decisions. Clear enough that people can apply it without checking for permission. Strong enough to connect every part to the whole.
Then trust them to improvise. Trust the relationships between parts to create the coherence of the whole.
Second Movement: Sense-Making Under Uncertainty
OODA Loops and Weak Signals
The challenge, however is this: while the future is uncertain, we keep pretending like it isn't or at least that it will be very much like today. Strategy requires action. How do you act effectively when you cannot predict the future? What do you do?
This is not a new problem. Military commanders have faced it for thousands of years - since Homer. The answer is not better prediction. The answer is faster learning. Faster feedback loops. Higher learning velocity.
The one who handles rate of change better wins. Not who makes bigger decisions. Who makes more learning cycles in the same time period. Who creates faster feedback loops between action and learning. This is the insight behind the OODA loop, that is Observe, Orient, Decide, Act. Each cycle is a learning loop. The strategic advantage goes to whoever can cycle through OODA faster.
Observe what is actually happening. Not what you expected to happen. Not what the plan said should happen. What is actually happening right now in front of you. This is the sensing mechanism. The part that connects to the whole by observing the environment.
Orient to what it means. This is the most important step. Orientation is the schwerpunkt—the center of gravity—of the entire cycle. Orientation is where you make sense of what you observed. Where you recognize patterns. Where you connect new data to existing mental models or update those models when they no longer fit. This is where the part interprets how to serve the whole.
Decide on response. Given what you observed and how you oriented to it, what should you do. Not what the plan says to do. What the actual situation requires. The part deciding how to contribute to the whole.
Act. Execute the decision. Then immediately observe the results and start the cycle again. This closes the feedback loop. Action creates results. Results provide new observations. The cycle continues. The system learns.
The strategic advantage goes to whoever can cycle through OODA faster. More cycles means more learning. Faster cycles means faster adaptation. Organizations that can observe, orient, decide, and act faster than their environment changes create temporary competitive advantage. This is learning velocity. This is how feedback loops compound over time.
But here is the challenge. Most organizations have slow OODA loops. They observe quarterly through reports aggregated from monthly data. They orient through committees that meet occasionally. They decide through approval processes that take weeks. They act through projects that take months. The feedback loops are too slow. The parts cannot adapt fast enough to serve the changing whole.
By the time they complete one OODA cycle the environment has changed three times and competitors have completed five cycles. The negative synergies from slow feedback destroy competitive advantage.
The solution is not just moving faster. The solution is changing what you optimize for. Most organizations optimize for predictability and control. They want detailed plans with specified milestones. They want certainty about outcomes. These are restrictive constraints that slow feedback loops.
What they need is to optimize for learning velocity. How fast can we observe what is actually happening. How quickly can we make sense of it. How rapidly can we decide and act. How soon can we learn from results. These are enabling constraints that accelerate feedback loops. That create positive synergies between sensing and responding.
This requires different skills. Not analysis of past data but sensing of weak signals about emerging patterns. Not prediction of future outcomes but recognition of current trajectories. Not planning for various scenarios but responding to actual conditions. The parts developing the capacity to sense and adapt while serving the whole.
Pattern recognition is the core competence for strategists. Not analytical ability. Pattern recognition and collaborative sythnesis. The capacity to see coherence as it emerges from noise. To distinguish signal from background. To play and test assumptions. To recognize that this configuration of weak signals might indicate something significant even though you cannot yet prove it. This is sense-making as patterns emerge in real time.
This is not intuition in the sense of magic. This is intuition in the sense of rapid recognition based on deeply internalized pattern libraries. Jazz musicians develop vast libraries of harmonic patterns, rhythmic patterns, melodic patterns. When they encounter a new situation they recognize which patterns might apply based on tiny similarities to situations they have faced before. The feedback loops between playing and listening operate faster than conscious thought.
Organizations need to develop the same capability. Not better forecasting models but better sensing networks. People throughout the organization paying attention to weak signals. Mechanisms to surface those signals and make sense of them collectively. Processes to test responses quickly before patterns become obvious to competitors. The parts connected through feedback loops fast enough to maintain coherence while adapting.
Different industries evolve at different rates. Computer chips change faster than automobiles. Software changes faster than hardware. The successful firms match their strategic rhythm to what we might call the industry's clockspeed—calibrating their feedback loops to the speed of environmental change.
But most large organizations operate across multiple industries with different clockspeeds. You cannot have one strategic rhythm for the entire organization. You need multi-speed organizations. Different parts moving at different rates appropriate to their environment while maintaining overall coherence. Different feedback loops operating at different speeds while serving the same strategic intent.
Jazz ensembles do this naturally. The drummer might be playing straight ahead while the bassist is doubling time. Different musicians at different speeds simultaneously. The coherence comes from everyone listening and adjusting to maintain collective groove. The feedback loops between musicians operate fast enough to maintain the whole even as parts move at different speeds.
Organizations need exactly this capability. Not uniform processes and standard rhythms but differential speeds calibrated to different environments. All oriented to the same strategic intent but adapting at the speed appropriate to their context. Multiple feedback loops operating simultaneously. The parts connected to the whole through continuous sensing and response.
Jazz Interlude #4: Miles Davis – "So What"
Miles Davis's "So What" shows us minimal constraint creating maximal adaptation. The structure is two chords trading back and forth. That is it. The simplest possible framework. When you call this tune you might say: "So What. D Dorian. Modal. Easy groove."
Four words. Minimal enabling constraint.
This minimalism creates maximum freedom. Bill Evans, John Coltrane, Cannonball Adderley, Paul Chambers do not need detailed directions. They need space to explore within clear structure. They need fast feedback from each other. They need shared intent.
We are playing "So What" modally. Everything else emerges from listening and responding.
The result is some of the most influential jazz ever recorded. Not despite the minimal structure. Because of it.
The enabling constraint creates space for each musician to observe what the others are doing. Orient to where the music wants to go. Decide what to contribute. Act. Then observe the result and adjust.
This is OODA loops in musical form. Multiple players cycling through observe, orient, decide, act simultaneously. Creating coherence not through detailed planning but through continuous sensing and response.
Multiple feedback loops creating positive synergies. Each part running its own feedback loop while listening to feedback loops from other parts.
Organizations that achieve this balance between structure and freedom consistently outperform those that choose one or the other. Too much structure kills adaptation. Too much freedom destroys coherence.
The sweet spot is minimal enabling constraints plus fast OODA loops. Simple rules plus rapid feedback. The parts free to adapt while connected to the whole.
Third Movement: Creative Destruction as Rhythm
The Adaptive Cycle
Pando is dying because it cannot creatively destroy itself fast enough. The old stems should die to make room for new growth. But when predation on new stems exceeds the death rate of old stems the system gets locked in place. Brittle. Unable to renew. The feedback loops that should drive renewal are broken. The parts that should die to make room for new parts cannot let go. The whole suffers.
Organizations face the same problem. They optimize their current business. Get better and better at what they already do. This is good management. This is also what makes them vulnerable to disruption. They create positive feedback loops that reinforce what works now. Those same loops become negative synergies when the environment shifts.
Good management is often the most powerful reason companies fail. They perfect their current capabilities while the market moves somewhere else. By the time they realize what is happening their capabilities have become liabilities. The feedback loops that created success now prevent adaptation.
The adaptive cycle has four phases. Growth. Conservation. Release. Reorganization. This pattern appears across ecosystems and organizations. Systems that survive balance persistence and innovation. Too much conservation and you cannot adapt. Too much release and you lose accumulated knowledge. The cycle itself is a feedback loop. Each phase feeds into the next. The whole remains vital through continuous transformation of parts.
The rhythm between building up and breaking down is what keeps systems vital. This is creative destruction as continuous practice rather than periodic crisis. This is feedback loops that embrace both positive and negative synergies as necessary parts of adaptation.
The process of creative destruction is the essential fact about capitalism—Schumpeter's famous phrase. But jazz musicians have been practicing it longer. When players trade fours they build on and transform what the previous player did. They creatively destroy each other's ideas to create something richer. Beautiful phrases get repeated. Awkward ones get discarded. Each transformation creates new patterns. Each pattern becomes material for the next transformation. The music evolves through continuous iteration within the song and across generations of players. The feedback loops between musicians operate through creative destruction.
This is not disrespectful. The form works through transformation. You offer your idea to the group to be transformed. The transformation is not destruction. The transformation is how ideas become part of evolving collective intelligence. The parts contribute to the whole by being willing to be transformed.
Organizations need this same willingness to let go. Not reckless abandonment of everything that works. Deliberate release of what no longer serves. The rhythm of creative destruction keeps you from calcifying around past success. Keeps the feedback loops between past and future operating. Keeps the parts adapting so the whole can evolve.
The only sustainable advantage is the ability to learn faster. Not learning more. Learning faster. Being able to sense what is emerging, test responses quickly, internalize what works, discard what does not. This is learning velocity as the meta-capability. This is feedback loops optimized for speed of adaptation rather than preservation of what exists.
This connects directly to OODA loops. Each cycle through observe, orient, decide, act is a small creative destruction. You test an idea. Observe the results. Destroy what did not work. Build on what did. Faster OODA loops mean faster creative destruction. More cycles of building, testing, destroying, rebuilding. More feedback loops creating continuous adaptation.
Learning happens at organizational speed through continuous experimentation. Not through annual planning cycles but through continuous experimentation. Not through big bets but through small tests. Not through prediction but through response. The parts running fast feedback loops. The whole adapting through accumulated learning from all the parts.
The key is developing the cultural capacity to fail safely and learn quickly. Most organizations punish failure. This kills experimentation. Which kills learning. Which kills adaptation. Punishment creates negative synergies between risk-taking and learning. Slow feedback loops between trying and knowing.
What we need are cultures that treat failure as information. Use it and move on. Miles Davis said in jazz there is no failure, only the next note. The note you just played is already in the past. Your attention is on what comes next. The feedback loop from action to learning to next action operates so fast that failure becomes just another data point.
Organizations paralyzed by fear of failure cannot learn fast enough. They are still analyzing whether the last note was perfect while the music has moved on. The feedback loops are too slow. The parts cannot adapt. The whole cannot evolve.
Jazz Interlude #5: John Coltrane – "Giant Steps"
John Coltrane's "Giant Steps" uses harmonic changes so complicated that most musicians still struggle with them. When you call this tune you might say: "Giant Steps. B major. Fast. Coltrane changes."
Then everyone buckles up. Coltrane did not create this complicatedness to show off. He created it as a launching pad for exploration. The harmonic framework enables innovations that would be impossible in simpler structures.
This shows us something about the relationship between constraint and creativity. Sophisticated frameworks enable higher-order innovations.. Coltrane needed complex changes to explore what he wanted to explore. The constraint shapes the possibility space within which patterns emerge. The sophistication is not obstacle to creativity. It is a platform for it. But only if the complexity serves the exploration.
When sophisticated frameworks create space for patterns to emerge, it is justified. When frameworks constrain so tightly that no interesting or novel patterns can emerge, it's just bureaucracy or performance art.
This is the test. Does the constraint enable positive synergies between parts? Or does it create negative feedback loops, inadequate responses, local optimization?
We should ask this question constantly. Does this enable something valuable that simpler approaches cannot? Or is this complicatedness overhead? Does this create feedback loops that accelerate learning? Or feedback loops that slow response? The answer determines whether you are building platforms for innovation or monuments to process.
Fourth Movement: From Knowledge Stocks to Learning Flows
Learning Velocity as Advantage
Here is the shift that changes everything. From hoarding knowledge to participating in knowledge flows. From what you know to how fast you learn. From stocks to flows. From parts isolated to parts connected. From accumulation to circulation.
Success now comes from participation in knowledge flows. Not from keeping knowledge inside organizational boundaries but from plugging into networks where knowledge flows rapidly. The competitive advantage shifts from what you own to which flows you participate in. From the parts you control to the relationships you maintain. From the whole as fortress to the whole as network.
This is jazz thinking applied at scale. Jazz musicians do not learn in isolation then perform. They learn by performing. By playing with others. By touring. By jamming. By studying recordings. By participating in the continuous flow of musical knowledge that moves through the tradition. The feedback loops between learning and doing operate simultaneously. Knowledge flows through the network of musicians. Each part contributes to flows that benefit the whole.
The knowledge exists in the flow, not in any individual's head. Your competitive advantage is not what you know but which flows you participate in and how effectively you learn from them. Not the stocks you accumulate but the flows you access. Not what the parts contain but how the parts connect to the whole.
The implication is profound. Networks matter more than assets. Your ability to sense what is emerging in knowledge networks matters more than what you currently know. Your capacity to learn from flows matters more than what you have stored in stocks. The relationships between parts matter more than the capabilities of isolated parts. The feedback loops between organization and environment matter more than internal optimization.
This inverts traditional thinking about sustainable competitive advantage. You cannot sustain advantage through what you know if knowledge flows so fast that what you know becomes obsolete before you exploit it. You can only sustain advantage through how fast you learn. Through feedback loops faster than knowledge decay. Through participation in flows that compound learning velocity.
Learning velocity becomes the meta-capability that enables every other capability. This is why OODA loops matter so much. The cycle time of observe-orient-decide-act determines learning velocity. You learn from each cycle through the loop. More cycles means more learning. Faster cycles means faster learning. Faster feedback loops create exponential advantages. This is positive synergy through compounding learning.
But learning velocity is not just individual. It is organizational. It is systemic. The whole organization as a learning system. You need mechanisms to share learning across the organization. To convert individual insight into collective capability. To make sure that when someone learns something valuable that learning becomes available to everyone who needs it. The feedback loops must connect all the parts to the whole. The flows must circulate freely.
This requires different structures. Not hierarchies that control information flow but networks that enable information flow. Not approval processes that slow decisions but protocols that enable fast local decisions within strategic intent. Not walls between parts but permeable boundaries that allow flows while maintaining coherent identity. The parts connected through relationships that create positive synergies rather than isolated through barriers that create negative synergies.
It also requires different cultures. Not cultures that hoard knowledge but cultures that share knowledge. Not cultures that punish mistakes but cultures that learn from them. Not cultures of heroic individualism but cultures of collaborative sense-making. The whole greater than the sum because knowledge flows create positive feedback loops. Learning in one part accelerates learning in other parts. The synergies compound.
When Charlie Parker developed bebop he did not hoard the innovations. He played them in public. Taught them to younger musicians. Made the innovations available to the jazz community. The knowledge flowed. The entire tradition evolved faster because of it. Musicians repeated the patterns that worked. Discarded the phrases that didn't. Each generation refined the vocabulary through thousands of iterations. The feedback loops between Parker and other musicians created positive synergies. The whole jazz tradition benefited from parts freely sharing. The flows compounded learning velocity across the entire network.
Organizations that achieve similar knowledge flow outperform those that try to maintain knowledge as proprietary. The flow creates learning velocity that proprietary knowledge cannot match. The positive synergies from open flows compound faster than the isolated advantages from closed stocks. The parts connected through flows create a whole more adaptive than parts isolated by walls.
Jazz Interlude #6: Thelonious Monk – "Evidence"
Thelonious Monk's "Evidence" demonstrates how innovation changes what people recognize as possible. When you call this tune you might say: "Evidence. F blues. Medium swing. Monk's way." That last phrase matters. "Monk's way." Because Monk does not play this like anyone else.
Monk does not play wrong notes. He plays notes that redefine what is possible within the harmonic framework. His approach sounds strange at first. But once you hear it you cannot unhear it. He has changed what you recognize as musical. This is what genuine innovation does. It does not just create new products. It changes what people recognize as possible. Changes the patterns that define the whole.
Before Monk those notes sounded wrong. After Monk those notes opened new territory for everyone. The innovation was not just in what he played but in how he changed perception. Not just new combinations of existing patterns but new patterns that expand what counts as pattern. This creates positive synergies across the entire system. One innovation changes what is possible for all parts.
Organizations that achieve this kind of innovation are not incrementally improving. They are redefining categories. Creating new patterns that change what customers recognize as possible. Not better versions of existing wholes but new coherent patterns that emerge from seeing parts differently.
But once the new pattern is recognized it becomes obvious. Everyone wonders why no one thought of it before. This is the test of real innovation. It changes perception so thoroughly that the old way of seeing becomes difficult to remember. The new pattern gets repeated. Refined through iteration. Variations explored. Some kept, others discarded. The pattern creates positive feedback loops. More people see the new possibility. Each recognition makes the next recognition easier. Each iteration strengthens the pattern. The tradition evolves.v
Finale: Learning to Swing
From Reading Scores to Playing by Ear
We return to where we began. Pando dying because it cannot adapt fast enough. Organizations dying for the same reason. The solution is not better planning. The solution is better sensing and faster response. Faster feedback loops between environment and organization. Between parts and whole. Between action and learning.
This requires a paradigm shift. From viewing organizations as machines to viewing them as complex adaptive systems. From restrictive constraints to enabling constraints. From strategic plans to strategic intent. From annual cycles to OODA loops. From knowledge stocks to learning flows. From predictability to adaptability. From parts isolated to parts connected. From negative synergies to positive synergies. From wholes that control parts to coherence that emerges from relationships between parts.
The metaphor we need is not the machine that runs smoothly. The metaphor is the forest that constantly renews itself. The ecosystem that achieves stability through continuous transformation. The weather system that maintains recognizable patterns while never playing the same sequence twice. Systems where the whole remains coherent while parts continuously adapt.
Or the jazz ensemble. Clear intent. Simple rules. Fast feedback. Continuous adaptation. Each musician observing what others do, orienting to where the music wants to go, deciding what to contribute, acting, observing the result, adjusting. Coherence emerging from responsive dialogue rather than being imposed from above. The whole greater than the sum because the relationships between parts create positive synergies. Multiple feedback loops operating simultaneously faster than thought.
Strategic intent gives the direction. Enabling constraints provide the framework. OODA loops determine the rhythm or operational tempo. Pattern recognition through collaborative sensemaking and storytelling. Learning velocity compounds advantage. The parts serve the whole through relationships that create positive feedback loops. The whole enables the parts through constraints that shape without specifying.
This is the new organizational form. Not machine. Not even just complex adaptive system. Living system capable of sense-making under uncertainty. Navigating through complexity and ambiguity with situational awareness. Maintaining strategic coherence while adapting tactics in real time. The whole and the parts co-evolving through feedback loops that operate at the speed of environmental change.
Pando is teaching us what happens when adaptation cannot match environmental change. The feedback loops too slow. The sensing mechanisms inadequate. The response capacity overwhelmed. The parts unable to adapt fast enough to serve the survival of the whole.
Nature teaches us how self-organization works. That coherent wholes emerge from freely adapting parts through continuous responsive interaction. That enabling constraints create positive synergies. That simple rules applied locally can create global coherence. That the relationships between parts matter more than the capabilities of isolated parts.
Jazz teaches us how to improvise coherently. How to maintain the whole while parts adapt. How to sense and respond faster than environmental change. How to create positive synergies through continuous dialogue. How feedback loops between freely adapting parts can create coherence more adaptive than any conductor could impose.
Organizations must learn all three.
Ode to the West Wind
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,
Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead
Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing...
Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh hear!
[...]
Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:
What if my leaves are falling like its own!
The tumult of thy mighty harmonies
Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone,
Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce,
My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!
Drive my dead thoughts over the universe
Like wither'd leaves to quicken a new birth!
And, by the incantation of this verse,
Scatter, as from an unextinguish'd hearth
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unawaken'd earth
The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
— Percy Bysshe Shelley, "Ode to the West Wind" (1820)
Next in the Series:
Article 3: The Living System—Building Jazz Ensembles as Improvisational Communities




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