They Can Handle The Truth

In the classic film “A Few Good Men”, there is a famous scene when Jack Nicholson’s character is asked for the truth and he responds with, “You can’t handle the truth.”

As leaders, how often do we feel the same way when conflict flares? We tell ourselves protecting someone from reality is the kinder thing to do?

Personally, I think most people can handle the truth.

What they can’t handle is guessing at it.

What are the kids saying these days?

I was curious what a different generation would say, so I asked my 18-year-old.

Would you rather someone was direct with you, or didn’t give feedback to spare your feelings?

He thought about it for a second. “Direct”, he said.

I asked why.

“It eliminates game playing. I don’t have to work hard to figure out what they want. And I know where I stand.”

I pushed a little. Well what if it’s something you don’t want to hear?

He didn’t blink. He simply replied, “Have you ever succeeded or progressed without hearing something you did not want to hear?”

Eighteen.

Not a leadership book in sight.

The Job Nobody Wants…A Mindreader

When someone softens a message, you don’t get spared the hard part, you just inherit a new job: figuring out what they actually meant.

Replaying the tone. Rereading the email twice. That guessing is expensive. The cost is real time and mental bandwidth.

I’ve seen it often lately.

In an employee, guessing at what her manager’s AI-smoothed message really meant.

In a leader, about to let someone go who admitted he’d been sitting on a mountain of feedback, but always stopped short when they felt the news would come as a shock to the receiver.

It all raises the real question:

What makes candor possible without feeling like a jerk?

The Sweet Spot: The Intersection of Care and Challenge

Kim Scott, who spent years managing teams at Google and Apple, built a framework around exactly this issue.

She calls it Radical Candor.

It requires caring about someone personally and challenging them directly, at the same time.

Her theory is this:

But the most important element?

Trust.

Candor lands as care when it’s backed by trust. Start there.

Sometimes we don’t have the time or opportunity we would like to build trust, and in that case, I believe the respectful move is to ask permission first.

“I have something that I think could help you. Would you like to hear it?”

One question can do in a sentence what usually takes months to build.

And plenty of candor doesn’t have to be corrective at all. Sometimes it’s simply naming the elephant trotting around the room. The one everyone can see and nobody is willing to point out.

Being direct, being candid, isn’t a risky move. Making people guess what you really think is.

To saying the true thing, plainly,

Laurie