In August, I finally saw Hamilton, the hit musical that made Lin-Manuel Miranda arguably the most famous musical composer since Andrew Lloyd Weber. It was an interesting experience to watch a play that takes place in the late 18th century American east coast while seated in the velvety comfort of a London theatre – lines like “We’re in the greatest city on earth – New York!” probably receive a more roaring response from the audience when on Broadway. Still, it was a good experience with talented actors (special shoutout to Joel Montague who played King George, the funniest character on stage).
If you’re not familiar with the musical, I recommend looking into its origins. Alexander Hamilton is one of the US Founding Fathers, yet he’s considerably less well-known than Washington and Franklin. One reason may be his untimely death as a result of a duel – a prolific writer, perhaps it can be said he didn’t have the time to become president. This is addressed well at the end of the musical, and afterwards I read up on how the musical came to be. Miranda had been on vacation and read the 2004 biography titled Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow, and from that began what was for a long time a sold-out performance.
A central theme of the musical is the rivalry between Hamilton and his compatriot, Aaron Burr. It is in fact Burr that starts the whole show, and who ultimately ends up challenging Hamilton to a duel after the latter publicly embarrasses the former by claiming he’s an unprincipled man (that’s the skinny of it, anyway). I was particularly impressed by the song “The Room Where It Happens,” sang with a chorus and Burr. It refers to a deal made by Hamilton, Jefferson and Madison behind closed doors where both parties get what they want – Hamilton support for his financial plan, and Jefferson and Madison the capital city south instead of New York.
It got me thinking of decision-making in general, and why people aspire to be in the room, making the decisions (or just seeing how the deals get made). Much of decision-making is shrouded in secrecy, and I think that if meeting memos were distributed after each meeting, there’d be less appetite to be in the meetings. People generally like transparency and accountability, and if you let the people know what happens in the room, it suddenly loses much of its lure. Easier to get on with your decision-making.
So why don’t many leaders communicate what happens behind closed doors? In my opinion, telling your team what you discussed with other leaders not only helps teams stay aligned but strengthens your team’s trust in you. You don’t have to divulge everything – perhaps there were some things discussed that aren’t ready to be communicated yet. But not uttering a single word, especially when everyone is aware that a big, exclusive meeting took place, is a bad policy. Why spend days meeting with a big group, potentially spending lots of money to get everyone in the same place, and have no decisions to act on at the end of it? It brings up distrust in management: either, they are incompetent, or they’re secretive. Neither is a good look (or a good truth).
It makes sense not to have everyone in the room making the decisions. The bigger our communities, the harder it is to get everyone on the same page fast enough to be efficient in decision-making. Not everyone is interested (despite the appeal that power has for so many of us), and not everyone is competent. But the best bosses I ever had, and the best companies I ever worked in, communicated strategy clearly, openly, and naturally, inspiring confidence in them as decision-makers.
And what about me, then? Do I want to be in the room where it happens? Not for the sake of having power and some kind of a kick I might get out of it. But to have power over things that impact me, that matter to me? To make things happen? To tell anyone impacted why and how? Yes, for those things, I want to be in the room where it happens. What about you?
Sidetracked 