Espero que este texto lo lean los políticos mexicanos....,
Los desacuerdos son el antídoto para el pensamiento grupal....!
Los desacuerdos son el antídoto para el pensamiento grupal....!
Cuando estamos fuera de sincronía "estamos en nuestro punto más imaginativo. No hay mejor momento que la niñez para aprender a repartir palo y a recibirlos....
Como desciña Gilberto Rincón...“La política es conflicto, pero también cooperación; es competencia y corresponsabilidad a la vez; es confrontación, al tiempo que es conciliación"
Hay que pelearse y al final llegar a acuerdos...!
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Como desciña Gilberto Rincón...“La política es conflicto, pero también cooperación; es competencia y corresponsabilidad a la vez; es confrontación, al tiempo que es conciliación"
Hay que pelearse y al final llegar a acuerdos...!
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Dejen pelear a los niños/Adam Grant es profesor de Administración y Psicología en el Facultad Wharton de la Universidad de Pensilvania, y es el autor de Originals: How Non-Conformists Move the World.
The New York Times, Sábado, 11/Nov/2017; el original en inglés se publicó el 5 de noviembre (abajo): Kids, Would You Please Start Fighting?
Cuando Wilbur y Orville Wright finalizaron su vuelo en el Kitty Hawk, los estadounidenses celebraron su lazo fraterno. Los hermanos crecieron jugando juntos, aparecieron en los periódicos y construyeron juntos un avión. Incluso decían que “pensaban juntos”.
Cuando Wilbur y Orville Wright finalizaron su vuelo en el Kitty Hawk, los estadounidenses celebraron su lazo fraterno. Los hermanos crecieron jugando juntos, aparecieron en los periódicos y construyeron juntos un avión. Incluso decían que “pensaban juntos”.
Así son nuestras imágenes de la creatividad: llenas de armonía. Creemos que la innovación es algo mágico que sucede cuando las personas encuentran la sincronía. Las melodías de Rodgers se mezclan con las letras de Hammerstein. Por eso, una de las normas sagradas de la lluvia de ideas es “guardarse las críticas”. El objetivo es que las personas construyan a partir de las ideas de los demás, no que las desechen. Pero así no ocurre la creatividad.
La ilustración es de Aurélie Guillerey
“Luego de largas discusiones a menudo nos descubrimos en la posición ridícula de estar convencidos de lo que el otro pensaba”, reflexionaba Orville, “sin que hubiera un consenso, como cuando habíamos comenzado”. Solo hasta que ya habían diezmado los argumentos del otro se daban cuenta de que ambos estaban equivocados. No necesitaban una hélice sino dos, que pudieran girar en direcciones opuestas para generar una especie de ala rotativa. “No creo que se hayan molestado de verdad”, se maravilló su mecánico, “pero sí que la discusión fue bastante acalorada”.La ilustración es de Aurélie Guillerey
Cuando los hermanos Wright hablaban de que pensaban juntos, lo que en realidad querían decir era que discutían juntos. Una de sus decisiones fundamentales consistió en el diseño de una hélice para su avión. Riñeron durante semanas, a menudo gritándose durante horas.
La habilidad de acalorarse sin molestarse (tener una discusión que no se vuelva personal) es crucial para la vida. Pero es una habilidad que pocos padres enseñan a sus hijos. Deseamos darles un hogar estable, así que evitamos que los hermanos peleen y los adultos discutimos a puerta cerrada. Pero, si los niños no están expuestos jamás a las discrepancias, terminaremos limitando su creatividad.
Hemos aprendido que el pensamiento grupal es un problema desde hace tiempo: hemos presenciado guerras funestas que se desatan cuando se acallan las voces inconformes. Pero enseñar a los niños a discutir es más importante que nunca. Hoy vivimos en una época en la que en los campus universitarios se silencian voces que podrían ser ofensivas, una época en la que la política se ha vuelto un tema intocable en muchos círculos, aún más incómodo que los temas religiosos o raciales. Debemos ser más inteligentes: nuestro sistema legal se basa en la idea de que las discusiones son necesarias para la impartición de justicia. Para que nuestra sociedad se mantenga libre y abierta, los niños deben aprender el valor de una discrepancia abierta.
A menudo sucede que los adultos que son muy creativos crecieron en familias donde había mucha tensión. No peleas con puños e insultos, sino con discordancias verdaderas. Cuando se les pidió a adultos de 30 años que escribieran historias imaginarias, las más creativas pertenecían a aquellos cuyos padres habían tenido más conflictos un cuarto de siglo antes. Sus padres tenían visiones opuestas acerca de cómo criar a los hijos. Tenían valores, actitudes e intereses distintos. Y cuando arquitectos y científicos sumamente creativos eran comparados con sus colegas de habilidades técnicas similares, los innovadores eran aquellos en cuyas familias hubo más fricciones. Tal como lo describió el psicólogo Robert Albert: “La persona que será creativa proviene de una familia que es cualquier cosa menos armoniosa, una familia que se ‘tambalea’”.
Wilbur y Orville Wright provenían de una familia tambaleante. Su padre, que era predicador, nunca se topó con una lucha moral que no estuviera dispuesto a tener. Lo vieron chocar contra las autoridades escolares, a quienes no les agradaba mucho la decisión de dejar que sus hijos perdieran medio día de clases de vez en cuando para ser autodidactas. Su padre creía tanto en aceptar las discusiones que, a pesar de ser obispo en la iglesia local, tenía en su biblioteca una gran cantidad de libros escritos por ateos… y animaba a sus hijos a leerlos.
Si en contadas ocasiones presenciamos una disputa, aprendemos a alejarnos de la amenaza de conflicto. Presenciar discusiones y participar en ellas nos vuelve más resistentes. Desarrollamos la voluntad de pelear batallas a contracorriente y nos da la habilidad de ganarlas, así como la resiliencia de perder una batalla hoy sin perder nuestra determinación a futuro. Para los hermanos Wright, las discusiones eran el pan de cada día y una batalla feroz era digna de saborearse. El conflicto era algo que había que aceptar y resolver. “Me gusta pelear con Orv”, decía Wilbur.
Pero los hermanos Wright no estaban solos. Los Beatles peleaban por los instrumentos, las letras y las melodías. Elizabeth Cady Stanton y Susan B. Anthony discutían acerca de la forma correcta de ganarse el derecho al voto. Steve Jobs y Steve Wozniak discutieron sin cesar mientras diseñaban la primera computadora Apple. Ninguno de estos individuos tuvo éxito a pesar del drama, sino que prosperaron gracias a eso. Los grupos de lluvias de ideas generan un 16 por ciento más de ideas cuando se alienta a sus miembros a criticarse entre sí. Las ideas más creativas en las compañías chinas de tecnología y las mejores decisiones en los hospitales estadounidenses provienen de equipos que ya han pasado por verdaderas discusiones. Los laboratorios innovadores en microbiología no están llenos de colaboradores entusiastas que se animan entre sí, sino de científicos escépticos que desafían las interpretaciones de los demás.
Si nadie discutiera jamás, muy probablemente no renunciaríamos a viejas formas de hacer las cosas, y ni hablar de intentar probar nuevas. Los desacuerdos son el antídoto para el pensamiento grupal. Cuando estamos fuera de sincronía estamos en nuestro punto más imaginativo. No hay mejor momento que la niñez para aprender a repartir palo y a recibirlos.
Mientras crecía, Samuel Johnson veía que sus padres discutían con frecuencia. Él describió a su familia como “un pequeño reino dividido por facciones y expuesto a revoluciones”. Después escribió uno de los más importantes diccionarios de la historia, que tuvo un impacto duradero en la lengua inglesa y que no fue sustituido sino hasta la llegada del Oxford English Dictionary, más de un siglo después. ¿Quién habría estado más motivado y calificado para limpiar un idioma desastroso que alguien cuyo hogar era exactamente igual de desastroso?
Los niños necesitan aprender el valor de los desacuerdos reflexivos. Tristemente, muchos padres les enseñan a sus hijos que si no están de acuerdo con alguien es de buena educación quedarse callado. Tonterías. ¿Y si enseñáramos a los niños que quedarse callado es de mala educación? Es una falta de respeto hacia la capacidad de la otra persona de tener una discusión civilizada, y también hacia el valor de la opinión y la voz propia. Es una muestra de respeto preocuparnos tanto por la opinión de alguien como para estar dispuestos a rebatirla.
También podemos ayudar teniendo discusiones abiertas frente a los niños. Muchos padres ocultan sus conflictos: quieren presentar un frente unido y no quieren que los niños se preocupen. Pero cuando los padres están en desacuerdo, los niños aprenden a pensar solos. Descubren que ninguna autoridad monopoliza la verdad. Se vuelven más tolerantes ante la ambigüedad. En lugar de conformarse con las opiniones de otros, confían en su propio juicio.
Al parecer, la frecuencia con la que los padres discuten no es importante, sino cómo manejan las discusiones cuando se presentan. Según Albert, el psicólogo, la creatividad tiende a florecer en las familias que presentan “tensión y seguridad”. En un estudio reciente realizado en niños de 5 a 7 años, aquellos cuyos padres discutían de forma constructiva se sentían mucho más seguros. Durante los siguientes tres años, aquellos niños mostraron mayor empatía y preocupación hacia los demás. Eran más amistosos y comedidos con sus compañeros de clase.
En lugar de tratar de evitar las peleas, deberíamos poner como ejemplo conflictos amables y enseñar a los niños cómo estar en desacuerdo sanamente. Podemos comenzar con cuatro reglas:
Hazlo ver como un debate y no como un conflicto.
• Argumenta como si estuvieras en lo correcto, pero escucha como si estuvieras equivocado.
• Interpreta con todo respeto la perspectiva de la otra persona.
• Reconoce los puntos en los que coincides con tus críticos y lo que has aprendido de ellos.
Los buenos argumentos se tambalean: un equipo o familia podría mecerse de un lado a otro pero nunca se caerá. Si los niños no aprenden a tambalearse, jamás aprenderán a caminar: terminarán quedándose quietos.
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Kids, Would You Please Start Fighting?/ Adam Grant
The New York Times...NOV. 4, 2017
When Wilbur and Orville Wright finished their flight at Kitty Hawk, Americans celebrated the brotherly bond. The brothers had grown up playing together, they had been in the newspaper business together, they had built an airplane together. They even said they “thought together.”
These are our images of creativity: filled with harmony. Innovation, we think, is something magical that happens when people find synchrony together. The melodies of Rodgers blend with the lyrics of Hammerstein. It’s why one of the cardinal rules of brainstorming is “withhold criticism.” You want people to build on one another’s ideas, not shoot them down. But that’s not how creativity really happens.
When the Wright brothers said they thought together, what they really meant is that they argued together. One of their pivotal decisions was the design of a propeller for their plane. They squabbled for weeks, often shouting back and forth for hours. “After long arguments we often found ourselves in the ludicrous position of each having been converted to the other’s side,” Orville reflected, “with no more agreement than when the discussion began.” Only after thoroughly decimating each other’s arguments did it dawn on them that they were both wrong. They needed not one but two propellers, which could be spun in opposite directions to create a kind of rotating wing. “I don’t think they really got mad,” their mechanic marveled, “but they sure got awfully hot.”
The skill to get hot without getting mad — to have a good argument that doesn’t become personal — is critical in life. But it’s one that few parents teach to their children. We want to give kids a stable home, so we stop siblings from quarreling and we have our own arguments behind closed doors. Yet if kids never get exposed to disagreement, we’ll end up limiting their creativity.
We’ve known groupthink is a problem for a long time: We’ve watched ill-fated wars unfold after dissenting voices were silenced. But teaching kids to argue is more important than ever. Now we live in a time when voices that might offend are silenced on college campuses, when politics has become an untouchable topic in many circles, even more fraught than religion or race. We should know better: Our legal system is based on the idea that arguments are necessary for justice. For our society to remain free and open, kids need to learn the value of open disagreement.
It turns out that highly creative adults often grow up in families full of tension. Not fistfights or personal insults, but real disagreements. When adults in their early 30s were asked to write imaginative stories, the most creative ones came from those whose parents had the most conflict a quarter-century earlier. Their parents had clashing views on how to raise children. They had different values and attitudes and interests. And when highly creative architects and scientists were compared with their technically skilled but less original peers, the innovators often had more friction in their families. As the psychologist Robert Albert put it, “the creative person-to-be comes from a family that is anything but harmonious, one with a ‘wobble.’ ”
Wilbur and Orville Wright came from a wobbly family. Their father, a preacher, never met a moral fight he wasn’t willing to pick. They watched him clash with school authorities who weren’t fond of his decision to let his kids miss a half-day of school from time to time to learn on their own. Their father believed so much in embracing arguments that despite being a bishop in the local church, he had multiple books by atheists in his library — and encouraged his children to read them.
If we rarely see a spat, we learn to shy away from the threat of conflict. Witnessing arguments — and participating in them — helps us grow a thicker skin. We develop the will to fight uphill battles and the skill to win those battles, and the resilience to lose a battle today without losing our resolve tomorrow. For the Wright brothers, argument was the family trade and a fierce one was something to be savored. Conflict was something to embrace and resolve. “I like scrapping with Orv,” Wilbur said.
The Wright brothers weren’t alone. The Beatles fought over instruments and lyrics and melodies. Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony clashed over the right way to win the right to vote. Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak argued incessantly while designing the first Apple computer. None of these people succeeded in spite of the drama — they flourished because of it. Brainstorming groups generate 16 percent more ideas when the members are encouraged to criticize one another. The most creative ideas in Chinese technology companies and the best decisions in American hospitals come from teams that have real disagreements early on. Breakthrough labs in microbiology aren’t full of enthusiastic collaborators cheering one another on but of skeptical scientists challenging one another’s interpretations.
If no one ever argues, you’re not likely to give up on old ways of doing things, let alone try new ones. Disagreement is the antidote to groupthink. We’re at our most imaginative when we’re out of sync. There’s no better time than childhood to learn how to dish it out — and to take it.
As Samuel Johnson was growing up, his parents argued constantly. He described a family as “a little kingdom, torn with factions and exposed to revolutions.” He went on to write one of the greatest dictionaries in history, one that had a lasting impact on the English language and wasn’t supplanted until the Oxford English Dictionary appeared more than a century later. Who would be more motivated and qualified to clean up a messy language than someone whose household was filled with it?
Children need to learn the value of thoughtful disagreement. Sadly, many parents teach kids that if they disagree with someone, it’s polite to hold their tongues. Rubbish. What if we taught kids that silence is bad manners? It disrespects the other person’s ability to have a civil argument — and it disrespects the value of your own viewpoint and your own voice. It’s a sign of respect to care enough about someone’s opinion that you’re willing to challenge it.
We can also help by having disagreements openly in front of our kids. Most parents hide their conflicts: They want to present a united front, and they don’t want kids to worry. But when parents disagree with each other, kids learn to think for themselves. They discover that no authority has a monopoly on truth. They become more tolerant of ambiguity. Rather than conforming to others’ opinions, they come to rely on their own independent judgment.
It doesn’t seem to matter how often parents argue; what counts is how they handle arguments when they happen. Creativity tends to flourish, Mr. Albert, the psychologist, found, in families that are “tense but secure.” In a recent study of children ages 5 to 7, the ones whose parents argued constructively felt more emotionally safe. Over the next three years, those kids showed greater empathy and concern for others. They were friendlier and more helpful toward their classmates in school.
Instead of trying to prevent arguments, we should be modeling courteous conflict and teaching kids how to have healthy disagreements. We can start with four rules:
• Frame it as a debate, rather than a conflict.
• Argue as if you’re right but listen as if you’re wrong.
• Make the most respectful interpretation of the other person’s perspective.
• Acknowledge where you agree with your critics and what you’ve learned from them.
Good arguments are wobbly: a team or family might rock back and forth but it never tips over. If kids don’t learn to wobble, they never learn to walk; they end up standing still.
Adam Grant is a professor of management and psychology at the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania, the author of “Originals: How Non-Conformists Move the World” and a contributing opinion writer.
A version of this op-ed appears in print on November 5, 2017, on Page SR7 of the New York edition with the headline: Kids, Would You Please Start Fighting?.
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Kids, Would You Please Start Fighting?/ Adam Grant
The New York Times...NOV. 4, 2017
When Wilbur and Orville Wright finished their flight at Kitty Hawk, Americans celebrated the brotherly bond. The brothers had grown up playing together, they had been in the newspaper business together, they had built an airplane together. They even said they “thought together.”
These are our images of creativity: filled with harmony. Innovation, we think, is something magical that happens when people find synchrony together. The melodies of Rodgers blend with the lyrics of Hammerstein. It’s why one of the cardinal rules of brainstorming is “withhold criticism.” You want people to build on one another’s ideas, not shoot them down. But that’s not how creativity really happens.
When the Wright brothers said they thought together, what they really meant is that they argued together. One of their pivotal decisions was the design of a propeller for their plane. They squabbled for weeks, often shouting back and forth for hours. “After long arguments we often found ourselves in the ludicrous position of each having been converted to the other’s side,” Orville reflected, “with no more agreement than when the discussion began.” Only after thoroughly decimating each other’s arguments did it dawn on them that they were both wrong. They needed not one but two propellers, which could be spun in opposite directions to create a kind of rotating wing. “I don’t think they really got mad,” their mechanic marveled, “but they sure got awfully hot.”
The skill to get hot without getting mad — to have a good argument that doesn’t become personal — is critical in life. But it’s one that few parents teach to their children. We want to give kids a stable home, so we stop siblings from quarreling and we have our own arguments behind closed doors. Yet if kids never get exposed to disagreement, we’ll end up limiting their creativity.
We’ve known groupthink is a problem for a long time: We’ve watched ill-fated wars unfold after dissenting voices were silenced. But teaching kids to argue is more important than ever. Now we live in a time when voices that might offend are silenced on college campuses, when politics has become an untouchable topic in many circles, even more fraught than religion or race. We should know better: Our legal system is based on the idea that arguments are necessary for justice. For our society to remain free and open, kids need to learn the value of open disagreement.
It turns out that highly creative adults often grow up in families full of tension. Not fistfights or personal insults, but real disagreements. When adults in their early 30s were asked to write imaginative stories, the most creative ones came from those whose parents had the most conflict a quarter-century earlier. Their parents had clashing views on how to raise children. They had different values and attitudes and interests. And when highly creative architects and scientists were compared with their technically skilled but less original peers, the innovators often had more friction in their families. As the psychologist Robert Albert put it, “the creative person-to-be comes from a family that is anything but harmonious, one with a ‘wobble.’ ”
Wilbur and Orville Wright came from a wobbly family. Their father, a preacher, never met a moral fight he wasn’t willing to pick. They watched him clash with school authorities who weren’t fond of his decision to let his kids miss a half-day of school from time to time to learn on their own. Their father believed so much in embracing arguments that despite being a bishop in the local church, he had multiple books by atheists in his library — and encouraged his children to read them.
If we rarely see a spat, we learn to shy away from the threat of conflict. Witnessing arguments — and participating in them — helps us grow a thicker skin. We develop the will to fight uphill battles and the skill to win those battles, and the resilience to lose a battle today without losing our resolve tomorrow. For the Wright brothers, argument was the family trade and a fierce one was something to be savored. Conflict was something to embrace and resolve. “I like scrapping with Orv,” Wilbur said.
The Wright brothers weren’t alone. The Beatles fought over instruments and lyrics and melodies. Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony clashed over the right way to win the right to vote. Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak argued incessantly while designing the first Apple computer. None of these people succeeded in spite of the drama — they flourished because of it. Brainstorming groups generate 16 percent more ideas when the members are encouraged to criticize one another. The most creative ideas in Chinese technology companies and the best decisions in American hospitals come from teams that have real disagreements early on. Breakthrough labs in microbiology aren’t full of enthusiastic collaborators cheering one another on but of skeptical scientists challenging one another’s interpretations.
If no one ever argues, you’re not likely to give up on old ways of doing things, let alone try new ones. Disagreement is the antidote to groupthink. We’re at our most imaginative when we’re out of sync. There’s no better time than childhood to learn how to dish it out — and to take it.
As Samuel Johnson was growing up, his parents argued constantly. He described a family as “a little kingdom, torn with factions and exposed to revolutions.” He went on to write one of the greatest dictionaries in history, one that had a lasting impact on the English language and wasn’t supplanted until the Oxford English Dictionary appeared more than a century later. Who would be more motivated and qualified to clean up a messy language than someone whose household was filled with it?
Children need to learn the value of thoughtful disagreement. Sadly, many parents teach kids that if they disagree with someone, it’s polite to hold their tongues. Rubbish. What if we taught kids that silence is bad manners? It disrespects the other person’s ability to have a civil argument — and it disrespects the value of your own viewpoint and your own voice. It’s a sign of respect to care enough about someone’s opinion that you’re willing to challenge it.
We can also help by having disagreements openly in front of our kids. Most parents hide their conflicts: They want to present a united front, and they don’t want kids to worry. But when parents disagree with each other, kids learn to think for themselves. They discover that no authority has a monopoly on truth. They become more tolerant of ambiguity. Rather than conforming to others’ opinions, they come to rely on their own independent judgment.
It doesn’t seem to matter how often parents argue; what counts is how they handle arguments when they happen. Creativity tends to flourish, Mr. Albert, the psychologist, found, in families that are “tense but secure.” In a recent study of children ages 5 to 7, the ones whose parents argued constructively felt more emotionally safe. Over the next three years, those kids showed greater empathy and concern for others. They were friendlier and more helpful toward their classmates in school.
Instead of trying to prevent arguments, we should be modeling courteous conflict and teaching kids how to have healthy disagreements. We can start with four rules:
• Frame it as a debate, rather than a conflict.
• Argue as if you’re right but listen as if you’re wrong.
• Make the most respectful interpretation of the other person’s perspective.
• Acknowledge where you agree with your critics and what you’ve learned from them.
Good arguments are wobbly: a team or family might rock back and forth but it never tips over. If kids don’t learn to wobble, they never learn to walk; they end up standing still.
Adam Grant is a professor of management and psychology at the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania, the author of “Originals: How Non-Conformists Move the World” and a contributing opinion writer.
A version of this op-ed appears in print on November 5, 2017, on Page SR7 of the New York edition with the headline: Kids, Would You Please Start Fighting?.
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