BHTV-MBA Distance Learning Program
Fri, 19 Sep 2003 00:11:59 -0700
Parables of Leadership
by W. Chan Kim and Renee A. Mauborgne
. . . continued from (Part - 1)
The Wisdom of the Mountain
In ancient China, on top of Mount Ping stood a temple where the enlightened
one, Hwan, dwelled. Of his many disciples, only one is known to us,
Lao-li. For more than 20 years, Lao-li studied and meditated under the
great master, Hwan. Although Lao-li was one of the brightest and most
determined of disciples, he had yet to reach enlightenment. The wisdom of
life was not his.
Lao-li struggled with his lot for days, nights, months, even years until
one morning, the sight of a falling cherry blossom spoke to his heart.
"I can no longer fight my destiny," he reflected.
"Like the cherry blossom, I must gracefully resign myself
to my lot."
>From that moment forth, Lao-li determined to retreat down the mountain,
giving up his hope of enlightenment.
Lao-li searched for Hwan to tell him of his decision. The master sat
before a white wall, deep in meditation. Reverently, Lao-li approached him.
"Enlightened one," he said.
But before he could continue, the master spoke,
"Tomorrow I will join you on your journey down the mountain."
No more needed to be said. The great master understood.
The next morning, before their descent, the master looked out into the
vastness surrounding the mountain peak.
"Tell me, Lao-li," he said, "what do you see?"
"Master, I see the sun beginning to wake just below the horizon,
meandering hills and mountains that go on for miles, and
couched in the valley below, a lake and an old town."
The master listened to Lao-li's response. He smiled, and then they took the
first steps of their long descent.
Hour after hour, as the sun crossed the sky, they pursued their journey,
stopping only once as they approached the foot of the mountain. Again Hwan
asked Lao-li to tell him what he saw.
"Great wise one, in the distance I see roosters as they run around barns,
cows asleep in sprouting meadows, old ones basking in the late afternoon
sun, and children romping by a brook."
The master, remaining silent, continued to walk until they reached the gate
to the town. There the master gestured to Lao-li, and together they sat
under an old tree.
"What did you learn today, Lao-li?" asked the master.
"Perhaps this is the last wisdom I will impart to you."
Silence was Lao-li's response.
At last, after long silence, the master continued.
"The road to enlightenment is like the journey down the mountain.
It comes only to those who realize that what one sees at the top of
the mountain is not what one sees at the bottom. Without this wisdom,
we close our minds to all that we cannot view from our position and so
limit our capacity to grow and improve. But with this wisdom, Lao-li,
there comes an awakening. We recognize that alone one sees only so
much - which, in truth, is not much at all. This is the wisdom that
opens our minds to improvement, knocks down prejudices, and teaches
us to respect what at first we cannot view. Never forget this last
lesson, Lao-li:
what you cannot see can be seen from a different part of the mountain."
When the master stopped speaking, Lao-li looked out to the horizon, and as
the sun set before him, it seemed to rise in his heart. Lao-li turned to
the master, but the great one was gone. So the old Chinese tale ends. But
it has been said that Lao-li returned to the mountain to live out his life.
He became a great enlightened one.
Harvard Business Review
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The Wheel and the Light
Back in the third century B.C., the outbreak of fighting following the
collapse of the Qin Dynasty had just ended. In its place now stood the Han
Dynasty, whose emperor, Liu Bang, had consolidated China into a unified
empire for the first time. To commemorate the event, Liu Bang had invited
high-ranking military and political officials, poets, and teachers to a
grand celebration. Among them was Chen Cen, the master to whom Liu Bang had
often gone for enlightenment during his campaign to unify China.
The celebration was in full swing. A banquet grander than any ever seen was
being held. At the center table sat Liu Bang with his three heads of staff:
• Xiao He, who administered the logistics of unification;
• Han Xin, who organized and led the fighting activity; and
• Chang Yang, who formulated the diplomatic and political strategies.
At another table sat Chen Cen and his three disciples.
While food was served, speeches given, honors presented, and entertainment
performed, all looked on with pride and exhilaration - all except Chen
Cen's three disciples, who sat awestruck. Only midway through the
festivities did they utter their first words.
"Master," they remarked, "all is grand, all is befitting, but at the
heart of the celebration lies one enigma."
Sensing his disciples' hesitation, the master gently encouraged them to
continue.
"At the central table sits Xiao He," they proceeded.
"Xiao He's knowledge of logistics cannot be refuted.
Under his administration, the soldiers have always been well
fed and properly armed, whatever the terrain.
Next to his Han Xin. Han Xin's military tactics are beyond reproach.
He understands exactly where to ambush the enemy, when to
advance, and when to retreat. He has won every battle he has
led. Last is Chang Yang. Chang Yang sees the dynamics of
political and diplomatic relations in his palm. He knows which
states to form alliances with, how to gain political favors,
and how to corner heads of states into surrendering without
battle. This we understand well. What we cannot comprehend
is the centerpiece of the table, the emperor himself.
Liu Bang cannot claim noble birth, and his knowledge of
logistics, fighting, and diplomacy does not equal that of his
heads of staff. How is it, then, that he is emperor?"
The master smiled and asked his disciples to imagine the wheel of a chariot.
"What determines the strength of a wheel in carrying a chariot
forward?" he asked.
After a moment of reflection, his disciples responded,
"Is it not the sturdiness of the spokes, Master?"
"But then, why is it," he rejoined,
"that two wheels made of identical spokes differ in strength?"
After a moment, the master continued,
"See beyond what is seen. Never forget that a wheel is made
not only of spokes but also of the space between the spokes.
Sturdy spokes poorly placed make a weak wheel. Whether their
full potential is realized depends on the harmony between them.
The essence of wheelmaking lies in the craftsman's ability to
conceive and create the space that holds and balances the
spokes within the wheel. Think now, who is the craftsman here?"
A glimmer of moonlight was visible behind the door. Silence reigned until
one disciple said,
"But master, how does a craftsman secure the harmony between
the spokes?"
"Think of sunlight," replied the master.
"The sun nurtures and vitalizes the trees and flowers.
It does so by giving away its light.
But in the end, in which direction do they all grow?
So it is with a master craftsman like Liu Bang.
After placing individuals in positions that fully realize
their potential, he secures harmony among them by giving
them all credit for their distinctive achievements.
And in the end, as the trees and flowers grow toward the
giver, the sun, individuals grow toward Liu Bang with devotion."
Harvard Business Review
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