Hi. My name is Daryl Conner and I’m a methodology bigot.

Many reading this series on the methodology bigot’s mindset may be appalled at the notion such thinking could survive in this age of enlightenment, much less within the civilized, savvy field of change management. Some may think that if this kind of partisan judgment does exist, it must be limited to a small minority. I’m not suggesting that methodology bigotry is universal among change practitioners, but it’s far more prevalent than is healthy for our individual development, or the general maturation of our field. In fact, this kind of prejudice has become pervasive precisely because, for the most part, practitioners are unaware it has taken up residence within themselves and within our ranks. And a problem unrecognized usually means  a problem in unabated growth mode.

Methodology bigots don’t wake up in the morning and say to themselves, “It’s a good day for narrow, restrictive thinking.” I certainly never considered myself among those fitting the description. In fact, looking back at earlier times, I would not have reacted well to anyone even suggesting I was a methodology bigot. I might have characterized myself as confident in what my years of experience had taught me, but never arrogant. As far as approaches to change that differed from mine, I had no problem acknowledging that there were other sound methodologies. (However, I would have added that none were as solid as what I used.)

Oh, I might have owned up to being a bit more unwavering in my views than some practitioners, but I would have attributed that to having decades of experience in change work instead of years. (And I’m reminded that “cantankerous” is the word commonly applied to those of us with more grey hair than patience!) Even so, at some point, I realized that the enthusiasm I had for my own approach had crossed over into a subtle, but nonetheless pejorative, attitude toward approaches not consistent with mine.

It doesn’t matter whether it’s an unconscious impulse or an intentional, blatant disregard for other perspectives—the result of this kind of parochialism is always the same. Believing there is only one best way to execute change to the point that other approaches are relegated to the “inconsequential” file does a disservice to us, our craft, and our clients.

One can afford the luxury of self-righteousness if the implications for doing so are immaterial, but when people we serve and care about are affected by significant change, we must consign our egos to a status lower than our desire to serve, and bring our best game to the table. The best we can provide is unlikely to be reflected in a single, pedestrian  view of how implementation should be orchestrated.

What’s the point here? There is too much at stake to assume any of us is free and clear of the repercussions I’ve been describing. The only safe way to proceed with the implications of methodology bigotry is to correct for it even if you don’t feel vulnerable to the problem (maybe, in particular if you don’t feel vulnerable to the problem).

Allow me to stop again and give a voice to the cynics who are saying to themselves, “All this is fine, Daryl, but even if I agree that there is more methodology bigotry in our professional community than I might have realized, I can’t relate to how this kind of narrow-mindedness applies to me. Maybe this is how some practitioners think of their approach compared to others but it certainly doesn’t represent me or anyone I know.”

My response: “I’m glad to hear that you haven’t fallen neatly into the methodology bigot profile, but I’ll offer a word of warning before you become too smug. Seldom do even the most provincial of practitioners operate this way completely or all the time.”

The question isn’t, “Do you or don’t you meet the criteria?” If you accept my premise that we probably all have some degree of predisposition for being overly confident and restrictive in our views toward our preferred methodologies, a more penetrating inquiry is, “What do you consider an acceptable amount of intolerance to be toward approaches other than your own?”

Most practitioners say that even a hint of methodology arrogance is unacceptable, yet there is ample evidence that exclusionary thinking is in abundant supply within the practitioner community. They are usually subtle about it and when they do express prejudices, most change agents don’t discount all other approaches all the time. Even so, this kind of discrimination can be at its most caustic and damaging when dispensed with a casualness that hides it. The bottom line is, most of us spend a lot more time talking to ourselves or to other change agents who think like we do than we do engaging in respectful discourse with practitioners who come at change implementation in ways different from ourselves.

Next: The Question Isn’t “If,” It’s “To What Degree?”

Go to the beginning of this series.