Chapter Seven
Pick Advisors Wisely
Surround yourself with associates who have the courage to say no.
My children firmly believe I am from another age. I never learned computer skills; I don’t quite understand how e-mail works. My letters and notes quite often are written by hand. I manage in today’s high-tech world because there are many people around me who are technologically competent. In some ways, it leaves me in a more pleasant setting where relationships are more personable.
If you don’t have knowledge of something, find people who do. I have around me wonderful men and women of talent, skill, energy, virtue, and promise. They know that Huntsman team membership requires the following:
Loyalty to the company
Loyalty to the CEO
Competence
In sum, I look for ethical, loyal, talented associates. Finding talent is the easy part. Determining matches for the other criteria takes a skilled eye and ear. Of no consequence to me are gender, race, one’s religious, political, and ethnic background, which school he or she attended, family pedigrees, hairstyles, and other such individual factors that seem to give some employers pause. Judge people by their values, character, and deeds—not by their looks, backgrounds, and philosophical beliefs.
The Huntsman employee base has been as high as 16,000, up considerably from the 200 workers when I started 35 years ago. To guide those associates, I have sought out individuals with leadership and specialty skills far beyond my own.
Life is not a game of Solitaire; people depend on one another. When one does well, others are lifted. When one stumbles, others also are impacted.
There are no one-man teams—either by definition or natural law. Success is a cooperative effort; it’s dependent upon those who stand beside you.
It has always been a source of personal strength for me to be surrounded by people who hold similar or greater values to mine, who share my passion and vision, who have capacities greater than my own.
Frequently, I am asked why Huntsman Corp. has been successful. What’s the formula for starting with nothing and arriving at wealth? My initial answer is to underscore integrity, vision, commitment, generosity, self-confidence, and the courage to make decisions that set one apart from a competitor or from what currently is the marketplace norm. Then I add: The first and most important decision in one’s success is carefully choosing the people who will surround you. Make sure they share your values, make certain their character defaults to high moral ground in times of stress, ensure they are bright and comprehend results, and be confident of their loyalty.
The Wall Street Journal recently ranked attributes recruiters seek in hiring new personnel. The three highest—and substantially ahead of the others—were interpersonal skills, an ability to work well within a team, and personal integrity.
Curiously, work experience and strategic thinking were in the middle of the list of the 20 most desired traits for new hires.
It does little good to employ a top sales manager, a talented computer engineer, or an outstanding production superintendent if their values don’t coincide with yours. If you aren’t operating under the same standards, how can associates alert you to a dangerous turn? If those associates don’t know north from south or, worse, don’t care, how will the organization stay on the proper course? Cultivate relationships with those who are teachable.
Backgrounds, age, education, and experience may vary with key associates, but basic values must be uniform and in compliance with the culture you want for your company, organization, or home. Constantly keep ethical expectations alive. Otherwise, brace for heavy consequences.
Like-minded associates are not always easy to locate, but the search is worth it. Together, you will be responsible for establishing and enforcing ethical standards. Together, you will set the examples. If an executive has a background of cutting corners or of dishonesty, the organization and everyone inside it eventually will pay a price.
When we were young, we unconsciously chose friends with similar values. We didn’t like dealing with individuals, for example, who were not truthful. They concerned us. Lying seemed so silly, so unnecessary. Nobody likes dishonesty. I remember associating with people who often were not the most popular in the school, but they were respected. And one of the reasons they were respected was because they had integrity.
Although we regularly treat the terms as if they are equals, there is a difference between admiration (popularity) and respect. The former has to do with positive, outward attributes; the latter is a positive recognition of one’s inner strength and character. We admire celebrities, but we don’t necessarily respect them. We respect great teachers, but we don’t always like them.
Some people earn admiration and respect. If you must choose one, however, go for respect every time.
Most of us occasionally must decide between being popular and doing things that align with our personal values. Adhering to immediate gratification and expedient routes place us in danger of forfeiting the very character that produces long-term success and respect. Selecting a friend or an associate who is respected because of a devotion to values is smart. It ensures you never have to worry about that person’s trustworthiness.
I once asked a group of 200 junior high and high school students the difference between respect and popularity. Their answers were interesting. One young man defined respect as “how I feel about myself when I know I am honest and have done the right thing.” That was a tremendous answer because, whether he knew it or not, it is difficult for a person to respect others without having self-respect.
Asked whether an individual can enjoy respect and popularity, an eighth grader said that it was possible—if she sticks to her values and treats others with kindness and affection. I responded that such individuals are rare, but if a choice between the two attributes must be made, it would be well to remember that popularity is fleeting. Without lasting respect, relationships won’t long survive. Stand for what is right, not what is popular.
Ethicist Michael Josephson says ethics is all about how we meet the challenge of doing the right thing when that act will cost more than we want to pay. This is precisely what I was telling those youngsters. Respect often comes at a cost—quite high at times—but one must be willing to pay the price.
It is difficult within peer groups to break with the crowd, to exercise moral authority in the face of majority opposition. It takes courage to speak out when others believe that what they are doing will net them a promotion, greater popularity, additional wealth, or when that warning will jeopardize one’s job or public standing. Notwithstanding those risks, remaining true to one’s conscience is a powerful force.
There is no book written, no guideline yet crafted, and no class lecture devised that explains how to activate courage. Courage comes from deep within one’s being. Courage is not the understanding of what is right or wrong. Rather, it is the strength to choose the right course.
When we aren’t focused, ethical dilemmas present themselves in the color gray. We are aware of the black and white of situations, but it is easy to conclude that we may cruise in gray areas with impunity so long as we don’t drift into what is demonstrably illegal behavior. We, of course, are deluding ourselves. In these scenarios, we inevitably cross ethical boundaries somewhere prior to the behavior becoming unlawful, if we haven’t already.
That’s why it is critically important to choose wisely when selecting those who will be at your right and left sides, and those who have your back. They must have a keen sense of where the boundaries of life’s playing field are located. Your associates must share your perception of where the out-of-bounds lines belong. Shades of gray are almost always outside the bounds of propriety. Although playing in the gray zones may not technically be illegal, it is a dangerous practice at best and an improper one at worst.
Core values, reinforced by regular consultations with one’s internal compass, are more critical to a company than defined regulations. If determining whether behavior is ethical automatically requires searching the official rulebook, it is an indication we are vulnerable to missing danger signs. If we must check to see whether our activity is wrong, it probably is.
I have had the good fortune to be associated with people who have a marvelous “can do” attitude. They know that, at the end of the day, we can make better and more ethical decisions than the outsiders—the consultants, lawyers, and lenders. To be sure, there are bright, able, competent men and women in the fields of law, business consulting, and banking. For the most part, however, they do not take personal risks and will never know the true joy and satisfaction that comes from being in the mine-filled arenas where empires are built.
They also have a hard time seeing the responsibility and gratification of dedicating one’s resources and profits to charitable causes.
During those dark years of 2001–2003, when energy prices were high and the country was experiencing a recession, Huntsman, along with the rest of the petrochemical industry, found itself in an overcapacity position. Every factor that could go wrong did, and we were on the financial precipice. Internally, I was discouraged, but I tried not to show it.
Few colleagues believed I could slay the economic dragons besieging us. One senior officer came to me and said that if I did not seek bankruptcy protection, he would have to leave the company. His expression in favor of bankruptcy didn’t bother me. He was there, after all, to offer advice, which he did. He took it a step further when he said he would have to leave Huntsman if I did not follow the route he recommended. He no longer shared my values. When that occurs with an advisor or officer, we part ways—as we did in this case.
In every walk of life, we must believe we can succeed or, by definition, we already have failed. If a member of your team no longer believes you can attain success, that person—or you—should leave.
Those closest to you emotionally—a spouse, a child, or a parent—often can be a trusted advisor, for they know you best. That is particularly true with my wife, Karen. Whereas I tend to make decisions from the heart, she makes them from the head. They are sound, logical, nonemotional approaches to problems. She also is more skeptical than I am. She has watched too many people take advantage of me, too many good deeds punished.
I often introduce Karen as the chairman of the chairman—a title Forbes bestowed on her in 1988—and there is nothing facetious about it. She knows her mind and tells it straight. (The children affectionately refer to her as “Queen Mother.”)
Karen was about the only other person who resolutely believed from the beginning that we could pull the company out of the fire in the financial crisis of 2001–2003.
There are no exact duplicates in nature. Each human is unique. When we seek to be like the next person, we lose autonomy. Failure often is the result of following the crowd. If the character of the person we are following lacks strength, honesty, and courage, that person’s weaknesses can become ours. Conversely, following someone who exhibits those attributes reinforces one’s own resolve and character.
You may find this odd, but when hiring managers, I never ask to see their GPAs or inquire as to their class standings. I don’t care to know their academic majors. Be assured, I examine a person’s background, but only for signs of integrity, commitment, and courage. I want to know the character of the person I am about to put at my side, and it’s not hard to spot.
Applicants get points for holding full- or part-time jobs while in high school and college. It says something about one’s commitment if he or she has had to underwrite part or all of their educational costs in achieving a degree.
During my White House stint, I answered to and interacted daily with Chief of Staff H.R. (Bob) Haldeman. It took only a few months before I began to notice the amoral atmosphere along “King’s Row,” as the West Wing was starting to be called. Everyone wanted to please Haldeman, no matter what the cost. His management style solicited only the type of information that would win grudging approval. No inner-staffer member said, “Wait a minute, Bob, this is wrong.”
Haldeman often did not pick subordinates wisely because he selected aides who would be unquestioning in their service to the president, and the chief of staff determined just what that service would be. Potential legal problems, ethical challenges, and errors of judgment either were submerged or denied. That I was not one of the boys puzzled Haldeman and his immediate staff.
One evening, Haldeman invited his team to join him for dinner on the presidential yacht, Sequoia, a heady experience for a young assistant. It was a lovely night as we cruised down the Potomac. Aboard were Chuck Colson, Alex Butterfield, John Dean, Jeb Magruder, Ron Ziegler, and Dwight Chapin, most of whom would soon become household names.
Toward the end of dinner, about the time we were being served baked Alaska, Haldeman inquired of the assembled: “What are we going to do about Jon who works all day and doesn’t play?” I was embarrassed. “Do you think there is any way we can get Huntsman out of his office to socialize with the rest of us?” he rhetorically asked the group.
It was a joke and it wasn’t. He had made light of my propensity to keep my nose to the grindstone, but he was also sending a message. He had been trying to pull me into his inner circle for several months. So far, I had refused the lure. I attended meetings and carried out my responsibilities, but kept my distance and independence. I did not dislike any of them, not even Haldeman. Some I genuinely admired; a few I even respected. We spent 14 to 16 hours a day working together. We were a family, of sorts.
At the end of the day, I didn’t want to play with these guys. I didn’t like the rules under which many of them operated. I had different ideas about what counted in life. My lifestyle was less complex, not like those who sat around the table that night. Haldeman expected me to become one of his boys. I wouldn’t do it.
I have always held in high regard individuals who informed me that certain behavior or policies were inappropriate. I respect candor. My door is always open for news—good or bad. Many leaders only want to hear the positive. It is dangerous to be employed by such people. Those who never want to hear bad news don’t want to know when they are off course.
That, sadly, is the reason the news media is so full of stories about whistleblowers, individuals who usually are neither disloyal nor disgruntled employees. They were frustrated about an internal warning system that wasn’t operational or valued. Higher-ups didn’t want to hear bad news.
Each of us starts with an ability to be a moral leader. From parents to CEOs, we possess the wisdom to see and appreciate the ethical, decent course. It is courage that separates those with wisdom from those who commit that wisdom to action. It is courage, and not the title, that separates genuine leaders from the pretenders.