early attempts—they fell short. As at Enron, those with the fixed mindset did not profit from their mistakes.
But those with the growth mindset kept on learning. Not worried about measuring—or protecting—their fixed abilities, they looked directly at their mistakes, used the feedback, and altered their strategies accordingly. They became better and better at understanding how to deploy and motivate their workers, and their productivity kept pace. In fact, they ended up way more productive than those with the fixed mindset. What’s more, throughout this rather grueling task, they maintained a healthy sense of confidence. They operated like Alan Wurtzel.
In contrast to Alan Wurtzel, the leaders of Collins’s comparison companies had every symptom of the fixed mindset writ large.
Fixed-mindset leaders, like fixed-mindset people in general, live in a world where some people are superior and some are inferior. They must repeatedly affirm that they are superior, and the company is simply a platform for this.
Collins’s comparison leaders were typically concerned with their “reputation for personal greatness”—so much so that they often set the company up to fail when their regime ended. As Collins puts it, “After all, what better testament to your own personal greatness than that the place falls apart after you leave?”
In more than two-thirds of these leaders, the researchers saw a “gargantuan personal ego” that either hastened the demise of the company or kept it second-rate. Once such leader was Lee Iacocca, head of Chrysler, who achieved a miraculous turnaround for his company, then spent so much time grooming his fame that in the second half of his tenure, the company plunged back into mediocrity.
Many of these comparison companies operated on what Collins calls a “genius with a thousand helpers” model. Instead of building an extraordinary management team like the good-to-great companies, they operated on the fixed-mindset premise that great geniuses do not need great teams. They just need little helpers to carry out their brilliant ideas.
Don’t forget that these great geniuses don’t
Finally, as with Enron, the geniuses refused to look at their deficiencies. Says Collins: The good-to-great Kroger grocery chain looked bravely at the danger signs in the 1970s—signs that the old-fashioned grocery store was becoming extinct. Meanwhile, its counterpart, A&P, once the largest retailing organization in the world, shut its eyes. For example, when A&P opened a new kind of store, a superstore, and it seemed to be more successful than the old kind, they closed it down. It was not what they wanted to hear. In contrast, Kroger eliminated or changed every single store that did not fit the new superstore model and by the end of the 1990s it had become the number one grocery chain in the country.
How did
Blame Iacocca. According to James Surowiecki, writing in
Surowiecki even traces the recent corporate scandals to this change, for as the trend continued, CEOs became superheroes. But the people who preen their egos and look for the next self-image boost are not the same people who foster long-term corporate health.
Maybe Iacocca is just a charismatic guy who, like rock and roll, is being blamed for the demise of civilization. Is that fair? Let’s look at him more closely. And let’s look at some other fixed-mindset CEOs: Albert Dunlap of Scott Paper and Sunbeam; Jerry Levin and Steve Case of AOL Time Warner; and Kenneth Lay and Jeffrey Skilling of Enron.
You’ll see they all start with the belief that some people are superior; they all have the need to prove and display
Warren Bennis, the leadership guru, studied the world’s greatest corporate leaders. These great leaders said they didn’t set out to be leaders. They’d had no interest in proving themselves. They just did what they loved—with tremendous drive and enthusiasm—and it led where it led.
Iacocca wasn’t like that. Yes, he loved the car business, but more than anything he yearned to be a muckamuck at Ford. He craved the approval of Henry Ford II and the royal trappings of office. These were the things he could measure himself by, the things that would prove he was somebody. I use the term
Iacocca achieved great things at Ford, like nurturing and promoting the Ford Mustang, and he dreamed of succeeding Henry Ford as the CEO of the company. But Henry Ford had other ideas and, much to Iacocca’s shock and rage, he eventually forced Iacocca out. It’s interesting that Iacocca was shocked and that he harbored an enduring rage against Henry Ford. After all, he had seen Henry Ford fire top people, and he, Iacocca, had used the ax quite liberally on others. He knew the corporate game. Yet his fixed mindset clouded his vision: “I had always clung to the idea that I was different, that somehow
His belief in his inherent superiority had blinded him. Now the other side of the fixed mindset kicked in. He wondered whether Henry Ford had detected a flaw in him. Maybe he wasn’t superior after all. And that’s why he couldn’t let go. Years later, his second wife told him to get over it. “You don’t realize what a favor Henry Ford did for you. Getting fired from Ford brought you to greatness. You’re richer, more famous and more influential because of Henry Ford. Thank him.” Shortly thereafter, he divorced her.
So the king who had defined him as competent and worthy now rejected him as flawed. With ferocious energy, Iacocca applied himself to the monumental task of saving face and, in the process, Chrysler Motors. Chrysler, the once thriving Ford rival, was on the brink of death, but Iacocca as its new CEO acted quickly to hire the right people, bring out new models, and lobby the government for bailout loans. Just a few years after his humiliating exit from Ford, he was able to write a triumphant autobiography and in it declare, “Today, I’m a hero.”
Within a short time, however, Chrysler was in trouble again. Iacocca’s fixed mindset would not stay put. He needed to prove his greatness—to himself, to Henry Ford, to the world—on a larger and larger scale. He spent his company time on things that would enhance his public image, and he spent the company’s money on things that would impress Wall Street and hike up Chrysler’s stock prices. But he did this instead of investing in new car designs or manufacturing improvements that would keep the company profitable in the long run.
He also looked to history, to how he would be judged and remembered. But he did not address this concern by building the company. Quite the contrary. According to one of his biographers, he worried that his underlings