In The Presence Of Pigs - What To Do When Your People Mess Up

When I was 21 years old, I insulted the President of Nigeria and could have stalled out a round of peace talks.

I was an intern at the International Centre for Reconciliation in Coventry, UK. The dynamic staff, led by now Archbishop Justin Welby, worked in situations of diplomatic tension around the world. And I was the intern.

One summer Tuesday, my boss, Stephen Davis, was headed off to London for meetings with the President of Nigeria about disarmament and ongoing tensions in the Delta Region.

He asked me to put together a briefing packet on the proposed tenets of a peace deal. I was feeling a little bit playful, so I inserted a funny note in the front wishing him a successful trip and, to make it funny, I included photos of whimsical pigs that I cut out of a magazine. A bit of cheeky fun. But all did not go as I anticipated.

When he returned from London, Stephen called me to his office. “Tell me about the front of the packet.”

Oh crap.

It turns out that Stephen had never seen the first page; he took the packet, got on the train and confidently passed it to President Obasanjo upon arrival.

The President flipped to the first page and was met with a deluge of pigs, whose appearance was made all the more horrifying due to his Muslim faith, which designated pigs as unclean animals. unclean animal.

And Stephen was caught totally unawares, unable to answer for the presence of the pigs.

I will never forget the purposeful, gracious way that Stephen dealt with me. He could see the horror on my face as I burbled up an apology. "Oh no, I am so, so sorry."

He didn’t shame me or berate me for the awful position that I put him in with a world leader. He looked at me with confidence and gave me, again, the gift of his trust: “I know that this will never happen again,”

I'll never forget his graciousness or how my carelessness cost him.

I've had times, in both my work and my personal relationships, where I've confronted some "stupid" behavior. And it can be easy to think that I would never make that particular mistake. But the imprint of the pigs remains with me. I might not mirror (or understand) their particular misstep, but I have a few doozies of my own.

He could have read me the riot act, there in the middle of the office, relying on shame and remorse to make sure that I never did something like that again. Instead, he played the long game by calling out virtue in me.

Shame is a crappy motivator. Shame can get you short-term results, but in the long term, it demeans your people and undercuts your authority as a leader. Communicating boundaries and expectations (no pigs in the briefing packet!) with trust shows confident, caring leadership.