A knowledge worker needs a good body

What does it means to be a ‘knowledge worker’.

The term conjures up an image of cerebral, nerdy, cleverness – of academics, geeks or intellectuals, steeped in learning of a bookish kind. And it suggests, that to stay employable, you need to be studying, acquiring more information, and qualifications, constantly. Which creates a huge amount of pressure and stress, particularly on young people who trying to make their way in an ultra-competitive world.

But is that necessarily so?

As Sir Ken Robinson said, in his famous TED talk, ‘the body is more than just a means of transporting the brain from one meeting to the next’. There is a growing body of scientific evidence (pardon the pun) to support the view that much of our knowledge is embodied. Maybe all of it is?

The language doesn’t help us here. We find it easier to talk about the mind and the body as if they are separate objects, rather than interwoven aspects of an integrated whole. Neuroscientist Candace Pert, in her wonderful book ‘Molecules of Emotion’ refuses to use the words ‘body’ and ‘mind’ separately and instead uses ‘bodymind’ throughout.

This shift has interesting implications for what it means to be a knowledge worker and for how we develop ourselves.

If you body is a source of knowledge then it implies that you need to develop your ability to read, understand and use your body as well as your cognitive and intellectual skills.

People in office life tend not to do this. I mostly work with executives. If they think about their body at all it is probably only in terms of appearance and health – going to the gym or changing their diet is normally the limit of the attention that they pay to their body. It rarely occurs to them that it is a source of information.

So in improv workshops I encourage people to pay attention to what is going on physically. Their bodily sensations provide clues, suggestions and ideas about what to do or how to act, particularly when faced with uncertain, changing circumstances (the so called ‘VUCA’ world – volatile, uncertain, complex and ambiguous). This ability, practised and developed, helps you face complex, changing, human predicaments more effectively than any amount of book knowledge.

Bodily knowledge can be very precise. I have a business school colleague at Oxford who is also a musician. He plays both piano and trumpet. He noticed that the way he got nervous before a performance was very specific. When he was due to play the trumpet his mouth would get dry. If he was going to play the piano his hands would start to tremble. His body knew, quite precisely, what was coming. Take that idea to work. Do you notice what kind of nerves you have? Are they the same in a negotiation as in a performance review? If you could understand what they are telling you better, how might you act differently?

Not so long ago I was talking with a friend about some difficult personal circumstances he is going through with his daughter. It was really helpful to him to realise that he has a huge amount of experience, learning and knowledge (acquired from his own struggles) that he carries with him everywhere – in his body. Rather than trying to ‘work out’ his messy, complex, emotional issue as if it were a maths problem, he realised that instead, he might focus on becoming more adept at allowing his embodied knowledge to guide him. This jars with his profession, which deals in the abstractions of facts and evidence, but to use only the analytic approach he is so accustomed to, is to miss something important. Somatic sensitivity may be as important as intellectual capacity.

Over the weekend I was talking with an entrepreneurial student trying to make his way in the hurly burly world of start ups. Again, it was a helpful idea to him to realise that developing his ideas and his business meant learning to work with his embodied self, not just his intellectual self. Not everything has to be squeezed through the filter of analysis. The history of entrepreneurs bears this out – even financier George Soros says his investment decisions are guided by the feelings he gets in his back.

My own hunch is that this bodily aspect is becoming increasingly important. Over the past few months I hear more and more conversations about the future of work. As machines and algorithms take over, it seems people are in a precarious state when it comes to employment. In a car factory where the product is made entirely by robots, what are people for? As Warren Bennis said, many years ago now: “in the factory of the future there will be a man and a dog. The man is there to feed the dog and the dog is there to stop the man touching the machinery.”

Yet our bodies might be our biggest competitive advantage. Not as a muscular force but as an intelligent one. We may not be able to outperform robots or computers when it comes to physical or computational power but our bodies, which provide a different kind of processing from our conscious minds, give us all sorts of knowledge and information (often through emotions) that allow us to have build empathy, connection, meaning and relationships. In other words, the things that really matter to us. Machines can’t do this. However, just because you have a body doesn’t mean you know how to read it or use it with any degree of skill. This is something you have to develop.

To do so we need to appreciate that there are different kinds of knowledge that show up in different ways. The body and the sensations it provides are an incredibly powerful source of information that we routinely ignore or dismiss. It may be true that bodily knowledge is no substitute for intellectual knowledge – but then intellectual knowledge is no substitute for bodily knowledge either. The two are complements not alternatives.

We should spend more time paying attention to our physical sensations and what the body tells us. This knowledge is sensory, subtle, tacit, and nuanced. It is accumulated through experience and we carry it with us everywhere. It is every bit as useful and important as facts and data and quotations and numbers.

The future belongs to those who know how to work with their body as well as their mind.

Cutting ties

A neck tie is a curious thing – a long, thin piece of cloth that serves no practical function, wrapped around a man’s neck, where it dangles in a perfect position to collect any stray drops of spaghetti sauce.

A tie separates head and body, physically and symbolically.

The police in Britain have thought about this. They wear clip-on ties, so that an officer can’t be strangled by their tie. Yet the tie remains an icon of male business attire in most of the world. How fitting.

I was reminded of this at yesterday by Tara Swart, during a talk she gave at the MCT HR conference in Istanbul (where I also gave a talk). A neuroscientist and leadership coach, Tara spoke of how most people in business talk and act as if the mind and the body are somehow disconnected from each other – as if the one does not affect the other. Something we know to be scientifically wrong.

This is common sense too. Indeed, it is so obvious it ought not to be news and yet somehow it is. In his famous 2006 TED talk Ken Robinson observed that academics regard the body as a means of transporting their brain from one meeting to the next, yet we largely ignore the intimate relationship between mind and body. Descartes still has a lot to answer for.

The tie, unabashed and unembarrassed, hides the idea of severance and disconnection between mind and body in the open. Flaunts it even. An idea that plagues us but which is so widespread we barely notice.

Might this be changing? A strong theme of the conversations the conference speakers had with Turkish business leaders was the importance of feminine qualities to the future of leadership. And in the main, women don’t wear ties.

At Ataturk airport, on the way home from the conference, I started reading a book given to me by another one of the speakers, Steven D’Souza entitled ‘Not Knowing’. He quotes Nassim Nicholas Taleb (author of ‘The Black Swan’) who says: “it is not a good idea to take a forecast from someone wearing a tie”.

And on the Turkish Airways flight back to Madrid I noticed that they had an interesting variation on the safety video. As well as advising ladies to take off high heeled shoes (‘which may tear the escape slide’) they also invite men to loosen their ties.

I would go further.

Rather than loosen ties, I think we should cut them off, abandon them, burn them, bury them or take them to the thrift shop. We should embrace the idea that the head and the body are both part of the mind, literally and metaphorically. To separate them is to deny part of who you are and to limit what you are capable of.

Opening Movement

I had a revelation this morning. I realised that for years, I have been unconsciously regarding good posture as a fixed thing, as a standard, ideal, static thing to aspire to, as a particular position that I encourage my body to adopt. And as a result, I suspect I have got stuck, in all sorts of ways and that this no doubt contributes to the stiff back and all the other discomforts that I attribute to ‘ageing’.

This morning I realised it might be better to think instead of posture as an inner dance. That how I hold myself, how my body is, is always a movement, even I am not visibly moving. After all I am always breathing. It may be a subtle dance, swaying gently back and forth but a dance nonetheless, not a static thing.

And of course, there is a metaphorical, as well as a literally interpretation of this idea, namely, that when we try to achieve a particular, fixed goal, we get stuck. How much more useful would it be I wonder, in our organisations and businesses, to think in terms of a dance or a movement, rather than a ‘position’?

What is particularly lovely about this is that for once I can track where the insight came from. The seed was planted last week by my friend Adriana in a Feldenkrais class.  Then Roland, who has also worked with Adriana commented on what he had learned from her. Then yesterday, as serendipity would have it, I spent a good bit of the morning reading a draft of an upcoming book about embodiment, “Your Body is Your Brain” by my great friend Amanda Blake.

We will see how I get on. But for now, I am dancing.