Rediscovering old virtues: Before man discovered the wonders of new technologies

BACK OF THE BOOK

Once upon a time, willpower was all they had. They rolled giant boulders uphill, had their cavemates turn into wall-hangings, and started all over again-just to keep beasts out. Then came technology, and 'willpower' got everybody confused. If the Germans came up with a peculiar version of it, Oval Office occupants came up with quite another. And now India Inc is making its own contribution to the notion: as a way to haunt headlines after you're dead and gone.

This book, A Bias For Action, rescues willpower and makes it the central force in leadership success. If that sounds a tad too obvious, consider the authors. Heike Bruch is a professor of leadership at Switzerland's University of St Gallen. Her co-author, the late Sumantra Ghoshal, was a professor of strategic and international management at the London Business School, and continues to exert influence on Indian corporate life. People of such stature do not write books that just repeat some old mantra. They write books you're supposed to think about-as the Vitruvian Man cover design would suggest.

A BIAS FOR ACTION By Heike Bruch & Sumantra Ghoshal Penguin Viking PP: 212 Price: Rs 595

"This book confronts busy idleness," declares the opening, referring to the 'active nonaction' that renders managers ineffective. Having studied the 'volition' theories of psychologists and the Lufthansa turnaround of the early 1990s in depth, and having validated the findings across such firms as Goldman Sachs, Sun, Oracle, LG and Sony, the authors have some worrying statistics to report.

Just 10 per cent of executives are 'purposeful' in action; those who're focused on goals and energetic at work, both. Some 20 per cent are 'detached'; focused but not energetic. About 30 per cent are 'procrastinators'; neither focused nor energetic. And the rest-most, that is-are 'frenzied'; energetic but unfocused.

What do the purposeful have? Willpower. The big clarifying job the book does is here: in drawing a distinction between motivation, which is susceptible to changes in the environment and inner preferences, and actual willpower, which must cross a no-turning-back threshold to gain force (and once it does, responds to barriers only by strengthening in resolve). Psychologists have always known the difference, in academic terms, but as luck would have it, such 'will' theories fell into neglect after they got co-opted in triumphalist cinema and other nauseating projects.

The book offers a series of nerve-steeling strategies, involving ways to align emotions with goals. The advice on escaping 'nonaction traps', though less readworthy, also exhibits clarity of thought and purpose. "Ultimately," the book concludes, "what distinguishes human beings from almost all other species are two things-imagination and willpower." On the former, the authors refer to Joseph Schumpeter, who spied a "sharper intelligence and a suppler imagination" in the few who exercised these faculties to come up with "numerous new combinations", but was dismayed to find that even fewer did anything about it. The cavemen, at least, all understood the danger of going idle. Or did they?

THE DUM DUM BULLET By Sandeep Goyal Penguin Books PP: 241 Price: Rs 295

It is neither a management book, nor an advertising one; well, not even strictly an autobiography. For Sandeep Goyal's The Dum Dum Bullet: Adventures of a Corporate Soldier, is an entirely readable anecdotal account of his life in the mad, bad and tumultuous world of Indian advertising over the past two decades. The author, Dentsu India's Chairman, borrows the title from the bullet made at Dum Dum ammunition factory near Kolkata, West Bengal, and likens advertising-which is soft-nosed, focused on its target and balloons on impact-to that legendary bullet.

And best of all, the book is an ensemble of short stories, loosely segmented by such chapters as The Rookie, Just Married, Seasoned Campaigner and Excuse Me. Since there is no strict narrative to follow, you can start anywhere. But no matter what you pick up, it is a racy read, every tale with its unique twist. So whether it's Goyal's humbling as a Goodlass Nerolac management trainee by a dealer at a dusty town in Rajasthan, sibling rivalry between Mudra and Interact Vision, or how Bharti's cellular brand could have been Tango instead of AirTel, Goyal's pouring out of personal experiences from HTA, Trikaya Grey, Interact Vision, Rediffusion DY&R and Zee Telefilms reflects very well on the complexity of Indian advertising as it deals with a diverse audience. "'Chaandi ho gayee'-explain what that means to a bunch of bankers in London," as Goyal puts it in the book.

-Shailesh Dobhal

THE SEVEN-DAY WEEKEND By Ricardo Semler Random House PP: 275 Price: £4.55

This is a fantasy book. It's what self-respecting young recruits, once safely past slurring point, dream aloud as appropriate material to be read out to their CEO, once safely blindfolded and strapped to a chair in a dimly-lit room that smells of banned substances.

"I am currently unemployed," begins Ricardo Semler's 'Forewarning' in The Seven-Day Weekend. This is presumably aimed at those who haven't read Maverick!, his earlier bestseller.

Semler, famously, does not run Semco, his Brazil-based family business. He talks about it-as a profitably diversified enterprise from Planet Venga or something. "It's easier to say what it's not, rather than what it is." It has no structure, no hierarchy, no timings, no offices, no butts-on-chairs, no business plan, no standards, no this, no that... none of the "trappings of Communism" that "have been snapped up by megacorps". Those who're familiar with Semco have heard the story: rotating CEO-ship, open board meets, youngsters waddling around for something exciting, Semler retracing Marco Polo's route, and all the rest of the freedom trip.

In this book, Semler does his Semler act. Updated, of course. He rants about Mach-3, parallel parking, and Afghanistan. He throws in wisdom on feeding ducks and flying geese. He drops nuggets on his own upbringing (starring his shaving-wise dad and Freudian streak mom). He even quotes Harvard man Bill Ury on tribalism as a prophylactic against the fear of rapid change. In all, a fun read for the uninitiated. What this book doesn't do, shorn of frills, is say something dramatic to the initiated. Unless, unless you bushwhack the fantasy into an unauthorised bout of lip-reading.