There is a vast literature exploring ways to promote development. Much of this literature focuses on speeding up development, some of it focuses on optimizing development. Although both approaches are intended to support development, there is evidence that approaches focused on optimizing development are likely to do a better job. This is because development involves two intertwined processes, differentiation (broadening and deepening knowledge) and integration. In plain(er) English, you get more adequate integrations at each level if you accomplish rich differentiation at the prior level.
When we code an assessment, we pay close attention to the degree to which the test-taker elaborates each of the sub-skills it targets. In our personal feedback, we note areas of strength and areas that appear to require further growth. The basic idea is to bring all of the sub-skills up to an optimal level of elaboration to support the emergence of next-level integrations.
Most of the readings we suggest are targeted one to two phases (1/4 to 1/2 of a level) above the level of a given performance. This practice has been shown to provide the ideal level of challenge (scaffolding) for optimal growth. We also suggest activities like engaging in discourse with peers, journaling, cultivating a habit of reflection, and improving metacognitive skills, all of which provide support for growth.
We do not teach people to think at higher levels. Higher levels of performance emerge when knowledge is adequately elaborated and the environment supports higher levels of thinking and performance. We focus on helping people to think better at their current level and challenging them to elaborate their current knowledge and skills—including the not-so-sexy nuts-and-bolts knowledge required for success in any context.
For decades, my colleagues and I have been working with and refining a developmental assessment system called the Lectical Assessment System (now also an electronic scoring system called CLAS). It can be used to score (a) the complexity level of people’s arguments and (b) the complexity level—“task demands”—of specific situations or roles. For example, we have analyzed the task demands of levels of work in large organizations and assessed the complexity level of employees’ thinking in several skill areas — including reflective judgment/critical thinking and leadership decision-making.
The figure on the left shows the relation between the task demands of 7 management levels and the complexity level scores received on an assessment of decision making skills taken by leaders occupying these positions. The task demands of most positions increase in a linear fashion, spanning levels 10–13 (a.k.a. 1000–1399).
After work level 2 (entry level management), the capabilities of leaders do not, for the most part, rise to these task demands.
This pattern is pervasive—we see it everywhere we look—and it reflects a hard truth. None of us is capable of meeting the task demands of the most complex situations in today's world. I've come to believe that in many situations our best hope for meeting these demands is to (1) recognize our human limitations, (2) work strategically on the development of our own skills and knowledge, (3) learn to work closely with others who represent a wide range of perspectives and areas of expertise, and (4) use the best tools available to scaffold our thinking.
We aren't alone. Others have observed and remarked upon this pattern:
Jaques, E. (1976). A general theory of bureaucracy. London: Heinemann Educational.
Habermas, J. (1975). Legitimation crisis (T. McCarthy, Trans.). Boston: Beacon Press.
Kegan, R. (1994). In over our heads: The mental demands of modern life. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Bell, D. (1973) The coming of post-industrial society. New York: Basic Books
As the idea of vertical development in the workplace takes hold, it’s important to be aware of a potential problem—falling in love with complexity.
In college it’s a common thing. Students, exposed for the first time to the complex ideas of philosophers, psychologists, and scientists, fall in love with complexity. They want, more than anything, to be able to think like their heroes, and many assume that the best way to do this is to emulate their language. Big words, complex sentences, and abstract ideas—the more abstract the better—abound. Once-competent writers temporarily lose their own voice. Students who have not already developed solid writing skills produce gobbledygook (complexity without integration). Good professors provide constructive feedback and support learning that will eventually tame the gobbledygook and unleash more mature voices.
Falling in love with complexity is now common in adults. Vertical development is a popular idea these days, and many adults are jumping on the complexity bandwagon, which is fueled by an abundance of popular books that tout the superiority of systems thinking, dialectical reasoning, etc. What the authors of these books often don’t tell their readers is that learning to think in a more complex way usually requires years of study in a particular discipline*. Readers are led to believe that all they need to do is read a book, take a course, or learn to meditate and they will emerge as more complex, integrated and capable persons. Unfortunately, they often learn the language of complexity, but don’t do the nuts and bolts learning, doing, and reflecting that’s required for robust learning.
In our assessments, I frequently see evidence of this problem. Check out this example: A successful manager should be able to apply transformational leadership and various frameworks to gather, interpret, weigh, balance, and align different individual and institutional perspectives and interests, as well as psychological and sociological aspects to allow for the emergence of the successful determination of an ideal resolution process for this cultural context. Such an approach would require emotional intelligence and dialectics to determine a set of guiding principles that will lead to an introspective and interactive process of finding a solution that is appreciative of the interdependence and significance of all perspectives.
True love, in this context, breeds chaos.
When college students fall in love with complexity and rapidly learn the vocabulary of complexity without developing a deep understanding of its meaning, they generally have a few years to recover before they enter the workplace. When working adults fall in love with complexity, it’s another story. Chaotic thinking interferes with the quality of workplace decisions.
If you are considering implementing or participating in a vertical development program, beware of programs that promise immediate transformative change*—these programs are more likely to provide the vocabulary of complexity than they are to support deep understanding. This kind of learning is superficial and potentially harmful—especially when it comes to decision-making.
My colleagues and I deal with the falling in love with complexity issue in two ways. First, we teach adults how to learn in a way that supports embodied, enduring, and useable knowledge rather than superficial knowledge. Second, when we measure the complexity of an individual’s thinking, we also independently evaluate quality of argumentation. This allows us to differentiate highly skilled complex thinkers from individuals who have learned the vocabulary of complexity without deep understanding. Then, we steer the latter group toward activities designed to build understanding by networking their knowledge more robustly.
*In adulthood, one full level of development takes about 8–10 years of dedicated reflective study and practice.