Learning that becomes an asset and strategic leadership lever: learning, unlearning and re-learning to lead in complex contexts

While the importance of learning is indisputable, it is often the case that insufficient attention is paid to the distinction between the object of knowledge, its ultimate objective, and the most appropriate way to reach it. For most of human history, access to information has been the privilege of very few, and rightly its recent major expansion should be considered to be an incredible success. It is easy, however, for the enthusiasm that derives from this to cause us to forget that information is only a means towards knowledge, and not an end in itself; certainly necessary, but just as certainly not sufficient. Yuval Noah Harari noted that in the past, power coincided with the ability to access information, while in the contemporary world power becomes “knowing what to ignore.” The major problem we must confront in a world submerged by information is that of selection, of discrimination between useful information and spurious information, which is not only useless but can itself become an obstacle to understanding. It is no coincidence that the process of “over-information” can be used in order to confuse individuals and conceal information, which is inevitably facilitated by the advent of so-called “artificial intelligence” and the consequent collapse in the cost of producing false information.

Furthermore, the nature and quality of the data selected inevitably depend on the underlying selective logic. And, if you think about it, selection is precisely the process that we often delegate to external systems. Every search that we leave up to any “engine” implies a choice, not only of the information highlighted, but also of that which is excluded. As long as this process remains somewhat transparent, we can still maintain a certain degree of critical distance and, therefore, of control. However, the more inscrutable the operation of the system itself becomes (and the case of LLMs is, for the time being, the most extreme), the more our impotence, and potentially our ignorance, increases. The problem is further complicated by the fact that human beings, in their perhaps inevitable inconsistency, seem to have as much a need for control as of that for avoiding responsibility. To this end, the possibility of delegating risks becoming dangerously attractive.

The problem, however, is not limited to the quantity and quality of the data, but also to their use, depending on the type of situation we are facing. There is, for example, a crucial difference if what we are dealing with is a “complicated” system, rather than a “complex” one. In the first case, what is needed is (“simply”) more (useful) information. But if what we have here is a complex system, having more data might not be enough. This also stems from the fact that the characteristics of a complex system cannot be reduced to, nor inferred from, the characteristics of its parts, regardless of how much information we have about them. To understand complex systems, we do not simply need more data, but interpretative frameworks that transcend the analysis of the parts. One of the major challenges therefore becomes how to identify such frameworks, and part of the answer may lie in a certain kind of knowledge that is not entirely rational, or at least not rationalisable. Let us consider the famous historical example reported by Watzlawick, where the commander of Hochosterwitz Castle managed to discourage the besiegers thanks to that seemingly irrational act, which consisted in sacrificing the very few provisions that remained, throwing them out of the castle in front of the enemy camp.

Michael Polanyi argues that we know much more than we think we know, that our “wisdom” comes from a form of knowledge that often remains tacit, unexpressed – we might perhaps say “unconscious.” This argument seems to be confirmed in neuroscientific studies that demonstrate how the awareness of decisions comes only after action, or that most of the information we absorb from the environment never reaches consciousness, even though it determines our behaviour. The ability to rely on this kind of knowledge can therefore become a fundamental strategic asset, and the means of accessing it may not be found in the pure study of theories. At times, getting your hands dirty, immersing yourself in complexity rather than analysing it from the outside, experiencing problems and failures firsthand, becomes just as important. In other words, perhaps we have to accept that the management of a situation or problem cannot be planned entirely a priori, that so-called “strategic planning” is not the only possible form of strategy. Part of the strategy might be to leave room for solutions that can only emerge when trying to solve a problem, and not beforehand.

However, another challenge remains: once we have access to these interpretative frameworks, their integration with the knowledge cultivated up to that point is not always painless, not least because what we learn may call into question some of our previously established beliefs. Learning to “unlearn” therefore becomes the biggest challenge. And while it is true that there are beliefs that it would be beneficial to abandon, this is not necessarily always the case; another dimension of the challenge is to find a way to “incorporate,” rather than “replace”. For these operations, however, a certain degree of humility and self-critical capacity is essential, regardless of the amount of experience, the level of maturity, or the number of positions held.

Of course, all this is easier said than done, but perhaps a reflection can help: it is not only the world around us that emerges as a complex system, but in some way, this is also true for every individual. Each individual, too, is characterised by properties that cannot be reduced to their components, and by a certain degree of internal inconsistency; think of the internal psychological pressures, which are often at odds with each other, as well as the hemispherical division, and how it maintains two conflicting and apparently irreconcilable logics. And, as complex systems, we should perhaps try not to be alarmed by the possible degree of “inconsistency” that may structure our worldview. Because if we, too, are a complex system, an excess of coherence could even prove harmful, while it is precisely a certain degree of inconsistency that makes us flexible, adaptable, and resilient.

Inconsistency, in this sense, is life. So perhaps we should stop worrying too much about how potentially inconsistent our belief system is and instead ask ourselves how well it works for our goals – which, by the way, may not even be entirely clear to us, and perhaps only become so when we begin to ‘get our hands dirty’.  Perhaps this, too, is strategy.

Those who wish to explore these reflections further and turn learning into a strategic lever of leadership can continue the journey with IGNITE – Executive Leadership Development Programme by POLIMI Graduate School of Management. The experience is designed for CEOs, other C-levels, and entrepreneurs operating in complex contexts who recognise the value of learning, unlearning, and relearning through practical tools, experimentation, and peer exchange on innovation, human relationships and uncertainty.