Does it strike you (as it does me) that the noise level surrounding "innovation" in law firms is reaching crescendo proportions? Just in the last few months, I’ve written about Legal OnRamp, Allen & Overy’s mini-conference on innovation here in New York, Eversheds’ 21st Century Law Firm survey, Altman Weil’s Legal Transformation Study, different ways of measuring lawyers’ quality, the FT’s expanding its "Innovative Law Firms" awards to the US next year, whether GC’s really want change, how J+J innovates, NovusLaw, Axiom Legal, the potential impact of the Legal Services Act in the UK, etc., etc. It’s enough to make one’s head hurt–or to make you cry "uncle" and decide to stick with the tried and true model of business as usual unless and until the roof falls in.
Tempting, indeed.
But part of the genius of capitalism is that standing still means losing ground. So if "innovation" is here to stay, perhaps it’s time to take a page from a firm that’s almost by definition a genius at innovation: Pixar.
Our good friends at McKinsey provide the helpful background in "Innovation Lessons from Pixar Director Brad Bird."
Let’s start with where innovation comes from: Unexpected places (they cite the Wright Brothers, "bicycle mechanics," as the fathers of heavier-than-air flight, and the muscle-bound Pentagon as the inventor of the Internet). Bird, whose name may not be household, has won Academy Awards for best animated feature for The Incredibles and Ratatouille. What are some of the ingredients of "innovation," as he sees it?
"Bird discussed the importance, in his work, of pushing teams beyond their comfort zones, encouraging dissent, and building morale. He also explained the value of “black sheep”—restless contributors with unconventional ideas. Although stimulating the creativity of animators might seem very different from developing new product ideas or technology breakthroughs, Bird’s anecdotes should stir the imagination of innovation-minded executives in any industry."
An initial insight of Bird’s is the peril of complacency. When he arrived at Pixar, they had recently released three animation blockbusters: Toy Story, A Bug’s Life, and Toy Story 2. And Steve Jobs said "the only thing we’re afraid of is complacency." Given a mandate to change things, Bird proposed what was to become The Incredibles. Bear with the slightly technical background to get to the organizational point:
"The Incredibles was everything that computer-generated animation had trouble doing. It had human characters, it had hair, it had water, it had fire, it had a massive number of sets. The creative heads were excited about the idea of the film, but once I showed story reels of exactly what I wanted, the technical teams turned white. They took one look and thought, “This will take ten years and cost $500 million. How are we possibly going to do this?”
"So I said, “Give us the black sheep. I want artists who are frustrated. I want the ones who have another way of doing things that nobody’s listening to. Give us all the guys who are probably headed out the door.” A lot of them were malcontents because they saw different ways of doing things, but there was little opportunity to try them, since the established way was working very, very well.
"We gave the black sheep a chance to prove their theories, and we changed the way a number of things are done here. For less money per minute than was spent on the previous film, Finding Nemo, we did a movie that had three times the number of sets and had everything that was hard to do. All this because the heads of Pixar gave us leave to try crazy ideas."
Around this time you’re doubtless thinking, "Black sheep? Crazy ideas? Guys headed out the door? Hand the car keys to them?"
Bear with me.
One of Bird’s key insights is that innovation can result from not having to hold every single aspect of every single project to the same (unattainable) degree of superbness. It’s unattainable, you understand, on the assumption that you want to get the project out the door before it’s overtaken by events. Here’s how Bird puts it in Animation Land:
"There are purists in computer graphics who are brilliant but don’t have the urgency about budgets and scheduling that responsible filmmakers do. […] I’d say, “Look, I don’t have to do the water through a computer simulation program. If we can’t get a program to work, I’m perfectly content to film a splash in a swimming pool and just composite the water in.” This absolutely horrified them. Or I’d say, “You can build a flying saucer, or you can take a pie plate and fling it across the screen. If the audience only sees the pie plate very briefly and you throw it just right, they will buy it as a flying saucer.”
"I never did film the pool splash or throw the pie plate, but talking this way helped everyone understand that we didn’t have to make something that would work from every angle. Not all shots are created equal. Certain shots need to be perfect, others need to be very good, and there are some that only need to be good enough to not break the spell."
Admit it: Isn’t it true that "not all shots are created equal" and that not all aspects of a deal’s documentation are created equal? What if "good enough to not break the spell" were deemed an appropriate quality level for some types of documentation?
But let’s pursue innovation a bit more deeply. Where, again, should you look for it? Let’s back away from the notion that it’s the crazy people and explore what Bird is really saying:
"Q: Do angry people—malcontents, in your words—make for better innovation? Can you be innovative and also happy?
"A: I would say that involved people make for better innovation. Passionate involvement can make you happy, sometimes, and miserable other times. You want people to be involved and engaged. Involved people can be quiet, loud, or anything in-between—what they have in common is a restless, probing nature: “I want to get to the problem. There’s something I want to do.” If you had thermal glasses, you could see heat coming off them."
And of course there’s another angle to motivation and involvement, which is morale. To paraphrase the bumper sticker about education, if you think building morale is expensive, try the cost of dispirited professionals:
"In my experience, the thing that has the most significant impact on a movie’s budget—but never shows up in a budget—is morale. If you have low morale, for every $1 you spend, you get about 25 cents of value. If you have high morale, for every $1 you spend, you get about $3 of value. Companies should pay much more attention to morale."
How do you help make all this happen?
I’m not a fan of architecture as a cure-all (which runs the risk of letting management think the space will do their work for them), but there is surely something to be said for throwing people into situations where they’re likely to run into colleagues they wouldn’t ordinarily encounter. You may draw the line at the bathrooms, and the atrium isn’t feasible in Class A Capital Markets office space, but consider what you could learn from this:
"Then there’s our building. Steve Jobs basically designed this building. In the center, he created this big atrium area, which seems initially like a waste of space. The reason he did it was that everybody goes off and works in their individual areas. People who work on software code are here, people who animate are there, and people who do designs are over there. Steve put the mailboxes, the meetings rooms, the cafeteria, and, most insidiously and brilliantly, the bathrooms in the center—which initially drove us crazy—so that you run into everybody during the course of a day. He realized that when people run into each other, when they make eye contact, things happen. So he made it impossible for you not to run into the rest of the company."
Do your litigators run into your transactional people? Do your M&A people run into your project finance people? For heaven’s sake,do paralegals run into partners?
All is not necessarily rosy on the innovation campaign front, of course: You can have innovation destroyers, starting with passive-aggressive people "who don’t show their colors in the group but then get behind the scenes and peck away; they’re poisonous."
Most importantly, the greatest innovators are the perpetual students, the people for whom curiosity is a disease, who can never be satisfied simply by duplicating what they did last time around. Bird talks about meeting some of the legendary Disney animators when he was a teenager:
"I met a lot of the great old master animators. Their worst animation was 1,000 times better than this new director’s best, yet they would get to the end of a film and say, “I just started to feel like I was understanding the character, and I want to go back and do the whole thing over. Can’t wait for next time!” They were masters of the form, but they had the attitude of a student. This guy taking over the studio had only done a few pieces of pretty good animation, and he was totally satisfied. Could not have been less inspiring."
So the question for your firm might be: Are your lawyers inspired to perpetually learn? Do they wish they could go back and do the deal again, litigate the case again, knowing what they know now? Are they passionate about applying what they’ve learned to the next client and the next engagement? Are they, essentially, never satisfied?
If so, you’re on the road to having an innovative firm.
