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Brian Castellani, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons |
Like Enron, WorldCom, and other juicy corporate scandals, Theranos is fast becoming its own cottage industry of business wisdom.[1]
Some of the
lessons are obvious. Don’t lie, for example. You may have learned not to lie in
kindergarten, but Theranos is still a good reminder. Don’t lie to investors.
Don’t lie to your board or customers. Don’t lie to a jury.[2]
This caution isn't about being optimistic or forward-thinking. There are few investors I know unable to distinguish a bald-faced lie from aggressive forecasting or leaning into the future, the stuff investors know to expect. (For a great discussion on this topic, see Dan Isenberg's oldie but goodie, "Should Entrepreneurs Lie?")
But if someone hands you a Pop-Tart and says it’s health food, you don’t need to call a
meeting to assess the matter. A lie is kind of like that.
Here’s another
lesson from Theranos: If you take a board position, do the work.
Think about
the members of the Theranos board. Former Secretary of State George Shultz. Henry Kissinger.
U.S. Marine Corps Gen. James Mattis. And on and on. Fortune described Theranos’ directors as “the single most
accomplished board in U.S. corporate history.”[3]
Accomplished,
maybe. But engaged? Mattis saw the strength of Theranos CEO Elizabeth Holmes’s
vision as the sort of exceptional leadership he had witnessed in the military. Kissinger
was unable to compare her to anyone else “because I haven’t seen anyone with
her special attributes.” Ninety-three-year-old Shultz was struck by Holmes’s
“purity of motivation.”[4]
Obviously,
these gentlemen were recruited as trophy directors, not for their deep
knowledge of blood testing.
Which is all
good. Big-name directors can enhance the standing of a company.
But if you
take a director’s job, do the work. Be engaged. It’s easy to see how old men can be charmed, but silly to think that
experienced leaders like Mattis, Shultz, and Kissinger--if they invest the time--could be hoodwinked by a
college dropout.
For example,
this is how Holmes explained her fundamental technology: “A chemistry is
performed so that a chemical reaction occurs and generates a signal from the
chemical interaction with the sample, which is translated into a result, which
is then reviewed by certified laboratory personnel.”[5]
If you were
sitting on the board of Theranos and heard that answer, wouldn’t your head have
exploded? All Shultz or Mattis had to do was utter two words: “Show me.”
“Let’s walk
to the lab, take my blood, and show me how our machine spits out results. I’ve
got time. Show me.”
Learning if
a product or service works, or even exists, would seem to be the minimum responsibility
of a board member. A single, truly engaged Theranos director might have preserved
a half-billion in capital and kept an immoral, feckless, and reckless CEO from
facing a twenty-year prison term.
Which
brings me to the third, related lesson, and the one that interests me most: Attributing
the Theranos catastrophe to Elizabeth Holmes, or any single “root cause,”
reflects a fundamental misunderstanding of how complex systems fail.
Adapted from science to social science, the theory of complex systems emerged
about a generation ago. It asks good questions, such as: Why do airplanes
crash, or nuclear power plants melt down? How do space shuttles suddenly explode?
Why do oil tankers break apart and ruin our environment?
Let’s begin
with that last question, about oil tankers, because it’s relevant to Theranos.