Chapter 1: The Challenge of Innovation

Is your new team hesitant to think outside the box? In many professional environments, unconventional ideas can feel unwelcome.

We engage in a straightforward wargame.

Ten bright, recent graduates gather around a sleek grey conference table. It’s their first day, and they appear apprehensive. They've just transitioned from student life, some only weeks past their graduation, and are now stepping into their professional roles. Their freshly pressed suits stand in stark contrast to my own rumpled attire, a testament to my longer tenure in the corporate world.

Before them, I stand ready to introduce these new hires to the realm of innovation. Their mission is to tackle a simple, theoretical challenge. It serves as a test—a lesson of sorts.

The task involves a military scenario: a large steel bridge stretches over a swiftly flowing river. Hostile forces are set to cross this bridge imminently. Our objective is clear.

We must prevent the adversaries from utilizing this bridge to cross the river.

The young team reclines in their seats, contemplating the issue. As engineering students, they share a common background. Throughout their education, they’ve been conditioned to think independently, often competing against one another to arrive at the correct answer per a rigid grading system.

Points were awarded for correctness, not for speculation or creativity. Marks were not granted for questioning the premise or reframing the problem. In exam settings, collaboration was not an option; half-formed ideas were dismissed. The quick identification of the right answer was the goal.

Each graduate will attempt to solve the problem solo, remaining silent until they arrive at a conclusion. My goal, however, is to encourage the opposite.

After some analysis, each graduate presents their solution. I call on them one by one to share their thoughts. The consensus is clear: there is only one solution.

Blow up the bridge.

This response is predictable. The initial suggestion is the simplest, most straightforward option. A tendency to offer complex strategies often signals an inability to recognize the obvious solution first. However, this initial response lacks creativity. To uncover innovative ideas, one must first exhaust the obvious choices. Once individuals have run out of conventional thoughts, they can begin to think creatively.

Sticking to my plan, I prompt them for additional ideas to thwart the adversaries' crossing. The responses come in rapid succession.

Blow up the bridge.

Despite exploring the issue further, every suggestion boils down to variations of this singular notion.

Blow. Up. The. Bridge.

I realize I need to guide the group toward a different perspective. They must consider not only the benefits of their actions but also the potential harms involved—the Benefit Induced Harms. I employ a classic technique: I ask the opposite.

Why might we not want to destroy the bridge?

Perhaps we need it. The local community relies on it for connectivity. The bridge may serve as a crucial link between cities and agricultural areas. I encourage them to think deeper, posing a paradox:

How could this steel structure bridge the river while simultaneously not serving that function at all?

This inquiry often stirs discomfort among those accustomed to finding answers in textbooks. Brows furrow. The room grows quiet. One student begins to grasp the concept and suggests an alternative.

Blow up the bridge, but only partially.

At first glance, this may seem like a derivative idea. Yet, this graduate is trying to resolve the paradox. They’ve surmised that the fictional adversaries are using heavy vehicles—tanks and trucks.

If we weaken the bridge, it might still support pedestrian traffic or light vehicles, allowing the local populace to use it, while preventing tanks from crossing. The other graduates quickly join in. How wide is a tank? Is it broader than a car? What if we damaged the bridge so that only one lane remains passable?

Blow up the bridge, but just a little bit is indeed a creative thought. However, it represents a compromise that fails to resolve the paradox. It satisfies neither side fully. I press on.

This team of young engineers is eager to impress, but they are also cautious. They are new to the professional world and wish to build their reputations. No one wants to stray too far from conventional thinking.

I, however, feel no such restraint.

To fully explore the problem and identify optimal solutions, we need more than a single idea. I must encourage them to consider bolder alternatives. They need permission to explore unconventional options.

In a surprising move, I raise my hands like claws and let out a feeble roar, mimicking a dinosaur as I circle the room, suggesting a new option.

Let’s chain a massive dragon to the bridge!

A stunned silence follows, and I worry I may have derailed the workshop. Yet, there’s a method to my madness. Engineers often hesitate to propose only half-formed ideas. They prefer to offer fully fleshed-out concepts rather than just the function without the means of realization.

Engineering students seldom learn how to collaboratively develop ideas. They lack the tools to navigate the process of finding solutions together, often only providing complete ideas without sharing the space for partial contributions.

By suggesting a dragon, I offer a half-formed idea. It takes a moment before a voice from the group observes:

Now the opposition is afraid of the bridge…

Simultaneously, two things occur. My playful act has broken the corporate atmosphere, lifting the tension. I’ve granted the team permission to share outrageous ideas.

Secondly, a framework emerges, providing a foundation for further brainstorming. Ideas start flowing rapidly. The group considers various ways to instill fear regarding the bridge.

They quickly move past the notion of blowing it up. Suggestions range from landmines to threats of demolition. What if we simply obstructed the bridge with dinner plates, as done in World War II? Stories of partisans hanging sheets to obscure visibility also arise. Or perhaps we could use red paint to shoot at the bridge, emphasizing our control.

Half-formed ideas begin to integrate into the discussion. They contemplate occupying the bridge with commandos, ninjas, or pirates!

My favorite suggestion, however, countered the original notion nicely.

Don’t blow up the bridge at all.

Instead, let’s destroy every other bridge on the river, leaving only this one. This would force the suspicious opposition to use it. If the enemy invites you to cross a bridge, would you dare to do so? The adversaries might deny themselves access simply out of caution. The team has now liberated themselves from the confines of conventional thinking.

The goal is not to generate sensible ideas but to spark creativity. This is the purpose of the exercise.

An engaging narrative can break through barriers to innovation. My theatrical display provides enough metaphor and inspiration to kickstart the problem-solving process. Such imaginative scenarios, often dismissed as childish, can yield profound insights and lead to valuable truths.

How AI is transforming change management, revealing innovative strategies and insights.

Chapter 2: Expanding the Horizons of Creativity

A discussion with Tyler Cowen about the intersections of innovation, art, music, and the impact of history.