Magistra Vitae

Narrare la Storia per ricordare il futuro

Commentary on “Renaissance Florence Was a Better Model for Innovation than Silicon Valley Is”


Here is an interesting article on the Harvard Business Review, by Eric Weiner. I always like this kind of article, because I understand and I share the willingness to carve out of our experience something useful in a creative way.  On the other hand, I know that a metaphore is nothing more than a metaphor, and that you must be very careful to avoid rough anachronisms, in trying to force history to say more than it can tell.

Urban planners the world over yearn to replicate the success of Silicon Valley: witness Thames Valley (England) and Silicon Oasis (Dubai), to name just two of these attempts. Invariably, these well-intentioned efforts fail for the simple reason that they’re trying to replicate the wrong model. Silicon Valley is too new, too now, to glean lessons from. Those hoping to launch the world’s next great innovation hub would be better off looking to an older, even more remarkable genius cluster: Renaissance Florence. The Italian city-state produced an explosion of great art and brilliant ideas, the likes of which the world has not seen before or since. This hothouse of innovation offers lessons as relevant and valuable today as they were 500 years ago. Here are a few of them.

Talent needs patronage. The Medicis of Florence were legendary talent spotters, leveraging their wealth with selective generosity. That was especially true of Lorenzo Medici, better known as Lorenzo the Magnificent. One day when he was strolling through the city, a boy not more than 14 years old caught his eye. The boy was sculpting a faun, a figure in Roman mythology that is half man, half goat, and Lorenzo was stunned by both his talent and his determination to “get it right.” He invited the young stonecutter to live in his residence, working and learning alongside his own children. It was an extraordinary investment, but it paid off handsomely. The boy was Michelangelo. The Medicis didn’t spend frivolously, but when they spotted genius in the making they took calculated risks and opened their wallets wide. Today, cities, organizations, and wealthy individuals need to take a similar approach, sponsoring fresh talent not as an act of charity, but as a discerning investment in the common good.

How can we leverage this lesson, in practice? In my opinion, the focal point is having a clear perception of one’s own strengths in pursuing one’s goals. The Medici knew well the importance of being magnificent in their strategy: it was clearly a key value driver, it was one of the most effective reliability indicators and we must not forget that the fortune of the family was based on the development of the banking business. That is not philanthropy: it is marketing! When the strategy in not clear, the opening of the wallet for ‘patronaging’ is quite impossible, because the firm is already spending too much on too many initiatives: could it be an indicator?

Mentors matter. In today’s culture, we tend to value youth over experience and have little patience for old-fashioned learning models. Ambitious young entrepreneurs want to tear down the corner office, not take lessons from the people in it. However, the experience of innovators in Renaissance Florence suggests this is a mistake. Some of the greatest names in art and literature willingly paid their dues, studying their craft at the feet of the masters. Leonardo da Vinci spent a full decade — considerably longer than was customary — apprenticing at a Florentine bottega, or workshop, run by a man named Andrea del Verrocchio. A good artist but a better businessman, Verrocchio surely spotted the burgeoning genius in the young artist from an “illegitimate” family, but he nonetheless insisted Leonardo start on the bottom rung like everyone else, sweeping floors and cleaning chicken cages. (The eggs were used to make tempera paint before the advent of oil.) Gradually, Verrocchio gave his charge greater responsibility, even permitting him to paint portions of his own artwork. Why did Leonardo stay an apprentice for so long? He could easily have found work elsewhere, but he clearly valued the experience he acquired in the dusty, chaotic workshop. Too often, modern-day mentoring programs, public or private, are lip service. They must instead, as during Leonardo’s time, entail meaningful, long-term relationships between mentors and their mentees.

In my humble opinion, this part of the metaphor is quite weak. Leonardo started working with Verrocchio when he was a just kid and there are many other important differences between that time and today, from this particular point of view. Basically, Leonardo couldn’t easily have found work elsewhere, he had to spend that decade for becoming able to open a his own bottega. Moreover, might we say that, nowadays, ‘mentors’ are ready to give way early to their ‘mentees’?

Potential trumps experience. When Pope Julius II was deciding who should paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, Michelangelo was far from the obvious choice. Thanks to the Medici patronage, he had become well-known as a sculptor in Rome as well as Florence, but his painting experience was limited to small pieces — and little in the way of frescoes. Still, the pope clearly believed that, when it came to this “impossible” task, talent and potential mattered more than experience, and he was right. Think of how much that mindset differs from what we do today. We typically hire and assign important tasks only to those people and companies who have previously performed similar jobs in the past. A better approach might be to take a page from Julius II and assign difficult tasks to those who don’t seem like the best fit but who can succeed (often in a more innovative way) because they have demonstrated excellence in another field. We need to bet on more dark horses like Michelangelo. Is it risky? Yes, but the potential payoff is enormous.

I suppose that Mr. Weiner does not know well, I mean in details, what happened in 1506, in Rome. Basically due to the lack of money, Giulio II had to stop the pharaonic project of his own burial monument. Michelangelo was working on it and he went on a rampage: he ran away in Florence and Giulio threatened the Medici to have him back in Rome. Was he in love with Michelangelo? Was he mad? Of course not! The point is that he didn’t simply want a well done fresco: we wanted to send a clear message to all the visitors of the Cappella Sistina, about the power of the papacy: Giulio was used to wear a sword and he died of syphilis; he wanted a Sibilla cumana thought by Michelangelo: with the biceps of a culturist.


Again, this is not about innovation or ‘assigning difficult tasks to those who don’t seem like the best fit but who can succeed because they have demonstrated excellence in another field’.

Have a look at the unfinished Giulio’s burial monument:


Do you see the point (and the biceps)?
This is about effective communication of a corporate mission!

Disaster creates opportunities. Florence reminds us that even devastating events can yield surprising benefits. The city’s Renaissance blossomed only a few decades after the Black Death decimated the city, and in part because of it. Horrible as it was, the plague shook up the rigid social order, and that new fluidity led directly to artistic and intellectual revolution. Likewise, Athens flourished after it was sacked by the Persians. A period of upheaval almost always precedes a creative awakening. Innovators must internalize this lesson. They need to constantly ask themselves, “What good can come from this? Where is the opportunity hidden amid the distress?” Consider Detroit’s attempt to remake itself into something other than Motor City as car industry employment declined, or New Orleans’s slow but steady efforts to rebuild after Hurricane Katrina. Don’t aim to restore some glorious — and likely illusory — past. Instead, leverage catastrophe to create something entirely new.

Uhm… do really disasters create opportunities? Is it a general rule? I would not be so sure, and above all, I would be careful in avoiding any confusion between correlation and causality! That’s an old consultancy trick, isn’t it? Again, in learning from history we are not allowed to force it: we are used to read history and to choose what upheaval and creative awakening are, looking through thick glasses.

In this regard, watching ‘Steve jobs‘ the movie can be helpful: can success be the coming back to a ‘wrong’ idea, notwithstanding a disaster?

Embrace competition. Renaissance Florence was rife with rivalries and feuds. The two giants of the age, Leonardo and Michelangelo, couldn’t stomach one another, but perhaps that’s what propelled them both to produce such fine work. The decades-long feud between Lorenzo Ghiberti and Filippo Brunelleschi had the same effect. When Brunelleschi failed to win the commission to build the Gates of Paradise in Florence, he traveled to Rome to study ancient structures, like the Pantheon, then brought those lessons home to build the city’s iconic landmark, the Duomo. The Florentines appreciated the value of healthy competition. We’d be wise to do the same, recognizing that both “winners” and “losers” benefit from it.

That is exactly what I mean when I warn against historical creativity: the idea that the feud between Leonardo and Michelangelo had propelled them both to produce such fine works is ‘not even wrong’. On the contrary, the history of artistic competition in renaissance is full of blow downs, I would be sincerely reluctant in indicating it as an example of fair play. On the other hand, it can be helpful if we want to show that the rules of the game in the business are still the same, even after centuries. That is exactly the reason why we are allowed to learn something from history, always with some caveat.

Note: this narrative is not completely fair: the project was approved because Brunelleschi asked Ghiberti to openly patronize it! When the committee saw that his competitor agreed regarding the technical feasibility, they approved, but they asked Ghiberti to join the project, obviously!

Seek out and synthesize ideas. Florence was not exactly a democracy, but its leaders recognized the importance of injecting fresh faces, and ideas, on a regular basis. For instance, the bylaws of the Opera del Duomo, the committee that oversaw construction of the now-iconic cupola in the city center, demanded that leadership change every few months, no matter how well the group was performing. They knew that nothing torpedoes a creative endeavor as quickly and thoroughly as complacency.

The leadership change was not intended to avoid complacency: that’s ridiculous! The fact is that the bylaws of the Opera del Duomo had a lot of problems to deal with, including the black death which killed the master builder!

The Florentines (and especially the Medicis) also looked to different cultures and the past for inspiration. They dispatched emissaries far and wide in search of prized ancient Greek and Roman manuscripts. This was not cheap — a single book cost, in relative terms, as much as a car does today — so every acquisition was carefully weighed, its potential value patiently considered. They recognized that innovation involves a synthesis of ideas, some new, some borrowed, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

Uhm… again, I suspect that Mr Weiner is overinterpreting history.


Final considerations

I believe that history is a great tool for interpreting what happens today in our firms. Human behavior and deep motivations are basically always the same. We can learn from the past. On the other hand, we must be always aware that those are metaphors, therefore we can use them as interpretative maps only with much care.


L’insostenibile dinamica del cambiamento

Johann Friedrich Struensee

Johann Friedrich Struensee

Poco prima che scoppiasse la rivoluzione in Francia, in Danimarca, per un breve periodo, il sistema delle regole vigenti venne radicalmente sovvertito in modo del tutto incruento. A quel tempo la Danimarca era governata da un manipolo di oligarchi che manovrava un giovane re, dopo avere indotto in lui una grave nevrosi, grazie a un’educazione criminale. Le manifestazioni di tale nevrosi divennero tali, a un certo punto, da indurre costoro a cercare un medico il quale potesse aiutarli a tenere sotto controllo il sovrano: nevrotico andava bene, pazzo no.

Quel medico si chiamava Johann Friedrich Strunsee.

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Crisis management


President John F. Kennedy’s defense secretary, Robert S. McNamara, famously stated that “there is no longer such a thing as strategy; there is only crisis management.”

Sul blog di MissionMode mi sono imbattuto per caso in un bell’articolo sulla crisi dei missili cubani del 1962, uno degli episodi storici che maggiormente utilizzo in aula.

Da Roma a Parigi in un mese


La relazione tra lo spazio e il tempo, almeno in una certa accezione, è storicamente determinata. Infatti la nostra idea di distanza geografica è completamente diversa da quella che dovevano avere i nostri antenati un paio di millenni fa, quando Ancona era più lontana da Roma di quanto non lo fosse Tunisi. Per rendersene conto basta guardare le isocrone della curiosa carta geografica con cui ho aperto questo post.

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Mankind are so much the same, in all times and places, that history informs us of nothing new or strange in this particular. Its chief use is only to discover the constant and universal principles of human nature.

David Hume

Circostanze della leadership

Apsley Cherry-Garrard, dopo 36 giorni di marcia in pieno inverno australe, luglio 1911

What is the use of A running down Scott because he served with Shackleton, or B going for Amundsen because he served with Scott? They have all done good work; within their limits, the best work to date. There are jobs for which, if I had to do them, I would like to serve under Scott, Amundsen, Shackleton and Wilson—each to his part.

For a joint scientific and geographical piece of organization, give me Scott; for a Winter Journey, Wilson; for a dash to the Pole and nothing else, Amundsen: and if I am in the devil of a hole and want to get out of it, give me Shackleton every time.

They will all go down in polar history as leaders, these men. I believe Bowers would also have made a great name for himself if he had lived, and few polar ships have been commanded as capably as was the Terra Nova, by Pennell.

Apsley Cherry-Garrard

Lessons learned from the polar ice

By Tom Brady

Dr Edward Wilson sketching the Beardmore Glacier, photographed by Captain Robert Falcon Scott in December 1911

With the recent 100th anniversary of the conquest of the South Pole, stories of survival and death on the seventh continent were prevalent. Roald Amundsen arrived first, in December of 1911, followed about a month later by Robert Falcon Scott, who got there on January 17, 1912. But Scott’s ordeal on the ice, recounted in the notebooks he kept as his five-man team struggled and failed to complete the 1,300 kilometer journey to safety, has almost relegated Amundsen’s accomplishment to a historical footnote.

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Dame di ferro

Una delle critiche a cui mi capita di dover rispondere al termine di una sessione sul tema della leadership condotta con il metodo della narrazione storica è: “…ma non c’è nemmeno l’ombra di una donna!”.

Be’, la questione è meno banale di quanto possa sembrare di primo acchito. Di solito, infatti, ribatto in modo molto semplice e diretto: “ha perfettamente ragione,” dico, “vuole allora essere così gentile da propormi un nome?”.

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Scott, Amundsen e il project management

Poco più di cento anni  fa, esattamente il 17 gennaio del 1912, l’inglese Robert Falcon Scott raggiungeva il Polo Sud. Purtroppo per lui trentatre giorni prima ci era arrivato il suo rivale norvegese, Roald Amundsen. Si avviava così verso il suo tragico epilogo una spedizione che Scott aveva da sempre fortemente voluto.

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Annibale e le Alpi: una traversata, un mito

Al Musée Dauphinois di Grenoble, fino al 2 luglio prossimo sarà possibile visitare la splendida mostra dedicata a un momento particolare della vita del grande condottiero barcide: la mitica traversata delle Alpi. La mostra di Grenoble ripercorre l’epopea presentando pezzi provenienti da musei francesi, tedeschi e italiani, nonché una ricca collezione di armi puniche, galliche e romane, il tutto completato da efficaci ricostruzioni animate.

La totale assenza di un ritratto contemporaneo di Annibale non ha impedito la produzione di arte. Miniaturisti anonimi del Medio Evo o grandi artisti come Giulio Romano, Giambattista Tiepolo, J.M.W.Turner, Benedetto Masson o lo scultore Antoine Bourdelle, ciascuno ha omaggiato il personaggio a modo proprio.

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