There were times during my banking career when I would sit quietly doing a loan credit review and sense almost immediately that something simply did not add up.
There was no obvious lie. No glaring problem. But after years of evaluating businesses, financial information and credit proposals, inconsistencies had a way of almost jumping off the page.
Figures not quite matching the information. Explanations not fitting the figures. Or everything appearing just a little too neat, creating a picture that led very conveniently towards a particular decision.
I learned not to immediately assume dishonesty.
But I also learned not to ignore what I was seeing.
When you’re responsible for decisions affecting other people’s money, businesses and livelihoods, a high standard of discretion comes with the job.
I had learned something about that much earlier.
As a young officer, I visited a development project to conduct a field evaluation. We were essentially in the middle of the bush when I was offered an incentive and presented with an envelope.
There was nothing subtle about that one.
I remember saying that unless what was in the envelope was enough for me to walk away and live a good life for the rest of my life, accepting it simply wasn’t worth it.
I still laugh at my youthful logic.
But the underlying question was serious.
What was I prepared to risk for an outcome I wanted in that moment?
Years later, I’ve come to realise that the challenges surrounding discretion are rarely that obvious.
Sometimes there is no envelope.
Sometimes we simply want something badly enough that the information supporting it begins receiving more attention than the information challenging it.
Sometimes we make exceptions when they suit us. Or a rule which made perfect sense at the beginning of a process suddenly appears unreasonable when it prevents the outcome we want.
And sometimes, perhaps quite innocently, what we want becomes so important that for a moment we forget why the rule was there in the first place.
That’s when discretion can quietly become indiscretion.
We see versions of it everywhere.
In families. In businesses. Inside organisations. And increasingly, as I pay closer attention to governance and the decisions being made nationally.
Perhaps my years in banking, business and now coaching leaders have made me particularly sensitive to it. Different environments, different levels of authority, but I’ve found myself recognising many of the same patterns.
The difference is the reach of the consequences.
My poor discretion may affect a few people.
A manager’s may affect a team.
An executive’s can affect an organisation.
But at the highest levels of national authority, one discretionary decision can affect someone’s livelihood, reputation, opportunity, freedom or future. Sometimes permanently.
The higher the authority, the higher the standard of discretion we should expect.
Yet authority cannot be completely governed by rules.
Circumstances arise that no policy, procedure or law could have anticipated. Effective leadership requires some freedom to judge, interpret and choose.
The concern begins when the discretion being exercised appears inconsistent with the principles, purpose or standards attached to the authority that was given.
When established ways of doing things suddenly change.
When exceptions become convenient.
When it becomes difficult to understand how a particular exercise of authority serves the purpose for which that authority was entrusted.
That’s when I’ve learned to pay closer attention.
Not to immediately conclude that something improper has happened.
But to notice.
Because the more consequential the authority, the more consequential the judgment of the person exercising it.
And perhaps this is something we could easily miss when determining who should lead our organisations and govern our countries.
We spend considerable time deciding who should have authority.
Perhaps we should spend considerably more time examining who they have become before we give them the discretion that comes with it.
Their awareness.
Competence.
Discernment.
Judgment.
And values strong enough to remain intact even when nobody is standing nearby with a rulebook.
Because no system can anticipate every decision.
At some point, the rules end and the person begins.
And when they do, the person exercising discretion becomes part of the safeguard.
That applies to governments. It applies to executives and boards.
And uncomfortable as it may sometimes be to admit, it applies equally to you and me.
Perhaps that is why the outcomes produced by our discretion are so revealing.
They don’t only tell us whether we made a good decision.
They reveal something about the person who made it.
Which leaves me with two questions.
When more authority is placed in your hands, who are you becoming with it?
And would the people who have to live with the consequences of your discretion be equally comfortable with the answer?
Reflect & Apply
1️⃣ Where have you been given discretion, and what governs you when there is no rule telling you exactly what to do?
2️⃣ What happens to your judgment when the outcome you want conflicts with the principles intended to guide you?
3️⃣ As the authority you carry increases, what must also increase in you if others are to live safely with your decisions?
📘 Be the Person You Dream of Becoming explores the relationship between who we are becoming, the choices we make and the outcomes we eventually create. It is available on Amazon, in RIK Bookstores nationwide, or directly through me.
And if you’re carrying greater responsibility, navigating a difficult decision or recognising that the way you’ve always made decisions may no longer be enough for where you’re going, a Becoming Conversation creates the space to examine what is really happening before deciding what comes next.
It takes a lifetime of Becoming to live a life.
Perceptively,
Monica Rogers-Fletcher
Listen to The Higher the Authority, the Higher the Standard