In the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Centre, the Bush administration pursued a retaliatory invasion of Iraq to overthrow the Ba’athist government of Saddam Hussein, which Bush had labelled a member of the Axis of Evil in rhetoric aimed to rally support for a War on Terror. The agenda for an invasion of Iraq was largely predicated on speculation of Hussein’s government supporting al-Qaeda in a covert program to acquire weapons of mass destruction (WMD). Problematically for the Bush administration, there existed scant evidence to support such assertions, a point that gave rise to public debate and media attention.
In addressing the assembled media in a US Department of Defence briefing on February 12th of 2002, then Secretary of Defence, Donald Rumsfeld, responded to questions of lack of evidence for WMDs by stating:
“Reports that say that something hasn’t happened are always interesting to me, because as we know, there are known knowns; there are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns; that is to say we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns—the ones we don’t know we don’t know. And if one looks throughout the history of our country and other free countries, it is the latter category that tends to be the difficult ones”
Rumsfeld, 2002
While some contended Rumsfeld was echoing the Socratic paradox, oft linked to Plato’s account of Socrates in Apology “I neither know or think I know”, contemporary use of unknown unknowns stems from American psychologists Joseph Luft and Harrington Ingham, in their works developing the Johari Window to aid in the understanding of the relationship of self and others. Subsequently, unknown unknowns has become a term widely used in strategic planning and project management.
In turning our attention to the research project and risk management, the risk assessment undertaken for Critical Nexus focused largely on quadrants 1 through 3 of the Rumsfeld Matrix, a modified version of the Johari window. Notably, the unknown unknowns of quadrant 4 remained a blind spot. Project risk assessment outcomes highlighted time constraints as the critical risk, with both high likelihood and severe impacts. Unknown unknowns remained a blind spot until circumstance conspired to bring awareness to one such unknown, in the form of the critical nexus between an errant dog dropping and robot vacuum coming together in my carpeted study.
From time to time I wondered how rigorous robot vacuums are in their room coverage; however, today, any such ponderings were put aside as the vacuum left a clearly delineated trail exposing an initial linear back-and-forth pattern covering the entirety of the room with military precision. With the cream carpet already a rich shade of stinking turd, the vacuum switched to a random pattern to provide surety of full coverage, the end result resembling the ‘Oh Mr Hart’ what a mess’ TV commercials that came to notoriety in the 80’s, in which celebrated Australian painter Pro Hart sets about creating stunning works of art on cream carpet using a comprehensive selection of items from the wine rack, pantry, and fridge. Perhaps I am taking a liberty when I say it resembled Pro Harts’ artistic efforts, as the monotone turd-coloured workings of the vacuum were completely devoid of artistic merit. I must, however, acknowledge that where the vacuum lacks artistic merit, it more than compensates in the rigours of it’s room coverage.
After what seems like 32 hours of cleaning, the study is now resplendent with its ‘new’ beige carpet, free from even a hint of odiferous evidence thanks to an atmosphere heavy in chemical fog from the array of cleaning products the carpet and I have been bathing in. So much so, that the concentration of volatile organic compounds in the air is not only affecting my cognitive and writing abilities (which even I question at times), but may well be within the Goldilocks zone between lower and upper explosive limits that will give rise to a rapid and rather energetic ‘thermal cleansing’ of the room were the PC or any other appliance to be so gracious as to provide an ignition source.
And so I walk away from the research paper to seek comfort in a Gin or two (undecided as to the unit of measure, glass, bottle, or litre) as I rock back and forth, sobbing gently, and pondering recounting this cautionary tale in my application for special consideration; a cautionary tale of the critical nexus between errant dog dropping and robot vacuum, coming together in form of unforeseen emerging technology risk akin to a localised weapon of mass destruction.
As we know, after every project you should record “Lessons Learned”…. I’m wondering how you are going to phrase the lessons learned from this escapade?
Have a backup carpet available at term-end?
Don’t feed the dog if a major assignment is due?