K Shel Blogs

Airtime, egos and the Japanese concept of Ma.

Have you noticed how the same few voices do most of the talking? Not because they’re necessarily wrong or ill-intentioned, but because meetings tend to demand – and reward – speed and certainty. But, if minutes are finite, then one person’s speech is someone else’s silence. In that economy, many stop trying to compete for airtime; others wait for their turn to speak rather than listen. When airtime becomes a measure of power, egos compete to fill it.

Who gets squeezed out? It’s often the people we say we value: colleagues who think deeply but more slowly; those early in their careers; those speaking a second language; neurodivergent minds that process differently; anyone not fluent in the organisation’s unwritten codes. The cost isn’t just bruised feelings – it’s a narrower field of view, and decisions that don’t hold. When speed and airtime map directly to seniority and cultural fluency, some knowledge can’t enter the system at all.

Introducing the Japanese aesthetic concept of Ma (間) – the deliberate interval that gives meaning to what surrounds it. You hear it in music as the held breath between notes; see it in architecture as the space that lets a building breathe; feel it in Noh theatre where a pause carries as much weight as the line. Ma isn’t emptiness. It’s a purposeful gap that allows attention to do its work.

What would happen if we borrowed a little of that into corporate life? Not mindfulness wallpaper, but small, deliberate, timed gaps that change who gets to shape the moment. Open a weighty item and, before anyone speaks, name a short pause. Thirty seconds. Sounds unbearable doesn’t it? – 30 seconds! Pens up. Read the purpose line again. Jot the one point that matters. No one has to perform; no one is put on the spot. When the room does speak, the first voices still arrive – but from notes rather than momentum – and different voices have a way in. Start slowly, in the spirit of the thing: change one moment, not the whole culture, and time-box the stillness so it feels safe.

Mid-conversation, don’t let the quickest response anchor the frame. Take one clean turn around the room – a single, brief thought each, grounded in those notes – then open it up. It won’t fix the politics, but it blunts first-mover advantage and forces a wider scan of the terrain. At the end, summarise the decision and leave one breath longer than comfort for any non-consent. Most of the time you’ll move on. Sometimes, someone will risk a sentence that prevents a week of misunderstanding.

This isn’t cosy. It will feel awkward at first. Fast talkers will feel slowed. Fixers will fear losing momentum. Some will suspect theatre. They’re fair challenges. There are moments when Ma is the wrong tool – incident calls, hard external deadlines, decisions where tight cadence matters more than breadth. Fine. Name those exceptions and move quickly. But most days aren’t crises; they’re habits. We fill silence because we’re anxious leaders, or because the culture taught us that sound equals value.

If the idea still feels soft, watch outcomes rather than feelings. How often do decisions get reopened within a fortnight? How many distinct voices really shaped each call before you moved on? You don’t need dashboards for this – just awareness and honest notes in the wrap-up. If nothing shifts, change the dose or stop. Ma is a scalpel, not a lifestyle.

Try it once on one agenda item tomorrow. Name the pause. Hold it. Listen for the thought that only appears at a different tempo. Keep it if it earns its place.

One breath longer. See who – and what – finally shows up.