Marcel van Oosterwijk

Category: Capabilities

Organizational capabilities, responsibilities, governance, ways of working, transformation, and how organizations develop and sustain their ability to achieve outcomes.

  • Practice Note: Continuity

    A few months ago, my mother passed away. Recently, a question about our family history popped into my head. My immediate reaction was simple: I’ll ask Mom. Then I remembered, I couldn’t. The answer disappeared with her.

    A Library of One

    What struck me was not the loss itself. I had already experienced that. What struck me was the realization that my mother had carried a unique body of knowledge. Stories. Relationships. Explanations. Family history. Context. The answers to questions nobody knew would one day be asked. For years, that knowledge was always available. A simple question was enough.

    Then suddenly it wasn’t. Not because the knowledge lacked value. Because the person who carried it was no longer there.

    The Fragility of Knowledge

    This is not unique to families. Every person carries a library. Years of experience. Lessons learned. Mistakes made. Patterns observed. Insights developed.

    Much of this knowledge exists nowhere else. It remains tacit. Unwritten. Unrecorded. Accessible only through conversation. When a person leaves, part of that library often disappears as well.

    Thinking About My Own Library

    The experience made me reflect on my own situation. Over the course of a career, I have accumulated a large collection of observations, mental models, and insights. Some are personal. Some are professional. Some are useful only to my family. Others may be useful to people I will never meet.

    Like everyone else, I will eventually leave this world. The question is not whether that happens. The question is what happens to the knowledge I carry when it does.

    Two Different Forms of Continuity

    I find myself thinking about continuity in two different ways.

    The first is personal. I would like my son to have access to as much of my experience as possible. Not because I expect him to follow the same path. But because every parent hopes to pass on some of what they have learned.

    The second is broader. I would like useful ideas, observations, and lessons learned to remain available to others. Not because they are mine. But because they might help someone else think, learn, or solve a problem.

    Why Field Notes Matter

    For years, capturing knowledge required significant effort. Books had to be written. Articles had to be published. Most insights never made the journey from intuition to publication.

    Today, the friction is much lower. A thought can become a conversation. A conversation can become a field note. A field note can become part of a growing body of knowledge. Each note is a small act of continuity. A small attempt to ensure that something learned does not simply disappear.

    Beyond Immortality

    People sometimes speak about legacy or immortality. I find myself less interested in those ideas.

    The opposite of mortality is not immortality. It is continuity. I do not need my name to survive. What I hope survives are the useful things. The lessons. The observations. The insights. The things that might still help someone after I am gone.

    A Working Hypothesis

    This leads me to a simple hypothesis:

    Human lives are finite. Continuity is not.

    Every conversation, story, lesson, article, field note, and book is an attempt to carry something forward. Not forever. But long enough to matter.

    Perhaps that is one of the most meaningful things we can do with the knowledge we accumulate during a lifetime.

    Not keep it. Pass it on.

  • Practice Note: The Difference Between Capability and Energy

    For a long time, I assumed that the things I was good at would also be the things I enjoyed doing. Experience has taught me otherwise. Some activities seem to generate energy. Others consume it.

    The surprising part is that capability and energy do not always align.

    A Simple Assumption

    When evaluating a role or an assignment, we often ask: can I do it? It seems like a reasonable question. If the answer is yes, then the assignment should be a good fit. At least in theory.

    Yet many experienced professionals have encountered a strange phenomenon. They can perform a task successfully. They can even perform it well. And still feel drained by it.

    The Wrong Conclusion

    When this happens, it is tempting to conclude: maybe I am not good at this.

    But that is not always the case. Sometimes the issue is not capability. Sometimes the issue is energy. A person can be perfectly capable of performing an activity while finding it deeply uninspiring.

    The two dimensions are independent.

    Four Quadrants

    Thinking about assignments this way creates a useful distinction.


    		High EnergyLow Energy
    High CapabilityStrengthsCompetent but draining
    Low CapabilityGrowth opportunitiesAvoid if possible

    Most career advice focuses on capability. Become better. Acquire skills. Gain experience. Develop expertise.

    Less attention is given to energy. What activities make us curious? Which activities make time disappear? Which activities leave us energized rather than exhausted? Those questions matter too.

    The Competence Trap

    The most dangerous quadrant may actually be the one where capability is high and energy is low. These are the activities we can perform successfully. Managers trust us with them. Customers appreciate the results.

    Yet we gradually become less engaged. Because the work relies on strengths we possess, but not necessarily on strengths we enjoy using. The better we become, the more often we may be asked to perform it. That is the trap.

    Learning from Discomfort

    This does not mean we should avoid low-energy activities altogether. In fact, some of the most valuable learning happens there. Activities that consume energy often expose gaps in our understanding. They force us to develop new skills. They help us appreciate the realities faced by others.

    The goal is not to eliminate every draining task. The goal is to understand what role those tasks play in our development. An assignment can be worthwhile even when it is not energizing.

    Looking Beyond Capability

    Recently, I have started asking a different question when evaluating work.

    Not only: Can I do this?

    But also: What kind of energy does this create?

    The answer often reveals more than capability alone. Some activities align with our natural interests and strengths. Others draw on skills we possess but do not particularly enjoy exercising.

    Both have value. The important thing is recognizing the difference.

    An Open Reflection

    Perhaps career development is not only about becoming more capable. Perhaps it is also about becoming more aware. Aware of where we create value. Aware of how we learn. Aware of the activities that energize us and those that merely demonstrate competence.

    Capability determines what we can do. Energy influences how long we can do it well. The distinction seems obvious once noticed. Yet I suspect many of us spend years confusing the two.

  • Practice Note: The Fear of Losing Touch

    A thought has been bothering me recently. Not because it is new. Because it keeps returning.

    I have spent much of my career moving toward advisory, assessment and strategic work. Over time, this has changed how I spend my days. Less execution. More analysis. Less operational responsibility. More conversations about capability, governance, direction and change.

    On most days, I consider this a natural consequence of experience. On some days, however, another question appears. Have I drifted too far away from the work?

    The Distance Created by Experience

    Experience creates perspective. That is one of its greatest benefits. Patterns become visible. Connections emerge. Problems that once seemed isolated begin to reveal common causes. This ability to zoom out is valuable. It allows us to see things that are difficult to observe from within the daily flow of work.

    But every advantage has a trade-off. The further we zoom out, the further we move away from the details. And sometimes those details matter.

    The Expert’s Dilemma

    This creates an interesting tension. To become an expert, we often need to move beyond execution. To remain relevant, we need to stay connected to it.

    Too much focus on day-to-day activities can make it difficult to see the bigger picture. Too much distance can make the bigger picture detached from reality. Neither extreme is ideal. The challenge is finding the right balance.

    A Question of Comfort

    When I examine this more closely, I am not actually worried that I have forgotten how things work. What I notice instead is that I have not spent enough time in operational roles recently to feel entirely comfortable there. That is a different concern.

    Not capability. Familiarity.

    Not knowledge. Proximity.

    The distinction matters. Because the solution is not necessarily to abandon strategic work.

    The solution may simply be to remain connected to execution often enough that reality continues to challenge assumptions.

    Staying Close Enough

    Perhaps expertise requires a certain distance. But perhaps it also requires a periodic return. A chance to experience the constraints, frustrations and trade-offs that practitioners face every day.

    Not because we need to perform those roles permanently. Because those experiences keep our thinking grounded. They provide friction. And friction is often where learning happens.

    An Open Question

    I am still thinking about this. How close to the work should an expert remain? How much distance is useful? How much distance is dangerous?

    I do not have an answer. What I do know is that expertise seems to involve a constant balancing act. We need enough distance to see patterns. And enough proximity to ensure those patterns still reflect reality.

    Perhaps the goal is not to choose between strategic thinking and operational experience. Perhaps the goal is to keep one foot in each world.

  • Practice Note: The Seniority Paradox

    For a long time, I believed that seniority was largely about perspective. The more experience you gained, the further ahead you could see. You recognized patterns earlier. You connected seemingly unrelated issues. You developed a broader view of systems, organizations and change. This understanding is not wrong.

    But recently I have started to suspect that it is incomplete.

    The Traditional View of Seniority

    Many professional careers appear to follow a familiar trajectory:

    Operational → Tactical → Strategic

    Early in our careers, we focus on execution. Later, we coordinate and manage. Eventually, we become responsible for strategy, direction and long-term thinking.

    The implicit assumption is that seniority means operating at increasingly higher levels of abstraction. The higher you operate, the more senior you are. At least, that is what I used to think.

    Seeing Further

    Experience does bring perspective. An experienced consultant, architect or manager often sees things that others do not. Patterns emerge more quickly. Root causes become easier to recognize. The consequences of decisions become easier to anticipate.

    This is one of the rewards of experience. You learn to see further. The problem is that seeing further can become a habit.

    The Trap

    Once you become accustomed to thinking strategically, it is tempting to view every problem through that lens. A process issue becomes a governance discussion. A delivery challenge becomes an operating model question. A local problem becomes a transformation initiative.

    Sometimes this is exactly what is needed. Sometimes it is not. The customer may simply need help solving the problem directly in front of them. In those moments, the broader perspective can become a distraction rather than an advantage. Not because it is wrong. Because it is arriving at the wrong time.

    A Different View of Seniority

    This led me to a realization. Perhaps seniority is not primarily about operating at the highest level of abstraction. Perhaps it is about moving between levels of abstraction.

    The truly valuable expert can discuss strategy in one conversation and execution in the next. They can connect long-term objectives to immediate actions. They can explain the bigger picture without losing sight of today’s challenges. Most importantly, they know which perspective is needed in a particular moment. That is a different skill altogether.

    Meeting People Where They Are

    Looking back, some of the most effective experts I have worked with shared a common trait. They did not feel compelled to demonstrate how much they knew. They did not constantly elevate discussions to the highest possible level.

    Instead, they seemed remarkably good at meeting people where they were. If a strategic discussion was needed, they could provide it. If a practical solution was needed, they could provide that too. Their expertise was visible not because they operated above everyone else, but because they could connect different perspectives effortlessly.

    The Paradox

    This is where the paradox appears. Many people assume seniority means seeing further. I increasingly believe that true seniority means seeing further without losing sight of what is immediately in front of you.

    The challenge is not reaching a higher level of abstraction. The challenge is knowing when to use it. And perhaps the most senior thing you can do is not demonstrate how far ahead you can see. Perhaps it is helping others take the next meaningful step.

    An Open Reflection

    I am still thinking about this. Partly because it challenges my own assumptions about expertise. For years, I associated growth with moving upward: from operational concerns toward strategic ones.

    Today, I am beginning to suspect that maturity may look different. Not a ladder. More like a range. The ability to move freely between perspectives. To understand the larger pattern. And at the same time, remain fully engaged with the problem that is right in front of you.

    That seems like a more useful definition of seniority. And perhaps a more difficult one as well.

  • Practice Note: Assessment Requires Two Forms of Expertise

    One of the most interesting observations from recent assessment work is that high-quality assessments rarely emerge from domain expertise alone. Nor do they emerge from assessment methodology alone.

    The best outcomes seem to arise from the combination of both.

    The Domain Expert

    Every assessment requires people who understand the subject being assessed. They understand the context, the technology the operational realities. They know where the complexity lives.

    Without this expertise, important signals are easily missed. Recommendations risk becoming generic. Conclusions risk becoming detached from reality. Domain expertise provides depth.

    The Assessment Expert

    At the same time, domain expertise alone is often insufficient. Understanding a system is not the same as assessing it. Assessment requires a different set of capabilities:

    • Structuring observations.
    • Evaluating evidence.
    • Identifying patterns.
    • Separating symptoms from root causes.
    • Testing assumptions.
    • Developing findings and recommendations.
    • Maintaining consistency and traceability.

    Assessment expertise provides structure.

    The Limitation of Either Role Alone

    A domain expert working alone may possess deep knowledge but struggle to transform observations into a coherent assessment. The result can become anecdotal, incomplete, or difficult to communicate.

    An assessment expert working alone may apply a rigorous methodology but lack sufficient understanding of the domain. The result can become superficial or disconnected from operational reality.

    Both forms of expertise are valuable. Neither is sufficient on its own.

    A Productive Tension

    What makes the combination powerful is the interaction between the two perspectives. The domain expert challenges the assessment model with reality. The assessment expert challenges the domain expert’s assumptions with evidence and structure.

    One contributes understanding. The other contributes evaluation.

    One asks:

    What is happening?

    The other asks:

    What does it mean?

    The dialogue between the two often produces insights that neither would have reached independently.

    Assessment as a Discipline

    This observation has broader implications. Many organizations treat assessments primarily as a domain activity. As a result, assessments are often led exclusively by subject matter experts.

    Yet assessment itself appears to be a professional discipline. Just as facilitation, coaching, architecture, and auditing require specific skills, assessment requires its own capabilities.

    Methodology matters.

    Evidence matters.

    Reasoning matters.

    Structure matters.

    A Working Hypothesis

    This leads me to a hypothesis:

    The quality of an assessment is determined not only by the quality of domain expertise, but by the quality of the interaction between domain expertise and assessment expertise.

    The strongest assessments do not emerge from either role alone. They emerge from collaboration between people who understand the system and people who understand how to assess it.

    Understanding provides insight. Assessment provides rigor. Both are required.