The National Party of New Zealand presents on its website a “plan” for the country’s future. “We have a clear plan to make New Zealand a stronger, more prosperous country and it’s a plan that’s working”, they say.
The Labour Party, by contrast, presents on their homepage a “vision” for the country: “New Zealanders don’t ask a lot, but there are some things that make us who we are and define our place in the world. We call it the Kiwi dream.”
These approaches, at least in the political realm, are often mutually exclusive. The Nats makes no mention of a vision for where their plan will take them, and Labour does not describe a plan for achieving their vision.
In politics that might simply be a function of where each party expects to gain support. For the governing party, a plan is really all that matters; they’ve been elected on a vision, and now all people are about is whether they have a plan to govern effectively. Results are now what count. By contrast, the opposition requires a sweeping vision for an alternative future for those who believe the incumbent’s plan is not working. They need not worry about a plan until elected, when the narratives might be expected to switch between the parties.
In the non-zero-sum worlds that are our lives, a vision is only worth describing if backed by a plan; and a plan is only relevant if one has a vision for where that plan might take them. Visions and plans are not mutually exclusive, but too often—whether in a hangover of the political world, where we encounter them most often, or in some failure of nature—people seem still to swing one way or the other. Too often it is vision without a plan or a plan without a vision.
This can explain the failure of many startups. Some have brilliant execution, but no one cares because they don’t inspire. Others have a grand vision to mobilise people, but then can’t back that up with a plan to achieve anything.
And it can explain the failure of many people to achieve aims and goals they’ve set for themselves, even those that deal with lives as a whole. We often oscillate between the extremes of visions and plans without finding the middle ground where they meet, which is the only place that truly matters.
Political narratives can box our minds in, encouraging us subconsciously to mimic in our lives the approaches taken on the campaign trail. But when it comes to visions and plans, the difference between the zero-sum world of politics and the positive nature of our lives means we need to be aware of those narratives and take pains to grasp at both sides of the picture.
There’s only point having a vision if backed by a plan, and a plan is only worthwhile if it serves some vision. Perhaps, ultimately, what politics really needs is a party willing to risk putting the two together—at the same time.