Boards are paid to choose. Strategy, capital allocation, succession planning, executive compensation; each decision commits an organization to one direction while closing off others. That tension is familiar to every director. What is less familiar is how clearly literature captures it. Two enduring metaphors of choice, the fig tree in Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar and the diverging paths in Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken, offer a surprisingly precise way to think about boardroom decision‑making, particularly when designing executive compensation plans.
The fig tree: When too many good options become the problem
In The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath describes a moment of profound paralysis. The narrator imagines her future as a fig tree, with each fig representing a different life she could live. Every fig is attractive. None is obviously wrong. The problem is not scarcity, but abundance. What makes the metaphor unsettling is that nothing external forces a loss; the loss comes from hesitation itself. As she hesitates, the figs wither and fall, lost not because they were rejected, but because no choice was made.
This metaphor resonates strongly in the boardroom. Directors are rarely choosing between good and bad alternatives. More often, they are choosing among several reasonable, defensible options. In executive compensation, this shows up in the sheer number of outcomes a board might want to reward: growth, profitability, innovation, safety, culture, stakeholder outcomes, long‑term value creation. Each is legitimate. Each has a constituency. Each can be measured.
The fig tree reminds us that wanting everything is not the same as governing well. Compensation plans that attempt to reflect every priority often become overloaded with metrics, modifiers, overlays, and discretion. What is lost is not rigor, but clarity. Executives struggle to understand what truly matters. Incentives lose their directional force.
Plath’s insight is uncomfortable but accurate: refusing to choose does not preserve optionality. It entrenches inaction. In governance, inaction rarely announces itself. As in the fig tree, delay and over‑inclusiveness can quietly undermine outcomes.
Choosing exclusion: A core truth of incentive design
The most important lesson of the fig tree is not emotional; it is structural. Choosing one fig necessarily means losing others. Plath makes this explicit when she observes that selecting one future requires relinquishing the rest. This is not a tragedy of poor judgment; it is the nature of choice itself.
Boards designing executive compensation plans confront this reality directly. Selecting metrics is an act of exclusion. Weighting one objective more heavily than another signals priority. Choosing three metrics instead of five leaves something out. Even the decision to rely on formula and limit discretion reflects a conscious tradeoff.
This is where boards sometimes hesitate. There is a natural reluctance to appear dismissive of important goals or constituencies. Yet compensation plans are not mission statements. Their role is not to express everything the organization cares about, but to focus management attention on what matters most now.
The fig tree metaphor reframes exclusion as a necessary feature of effective governance, not a failure of imagination or empathy. Strong boards accept that tradeoffs are unavoidable and make them deliberately; rather than allowing them to emerge by default.
The road not taken: What happens after the decision
If Plath’s fig tree captures the pain of choosing, Frost’s The Road Not Taken explores what comes next. A traveler stands at a fork in the woods and must choose one path, knowing he cannot fully assess where either will lead. He selects one and moves forward, later reflecting that the choice “has made all the difference.”
The poem is often read as a celebration of boldness or nonconformity. I read it differently. Frost is more subtle. The traveler cannot know, at the moment of choice, whether one road is truly better. The boldness is not in choosing the “less traveled” road, but in choosing at all, and living with that choice. In The Road Not Taken, meaning is constructed afterward, through commitment, experience, and reflection.
This is a powerful framework for board decision-making. Directors frequently ask whether they have chosen the “right” compensation metrics or incentive structure. The honest answer is that certainty is rarely available at the time directors vote, or the UWC is signed. Data informs decisions, but it cannot replace judgment. What distinguishes effective governance is not perfect foresight but disciplined follow‑through after the decision is made.
Commitment, consistency and creating meaning
In compensation design, the board’s responsibility does not end when the plan or award is approved. Approval is the commitment. What follows is the obligation to administer that commitment in a way that allows it to shape behavior over time. That requires:
- Clear goalsetting, so executives understand what success looks like
- Consistent application, so incentives remain credible over time
- Thoughtful use of discretion, reinforcing, not undermining, the plan’s intent
- Transparent communication, explaining why choices were made and how outcomes were assessed
Frost’s metaphor underscores that motivation follows commitment. The road gains significance because it is traveled. Likewise, a compensation framework becomes meaningful when boards reinforce it consistently, rather than revisiting first principles every year.
This does not argue against evolution. Strategy changes, markets shift and institutions mature. Compensation plans should adapt accordingly. However, adaptation that is frequent and unexplained feels less like judgment and more like second‑guessing.
Frequent redesign, metric churn, or unexplained adjustments can erode stakeholder trust and dilute incentives. Executives may conclude that outcomes matter less than interpretation, or that the board itself lacks conviction. Frost’s lesson is that meaning is built after the fork, not by standing at it indefinitely.
Bringing the metaphors together in the boardroom
Taken together, the fig tree and the diverging roads offer a balanced model for board level decisions. The fig tree warns against paralysis and over‑inclusiveness. It reminds boards that failing to choose is itself a choice, and often a costly one. The road metaphor emphasizes responsibility after the decision. Once a direction is set, boards must create coherence, credibility, and motivation through follow‑through.
For compensation committees, these insights are particularly useful. Executive pay is not an exercise in optimization; it is an exercise in alignment. The goal is not to capture every dimension of performance, but to focus leadership attention where it will most benefit the organization.
Boards that internalize this approach are better positioned to design incentive plans that are clear, motivating, and strategically aligned without being brittle or overly complex.
Governance is the discipline of choosing well
At its core, governance is not about avoiding hard choices. It is about making them consciously, understanding what they exclude, and standing behind them long enough to matter. Plath shows us the cost of refusing to choose. Frost reminds us that certainty is rarely available at the moment of decision, and that meaning is created through commitment afterward.
For boards of directors, particularly those charged with designing executive compensation programs, these metaphors offer a useful reminder: choose deliberately, accept the tradeoffs, and then do the work of making the chosen path count. That is how decisions, and organizations, endure.
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