The Authentic Organization

A few days ago, I wrote a short piece on the idea of an organizational obituary as a tool for deepening authenticity. With the feedback I’ve received, it’s become clear that there are some ambiguities in the practice that prevent it from being as useful as we might like. These ambiguities are identical to those that crop up in similar exercises for individuals who are exploring their calling in life.

In the mind of someone answering them, the questions teeter back and forth between asking what we think our stakeholders might actually say in the event of our organizational demise and what we would like them to be able to say. (We’re also tempted just to resign ourselves and imagine what we wish they would say, which is not the same as wanting the statements to be grounded in fact.) This ambiguity means that on the one hand, we are doing soul searching about our organization as it is today and about our organization as we wish it were.

Both of these are very valuable.

If we are brave, looking at what would be said of us now, without any changes or wishful thinking, can ground us in what we’ve done well and what we haven’t. Knowing that we can also engage in an exercise of aspiration can help us be brutally honest.

Then, the truth of our history having been attended to, we can turn to giving greater voice to our desires for our organization. And so, I would rephrase the question: Five years from now, your organization comes to an end. What would you want people to be able to say of it?

In the book Original Blessing, Meister Eckhard (via Matthew Fox) offers us an intriguing four part framework from which to examine the spiritual paths of individuals. I believe this framework has something to offer this conversation about the authentic organization.

In brief, the framework suggests that it can be useful to think of our walk through life as a journey down four distinct paths, each in its appropriate time and serving its appropriate purpose. Those four paths are the Via Positiva or path of joy and pleasure, the Via Negativa or path of loss and grief, the Via Creativa or path of external change, and the Via Transformativa or path of inner change.

What do these four paths have to do with organizations? Don’t be put off by the anachronistic language. More than most frameworks intended for individuals, this one has enormous utility for organizations committed to authenticity.

Traditionally, organizations spend the most energy on the Via Creativa, in their efforts to do bring beauty, justice, and kindness to the world. Although I would suggest that it is present in all of them, it is in that external path that most organizations see their mission.

The last ten years has seen a strong growth in energy devoted to the Via Transformativa. This has largely taken the form of capacity building and organizational development. Many funders as well have taken steps away from an orientation toward a short term, atomistic outcomes and embraced this path, as evidenced by the growth of the affinity group Grantmakers for Effective Organizations. But we still have a long ways to go before our sector has really tapped the power of this path.

The remaining paths, the ones of joy and of grief, also have much to offer. Indeed, part of the point is that the paths are all intertwined, that while pursuing one, we find ourselves on another. If we lack the skills or the social context to support these other paths, then we and our organizations will suffer for it. If we can’t support passion or letting go, if there are things can’t face or don’t allow ourselves to want, if we can’t celebrate or mourn, then our hearts and minds will withdraw from the work. That’s the path away from authenticity.

Over at Nonprofit Online News, we recently launched a Civil Society LifeWork Survey. I mention it here because of the way in which it touches on the matter of authenticity.

The survey opens with a series of more conventional questions, based on a broader Pew survey conducted in 2006. My main objective with these was to see if there were benchmarks that we could use to compare civil society respondents to the general population. Those questions were:

(1) Overall, how satisfied are you with your job?

(2) How satisfied are you with the _kind of work_ you do?

(3) Here are two different ways of looking at your job. Some people get a sense of identity from their job. For other people, their job is _just_ what they do for a living. Which of these best describes the way you usually feel about your job?

(4) Have you ever switched careers — that is, switched from one _type_ of work to another _type_ of work? If yes, how many times have you done this?

(5) How likely is it that you will switch careers sometime during your future working life?

(6) Over the course of your work life, have you taken any special courses or re-training?

The survey continues with another six questions that are meant to ask people to look a little deeper. These are the kinds of questions that I wish people were asked in large scale surveys, but never are. Frankly, I believe the world would be a very different place if we all had practice answering them. Those questions were:

(7) If you knew you had two years to live, would you continue to do the work you do?

(8) And what if you only had two months to live, would you continue to do the work you do?

(9) Do you have a personal mission statement or reasonably well-articulated statement of your calling in life, as you currently see it?

(10) Do you have a clear sense — in that you could make a list — of what you accomplished last year?

(11) Do you have a clear sense — in that you could make a list with times associated — of where your time goes in any given day or week?

(12) Do you have a reliable personal practice that brings you face to face with the most important choices about your life and work?

All of the first dozen questions were multiple-choice in nature. (My intent was to have them take less than 90 seconds to answer.) The very last question is based on an exercise that I sometimes give my coaching clients:

(13) Consider the following hypothetical two-part deal: Someone offers you a year off to rest and renew, followed by a five year contract on reasonably comfortable terms. The requirements of the contract are that you make a difference in the world, a difference you would be proud to have be the last thing you do. What would you do with that time?

I recently reviewed a book called Storytelling: Branding in Practice at Nonprofit Online News. In the chapter entitled “The Company Core Story” the authors present an exercise called The Obituary Test. It’s very similar to exercises I’ve done with both organizational and individual clients. I paraphrase it as follows:

Write down your company’s obituary. How would it read if your stakeholders were to write it? How would it read if other organization’s in your field were to write it? What would the world look like if your organization didn’t exist? If you were to close tomorrow, who would miss you and why? Have you made any real difference for your stakeholders?

This is a test of authenticity for any organization. How would you answer it?

In many cultures, both organizational and social, it is in the avoidance of conflict that we often manage to lose our authenticity.

I am following some conventional or interpersonal dynamics (rather than global politics) in my use of the phrase ‘conflict avoidance’. I’m considering it as quite distinct from conflict management, conflict prevention, and conflict resolution.

Conflict avoidance is the denial of something that is already present, and comes in many forms: In the back and forth cycle of not wanting to make someone uncomfortable (because it would in turn make us uncomfortable). In failing to prepare for conflict in the first place. In hiding from our own desires. In making agreements we do not wish to keep. Whatever its form, it separates us from our ourselves and from each other.

This separation kills the life in us and in our organizations. Each time we avoid conflict, the next conflict becomes even harder to avoid. The cycles of creative engagement, whether internal or external, that constitutes life itself is replaced by cycles of denial.

What are the alternatives? Are we utterly dependent on individual initiative to just face up to and barge ahead despite our fears? I don’t think so. The literature of conflict resolution is full of positive alternatives, some of which have already been alluded to in the context of this inquiry.

It doesn’t even have to go so far as mediation or dispute resolution. Most conflict in organizations really isn’t that big a deal. It’s true that sometimes smaller conflicts touch upon (and serve as a proxy for) larger ones. But most of the time some institutional practices, in the form of simple routines (like air clearing) and leadership by example, go a long way all on their own.

Every year, starting in late November and running through early February, I reflect on the manner in which the presence of death can ground us in the moment, and in our best selves. Does this work the same way for organizations? Or at least, can it be put to use in the context of organizational life? I think it can.

Thinking that the task before you may be the last thing you do has two effects.

First, other worries drop away. Like the proverbial drop of water on a leaf, all of life is reflected in this moment. We take a breath and make a little space for the task at hand, so that we can attend to it without the worries that make up our quotidian clutter. We put ourselves into the task and however mundane, we know we are leaving something of ourselves behind.

Second, our values loom large. Ironically, even as we attend completely to the task, there is a force at work that makes it easier to choose whether we ever want to do this task again. This force tends to be quiet until after the moment has passed. But, as a result of bringing ourselves completely into presence with it, we are better able to make decisions that we may have been putting off.

It’s clear to me that this practice can bring great authenticity into the workplace, if even only in the oasis of a single person’s work. If practiced by many people who work together, it may help nurture a mindful environment for everyone. I wonder as well whether the organization as a whole can benefit from the practice.

If this were the very last thing we do together in this organization, we might ask ourselves, if we consider that this might be the last project we finish, the project that we will be remembered by, will that bring about the same results for the organization as it does for individuals?

If it did, I think the results would play out in the reverse order than the one I described. Rather than starting with present engagement and leading toward mindful choices, it might encourage people to ask up front: Is this really worthy of us? Is this a legacy worth leaving? Then, if the project passes this acid test, it will be that much easier for everyone involved to commit themselves wholly.

In his comment on emotional skills, Michael Soper wrote:

I’ve always been fascinated with the power of “institutional stories” that flow from the emotions of leaders. Examples are many. Consider the leader who reminds managers in the midst listening of their explanations about why they can’t do something, “just test it, try it, and refine it.” While not coming from “anger,” I think these types of emotional reactions reflect the passion and contagious enthusiasm that is characteristic of most great leaders. The best become those institutional stories shared among all employees that define great organizations’ values.

I think he is exactly right. Institutional stories become the mediatory myths of the organization, giving meaning to its daily work and guidance to its choices. While such stories have influence on a broad range of organizational dynamics, their effect on emotional skills is quite profound.

Storytelling is a medium for leadership. Stories set forth the norms of the organization: the choices that should be made and the character that should be displayed. We can collect the stories of an organization and ask ourselves what they teach about the roles of emotions and how to put them to use. We can also look at the underground stories, the unofficial stories, and ask the same questions.

Do you have examples of institutional stories that communicate something about the role of emotions in the organization? They don’t have to be about emotions directly, nor do they have to be about the emotions typically regarded as negative. Any stories at all would be interesting to examine.

If you’re familiar with my work, you will know how I feel about resistance to change. I believe that resistance should neither be dismissed nor rolled over, rather it should be respected and understood. The primary area in which I have applied this approach in recent years is in the context of organizations adopting new communication techniques and related technologies. The evidence is fairly compelling that change is deeper, more sustainable, and less costly when resistance is approach with spacious integrity.

I want to open up the topic of resistance in the context of pursuing authenticity. Possibly even more than with technological change, it is easy for people who are considering the adoption of the practices and principles of the authentic organization to not hear each other very well. It’s easy to paint advocates as fuzzy thinking idealists and it’s easy to paint those who resist as lacking integrity. Neither of these are necessarily true and they are most certainly not useful.

What would be the most accurate and respectful ways to describe the various reasons people might have to resist efforts to ground an organization in deeper authenticity? No doubt some reasons are really part of a larger dynamic and others are just different ways of looking at the same concerns. I will explore a few here and I invite you to suggest some as well.

People will be punished for speaking the truth. We all know that this happens. Most of us live and work in environments that nominally support honesty and candor already, at least in word if not in deed. People want to believe that changes toward greater authenticity mean that they will be safe diving in.

Important objectives of the organization will be jeopardized. As I wrote about in Do Be Do Be Do, one reader gave voice to this concern when they asked if an agency should focus more on their state of being than on accomplishing their goals.

Authenticity is unrealistic. The world is more complicated than that. Or as the famous Emerson quotation would put it: “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds.”

This will be just another superficial management fad. There are certainly plenty of such fads. It is always easier to pay more attention to the form of a new practice, and most management initiatives do indeed fail to change the fundamental patterns of an organization.

It will be unevenly applied. Authenticity demands a certain kind of vulnerability. Although it’s perfectly possible for there to be successful oases of authenticity in an organization, uneven application of its demands can be alarming.

Authenticity invites bad behavior. This harkens back to the ethical arguments that arose in opposition to the existentialists who put their indelible stamp on the word we’re using here. The essential concern is that, if authenticity is all the integrity of people’s inner nature and their outer actions, what place is there for ethics?

My goal here has been to articulate the objectives, not to respond to them. As the material for this book continues to develop, I want to deepen our understanding of the resistance people will have, so that we can see how they are rooted in legitimate concerns.

Emotional skills are fundamental to the success of most organizational projects. Sometimes they mean the difference between nominal success and remarkable success. Sometimes they are critical to any sort of success at all. And without a doubt, they are vital to building the relationships needed for the long term.

I was reflecting earlier this evening on comments made by Asher Bey about how teachers should deal with anger and I was reminded how challenging strong emotions can be for many people in the organizations with which I’ve worked. (I have no evidence that this is any better or worse in civil society than elsewhere.) While Asher Bey’s Guru’s Handbook deals primarily with the responsibilities of the individual in regard to dealing with feelings, I concern myself here with the tight relationship between those individual emotional skills and the organizational context in which they find their expression.

That an organization is often a reflection of the emotional skills of its founders and leaders is well understood. What may not be as well understood is the role that the organization plays in bringing out the best or the worst in people, insofar as how they relate to feelings.

For purposes of exploration, I will propose five ways in which organizations can play a positive or negative role on the emotional skills of staff, leaders, and key stakeholders. These five ways are through (1) recruitment, (2) intake, (3) structure, (4) consequences, and (5) leadership.

Through recruitment, we choose the people that will renew the culture and practices of our organizations. Do we consider their emotional skills? Or do we unconsciously pick people who avoid expressions of certain feelings?

First impressions profoundly shape the attitudes and behaviors of newcomers. How we handle the intake process, both formally and informally, is what creates those first impressions. Newcomers are constantly asking: How do people in this organization handle certain things?

The structure of the workplace — the daily and weekly rhythms, the form of a meeting, the parts of a communication with a colleague — determines what there is room for and what there isn’t. Certain types of spaciousness in our social environment have a way of nurturing corresponding spaciousness inside of us. Are check-ins genuine? Does “how are you” have room for more than “fine”? Do we leverage people’s emotional skills for organizational benefit?

There are always consequences for responsible emotional expression and interaction. Although they may not be intended as such, they can function as rewards and punishments. Do people stiffen and withdraw at enthusiasm, grief, or sadness? What are the reinforcing patterns at work?

Finally, there is the role of leadership. This can also be called “example”, because although it can carry more influence if it comes from recognized leaders, that’s not a prerequisite. Do people take things personally? Do they show strong models for how to use emotions wisely?

I’ll leave you with these five areas of inquiry, along with the core concept of the organization’s role in shaping the emotional sophistication of its people. Please flesh this out, if you can, provide illustrations or counterexamples from your own experience, and suggest other dynamics that may be at work.

As we take on new projects and new objectives, very few organizations let go of old ones to make room. In some cases, we acquire new resources, although often not enough to do justice to the new endeavor. In many cases, such decisions reflect an admirable ambition or at the very least an unwillingness to say that any part of their mission is “unimportant”. Unfortunately, by refusing to choose between objectives, we end up sabotaging our commitment to our entire mission, not just parts of it. And even if we manage to give every task its due, because we have given so much that we’ve accepted living in a world we don’t like for the hope of making a world that we do, even then, we undermine our mission because we are refusing to genuinely pay its price.

There is great power in finding and choosing to pay a price for something we want. I don’t mean this in the sense of a market, only in the sense that life involves choices. When we cover up or avoid such choices, we diminish our commitment to our actions. That diminished commitment undermines everything we do.

The authentic organization makes choices and pays the price of commitment to its mission.