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Volume Four, Number
Five (June 2003)
"What we have loved, others will love, and we will teach them
how."
–W.
Wordsworth, from "The Prelude"
NOTES FROM READERS
What you
think
Hope your summer goes well, friends – we’ve had a bit of excitement
here in the past few weeks, as you’ll read about below!
Friend
Kevin Osborn, who manages engineers and other professionals, responded
to my notes about democracy and the workplace with these cogent
thoughts:
“(There)
seems to be a balance between three elements of an effective organization.
One, the reality that there is an organizational structure and
the associated authority to make decisions. Two, decision
making comes in many styles (such as consultative and delegative)
and doesn't have to be authoritarian. And three, effective
decisions need an open communication to get the right information
to the right people. I observe many employees struggle with the
balance of these forces. Symptoms
that I have seen include:
-
The presence of
authority seems to restrict information flow, especially upwards.
-
Decision-making is
often treated as inherently authoritarian.
-
Limited sharing of
information unless specifically asked to do so.
-
Little emphasis
placed on suggesting a course of action and influencing the
decision.
-
Not recognizing that
the person with the authority to make a decision is not necessarily the
same as the person with the best information.
-
Decision makers
not making the effort to consult with others.
I have been
working on changing the culture to one of more participation in planning
and decision-making.” And
as he concludes: “a similar set of behaviors show up in wide range of
organizations (and probably anytime that . . . humans attempt to work
together).” So right, I
think. Good luck, Kevin.
Graduate
school colleague and friend, Stewart Herman, who teaches ethics at
Concordia College, wrote that Concordia has its students read the
William Cronon essay on liberal education (“Qualities of the Liberally
Educated Person,” referenced in last issue’s notes on liberal arts
and professions) in “their intro to liberal arts course (there called
‘Principia’) as part of our effort to educate them about the kind of
education they have innocently signed on for . . . I like to think it is
received as an invitation to listen, connect, etc.”
I
also was happy to receive several notes from readers who said that last
issue’s reflections on eight steps to integrity and generating hot
ideas were especially timely and helpful with ongoing projects.
Occasionally, I (or
my colleagues) refer to items from previous issues of Notes.
If you have not been a subscriber previously, and wish to review
our conversations, past issues of Notes are available on-line at www.jgacounsel.com.
The website version of Notes also includes helpful hyperlinks to
sources for purchasing or subscribing to the various publications
mentioned in Notes. I
thank my friends at Johnson, Grossnickle & Associates for their
abiding support for our reflective practice.
REFLECT ON THIS
Reflections on an unexpected firestorm
It would have taken some effort on your part to avoid the news accounts
of the recent Rockford College commencement and the controversy that was
stirred nationally and internationally by the response of the audience
to our speaker, Chris Hedges, the author and New York Times
reporter. If you want to
read about the entire incident, please visit our website (www.rockford.edu),
which has a good sampling of press accounts and so forth.
As you recall from my last Notes, Hedges is the author of War is a
Force that Gives Us Meaning, a fairly persuasive account of the role
that war plays in human history and experience.
I invited him to give the commencement address and expected him
to talk about war. His
address began with a series of strong statements, critical of U.S.
policy in Iraq. Shortly
thereafter, audience members began to shout and blow air horns to drown
him out. Someone pulled the
microphone plug twice. After
the first sound system failure, I appealed to the audience to let him
speak, honoring our abiding commitments to academic freedom and civil
discourse. After the second
time, Hedges and I agreed that he would draw his remarks to an end, as
the situation was getting fairly violent.
He did, and we continued with our commencement exercises.
Hedges was whisked away by our campus safety staff.
What has happened since is quite remarkable.
In addition to the natural responses of those who actually were
present for the ceremony – many were hurt and upset by the speech, by
the distraction, by the fact that people wouldn’t listen respectfully,
and so forth – the event became a cause celebre in a raging
national debate about war, about the role of colleges in society, about
various ideological positions on public discourse.
The local newspaper became the primary source for national news
and received more than 400,000 hits a day on its website for five or six
days running (usual daily traffic is 50,000 hits).
The story appeared in most media outlets – 12 minutes on Rush
Limbaugh (you can imagine what he said), national stories on NPR,
international coverage through the BBC, an editorial in the Wall Street
Journal (“The Rockford Fouls” – get it?), and lots of syndicated
columns. At least they
spelled my name right!
As I step back and
take a moment to reflect, three themes begin to take shape:
(1) I did not intend for Hedges’ speech to be controversial
– in other words, I wasn’t trying to provoke a commencement
audience. Given that I did
– and to this extent – I need to take personal responsibility for
the fact that I may have underestimated just how volatile a topic war
is, especially when we are still engaged in Iraq.
I also need to realize that the politics of Northern Illinois and
Rockford probably mean that anyone from the New York Times may be
suspect and that some of the response can be linked to the emotions
middle Americans sometimes have when confronted with an Eastern media
perspective that doesn’t jive with their views of the world.
I also need to be concerned about the issues this raises for a
college community that is evolving in its sense of mission and vision.
Some of this is an organizational maturity issue – are we ready
to take on this sort of controversy and use it constructively as a
teaching tool as well as an opportunity to engage the wider public in
important conversations about important issues?
I fully accept the responsibilities I have for what happened
during our commencement and for what we need to do as a college going
forward.
(2) It is frightening to review various responses to the
audience reaction to Hedges speech.
There are faculty members from a variety of institutions who
actually have written saying that we taught our students to be critical
thinkers – and that the disrespectful response to the speech was
critical thinking at work! From
across the country I received emails and letters applauding the audience
for shouting down someone who clearly was wrong (from their
perspective). Wow.
(I also had plenty of responses applauding us for choosing the
speaker and for allowing him to continue to speak despite the
interruptions.) For me,
though, the issue of what Stephen Carter calls the “etiquette of
democracy” demands that we look at this incident as evidence that the
state of public discourse in our society is impoverished.
Carter argues in his Civility (Basic Books, 1998) that
democracy demands (among other things) that: (1) Our duty to be civil to
each other does not depend on whether we like each other or not; (2)
Civility requires that we listen to others with knowledge of the
possibility that they are right and we are wrong; and (3) Civility
values diversity, disagreement, and the possibility of resistance, and
therefore we must not use education to standardize our children!
Jane Addams herself was viciously criticized for an anti-war
speech she gave at Carnegie Hall in 1915.
How we use this incident to address the possibility of civil
public discourse strikes me as a central challenge to our role as a
liberal arts college dedicated to the Addams legacy
(3) Finally, I also have to admit that this has been a great
deal of fun. Our college has
become the center of a major national and international story.
As one local columnist suggested, “THIS IS THE BEST
thing to happen to this community since . . . well, since they first put
those hilarious School Board meetings on cable television. The Rockford
College graduation had everything — left-wingism, right-wingism,
pseudo-patriotism, shouting, tears, foghorns, rude interruptions, a
palpable sense that violence might break out at any moment. It was
wonderful.” And he continues, “Look at what’s happened. Pribbenow
and Hedges have put Rockford and its little liberal arts college on the
map. They have started great de-bates, here and elsewhere, over freedom
of speech, academic freedom, war, peace, journalism, patriotism, history
and a host of other matters. They also have evoked memories of Jane
Addams, the most celebrated of Rockford College alums, who was no
stranger to controversies far more heated than this one.”
I think this is what college is supposed to be about, and though
I couldn’t have imagined what might happen during our annual
commencement ceremony, in retrospect I must say that I am delighted to
be part of an institution that is struggling with big issues.
A
meditation on philanthropy as a gift economy
I once heard a speaker at a national fundraising conference suggest that
the philanthropic community needs a new mythology for its work.
It was one of those conference moments that changed my life.
What did the speaker mean by a new mythology?
One way to think about a myth or mythology is that it provides a
guiding and shaping story for human activity.
The speaker’s point was that the dominant myth of contemporary
American society is that of capitalism – it’s about a free market
driven by supply and demand. It’s
also about money – about who’s got it and who doesn’t.
Those of us who have devoted our professional lives to the work of
philanthropy know well how this dominant myth of American life has an
impact on our work. We set
fundraising goals based on market analysis.
We talk about the philanthropic marketplace.
We more and more write contracts and complete philanthropic
transactions with our donors. We
are told it’s all about money – who’s got it and who doesn’t.
Why a new mythology for philanthropy?
Perhaps because when we are subsumed under the capitalist myth,
we lose sight of why we do what we do.
We forget about genuine mission-based work.
We focus on individual wealth and capacity, and not on what is
possible when humans gather around common purpose.
We become greedy. We
forget how to love humankind – to be philanthropic.
It strikes me that the call for a new mythology for philanthropic work
is more urgent than ever. I
don’t mean to be naïve about the economic nature of our lives.
Capitalism has been very, very good for us.
But I believe that the economic times raise up for us on a daily
basis the pathologies of relying solely on a capitalist mythology to
guide and shape our lives. The
Enrons and Worldcoms of our world show us what happens when there are no
countervailing myths to balance our greed.
The wringing of hands over stock market upheavals leads all of us
to share something of a bunker mentality when it comes to the state of
our economic lives. The
tyranny of budget shortfalls distracts us from our real businesses, our
missions to do good work in the world.
A gift economy
So, what might we consider as a new mythology for philanthropy?
There are many options, but I am especially intrigued by the
metaphor of philanthropy as a gift economy.
University of Dayton philosopher Marilyn Fischer suggests that
philanthropy as a gift economy “will help us keep track of the purpose
of philanthropy and how it functions.”
Political ethicist Jean Bethke
Elshtain adds that “In the money economy’s (her term for capitalism)
world of calculation of marginal utilities, giving of one’s time and
self makes little sense…but from the perspective of a gift economy,
one is enhanced…through the giving of time and self.”
I want to suggest three important insights about philanthropy that come
from the gift economy mythology and that might help provide balance to
our philanthropic language and practices.
The value of contributions
In a gift economy, we focus on contributions.
In a money economy, we value possessions.
It is an important distinction that has implications for the work
of philanthropy.
We talk daily about contributions to our organizations.
We count on the gifts of time, talent, and treasure to sustain
our work. Our donors may
well be pleased that they are able to contribute (for all the reasons we
know they do), but they often view those contributions as taking away
from the income, assets, and time they have accumulated.
And in the money economy, to give away is to diminish my
possessions – no matter how righteous and compelling the cause.
The important message in a gift economy is that we are gifted beings,
and that the cycle of giving is at the core of human activity.
Since we have been given these gifts, we have the obligation to
keep giving them as part of the cycle.
This is not to say that there aren’t plenty of “enlightened
givers,” as my colleague Jerry Panas calls them, who believe that
giving is an obligation of wealth. Again,
though, the focus—even for these good people—is on the possessions
that motivate giving rather than the gifts they are expected to pass on.
As fundraisers, we are charged with encouraging and sustaining this
cycle of giving. One of the
ways we do this is by acknowledging the value of contributions.
That is a simple but profound notion about our work in
philanthropy. Of course we
acknowledge gifts – with thank you letters, special events, personal
calls, and so forth. But in
the gift economy, acknowledgment takes on a much more expansive meaning.
When we acknowledge contributions, we recognize the very nature
of our donors – we encourage them to take pride in their gifted
selves.
The lens of abundance
In the gift economy, we join a culture of abundance.
In the money economy, we are too often fixated on the scarcity of
resources. When we see what
we have as gifts to be given instead of possessions we have acquired, we
will look for opportunities to enhance our gifts instead of cautiously
parceling what we believe we need.
Not a day goes by when I am not confronted with someone’s anxiety
about scarce resources. I
don’t have enough time, enough money, enough volunteers, and so on.
You know what I mean. Many
of us look at the world through a lens of scarcity and thus interpret
our lives as missing something.
In a gift economy, we join our gifts with those of others, contributing
to the common work of philanthropic organizations.
Our focus is on how our gifts can be multiplied and leveraged by
imaginative and entrepreneurial philanthropic efforts.
For example, elementary students at
a local private school started to save pennies to help a museum build a
new dinosaur exhibit. They
quickly realized that taking the message and the campaign to other
schools in the area could enhance their good efforts.
Now there are hundreds of school children in our community saving
their pennies to give to the museum.
The founding members of the campaign could have kept the idea to
themselves, but they joined their gifts with others to build something
they never would have been able to accomplish on their own.
That is abundance, and it flies in the face of a society that
values hoarding ideas and possessions.
I find it increasingly frustrating
to be told by someone that his or her organization is having tough
philanthropic luck because of the state of economy.
When I begin to probe about those results, I often find that the
genuine work of philanthropy has not been done by the organization.
Relationship building, philanthropic partnerships, innovation and
accountability – hallmarks of good philanthropy and a culture of
abundance are missing. The
state of the economy simply is an excuse for a perspective of scarcity.
Abundance is not some sort of supernatural miracle (though it may be
another sort of miracle!). Abundance
comes with the work of relationship building, of responsible and
entrepreneurial use of resources, and of partnerships and
collaborations. Abundance is
a way of looking at the world, making decisions, and executing good and
responsible plans.
The good steward
The mythology of philanthropy as a gift economy also points to clear
roles for those who participate in the gift economy.
Those who have been given much are expected to give much in
return. We are called to be
good stewards of gifts that don’t belong to us in the first place.
And that is a radical idea, to be sure.
Reinhold Niebuhr, the 20th century theologian, once wrote an
essay criticizing churches for turning stewardship into just another
fundraising campaign. It is
an important criticism. Bill
Gates and Ted Turner may well be good stewards of their possessions (and
very generous to boot), but stewardship in a gift economy is not about
taking care of my own stuff – it’s about taking care of gifts I have
been given.
I find the notion of stewardship such a rich way of thinking about
citizenship and leadership in a gift economy.
Stewardship is a way of life.
It defines our relationships to others, our responsibilities to
serve, and our obligations to be accountable for the gifts we both give
and receive.
As fundraisers, our roles as good stewards extend beyond the typical
responsibilities we have for ensuring that recognition and investment
policies are sound. We have
the privilege to find ourselves in relationships and circumstances where
valuable contributions are being made and abundance is being practiced.
Our role is to ensure that the virtues of a gift economy are
practiced well – generosity, compassion, mutuality, and gratitude
characterize a healthy gift economy.
Fundraisers become moral educators and facilitators as we help
others tend their gifts well.
Our daily lives in philanthropic organizations will never fully reflect
a gift economy. Threads of
the market economy will always be an important part of our work.
The genius of a new mythology for philanthropy, however, is found
in how the new guiding and shaping story changes the terms of our work
and sets new horizons and aspirations for the future.
Philanthropy as a gift economy is
one compelling and radical way we might begin to reflect in our work the
commitments we share to a world that ought to be much more about
contributions than possessions.
PRACTICE THIS
Practicing in a gift economy
A recent issue of Gonser Gerber Tinker Stuhr’s Bulletin on Public
Relations and Development for Colleges and Universities (May 2003)
has some good tips for how to strengthen advancement programs even in
the midst of a challenging economic and social landscape.
I think the suggestions go to heart of my suggestion that a gift
economy perspective requires more strategic, imaginative, and steady
philanthropic practices.
- Remain
focused on your mission and motivation of donors – if people
believe in the organization and its work, they will give no matter
what is happening in the world
- Strengthen
accountability to stakeholders and the public – build trust by
pursuing accountability and telling your story more effectively
- Emphasize
efficiency of operations – show how you are stewarding the
resources you have been given
- Display
strong organizational leadership – integrity, planning,
initiative, inspiration and high standards are the order of the day
- Increase
donor involvement – look for new and imaginative ways to keep
donors connected and engage
- Nurture
relationships – at the heart of philanthropy are the relationships
that are open, consistent, trusting, and personal.
Good, basic advice
for all times.
Keeping track
My Notes have become a very meaningful way for me to keep track of the
dynamics and perspectives that evolve from my professional life.
I trust that you have found your own ways to document the
incidents, relationships, emotions, and thoughts that come from your
experience.
Art Dykstra, who is editor in chief of the journal Perdido
(Leadership with a Conscience) suggests in the Spring 2003 issue that we
all should keep what he calls a “Leemer Log.”
Leemers are those instinctual feelings we have when we encounter
a situation, meet a person, experience something that strikes us as not
exactly right (for some reason). Coined
by aviators to describe feelings that “something is not quite right,
but you can’t put your finger on it,” leemers, according to
management writers Karl Weick and Kathleen Sutcliffe (Managing the
Unexpected, U. of Michigan, 2001), must be trusted.
It is too easy to let your head overrule your gut.
Dykstra points to a variety of situations – e.g., hiring someone who
has the right credentials, but something feels wrong – that demand we
take our leemers seriously. He
suggests that we all keep a leemer log to document all those “not
quite right” feelings – we might discover some unexpected lessons
about ourselves.
PAY ATTENTION TO THIS
Resources for your reflective practice
I’ve subscribed and received the first issue of Stanford Social
Innovation Review, which promises (if the first issue is an example)
to be a substantive and challenging source of information and reflection
on the work of nonprofits. I
especially found Robert Sutton’s article on “Sparking Nonprofit
Innovation” helpful. For
subscription information, visit www.ssireview.com.
Reader and colleague Marilyn Fischer, who teaches philosophy at the
University of Dayton (whose work on ethics in fundraising we have
discussed in past issues) has recently published a new book on Jane
Addams. It is entitled On
Addams (Wadsworth, 2004) and is part of a series from Wadsworth
Publishing that seeks to translate the life and work of philosophers for
lay audiences. An elegant
summary of Miss Addams’ work on education, philanthropy, and peace
issues.
Forces for
good
In the midst of the recent hubbub on campus, things got pretty nasty for
me as much of the anger about the commencement incident and related
issues became personal attacks. I
was surrounded by lots of good family and friends whose support and
encouragement was a welcome embrace.
I happen to be reading Geffrey Kelly and Burton Nelson’s new book on
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, entitled The Cost of Moral Leadership: The
Spirituality of Dietrich Bonhoeffer (Eerdmans, 2003) and found this
poem by Bonhoeffer especially helpful as I made my way through the
darkness – he wrote it during his last days in a Nazi prison as a word
of thanksgiving for the support of friends and family.
By the Powers for Good
(excerpts)
December
19, 1944
The forces for good in wonder surround us,
Through
faith and peace they’ll guard and guide.
And
so these days with you I’ll live,
With
you, my friends, a new year abide.
****
But should you tend your cup of sorrow,
To
drink the bitter dregs at your command,
We
accept with thanks and without trembling,
This
offering from your gracious, loving hand.
****
When now the silence spreads around us,
O
let us hear the sounds you raise,
Of
world unseen in growth abounding,
And
children chanting hymns of praise.
The
forces for good surround us in wonder,
They
firm up our courage for what comes our way,
God’s
with us from dawn to the slumber of the evening,
The
promise of love at the break of the day.
Subscription
information
Subscriptions to Notes are simple to establish.
Send me an email at paul_pribbenow@rockford.edu, ask to be added
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The current and archive issues of Notes are available on-line at www.jgacounsel.com.
Topics for
the next issue (August 2003)
·
An essay on abundance and partnerships
·
A commonplace on strangers
(c) Paul Pribbenow,
2003
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