Notes for the
Reflective Practitioner

by Dr. Paul Pribbenow

Philanthropy is a journey. 

Let JGA be your guide.

Johnson, Grossnickle and Associates LLC
PO Box 576
Franklin, IN  46131
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Volume One, Number Six (August 2000)

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"What we have loved, others will love, and we will teach them how."

(W. Wordsworth, from "The Prelude")

NOTES FROM READERS

>>What you think<<

I received some good responses to the last edition of Notes.

Eugene Scanlan, senior vice president of the Alford Group and a fellow participant in various efforts to connect research and practice, writes that, in his consulting with nonprofit organizations, he talks about the need for a “development attitude” throughout the organization.  By this he means that everyone who works in an institution is part of the development team and we all share responsibility for welcoming visitors, making good impressions, and helping to build good and healthy relationships.  After all, he reminds us, research indicates that most people tend to establish their opinions of others  in the first 10-20 seconds of contact (or less!).  Therefore we must be vigilant when it comes to how a visitor is welcomed—a welcome (or the lack of one) may have implications for the future of an important relationship.  It does not mean that everyone is seeking to raise money; it does mean that everyone has a stake in the philanthropy of an organization.  These are points well made and too often overlooked.  How often have you entered a building or an organization’s offices to be greeted by a lack of signage, a piece of plexiglass protecting a receptionist, and/or a busy staffer with little patience for or interest in you?  Small changes in attitude—big differences in impact.

I also received a fascinating essay by Otto Reinisch at the Uhlich Children’s Home in Chicago, entitled “The Power of Inspired Leadership.”  The essay outlines three ways in which inspired nonprofit leadership “pricks the human conscience and motivates the human spirit”: (1) Such leadership values insight into complex problems that becomes the basis for visionary solutions; (2) It demands uncompromising integrity of leaders and organizations, consistency between promises made and kept; and (3) It inspires people and organizations to act upon their deepest shared values in a common pursuit.  With this power to diagnose, the claim of integrity, and the compelling character of inspired leadership, Reinisch argues that nonprofit leadership has the language and the tools needed to unlock the power of extraordinary works.  It is a persuasive essay and a strong reminder that all too often those of us who seek to lead in the philanthropic community forget the power that resides not in authority, status, and organizational structure, but in the vocabulary of deeply-held commitments and passions.  For more information about inspired leadership, you can email Otto at reinischo@uhlich.org.

I am pleased once again to welcome many new subscribers to Notes—I hope you'll all be active members of our community of reflective practitioners.  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.  I thank my friends at Johnson, Grossnickle & Associates for their abiding support for our reflective practice.

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REFLECT ON THIS

>>Reflective practice, liberal arts, and serving the public trust<<

I recently finished editing two volumes of papers for the “New Directions for Philanthropic Fundraising” series for Jossey-Bass.  The papers were originally commissioned for a Think-Tank on Fund Raising Research, sponsored by the National Society of Fund Raising Executives (NSFRE) and several other organizations, and all revolved around the theme of the relationship between public trust and public policy.  There are some wonderful papers in the volumes, all of which seek to show how serving the public trust raises important issues for fundraising research and practice. 

As I reflected upon the overall purpose of the two volumes, I was struck by how the papers all illustrated what I call a “liberal arts” approach to philanthropic work.  There are papers by a historian, an accountant, a political scientist, sociologists, a theologian, and others, all commenting from their own disciplinary perspective on larger questions of philanthropic experience and practice.  As I commented in my editor’s notes:

“The astute reader—perhaps a successful philanthropic fundraiser or a concerned citizen—might wonder what relevance these learned research papers have for our work in the philanthropic sector.  Why should we pay attention to issues of public trust and policy, to trends in philanthropic giving, to the state of professions in America?

The British philosopher, Simon Blackburn, recently has suggested that “Reflection matters because it is continuous with practice. How you think about what you are doing affects how you do it, or whether you do it at all” (“Think: A Compelling Introduction to Philosophy,” Oxford University Press, 1999, p. 7).  This provocative claim leads to two key conclusions about the reason these papers are important.

First, it supports Donald Schön’s (“The Reflective Practitioner: How Professionals Think in Action,” Basic Books, 1983) suggestion that professionals must be reflective practitioners, individuals who understand the inextricable link between ideas, values, and the work we do day-to-day.  These chapters offer all of us who work as philanthropic fundraisers important ideas—concepts, trends, principles, and precedents—that we must take seriously as dialogue partners in our professional work.

Second, Blackburn’s notion of the importance of reflection continuous with practice reminds all of us that good citizens must value lifelong, liberal learning.  At its best, education is about helping all of us to understand ourselves, each other, and the world in which we live, so that we might work together to make a more humane and healthy society.  These chapters offer us the ideas of several liberally-educated individuals who share our commitment to serving the public trust.  They challenge all of us to join with them in lifelong learning and service.

All of us who care about philanthropy are called to join together in a public discourse about why it matters that we love humankind and serve its goods and interests through voluntary action.  May these chapters provide a starting point for those essential conversations and the philanthropic practice they will energize.”

Reflective practice and liberal education go hand-in-hand and those of us who are in a position to shape professional education curricula and programs need to be strong advocates and role models for the liberal arts approach—the focus on the larger historical and cultural context of our work. 

By the way, I strongly recommend Blackburn’s “Think,” suggested by a former Divinity School colleague, Larry Greenfield.  It is the philosophy course all of us should have taken along the way.

>>The etiquette of democracy<<

Yale law professor, Stephen L. Carter, whose work I mention often in Notes, is writing a series of books on what he calls the “elements of good character that are…”pre-political,” by which I mean that we should all struggle to exemplify them, whatever our philosophical or partisan differences.”  The first in the series is “Integrity” (Basic Books, 1996), which I discussed in the last issue of Notes.  The second is “Civility: Manners, Morals, and the Etiquette of Democracy” (Basic Books, 1998).  The book is fascinating, especially in the midst of this political season, as it challenges us to think about how the call to be civil may force us to change the ways in which we organize political systems and processes.

My primary interest in the book is the rules for the etiquette of democracy that Carter proposes.  In particular, I believe that there are important parallels between these good manners of society and the character of the organizations we all inhabit.  Under the rubric of “The People We Can Be”, Carter posits the following rules (among others) for a civil society:

(1)    Our duty to be civil toward others does not depend on whether we like them or not.

(2)    Civility requires that we sacrifice for strangers, not just for people we happen to know.

(3)    Civility has two parts: generosity, even when it is costly, and trust, even when there is risk.

(4)    Civility creates not merely a negative duty not to do harm, but an affirmative duty to do good.

(5)    We must come into the presence of our fellow humans with a sense of awe and gratitude.

(6)    Civility requires that we listen to others with knowledge of the possibility that they are right and we are wrong.

(7)    Civility requires that we express ourselves in ways that demonstrate our respect for others.

(8)    Civility requires resistance to the dominance of social life by the values of the marketplace.

(9)    Civility allows criticism of others, and sometimes even requires it, but the criticism should always be civil.

There are other rules, but I think you start to get the sense of how these manners for democracy also offer helpful guidelines for our lives in organizations.  Think especially about rules (3), (5), and (9)—there you have the foundations for a healthy and humane common enterprise.

Carter is savvy to point out that there are those who criticize civility, claiming that there are professions for which incivility is a requirement.  His main point in critiquing this position is that, though we may have evidence for the acceptance of such uncivil work, we must never allow ourselves to forget that such evidence raises serious questions about the character of our common work.  Surely we all experience the disheartening and disabling power of incivility in our lives—no wonder it is sometimes difficult to imagine the abundance and wonder of negotiating our lives together.

>>Managing by commitments<<

Donald Sull, a professor of strategy and management at Harvard, writes in the Spring 2000 issue of “Leader to Leader” about “Management by Commitments” (pp. 22-29).  He suggests that what he calls “transformational commitments,” as opposed to operational commitments (e.g., budget agreements or job assignments), offer the means by which leaders and managers can step outside the confines of their usual practices and commit to the change needed to keep organizations thriving.

Sull suggests that there are four types of transformational commitments that organizational leaders may choose:

  • Commitment to a course of action, often a major new program, merger, or expansion of services.  This sort of commitment radically raises the stakes for success and failure.  Here at Wabash College, we’ve recently received a large grant to establish a new center to study the liberal arts.  Our commitment to this course of action is proving to be transformational, challenging all of us to focus attention on how we can be successful.

  • Commitment to an ambitious goal, often stated in a financial or activity objective.  For example, earlier this spring the Wabash annual giving staff used an ambitious alumni participation goal to focus attention and build excitement for the entire institution.  The success of their efforts set a new benchmark for us and energized us on many fronts.

  • Commitment to stretch relationships, those partnerships and alliances that force our organizations to change the way we do business.  I think about the role that some entrepreneurial trustees play in the lives of nonprofit organizations.  If you forge the relationship with a successful high-tech, new economy leader, it is likely that he or she will demand that your organization change the way it looks at the world, benchmarks set for success, and the pace of decision-making and response to external factors.

  • Commitment to an operating philosophy, a concise statement of a new way for an organization to move into an uncertain future.  A new operating philosophy is required for those of us in higher education because of the growing role of distance education.  Residential colleges need to understand the impact that computer-based instruction will have on traditional educational environments.  We can’t just say: “we’ll keep things the way they are.”  Instead, we must define an operating philosophy that recognizes the impact of the changing culture and market while establishing a framework that honors missions and core values.  This may mean that distance education is not seen as an enemy to be destroyed, but as a partner in the educational experiences of students.

Sull concludes by offering a test of the vitality of our transformational commitments:

  • Are they concrete?  Who is committing?  What are they committing to?  Can you quantify the commitment’s impact?  How will you measure success or failure?

  • Are they credible?  We must increase the costs of failing to honor the commitments.  Leaders must stake their reputations on commitments and be willing to pay the price if they fail.  Leaders must walk the talk.

  • Are they courageous?  Transformational commitments allow us to break from the status quo.  Do you measure your commitment by progress toward the future or distance from the past?  Is this commitment a quantum leap for your organization?  Could you do it faster and sooner?  What hinders you?

You might begin your reflection about transformational commitments for your organization by considering your personal commitments.  How are you changing yourself so that you can help others to change?  Self-reflection is always a good place to begin.

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PRACTICE THIS

>>To forgive, divine<<

In a recent article in “Fast Company” (June 2000), Alan M. Webber interviews Jeffrey Pfeffer, a professor of organizational behavior at Stanford on the nagging question, “Why can’t we get anything done?”  Pfeffer (along with Robert I. Sutton) has recently published “The Knowing-Doing Gap: How Smart Companies Turn Knowledge into Action,” (Harvard Business School Press, 2000).  Pfeffer offers 16 rules for explaining why, despite how much we seem to know, our organizations don’t seem to get much done.  Among the rules are:

  • Doing something requires…doing something!  All the recent literature about knowledge management tends to lead to great intellectual conversations, but what it needs to promote is actual practice, testing ideas, refining our knowledge…
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  • Have no fear.  Learning organizations are only possible when we tolerate mistakes and inefficiencies and failure.  That’s the only way we will learn.
  •  
  • Learning comes at a price.  Pay it.  There is a trade-off between proficiency and learning.  You have to make those trade-offs.
  •  
  • Sure, it’s measurement—but is it important?  The tyranny of measurement—promoted by the notion that what gets measured gets done—must be overthrown with a focus on strategic measuring.  Measurement is crucial, but you must do the right measurements.
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  • Make knowing and doing the same thing.  Build a culture of action.  Here is the province of genuine reflective practice—how you think, who you are, and what you do are one in the same.

And my favorite:

  • Doing means learning.  Learning means mistakes.  If organizations genuinely want to move from knowing to doing, they need to build a forgiveness framework—a tolerance for error and failure—into their culture.  An organization that wants you to come up with a smart idea, implement that idea quickly, and learn in the process has to be willing to cut you some slack.

To err is human—it is the means by which we learn and grow.  To forgive, divine—which may be an apocalyptic aspiration (!) but doesn’t excuse us from trying.

>>The terms of philanthropy<<

Writing in “The New York Times Magazine” (July 30, 2000), Jack Rosenthal, former editor of the magazine and now president of The New York Times Foundation, points out the excesses of language many philanthropic organizations pursue in their grant applications.  He lists trendy terms: accountability, constraints, leverage, synergy, strategy, paradigm—mea culpa, mea culpa, we all exclaim—and suggests that the jargon gets in the way of real good work in need of support.

Rosenthal recommends a booklet entitled “In Other Words,” published by the Edna McConnell Clark Foundation (available while copies last from the foundation, 250 Park Avenue, New York, NY, 10177), whose author, Tony Proscio, performs some skillful verbal archeology to trace the sources of various terms of beseechment.

Rosenthal points out that there is plenty of blame to go around in the jargon world, and then suggests that “Excuses aside, by using lame or impenetrable terms, organizations that serve laudable public purposes do not advance their chances for (support).”  He commends all of us to consider this simple rule, promoted by one insurance company: In this policy, we use words in their plain English meaning.  Words with special meanings are defined in the part of the policy where they are used.

Words to live by.

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PAY ATTENTION TO THIS

>>Daily reading<<

Recently I was reminded by my teacher, Martin Marty, of the value of “lectio divina,” the daily practice of reading and studying scripture (or similar texts) that is prescribed as part of spiritual discipline (along with meditation, prayer, and contemplation).  John Westerhoff, a former Duke professor and currently the head of a pastoral institute in Atlanta, says that such reading must be active.  We must read passages slowly, over and over again, until you can reproduce it without the text in front of you, until a word or phrase or image emerges as significant.  This is a difficult process for those of us who tend to read quickly because of the volume of material put in front of us, but as Westerhoff says, “reading familiar texts slowly and actively can produce new revelations…bring an openness to the text, and let whatever may happen between you and it occur.  Give up control over the text.  You may be surprised by what it says to you…”

Whatever you choose to read—scripture, good stories, learned papers—the discipline is not meant to increase the volume of your reading, but rather to suggest the possibility of a new way of seeing the world.  Daily and divine, once more.

>>A few favorites<<

If you are looking for texts to add to your list and discipline, might I suggest:

>>And a final few words<<

Poetry has been a popular addition to Notes the past several issues.  I need your suggestions for future issues, though, because I’m plumbing the depths of my favorites!

For this political season, I offer a few of Maya Angelou’s hopeful words, offered in her “On the Pulse of Morning,” written for the 1992 Clinton inauguration.

“Women, children, men,

Take it into the palms of your hands,

Mold it into the shape of your most

Private need.  Sculpt it into

The image of your most public self.

Lift up your hearts

Each hour holds new chances

For a new beginning.

Do not be wedded forever

To fear, yoked eternally

To brutishness.”

>>Subscription information<<

Subscriptions to Notes are simple to establish.  Send me an email at pribbenp@wabash.edu, ask to be added to the list, and you will receive a confirmation from the mailserver at Wabash College that you are on the list.  Please feel free to forward your email versions of Notes to others—they then can subscribe by contacting me.  I also am happy to send Notes as an MS Word attachment to an email, if that would make reading it easier for some of you.  Just let me know.  The current and archive issues of Notes are available on-line at www.jgacounsel.com.

>>Topics for the next issue (October 2000)<<

  • Leadership and the arts: a look at some of the interesting literature and projects that make a strong argument for how the arts might inform our understanding of effective leadership.
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  • The challenge of difference: some reflections on the work of Mary Catherine Bateson, an anthropologist who has some important things to say about seeing and understanding difference in our lives.
  •  
  • Name that fallacy: spotting and rejecting fallacies that often are disruptions in the process of getting from an accepted starting point to an agreed conclusion.

(c) Paul Pribbenow, 2000