This summer (time really does fly, doesn’t it?), I attended a terrific event organized by the United Way of Central New Mexico and the Center for Nonprofit Excellence. The half-day workshop was held at the Sheraton Airport, underwritten by US Bank (New Mexico), and the speaker was Andy Goodman of The Goodman Center (Where Do-Gooders Learn to do Better).
If you couldn’t tell by the tagline, Andy spends his professional time and talent working to help nonprofit organizations put their time and talent into sharp focus for the benefit of their individual missions. The work of the Center for Nonprofit Excellence is —you guessed it—to support excellence in nonprofit work. So the match with Goodman was an excellent fit.
Kudos for that “fit,” by the way, largely goes to Amy Duggan who provided both the vision and the energy behind the event. Folks tend to use the word “visionary” pretty fast-and-loose these days, but I use it purposefully here. It does take a visionary to understand something complex and not necessarily intuitive, then bring that simplified complexity home to your own tribe (bring it home, literally, and “bring it home” figuratively, if you know what I mean), and only then begin to do all the various tasks necessary to implement an event of that scale. In fact, I’ll be meeting with Amy soon, and because of the great mix of good sense, vision, and tenacity that I see in her every time we meet, I’m going to ask Amy to be All In’s first “Who’s In” spotlight-colleague.
Big thanks, and another “visionary” shout-out to Paul DiPaola (President), Leslie Neal (VP Community Affairs), Pat Dee (Community Relations) and Jed Fanning (Executive VP, Commercial Team Lead) of US Bank, Albuquerque for putting up the cash for the event. The fact that USBank fully sponsored the Goodman workshop really goes a long way toward demonstrating the bank’s vision and commitment to this community. Jed Fanning, in fact, was participant enough to have won his table’s “best story” accolade, earning him the unexpected distinction of being compelled to tell that story, impromptu, to all 250 participants! It was a good story, and he was a good sport. He won’t mind, I think, if you ask him about it, next time you see him!
Here’s an interesting story, in fact. I phoned Paul DiPaola the other day (to verify names and titles and whatnot for this blog) and he picked up the phone when I dialed his number.
Now, maybe that shouldn’t be a story, but it is. Here’s a take-away from that one sentence story: one overarching truth defining “innovative” leadership is that visionary leaders listen, make themselves available, and remain responsive. Next time I’m being asked by an executive assistant whether he can tell his boss what I’m “calling in regard to,” you can be sure I’ll be thinking of Paul DiPaola answering his own phone.
Back to the Goodman event. But, one more digression in case this arrangement is new to you (it was to me), the Center for Nonprofit Excellence (CNPE) is a center under the wing of United Way of Central New Mexico. And, the CNPE hosts two programs each year about how some “X” can help nonprofit organizations “create greater impact” for their missions. In this case—the program I attended—“X” was “powerful storytelling.”
I was floored by what I saw in that room. Listen to this: there were almost 250 people from 190 organizations in attendance. That’s 250 individuals representing 190 organizations gathered first thing in the morning to hear a single speaker talk about how “Powerful Storytelling Creates Greater Impact” on the mission of nonprofit organizations.
The numbers might speak for themselves, as far as my being “floored.” But, there’s something else. I might need a little personal background here to best explain why I was both stunned and inspired by this gathering, and why I think it might matter to the supporters, clients, and those just curious about the work of All In.
So, another little story of my own, then.
I have to admit that my attendance at the event wasn’t perfectly straightforward. After all, I don’t run a nonprofit. All Innovation does business for good, yes, but for profit as well.
I was there because, as someone who had spent almost my entire educational and professional life talking, writing, teaching, and researching the power of “story,” I wanted to see how a person gets hired by an organization as reputable as the United Way and then paid by a large national bank, for speaking about story telling. Professionals in this area, even leaders in this particular field of interest are usually paid very little over slave-wages (if, in fact, they can even find gainful employment).
If you hadn’t guessed by way of that superb, and slightly bitter, description, I’m talking about university English professors, and yes, I was/am one of those (I keep asking myself: if you’re a dentist, but not working on anyone’s teeth regularly, are you still a dentist? Can a professor work as a professor outside the university, or, if you are elsewhere, are you also something else?)
But whatever the case, we that comprise this band of underpaid professionals, we understood, first intuitively, then agonizingly, then professionally, that stories change lives. And generally, I think we understood this quite early on in our young lives.
We probably, angst ridden tweens and teenagers that we were, being appropriately self consumed at that phase of our human frailty, first reading Poe, and then Plath, and then Pushkin, began our great love affair, as all great love affairs begin, by realizing that stories could change our lives. Later (sometimes much later, considering the hoop-jumping and blood sweating, and relationship sabotaging we had to go through to achieve the “terminal degree”), our human frailty became a more sophisticated weakness, and we began to recognize that stories, actually, had the power to change the lives of others.
It wasn’t until we began realizing, however, that this very formulation could be turned on its head: We saw that stories changed us, then we studied how stories explained the world, then, putting those two things together we saw how stories explained us, and only then could we go outward thinking: stories explained others, and in our hands, this meant we had a responsibility to “read” ourselves and others as carefully as possible; then we saw how this process changed the world.
Then, only then, could we begin to see that this wasn’t just an observation about a passive observational phenenemon – stories came along and changed the world, no – someone wrote those stories that not only defined, but ordered the world. The story changed the world because someone did the telling.
So, we studied Nazi propaganda, wrung our hands over sexist language, unraveled the language of civil disobedience, took a stand against Disney narrative formulas, and all in all raged at the machine.
But, what Andy Goodman was talking to that group of … nonprofit professionals in Albuquerque about a couple of weeks ago, was using the power of “story” as a tool for encouraging and enacting positive change in the arenas we care about most. Andy was in advertising, and then in television writing, and now he’s doing what he does to help nonprofits get their message across in the most powerful way possible—through storytelling.
That seems like a good use of time.
But, regardless of my history, here, basically was the classic clichéd “art history major” or “English major,” or more generally, the “humanities major” being brought to town (Yes, they always seem to have to come from “out of town,” don’t they? more on that later) by business leaders. And what did those business leaders want this humanities guy to do? Provide his expertise on how to make the organizations that mean the most to them, do better.
It seem to me a forever missed opportunity—and there’s blame to go around—that “university people”—especially from the humanities—don’t find better ways to show others how their expertise is useful to the community, and that the community doesn’t really value the work of the university/humanities “on the streets.”
Actually, I think the bulk of the problem comes from the fact that “we” university folk are just really really bad at telling our own stories. Stories of relevance. Stories of usefulness. Stories that connect with the “business” of the world. Because even when we our work stands on its own, it doesn’t. Or, it shouldn’t. Because as we claim to know: stories do change the world.
There was the sheer number of attendees, for sure, but all those people were there because they, I think, because at some very primal—but incredibly contemporary—level, we all know that to be engaged, one must tell a story. We know that, better than any theory, or great truth, or data set, storytelling gets idea across.
So, that’s what Andy’s presence in Albuquerque (and Amy’s vision, and USBanks’ long view) reminded me of that day. First, that we owe it to each other to tell our stories meaningfully, because if we don’t, there are missed opportunities for miles. Second, as I looked around that room, full of good people who want to do the right thing, I realized the many and various ways these organizations could be helped along their paths by professionals who are 1) trained in, and 2) experienced with, and 3) passionate about the power of storytelling: about articulating complex issues for multi-stakeholder purposes.
And, finally, my professional mission—the mission I’ve translated into the work of All Innovation—was reinforced: that professionals who have trained in the humanities, in research methods, in cultural studies, in the art of writing, and in art-as-education (etc., etc.) have an obligation to present their work in manageable, decipherable, and useful chunks for the benefit of civic discourses, as an aspect of best business practices, and in marketing of all shapes and sizes.
Because here’s one truth about talking to business people that has both helped me break through the walls of the ivory tower (it’s not the tower that’s the problem, btw, it’s the moat), and that, frankly, drew me to them in the first place: when you’re talking to a business person here’s the object: to change something.
I came away from this valuable community event realizing that it validated the best instincts and our mission at All Innovation. As the work of All Innovation grows, I’m going to be mindful that not only does story matter, but also that it’s up to me as a professional to demonstrate how that is so.
After all, that’s what good facilitation does. It draws out stories so that we can put things back together the way that’s best for everyone. A good example? Our work considering multi-stakeholder participation in collaborative civic discourses.
Sensitive issues are much more likely to be examined from all perspectives when they are told as stories. Not many folks are comfortable speaking from purely theoretical perspectives. And, folks who are really interested in progress and solutions aren’t comfortably going-in as a direct attack. But, using narrative form works in the service of genuine attempts to make transparency a virtue. Stories allows folks with different perspectives, knowledge bases, and experience, to explore all facets that define complex organic crystallization, in both safety and with respect.
Let’s take this as a starting point, then, because it’s clearer, as any story will prove, to “see” an example as opposed to an abstract truth. So. There are lots of folks in this place of ours—the city of Albuquerque—that are angry, or hurt, or frustrated about the perceived “excessive use of force,” and/or “patterns and practices” of what many believe to be police misconduct. And, I say that there are “lots,” because there are folks on both sides of the aisle, so to speak, that are frustrated—that believe, in short, that their story hasn’t been heard.
It would stand to reason, then, that one of the best—most critical, really—priorities we can pursue as a city is to find the right venues and methods for telling our stories, and developing sensitive and intelligent methods for actually hearing the stories of the people involved. That is, the stories of both civilian community members and rank-and-file police officers.
Hear them, hear various versions of the same story, and then begin to tell the stories about how the stories of the past can be mended and improved into stories of a better, more collaborative, more viable future, for a city, like all cities, that relies on its policing every single day, and wants a good working relationship with that service.
There are community activists and community organizations to listen to. Families. Grandmothers. And, there are rank-and-file police officers who, it has been pointed out to me lately, also aren’t considered in DOJ policing procedures. With all the hoopla surrounding their workplaces, their selves, their futures, their families, etc., and with everyone else vying for a place at the table, rank-and-file officers don’t really get a “say” in all this current activity
NOTE: Please see a wonderfully relevant article published in the Journal of Criminal Law and Criminology, in the Winter 2008 issue, and which features examples provided by Cincinnati….and, therefore the work of the consultant, … Greenwood who the City of Albuqerque brought in to help us navigate the DOJ proceedings back when things really came to a boiling point. The article is titled “The Politics of Policing: Ensuring Stakeholder Collaboration,” and there’s lots to be learned from it. One, to be fairly obvious, is that our own imported Scott Greenwood has read Kami Chavis Simmons’ very good scholarly journal article, so he’s aware both she is devoted to the idea that stakeholders must be included in DOJ’s MOAs, that she has some pretty good ideas for how to do that, and that she praises him—Scott Greenwood—for having been proactive about such inclusion in the Cincinnati case.
So, yep, there were 250 people gathered because some really smart and committed people, who have a stake in Albuquerque’s success, and who are experienced enough to be considering the long-game, asked Andy Goodman to talk to us about the fact that understanding story really means understanding human potential. Because it turns out that stories, well, stories change everything.
I’m a newcomer to this CNPE series about how “X” can help nonprofit organizations “create greater impact,” but if the storytelling workshop is any indication of the quality of these events, I’ll be watching for the next one.