Is this a case of how we see the problem is the problem?
One of the things we talk about a great deal is the idea of wicked problems. An article we recently came across (http://www.apsc.gov.au/publications07/wickedproblems.htm) provides a nice definition of a wicked problems as being “an issue highly resistant to resolution”. I think the key words here are “highly resistant”, which implies that resolution requires effort and persistence. The resistance is something that must be overcome, pushed back, minimised in order to resolve the problem. It is easy to imagine that when faced with such a resistant issue, our orientation would be more negative than positive. And despite our efforts to redefine the use of the term “wicked” as “not in the sense of evil”, I still wonder how much our predominant negative use of the term influences how we orient ourselves to this kind of complex issue.
Now if we marry this up with the current reality of our world, I think it is fair to say that we are facing layer upon layer of wicked problems. Problems that are difficult to understand and define, let alone attempt to resolve. Yet I still have to wonder what part is played by our orientation toward the problem.
“Life is largely an interpretive experience, and we live in our world of interpretations. This is not just the world of the present, or the world of the past, it is also the world of the future, which is the world of possibilities. A fundamental issue we all face is: “How well do our interpretations serve us?”……..We don’t see things how things are; we see them according to how we are” (Coaching to the human soul: Ontological coaching and deep change, Alan Seiler (2003) Newfield Australia: Melbourne)
There is a fundamental assumption behind this idea: That the way we think impacts the way we see the world and experience “reality”, and that we can improve the quality of our lives by changing the way we think and the way we “show up” in the world.
If this is the case, what might it take for us to “see” and think about complex problems as wondrous rather than wicked?
How might this way of thinking impact how we step into resolving wondrous problems?
Might we jump at the possibility of bringing diverse people and ideas into the room rather than groan at the thought of it? Might we be enthusiastic about the possibility of vast amounts of data, complexity and conflict rather than seek to minimise or control through process? Might we value the opportunity to be challenged, and even at times feel a bit unknowing and even incompetent (dare I say!) knowing that this leads to growth, new understandings, and collectively, new possibilities?
What might such an experience be like??
Dr Vicki Vaartjes
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
It was a beautiful sunny Autumn day in Marysville. The local golf course club house was still intact and had offered its grounds to set up a large marquee for several hundred local people to come together and explore the way they wanted their town to be rebuilt. We had received a notification from Andrew Gaines and Nigel Bell inviting us to contribute to the facilitation of the event. I was going to Melbourne anyway so agreed to help out – as someone said it was a privilege to have the opportunity to contribute.
The drive up to Marysville will leave an enduring impression in me. I had seen the pictures on TV along with everyone else, but to actually smell the charred bush hanging still so heavily in the air, and to witness the cruel inconsistency of the fire’s destruction from one house still standing to the remains of the next, was perplexing. One moment we are marvelling at the silvery peace of untouched forests, and the next we are drawn into the silent black gullies, the remaining trees scorched amber, the two metre high tree ferns already sporting delicate, bright green fronds fluttering from their crowns like fragile birds attempting to escape the memories.
Unsurprisingly, the community at Marysville displayed a similar insistence upon life at the earliest possible opportunity, while also aware of its wounds, still carrying exhaustion and grief.
The difficulty that the community’s people are facing is that individual families need to have a sense of what the future might look like and how long it will take to make it, before they can decide whether to rebuild their homes or agree that Marysville is no longer. The paradox is that the future will only be a reflection of what individuals decide to do now.
My view of the general feeling was that a natural evolutionary kind of development as had happened in the past was not what they wanted – that they wanted their future planned and implemented, and soon. However this stated feeling was at odds with what was expressed as loveable about the community they had lost: the great variety of people who lived there and lived in relative peace together, the quirkiness of the town’s character, the intrusion of nature and how the town had preserved the value of clean water and air, the charm of individual houses and gardens where people had for generations tended their gardens and responded to their community’s many needs in their own ways.
The threat held up to the people of Marysville was that if they did not co-operate in the day’s exercise then government would tell them what they were going to get rather than listen to what they wanted. And government, already criticised for its slowness and inflexibility, would inevitably get it wrong.
I felt that this urging as well meaning as perhaps it might have been, was unhelpful. People with tears in their eyes are not ready to plan; urging does not let people sit in their mess so that deep healing can happen, so that strength can be gathered to reach out to each other and be given time to be received, so that visions can be dreamed that are more than reactions to what has passed.
What I heard and saw was good humour, tears, sense making, assertions of values and interests, opportunism, bold solutions and subtle statements that drew life and death into the present in a way that I had not heard a community speak before.
Everyone felt that the day had been a success and this is certainly reflected in the material output of piles of butcher’s paper with energetic ideas scrawled across them. However, my deeper feeling is that it is in the conversations that these notations cannot record that the real future for Marysville is forming.
And my wish is that government and community could actually acknowledge the value of dialogue as a building activity in itself, without fear of loss of control of the Other, so we may enter into this natural place of uncertainty together and see what we could co-create with each other in freedom.
Dr Susan Goff
The drive up to Marysville will leave an enduring impression in me. I had seen the pictures on TV along with everyone else, but to actually smell the charred bush hanging still so heavily in the air, and to witness the cruel inconsistency of the fire’s destruction from one house still standing to the remains of the next, was perplexing. One moment we are marvelling at the silvery peace of untouched forests, and the next we are drawn into the silent black gullies, the remaining trees scorched amber, the two metre high tree ferns already sporting delicate, bright green fronds fluttering from their crowns like fragile birds attempting to escape the memories.
Unsurprisingly, the community at Marysville displayed a similar insistence upon life at the earliest possible opportunity, while also aware of its wounds, still carrying exhaustion and grief.
The difficulty that the community’s people are facing is that individual families need to have a sense of what the future might look like and how long it will take to make it, before they can decide whether to rebuild their homes or agree that Marysville is no longer. The paradox is that the future will only be a reflection of what individuals decide to do now.
My view of the general feeling was that a natural evolutionary kind of development as had happened in the past was not what they wanted – that they wanted their future planned and implemented, and soon. However this stated feeling was at odds with what was expressed as loveable about the community they had lost: the great variety of people who lived there and lived in relative peace together, the quirkiness of the town’s character, the intrusion of nature and how the town had preserved the value of clean water and air, the charm of individual houses and gardens where people had for generations tended their gardens and responded to their community’s many needs in their own ways.
The threat held up to the people of Marysville was that if they did not co-operate in the day’s exercise then government would tell them what they were going to get rather than listen to what they wanted. And government, already criticised for its slowness and inflexibility, would inevitably get it wrong.
I felt that this urging as well meaning as perhaps it might have been, was unhelpful. People with tears in their eyes are not ready to plan; urging does not let people sit in their mess so that deep healing can happen, so that strength can be gathered to reach out to each other and be given time to be received, so that visions can be dreamed that are more than reactions to what has passed.
What I heard and saw was good humour, tears, sense making, assertions of values and interests, opportunism, bold solutions and subtle statements that drew life and death into the present in a way that I had not heard a community speak before.
Everyone felt that the day had been a success and this is certainly reflected in the material output of piles of butcher’s paper with energetic ideas scrawled across them. However, my deeper feeling is that it is in the conversations that these notations cannot record that the real future for Marysville is forming.
And my wish is that government and community could actually acknowledge the value of dialogue as a building activity in itself, without fear of loss of control of the Other, so we may enter into this natural place of uncertainty together and see what we could co-create with each other in freedom.
Dr Susan Goff
Monday, April 27, 2009
You find the most amazing innovations in the least likely places!
I’m just back from a brief skiing holiday in Alaska, and while there was able to deliver some training to about 65 engineers at the Municipality of Anchorage. These were both internal engineering staff as well as external consulting engineers who are responsible for a wide range of transportation projects around the city. They really enjoyed some new insights about how they as experts deal with the public by doing our Survival training course.
My colleagues there-Anne Brooks and Teri Albrecht – are currently promoting a radical shift in thinking in how they approach the stakeholders around such projects. It involves a strategy of context sensitive design, with a key step of a concept report generated by a public process, before the project design starts.
The decision to proceed with any project will depend on 3 things
* Stakeholder agreement on the scope and nature of the problem
* The community acceptance of the need to solve the problem, and
* Documented overwhelming stakeholder need to solve the problem
It is a new for many, so there is some trepidation about what it might mean, but lots of energy to give it a try. I’m sure they would admit they still need to work out how it will work in practice.
I was excited to find this a refreshing approach – let’s check first with the Public, before the experts design the solution!
John Dengate
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Where to draw the line?
One of the qualities of service provision that makes Twyfords distinct is our interest in building the capacity of our clients in the projects and strategies we deliver for/with them.
Our rationale is that because a piece of work generates something new, our client can need some level of support to know how to make best use of the work and its outcomes. For example: a client may ask for an engagement strategy, but is its leadership understanding of what to do with the output and outcomes of that engagement work?
This is about the report not turning to dust on the shelf - a fate that many consultants fear. This unhappy end outcome of a piece of work measures a misuse of scarce resources (time, money, public trust, good information, change potential) and provides a thudding response of “not much” to the question: “how does our work make a difference?”
Our success factor is when our client can take on aspects of the work we did with them for themselves. Our interest is to continually add value to our clients’ internal environments so that the relationship between internal and external participants strengthens and deepens. This makes for better quality work, and more sustainable interventions for public benefit – important in these volatile and challenging times.
However an issue recently came up for me about this approach to our service delivery: where does the client draw the line between what we do and what they do? When they draft a Request For Tender for example, how does a client know when they have prescribed too much - or too little?
Should the consultant design their own Request For Tender? Should the client advertise for tenders by only naming a) the problem that needs to be addressed, b) contextual information, c) details of budget and time, and d) critical success factors for the impact and outcome of the problem being resolved?
Dr Susan Goff
Our rationale is that because a piece of work generates something new, our client can need some level of support to know how to make best use of the work and its outcomes. For example: a client may ask for an engagement strategy, but is its leadership understanding of what to do with the output and outcomes of that engagement work?
This is about the report not turning to dust on the shelf - a fate that many consultants fear. This unhappy end outcome of a piece of work measures a misuse of scarce resources (time, money, public trust, good information, change potential) and provides a thudding response of “not much” to the question: “how does our work make a difference?”
Our success factor is when our client can take on aspects of the work we did with them for themselves. Our interest is to continually add value to our clients’ internal environments so that the relationship between internal and external participants strengthens and deepens. This makes for better quality work, and more sustainable interventions for public benefit – important in these volatile and challenging times.
However an issue recently came up for me about this approach to our service delivery: where does the client draw the line between what we do and what they do? When they draft a Request For Tender for example, how does a client know when they have prescribed too much - or too little?
Should the consultant design their own Request For Tender? Should the client advertise for tenders by only naming a) the problem that needs to be addressed, b) contextual information, c) details of budget and time, and d) critical success factors for the impact and outcome of the problem being resolved?
Dr Susan Goff
Friday, March 27, 2009
Interesting how we continue to create our own pain
We are a bunch of consultants. As a result we are often targeted by mailout for training and development of our consultancy skills. One that fell on my desk recently was for a masterclass. I won’t give the details because that is irrelevant to my concern. What is relevant is how clearly and explicitly the brochure, all the way through, reinforced the notion of consultant as “expert”. The presenter (called the “masterclass leader”) was positioned clearly as an expert. The participants were invited to submit issues they might want covered in the masterclass to the expert. My read of the brochure was that I could go along and be told by an expert how to be an effective consultant – to be filled to the brim with the benefit of his/ her wisdom, walking away knowing the right way to be a consultant.
Now why am I going on about this? At Twyfords we have a growing sense of urgency about the need to reposition ourselves as consultants. We believe that what the world needs of us right now is not “right“ answers. We are doing our best to step away from the expert model, and step into a more collaborative, systemic one where our work becomes more about the capacities and capabilities of the system through self-discovery. We become guides, coaches, supporters in this process asking strategic questions that help uncover new insight. Over the years we have experienced different forms of pain that come from the act of giving wisdom (when we step in as experts and “tell”) and being expected to give wisdom (by our clients who just want to be told). This form of consultancy, although comfortable, because lets face it we are not short of experience or an opinion about how things should be done, usually perpetuates the very things we have been bought in the help address – dependency, lack of self-confidence, looking “up” or to the experts for guidance, inability to collaborate, sloppy decision making etc.
There is of course a place for sharing our wisdom and doing a “tell” – but more in a “wisdom of crowds” sense that in an “expert” sense. The problems we face are wicked, multi-faceted, values-challenging and complex, without the benefit of clear cause-effect. How can we, in the light of this even imagine that our past is all we need to step into “present’s” like this? What might it take for the consultancy profession to step back from being “experts”? Would such a shift help us to stop inadvertently perpetuating the same pain we are paid to address?
Dr Vicki Vaartjes
Now why am I going on about this? At Twyfords we have a growing sense of urgency about the need to reposition ourselves as consultants. We believe that what the world needs of us right now is not “right“ answers. We are doing our best to step away from the expert model, and step into a more collaborative, systemic one where our work becomes more about the capacities and capabilities of the system through self-discovery. We become guides, coaches, supporters in this process asking strategic questions that help uncover new insight. Over the years we have experienced different forms of pain that come from the act of giving wisdom (when we step in as experts and “tell”) and being expected to give wisdom (by our clients who just want to be told). This form of consultancy, although comfortable, because lets face it we are not short of experience or an opinion about how things should be done, usually perpetuates the very things we have been bought in the help address – dependency, lack of self-confidence, looking “up” or to the experts for guidance, inability to collaborate, sloppy decision making etc.
There is of course a place for sharing our wisdom and doing a “tell” – but more in a “wisdom of crowds” sense that in an “expert” sense. The problems we face are wicked, multi-faceted, values-challenging and complex, without the benefit of clear cause-effect. How can we, in the light of this even imagine that our past is all we need to step into “present’s” like this? What might it take for the consultancy profession to step back from being “experts”? Would such a shift help us to stop inadvertently perpetuating the same pain we are paid to address?
Dr Vicki Vaartjes
Monday, March 16, 2009
Reflections of a Citizens' Parlimentarian
Jan Kasteel was a participant in the recent Citizens' Parliament in Canberra. Jan has generously allowed us to reproduce her reflections on her experience for our blog:
Over to you Jan!
After the ACP we travelled slowly towards Tassie, taking nearly 2
weeks to get here. During that time the 'glow' I felt on Monday
9th Feb was slightly washed away by the rain on the south coast of
NSW, overshadowed by the beauty (both spiritual and physical) of
the Snowy Mountains (although we didn't see nearly as much as we
wanted to and will just have to go back), and then devastated by
the vision of just a small part of the fires on our journey down
the Hume Hwy. Then it was home and all the things that entailed
and unfortunately, although the ACP has been sitting in the back
of my mind, it has not received the attention it should have.
Last night however, I went to dinner with a group of female friends
who get together every month or so. They were all so keen to hear
about my experiences that I found it all coming back to me in a big
rush of passion and fervour.. This morning I have sent the final
report to all Tasmanian Senators and House of Reps members and to
my local southern Tasmanian Parliament reps as well. I have a copy to
give to our local paper and also The Mercury when I go to town today,
so I am trying to make up for lost time. I have also made an appt to
speak to our local Lions Club in the near future.
Last night the memories came flooding back and they were very vivid.
- The noise of the majority of 150 people trying to put their
thoughts across in a quite confined space, but the ease with which we
were all able to hear what happened at our table.
- The almost surreal experience of participating in session in
such an august place as the House of Reps
- Singing the National Anthem on the steps of Old Parliament
House
- Listening to randomly selected people expressing themselves
in such an incredibly articulate way
- Seeing the youngest and oldest of our members up on stage and
Max 'interviewing' them so 'professionally'
- Watching the facilitators and volunteers being like ducks -
being cool calm and collected on the surface and paddling like hell
underneath!
- Feeling so involved with the process and feeling we could bring
change for our children's future
- Being so much at ease with 250 strangers, who weren't
strangers any more at the end of it
- Developing a kinship with some very special people - see the
attached photo!!
- Watching my narrow focus and intense passion broadening and
strengthening after listening and learning
- Talking to the young members about their experience and
personal growth during the '6 months' we were all in the Old Parliament House
- Talking to different people on the bus about themselves and
their experiences when we were travelling to and fro
- Sitting in the House of Reps during the presentation on the
last day, looking around me and thinking that I had spoken to nearly everyone
in that chamber during our time in Canberra
- Appreciating the politicians at opening and closing when they
spoke 'off the cuff' about their observations, and not appreciating when
they reverted to their speeches which seemed more like election
campaigns than addressing what we were doing
- Shane telling us the story about the meaning of 'Canberra'
- The genuineness of Lowitje and Fred doing their thing, along
with Janette and Max et al
And so the memories kept flooding back - these are only a few. I also
feel I 'have the power' again.
I am very happy with the resolutions we finally agreed on. My only
comment would be that sometimes with the pressure to 'theme' our deliberations,
some of the actual intent was lost. But, overall it was an incredible
experience. I actually believe that, apart from raising my family and
watching the grandchildren grow, participating in ACP has been the highlight
of my life.
Thank you for the effort, sweat and tears that must have gone into
making it such a great event
With kind regards, fond memories and sincere thanks
Jan Kasteel
Over to you Jan!
After the ACP we travelled slowly towards Tassie, taking nearly 2
weeks to get here. During that time the 'glow' I felt on Monday
9th Feb was slightly washed away by the rain on the south coast of
NSW, overshadowed by the beauty (both spiritual and physical) of
the Snowy Mountains (although we didn't see nearly as much as we
wanted to and will just have to go back), and then devastated by
the vision of just a small part of the fires on our journey down
the Hume Hwy. Then it was home and all the things that entailed
and unfortunately, although the ACP has been sitting in the back
of my mind, it has not received the attention it should have.
Last night however, I went to dinner with a group of female friends
who get together every month or so. They were all so keen to hear
about my experiences that I found it all coming back to me in a big
rush of passion and fervour.. This morning I have sent the final
report to all Tasmanian Senators and House of Reps members and to
my local southern Tasmanian Parliament reps as well. I have a copy to
give to our local paper and also The Mercury when I go to town today,
so I am trying to make up for lost time. I have also made an appt to
speak to our local Lions Club in the near future.
Last night the memories came flooding back and they were very vivid.
- The noise of the majority of 150 people trying to put their
thoughts across in a quite confined space, but the ease with which we
were all able to hear what happened at our table.
- The almost surreal experience of participating in session in
such an august place as the House of Reps
- Singing the National Anthem on the steps of Old Parliament
House
- Listening to randomly selected people expressing themselves
in such an incredibly articulate way
- Seeing the youngest and oldest of our members up on stage and
Max 'interviewing' them so 'professionally'
- Watching the facilitators and volunteers being like ducks -
being cool calm and collected on the surface and paddling like hell
underneath!
- Feeling so involved with the process and feeling we could bring
change for our children's future
- Being so much at ease with 250 strangers, who weren't
strangers any more at the end of it
- Developing a kinship with some very special people - see the
attached photo!!
- Watching my narrow focus and intense passion broadening and
strengthening after listening and learning
- Talking to the young members about their experience and
personal growth during the '6 months' we were all in the Old Parliament House
- Talking to different people on the bus about themselves and
their experiences when we were travelling to and fro
- Sitting in the House of Reps during the presentation on the
last day, looking around me and thinking that I had spoken to nearly everyone
in that chamber during our time in Canberra
- Appreciating the politicians at opening and closing when they
spoke 'off the cuff' about their observations, and not appreciating when
they reverted to their speeches which seemed more like election
campaigns than addressing what we were doing
- Shane telling us the story about the meaning of 'Canberra'
- The genuineness of Lowitje and Fred doing their thing, along
with Janette and Max et al
And so the memories kept flooding back - these are only a few. I also
feel I 'have the power' again.
I am very happy with the resolutions we finally agreed on. My only
comment would be that sometimes with the pressure to 'theme' our deliberations,
some of the actual intent was lost. But, overall it was an incredible
experience. I actually believe that, apart from raising my family and
watching the grandchildren grow, participating in ACP has been the highlight
of my life.
Thank you for the effort, sweat and tears that must have gone into
making it such a great event
With kind regards, fond memories and sincere thanks
Jan Kasteel
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
How we see the problem can be the problem
Recently I had cause to read and think about a “problem” that often crops up in situations where communities and organisations are experiencing change, as we at this moment - huge unprecedented change on a global level. The “problem” I am referring to is that of resistance. I have added inverted commas because I wonder whether the problem is often more about how we see resistance than the resistance itself. And by pinning responsibility on the resistors, it seems to exonerate the change agents involved from any responsibility for setting the resistance dynamic in motion.
Some thoughts on the matter…
§ People resist for a reason. People respond to change differently. Some embrace the challenge and throw themselves wholeheartedly into the change effort while others experience something more like confusion and anxiety, and there seem to be plenty of people who experience both. Back in 1998, Dianne Waddell and Amrik Sohal proposed four factors that are likely to lead to a push back from those affected:
1. Rational factors, where the individual is in fundamental disagreement with what is proposed based on a rational, logical analysis. They may simply believe it will not work or is not the “best” way forward.
2. Non-rational factors, where the response is more related to predispositions, individual preferences and deeply held values.
3. Political factors, where there is a political loss associated with the change, such as a loss of status, access, power or influence.
4. Change agent factors, where the approach that is taken in planning and implementing the change promotes negativity and bad feeling.
§ Depending on how you look at it, resistance adds or removes risk. Resistance can add risk to any change process if it is seen and treated as something to be “overcome”. Force breeds force and in an organisational sense, any forced change is usually accompanied by long term policing to ensure the change is implemented. This adds huge risk and cost to the change initiative. We also see this in some (not all!) community engagement situations where policy makers are not trusted by their communities, behave in ways that perpetuate this mistrust, then must go through prolonged legal and community action to implement change. What if we saw resistance more as an indicator of something deep and powerful in the system? What is we saw it as a source of wisdom and energy? How might we approach a change process if we carry these beliefs and how might tapping into this wisdom and energy actually reduce risk by ensuring a better outcome?
§ Getting over ourselves. As change agents, practitioners, experts and managers, we need to stop taking ourselves so seriously. We might be paid the big bucks, have impressive resumes or carry the burden of overwhelming responsibility, but deep down we are all people and we know we can’t do it alone. Even though we feel like we are in a pressure cooker with time, cost and resource constraints, if we want collective ownership of the outcome we need people to engage in change, willingly and respectfully. I am not saying that our role is not critical, because it is. Rather I am saying that we need to see ourselves as one perspective amongst many; one wisdom amongst many wise folk. I will stick my neck out here and say that the most effective change agents I have seen in both community and organisational settings have a kind of humility that sends a clear message that they are open, firm about what can’t be changed and genuinely interested in finding collaborative solutions.
§ Valuing values. I had a recent experience of a public meeting about a very contentious issue where the resistance of the community was clearly founded on a set of deeply held values concerning environmental responsibility, and the transparency and integrity of policy makers. Although we may hear different opinions and positions from people about an issue, careful listening can reveal deeply held values. Push against someone’s deeply held values, and they resist. Acknowledge and honour someone’s values, they open up.
Sounds simple! The challenge is that this presents us with new wicked problems: how can we be most effective in this situation? If we are not about imposing control of the change process, then what are we about? How can we ensure that our processes truly honour the wisdom of the crowd?
Vicki Vaartjes
Some thoughts on the matter…
§ People resist for a reason. People respond to change differently. Some embrace the challenge and throw themselves wholeheartedly into the change effort while others experience something more like confusion and anxiety, and there seem to be plenty of people who experience both. Back in 1998, Dianne Waddell and Amrik Sohal proposed four factors that are likely to lead to a push back from those affected:
1. Rational factors, where the individual is in fundamental disagreement with what is proposed based on a rational, logical analysis. They may simply believe it will not work or is not the “best” way forward.
2. Non-rational factors, where the response is more related to predispositions, individual preferences and deeply held values.
3. Political factors, where there is a political loss associated with the change, such as a loss of status, access, power or influence.
4. Change agent factors, where the approach that is taken in planning and implementing the change promotes negativity and bad feeling.
§ Depending on how you look at it, resistance adds or removes risk. Resistance can add risk to any change process if it is seen and treated as something to be “overcome”. Force breeds force and in an organisational sense, any forced change is usually accompanied by long term policing to ensure the change is implemented. This adds huge risk and cost to the change initiative. We also see this in some (not all!) community engagement situations where policy makers are not trusted by their communities, behave in ways that perpetuate this mistrust, then must go through prolonged legal and community action to implement change. What if we saw resistance more as an indicator of something deep and powerful in the system? What is we saw it as a source of wisdom and energy? How might we approach a change process if we carry these beliefs and how might tapping into this wisdom and energy actually reduce risk by ensuring a better outcome?
§ Getting over ourselves. As change agents, practitioners, experts and managers, we need to stop taking ourselves so seriously. We might be paid the big bucks, have impressive resumes or carry the burden of overwhelming responsibility, but deep down we are all people and we know we can’t do it alone. Even though we feel like we are in a pressure cooker with time, cost and resource constraints, if we want collective ownership of the outcome we need people to engage in change, willingly and respectfully. I am not saying that our role is not critical, because it is. Rather I am saying that we need to see ourselves as one perspective amongst many; one wisdom amongst many wise folk. I will stick my neck out here and say that the most effective change agents I have seen in both community and organisational settings have a kind of humility that sends a clear message that they are open, firm about what can’t be changed and genuinely interested in finding collaborative solutions.
§ Valuing values. I had a recent experience of a public meeting about a very contentious issue where the resistance of the community was clearly founded on a set of deeply held values concerning environmental responsibility, and the transparency and integrity of policy makers. Although we may hear different opinions and positions from people about an issue, careful listening can reveal deeply held values. Push against someone’s deeply held values, and they resist. Acknowledge and honour someone’s values, they open up.
Sounds simple! The challenge is that this presents us with new wicked problems: how can we be most effective in this situation? If we are not about imposing control of the change process, then what are we about? How can we ensure that our processes truly honour the wisdom of the crowd?
Vicki Vaartjes
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
