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- Herausgeber: IVP Academic
- Kategorie: Fachliteratur
- Sprache: Englisch
Institutions matter. They give us an opportunity to have an influence for the common good that far outlasts us. But we often assume that institutions are at cross-purposes with dynamic communities, with personal vocational calling, and with core human values. We view them somewhat cynically as, perhaps, a necessary evil. Institutions, far from that, remain essential to human flourishing. They are the very means by which communities thrive, individual vocations are fulfilled, and society is changed for the good. As a result, we all need to learn how to work effectively within institutions. That is just what Gordon Smith provides. He unpacks the core of institutional intelligence—the wisdom of working effectively within an organization. At the same time, he shows how team leaders, directors, executives, board members, key stakeholders, and employees can avoid what is often their greatest source of stress on the job—working with the institutional character of their organizations.Focusing on the non-profit sector, Smith unlocks the essential elements of how institutions function in a productive, healthy manner. Church staff, educators, and those in service agencies can all thrive by understanding these dynamics instead of fighting against them. By developing this essential vocational capacity, we and those around us can not only fulfill ourselves but also a mission that is larger than we are.
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CONTENTS
1
THE MEANING OF INSTITUTIONS
Institutions matter. Vibrant institutions—effective organizations—are essential to our personal lives and to the common good. Thus they merit our time and attention. And because institutions matter, we need to learn how to work with them and work within them. If organizations are going to be effective and if we are going to thrive within them, we need to foster institutional intelligence.
But we live in an era with a pervasive ambivalence about institutions. This might not be as much the case in the East—in Asia, for example—but in the West the very word institution has a negative ring to it for so many. It is not a happy day, for example, when someone is “institutionalized.” It is often assumed that institutions and institutional thinking are at cross-purposes with dynamic communities, with personal vocational calling, and with core human values. One world-renowned founder of an organization that provides homes for people with mental disabilities once insisted in an interview that it was his original vision to establish communities rather than institutions. There is plenty to admire in this mission, but I was struck that this comment reflects a common assumption: institutions don’t foster community; institutional thinking, he suggests, is contrary to communal values and commitments.
Similarly, faculty in academic institutions tend to view the institutional character of their colleges and universities somewhat cynically—as, perhaps, a necessary evil. They might accept that there is an institutional character to the place in which they work, but often they view it as essential to their own vocations to actually polarize the work and calling of the faculty from the infrastructure that is the “institution” and, by definition, those who exercise authority within the academy, particularly the so-called bureaucrats. They tend to speak somewhat tongue-in-cheek of colleagues who have become administrators as having gone over to the “dark side.”
Then also, church leaders often look upon the administrative side of their work—essentially the organizational and institutional dimensions of congregational life—as a distraction from true spiritual leadership and ministry. Here too the language of “community” is often viewed as the defining vision of what it means to be a church: religious leadership should focus on teaching, preaching, presiding, and offering spiritual direction. Sometimes what it typically called administration is viewed as a problem, an obstacle to true religious leadership and pastoral care. The most influential pastoral theologian of our generation, Eugene Petersen—as just one example, but an influential example—does not at any point in his key contributions to the vocation of pastoral ministry consider or speak to what it means to work with the board, the denominational bodies, the finances and the budget, and the other institutional aspects of congregational life.
And yet for so many pastors, the biggest challenges and greatest source of stress will come precisely at this point: the institutional character of congregations, particularly matters of governance, board effectiveness, and their working relationship with the board. Yes, of course, a congregation is not merely an institution. But could it be that a local church will never thrive without attention to the institutional dimension of congregational life?
Then also, those who work in nonprofit agencies often stress the need for flat organizational structures that, it is argued, foster collaboration and personal empowerment, all with a view of downplaying the institutional or organizational character of the agency. Again, all this assumes that institutional identity and character is somehow inherently suspect and by its very nature, contra good work and what it means to live and work in community. And the word institution is often linked with the word power with the assumption that power and organizational hierarchy are somehow contrary to vital and effective organizations.
And in this context, it is not uncommon for religious communities to stress the need for servant leadership as though this means that no one exercises authority and that there is no executive decision making. Vital organizations, it is suggested, are flat—no hierarchy, no boss, no executive—where decisions are made by consensus because the organization is more like a family than an institution.
But is there another way to think about institutions? Can we perhaps actually recognize that institutions are essential to human flourishing? Rather than see them as a problem or as a necessary evil, can we appreciate instead that institutions are the very means by which communities thrive, individual vocations are fulfilled, and society is changed for the good? Can we consider that we are all enriched and we all flourish when we invest in sustainable institutions? And more, could it not be that we all need to learn how to work effectively within an institution and that we can view this capacity as a good thing—as vital part of our personal development? Could it be that institutional intelligence—the wisdom of working effectively within an organization—is an essential vocational capacity for each of us?
Many of us who think this way about institutions have at some point come across the little classic by Hugh Heclo, On Thinking Institutionally. Heclo observes this:
Humans flourish through attachments to authoritative communities, not as totally unencumbered selves. Because institutional thinking goes beyond merely contingent, instrumental attachments, it takes daily life down to a deeper level than some passing parade of personal moods and feelings. By its nature, institutional thinking tends to cultivate belonging and a common life.1
In like fashion, James Davison Hunter insists that ideas are just ideas until institutions are established; he stresses that to change history, one has to get beyond ideas to institutions.2 Ideas—even great ideas—are only going to make a difference when they are embodied, given a social structure, within a dynamic and effective institution.3 Thus Hunter insists that we need to find ways “to create conditions in the structures of social life we inhabit that are conducive to the flourishing of all.”4 He speaks of how “in each occupation, vocation, or profession, leaders need to look for opportunities to form networks and mobilize resources including symbolic capital, financial capital, social capital, and administrative capital in common purposes, . . . creating structures that incarnate blessing, beauty, meaningfulness, and purpose not just for the benefit of believers but for the good of all.”5
In other words, institutions give us an opportunity and a mechanism, a means, to invest in something much larger than ourselves and to make a contribution that we would never be able to make individually and on our own. We invest in something—a means, a system, an entity—that will outlast us. When we invest in institutions and learn to work with institutions in partnership and in synergy with others—committing time, energy, and resources into something that matters to us and to others, working together with others to create the conditions in which institutions can flourish—the opportunity emerges for something very important to us to happen.
THE CHARACTER OF INSTITUTIONS
An institution is a social structure that leverages wisdom, talent and resources toward a common cause or purpose. More specifically, it is a means, an architecture—specifically a social architecture—by which we can pursue a shared and greater good together. Just as a soul cannot exist except as embodied, there is no community, no vision, no mission without institutions. The idea, the vision, will not happen, will not make a difference until and unless it is housed in an institution.
Thus James K. A. Smith suggests that while we do not need to romanticize institutions—we can and do recognize their limits—we also do not need to demonize them.6 Rather, we tend them—and his use of the word tend is so apt—we tend them with all their limitations, for they are the means by which we do something significant together. Smith words it well when he writes this:
Institutions are durable, communal ways that we can act in concert with our neighbors to achieve penultimate goods. So, instead of thinking about institutions as big, hulking, static behemoths, think of institutions as dynamic, social enactment. Try to imagine “institutions” as spheres of action. Institutions are not just something that we build; they’re something that we do.7
The point at issue, then, is not whether we have institutions or not. Rather, the question is whether we will invest in them and know how to make them effective. They are always imperfect because people are imperfect. And yet they outlive us, and to the degree that we get them right, good things—indeed, very good things—happen.
If you want to address matters of poverty, invest time and energy in an institution that gets at the underlying causes and responds deeply and effectively to the problem. If you have a dream to educate a generation, dream on, I say, if you are not willing to invest in an academic institution that will actually make the dream happen. If as a church you want to have a long-term impact on the lives of individuals, families, a community, and the lives of those in that community, then you must consider the institutional character of congregational life. Do not be naive or utopian about your dream; rather, attend to the nitty-gritty of what makes the church an effective agency of substantive change. If you want to deeply affect the way that a community or a city think about and understand and embrace the arts, then it will be schools of art and art galleries and studios and artists’ guilds—institutions, each of them—that ultimately alter the social landscape. And when I am taken into the ER with a crisis, I want a dynamic, powerful, and effective institution that is able to respond to my immediate and very urgent need. At that point, I am not wanting creative and critical thinking about great medical care. Rather, like many others in such situations, we are looking for a hospital—an institution—made up of people who do not merely have good ideas and are very competent at responding to medical crises. I am looking to be admitted into a hospital with a vision for excellence in health care that has been translated into effective systems transcending the ideas or competence of any one person. I am not saying that good ideas do not matter. Of course not. I am not saying that critical thinking and creative thinking are not crucial. Rather, we need clear and creative thinking that is housed within institutions that deliver on the very best of this clear and creative thinking.
We need institutions that protect communities: police forces, fire departments, and the military. We need institutions by which we are governed, civic institutions on a municipal and national level. It is stunningly naive to be anti-government; without government institutions civilization does not happen. It would be “every man” for himself or herself. To govern a society—a city, a province, or a nation-state—you need institutions that work. And then also there is no great art, learning, or human achievement—commercial, religious, intellectual, or otherwise—without institutions. If you want to hear Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony in all of its power, wonder, and grandeur, the only way will be if an orchestra—an institution—mounts it.
In none of these cases do we merely need someone with a good idea. We need people who have invested in and know how to sustain effective, vital institutions made up of people, at all levels of the institution, who know how to think institutionally. They get it; they know what it takes for a good idea to actually make a difference. They have institutional intelligence.
As a university president, I live with the daily awareness of the potential of institutions of higher education. And I am convinced that we need such institutions—public and private, including those such as the one I lead, that embody the core values of the Christian intellectual and spiritual tradition. Since the Christian intellectual and spiritual tradition matters to me, I am eager to see it lived out within an institution. As a reader you no doubt have your own defining values and commitments, a vision for what matters to you. The only way this will find concrete, tangible, and long-term expression in society or community—in our world—is if you learn how to work with others and form a society—a guild, a school, a hospital, an art gallery, a church, that is, an institution—that will bring together the strengths and abilities of a variety of people who can work together over a sustained period of time toward a common end.
In this regard, we need to persuade a younger generation of Christian leaders that investing in institutions makes sense. They can be creative, strategic, and even revolutionary and not assume that in so doing, they have to be anti-institutional. Indeed, if they are going to have a lasting impact on the church and on society, they need to think institutionally and invest time and energy in institutions, especially institutions they believe in. But for that, two things are needed: to affirm that institutions matter and, further, to identify what it means to think and act with institutional intelligence.
I say to those in their twenties and thirties, you can try to make it on your own, as a freelance worker or contractor, as a stand-alone agent. And those who make such attempt as often as not do so because they have become cynical about institutions, and perhaps have been hurt by institutions. And there might be good reasons for us to appreciate their circumstances.
We might be impressed by the pioneer missionary, not part of a mission agency, perhaps, independently striving to change the world. Or we might be taken with the individual blogger who is valiantly profiling some recurring wrong, a prophet alone in the wilderness. Or we might be moved by the clever entrepreneurs or inventors who emerge from their back rooms with revolutionary ideas. And yet if the impact of the blogger is going to take and truly alter our society—the church, the community, the politics that shape our shared lives—eventually those ideas need to find expression within the core values of an institution if they are going to make a difference and truly come up against the very thing the blogger is protesting. And the inventor? Here as well, the brilliant idea, if it is going to go anywhere at all, needs to be housed. Otherwise it is merely a distant and perhaps clever idea or invention that does not ultimately make a difference in the lives of communities, churches, societies, and countries.
In academic institutions, faculty are invited into something larger than themselves. They flourish, with others, when they foster an institutional intelligence to work effectively within those institutions.
Pastors need to be encouraged to view the work of administration not as a necessary evil, a distraction, but as rather an integral part of what it means to provide congregational leadership. Indeed, if their vision for a vital community of faith is going to happen, they will need to attend to the institutional dimensions of church life—the administrative, financial, personnel issues of what it means to be the church. Their theological vision for what it means to be the church will be housed within particular practices, institutional practices that embody that vision.
Those who work within a nonprofit agency need to appreciate that the organization is not merely a platform for their own vocational aspirations. Rather, the organization of which they are a part reflects a potential, a possibility for making a difference, that merits focused attention not merely on the individual calling but on the shared calling reflected in the organizational mission.
If you are violin player or a flute player, you can be a soloist for sure. But there are few things so powerful as an orchestra, a symphony orchestra, and you cannot be part of an orchestra unless you learn to work with, to play with, others as part of an authoritative community—that is, a community that has a structure, a form, a system that is governed toward a common objective. There is no orchestra without a script, without a common plan and objective, and without a conductor. We defer, as musicians, to the composer and the conductor; we listen to another—attentive to those around us—committed to a common objective. We defer our own egos to the mission of the greater whole.
So much great talent and opportunity is missed simply because we do not give adequate attention to the institutions that could leverage our shared potential toward a greater good. Taking this personally I say to you, the reader: if you want to make a difference—with all the talent, vision, and wisdom that God has given you—then learn to work with and in institutions. Your impact will be exponentially greater if your calling or vocation can be leveraged against the calling and potential of others toward a common goal, a shared vision.
It will mean fostering institutional intelligence: learning to work with others, within institutions. It means understanding how institutions work, how they can be most effective, and how you can contribute to a greater whole by learning to work within institutional systems. It means growing in your capacity to appreciate how institutions are founded, how they work, how they grow and adapt, and how they are governed.
THE PROBLEM AND THE POTENTIAL OF INSTITUTIONS
In saying all this about institutions, we are certainly not sentimentalizing them. They can be a problem. Some, of course, are bent on evil outcomes—whether it is systems that foster human trafficking, or the drug trade, or the casino industry. There are indeed evil institutions that violate our core human values. Then also, institutions are a problem when we fail to distinguish between means and ends. All too easily institutions can take on a life of their own, lacking any clear sense of mission. This distinction is so very important. An institution is always a means to an end—the end, of course, being the mission. Jesus used the image of wineskins and distinguished this from the actual wine, and this image helps when we think about the character of an institution. Institutions are wineskins—systems and structures that hold in trust sacred values and commitments. They are not ends but means to an end.
We have all met them: people who live and dream and work to make the institution strong but lose sight of the mission and values that the institution is meant to foster. They get caught up in the bureaucracy rather than fostering the institution’s capacity to achieve its mission. They lose a sense of the reason for which the institution actually exists. Or, perhaps most common, they work toward the financial sustainability of the organization but do so in a way that actually undercuts the mission and core values of the institution.
And those whose lives are affected by these people are understandably put off by such thinking and assume that the problem is institutional thinking. To the contrary, this is actually not true institutional intelligence. True institutional intelligence will distinguish means and ends. If you want a glass of water, you need a glass; if you want a good meal, you need the stove, the grill, the plates, the cutlery, spices, and the chair and table. But we do not confuse the table with the meal or the plates with the appetizer. When someone confuses the means and the end—they are more taken with the glass than the water—the solution is not to dismiss the glass but to understand and appreciate that the glass is a means to the end: a refreshing drink of water.
And then also, in speaking of the problem with institutions, there is no avoiding the reality that institutions are never perfect. For starters, they are populated by people. And often when we feel let down by institutions, in actual fact we were let down by a person—someone who used the system or the structures of the institution to their own personal ends. We blame institutions, but a person was at fault.
Then also, without doubt, sometimes institutions are often poorly designed—lacking missional clarity, appropriate governance structures, and qualified leadership. As a rule, if institutions do not work, it is because people have not attended to what it is that makes organizations effective. Thus the solution is not to dismiss institutions, but rather to realize two things. First, they will fail; they will not be perfect. And second, individuals in institutions will abuse power, will act in inhumane and inconsiderate ways, and the net result is that people will be hurt. Institutions fail when they are poorly conceived or poorly designed, or when the shared purposes are not honored. And yet for all their imperfections and the imperfections of the people who populate them, they still merit the investment of our time and energy. The solution is to invest ever more so in institutions, to understand how they work—develop institutional intelligence—and to be patient with others who are also trying to make institutions work.
WHO NEEDS INSTITUTIONAL INTELLIGENCE?
Those in the for-profit world without doubt need institutional intelligence as much as anyone. But the focus in the chapters that follow will be the nonprofit sphere. And it will be evident that this kind of thinking—institutional intelligence—is essential for the presidents and chief executive officers and executive leaders of nonprofit organizations. They are responsible at the most senior level for the viability and vitality of the institutions for which they are immediately responsible. And they need to be aware of the leverage points, the zones or spheres of energy investment that will foster the capacity of this organization to be effective. Nonprofit presidents and CEOs, along with their senior leadership team, need a guide to institutional thinking: how and where to leverage their time and energy toward mission effectiveness. Sure, the CFO will focus on finances, but a truly good CFO—along with other senior administrators—will think institutionally, will think and operate in light of the whole of the institution’s well-being.
Those who are external constituents—be these donors, board members, or others who are not employees—also have a stake in the success of a nonprofit organization. They need a guide to help them assess an organization for which they may be a trustee or a donor. If you are invested in an organization, you will want to have in hand a way to respond to this question: How do I know if this is an institution that is vital and effective? What are the key indicators of organizational vitality and effectiveness?
Faculty members of colleges and universities will find it helpful to foster an attentiveness to the institution in which they are teaching, meaning that they consider not only their own research and academic responsibilities but also the dynamics of what makes for a vital institution.
As I have indicated, pastors and other church staff can come to a greater appreciation of the need for two things: the organizational and institutional character of their congregations and also the potential significance of denominational structures and judicatory bodies. And congregational pastors would do well to appreciate how they can function effectively in both spheres—both the local church and the denominational entity of which they are a part. The authors of The Trellis and the Vine, in speaking of pastoral ministry, make a very helpful and necessary distinction between the basic work of the ministry—the proclamation of the gospel and the care for people—and what they speak of as the “framework” that is so crucial if the ministry is to grow. Marshall and Payne put it this way:
As the ministry grows, the trellis also needs attention. Management, finances, infrastructure, organization, governance—these all become more important and more complex as the vine grows.8
Their point is that the institutional character of congregational life is vital to the ministry of the church. Pastors long to make a difference, to be catalysts for substantive change in their congregations not merely in numbers, but also in the emotional, spiritual vitality of their faith communities and their missional impact within their neighborhoods and communities. But this very kind of impact requires institutional intelligence, to appreciate the capacity to leverage the institutional strengths of the congregation—which includes a whole range of elements that will be addressed in this book—but also the capacity to manage their own anxiety as they work effectively with human systems and organizations.
Finally, I will highlight another group—perhaps, in some respects, one of the most crucial groups—that needs to consider what it means to have institutional intelligence: department heads, directors, and team leaders.
In many organizations—not all, perhaps, but many—there is a role or sphere of responsibility that is particularly crucial to the implementation of the mission. And the effectiveness of the organization pivots on the effectiveness of these particular leadership roles. I am thinking of three in particular. In academic institutions, these are departmental heads or chairs. The future of the college or the university depends on their capacity to lead, to build a department, to recruit potential faculty, to foster good conversation about curriculum, and to maintain a positive tone or outlook for the faculty and students within that department.
Then also, in most nonprofits, there is a role designated “director”: thus, for example, in a university, you might have a director of communication, a director of enrollment management, a director of information technology, and others who direct campus operations, the residences, the athletic programs, the development and fundraising agenda, along with those who are the directors for alumni relations or government relations.
And then we need to keep in mind what is typically called a team leader, comparable to a department head in that the leader here is coordinating a team that has an active role in the field—perhaps, the lead person in a response team to a crisis. This is not the president of the organization or a board member but the person on the ground who has a team of anywhere from four or five to as many as twenty. In military terms, these are platoon leaders, those who lead a team that delivers very specific and measurable results.
These roles are pivotal. Typically, they report to a vice president or, on a pastoral staff, the director for children’s ministry, youth, family, or outreach might report to the senior pastor or an executive pastor in larger congregations. And the role of the vice president or the senior person is essentially to recruit and appoint the most capable directors possible—or, in a university, department heads. Each of these needs to be a person of consummate institutional intelligence.
THE ELEMENTS OF AN EFFECTIVE ORGANIZATION
What does it take to be a dynamic organization that can deliver great results over time in a changing environment, an organization that knows that problems, setbacks, and difficulties will without doubt come but that these can truly be opportunities for institutional growth and development? Elinor Ostrom raises the question this way: “Can we dig below the immense diversity of regularized social interactions in markets, hierarchies, families, sports, legislatures, elections, and other situations to identify universal building blocks used in crafting such structured situations?”9
What are the essential organizational “building blocks,” to use the language of Ostrom? The literature on institutions and management and organizational leadership is extensive, and from this literature it is possible to identify what makes organizations effective. Yes, each organization is unique. And yet there are some universal building blocks—the essential elements we need to attend to if we are going to have institutional intelligence, an appreciation of how organizations actually work.
In my own journey with institutions, I have not only been in a senior administrative role within a number of academic institutions both in Asia and in North America, I have also had the opportunity through an extended chapter of my career to work with academic institutions in the global south—everywhere from Vietnam to Romania to Cuba and points in between. And what is clear is that when institutions work, when organizations are effective, it is not merely a matter of good fortune or divine providence. It was clear why it was happening: these institutions did what it takes to have an effective organization. But also, if they were not effective, it was equally evident that one or more of the essential elements of an organization were either being ignored or creating significant operational drag. In leaning into the rich body of literature on the topic and in conversation with leaders globally, I increasingly concluded that vital institutions foster some very specific capacities, elements of an effective organization. The strength of effective institutions comes from the dynamic interplay of seven distinctive features or characteristics—each an essential building block:
1.mission clarity: functioning in light of a well-defined institutional identity and purpose
2.appropriate governance structures that leverage wisdom and power effectively
3.quality personnel appointments: hiring well, developing people effectively, and managing exiting transitions with grace
4.a vibrant institutional culture marked by hopeful realism
5.financial resilience, evident in a well-managed approaches to revenue and expenses
6.generative built spaces
7.strategic alliances and collaborative partnerships
None of these can be addressed in isolation from the other six; each is part of an integrated whole. And yet neglecting any one of these seven will cripple an institution. Therefore, those with institutional intelligence need to be attentive to each of them, like an engineer working with design elements of a bridge, attending to each element, each aspect of bridge construction, connecting all the essential parts, dimensions, and elements so that the end product is a span that serves vehicular traffic brilliantly.
Of course, no two institutions are alike; there are no generic institutions and for each organization there will be a unique configuration of these seven elements. There is not, in other words, one set approach to good governance. And yet there are elements, working principles, and considerations that have universal application such that we can actually say the following:
1.People with institutional intelligence will have an intimate appreciation of the purpose—the identity and mission—of the organization of which they are a part, will believe in that mission, and will know how their role or responsibility contributes to that mission.
2.People with institutional intelligence will understand how governance works within the institution and will contribute to the process, constructively and collaboratively, by which decisions are made and implemented in a way that is consistent with their role within the organization. (Thus, for example, a faculty member will understand the role of faculty in governance, a congregational member the role of the congregation as a whole, while also appreciating the role of others in governance.)
3.People with institutional intelligence will recognize that personal talent and commitment are critical to the organization’s success and, if they have a role in hiring, will be committed to hiring well, developing staff effectively, and learning how to transition out of the organization in a way that is both timely and constructive when that time comes.
4.People with institutional intelligence will have an appreciation for the power of institutional culture and will do their part, consistent with their role in the organization, to foster a healthy and dynamic spirit of hopeful realism.
5.People with institutional intelligence will recognize that the financial health and vitality of the organization, while the particular responsibility of some, is owned by all and that in some form or other, everyone knows what it takes to have an organization that has financial viability and resilience.
6.People with institutional intelligence will appreciate the significance of built space; they will know how to read and work effectively within a building that houses the institution in a way that fosters their capacity to flourish within the institution and contribute to the fulfillment of the institutional mission.
7.People with institutional intelligence will contribute to effective and strategic partnerships and alliances with other agencies in a way that is consistent with their role within the institution, recognizing that the fulfillment of institutional mission necessitates these kinds of collaborative arrangements.
Having identified earlier in this introduction those who need to cultivate institutional intelligence, not all chapters are going to be equally relevant to each reader. The following might be helpful as a guide for those who might want to read selective chapters.
Some chapters are simply basic: chapter three, on mission and institutional purpose; chapters four and five, on governance; chapter six, on how institutions are ultimately about people on mission together; chapter seven, on organizational culture; and chapter ten, on strategic alliances.
Chapter two, on institutional charism and its implications for mission, will be of particular interest to those who want to ask theological questions about institutions and who, particularly as CEOs—presidents, executive directors, senior pastors—and board members, need to see how institutional mission is located within the organization’s history.
Chapter eight on finance is essential for all who have direct responsibility for the financial health of the institution, including board members and all those who serve as directors or department heads.
Finally, chapter nine will be of particular interest for those who want to reflect more extensively on how institutions are located within appropriate built spaces.
INSTITUTIONAL INTELLIGENCE AND STRATEGIC THINKING
What will be noteworthy to some is that strategic planning is not on the list of seven essential elements of an effective organization. It is a common assumption or conventional wisdom that effective institutions are effective precisely because they know how to do strategic planning and then in a disciplined fashion, throughout the institution, put a strategic plan into effect. We live in an organizational world and climate fascinated with the “art” of strategic planning, despite the publication of Henry Mintzberg’s classic, The Rise and Fall of Strategic Planning. Nonprofits are known for having a senior leadership team head to the hills do to strategic planning—for a two-day retreat, perhaps—and return to present the outcome of their deliberations to the governing board and eventually roll out the plan for the whole organization and, sooner than later, move toward implementation.
And when all is said and done, the plan is published. And then is it shelved. Why? Because it does not work; it is borderline useless. The reason for this is that by the time you finish the entire exercise, the environment has changed, the key variables on which you did your planning have changed, perhaps some of the key players have changed. In other words, our environments are fluid, not stable. Some contexts and settings are even chaotic. But the word fluid is likely a more helpful image: we live in a world where we simply cannot make assumptions about our environment or make any confident assertions about the future. We only see as far as the next bend in the road; we do not know what lies around that bend.
Thus vital and strong institutions are not so much those that have a great strategic plan as those who are able to think strategically and respond strategically with creativity, innovation, and agility to the unexpected, the unforeseen. Some things can be anticipated, no doubt: downturns in the economy are likely to happen. University enrollment managers can get good data on the number of high school students in their region and thus get a read on how many college students there are likely to be one, two, three years down the road. A pastor can get data from city hall on anticipated growth in the sector of the city in which they are located—city plans that might affect the demographics of a congregation in the years to come.
I am not questioning the need for planning and for thinking and acting strategically. Of course not. I am merely challenging the preeminence of strategic planning as that which, ostensibly, makes for organizational effectiveness. I am agreeing with Patrick Lencioni, who in his book The Advantage: Why Organizational Health Trumps Everything Else in Business makes the case that institutional health, vitality, and resilience are the truly crucial elements of organizational effectiveness.10 We need to consider what it takes for organizations to adapt, to be innovative and nimble—without melodrama or fear of the future but able to respond with institutional agility in the midst of fluid environment.
Dynamic organizations are masters of what in chess we call the “middle game.” A chess player has control over most of her opening moves: set up the preferred pawn structure, castle the king, perhaps; move the knights into their strategic positions. There are a variety of opening moves—gambits—but they are all fairly basic. Further, a good chess player knows when it is time to move toward the endgame. And as a rule, these moves are rather straightforward. Often it never happens; a losing player recognizes that checkmate is just a matter of time and thus concedes.
What makes for a good game is not the opening, which is basic, or the endgame, which often does not even happen, but rather the “middle game.” The magic of chess is precisely that no two games are alike; and the middle game is where the energy and heart of the match is found. As a player, you do not know what the middle game will look like till you get there because you do not know what your opponent will do by way of her opening moves. So the essential thing is this: Can you in your opening moves establish yourself on the board in a way that does two things? First, can you position yourself to defend your king? And can you also open up enough lines of mobility so that you can attack your opponent’s king? And there is a tricky balance: if you emphasize defense, you will limit your mobility; if you are too aggressive, you become vulnerable to attack.
This book is about positioning your organization for the middle game—to move the pawns, castle the king, and open up the lines of attack for your bishops and eventually for your queen. Great organizations foster the capacity of their institution to be responsible, nimble, creative, and courageous in response to the unknown, to that which lies around the bend in the road.
And this means attending to the essential elements—the building blocks—of effective organizations.
2
MISSION CLARITY, PART 1
Affirming the Institutional Charism
There is no such thing as a generic institution. Each organization has a unique identity, calling, and purpose—a reason for being. Institutional vitality depends on finding and living with clarity precisely at this point: Who are we, and what is our purpose, our mission, our calling?
This means that the organization has a mission statement, of course, but clarity on mission is much more than just having some kind of statement in place and published. Missional clarity is about a distinctive sense of the vocation of the institution: a deep and nuanced understanding of what this organization is called to do, at this time and place, within this economic, social, political demographic. Many organizations have mission statements but still have ambiguity and uncertainty about their actual purpose or vocation. Yes, we need to do the due diligence necessary to craft a statement of mission; this is an important exercise. But this is only a part of what it means to have a compelling, defining, and animating mission. A single statement can never capture the essence of identity, purpose, vision, and meaning of this particular organization.
One can review the mission statements on the websites of Christian universities, for example, and find them to be remarkably similar. But when you get on the ground and breathe the air on campus—talk to the leaders and sit in classes where faculty are engaging students—a sense of a distinctive identity, a way of being, and a sense of purpose will be evident. You can visit many churches that will likely have similar mission statements on their websites and reference the same biblical verses to justify these mission statements. But when you gather on Sunday with them, it is clear that every congregation is unique. Denominational affiliation and heritage, geographic and cultural location, and the accumulation of shared experiences, in this time and place, reflect a particular way of being and a particular calling or vocation.
You can be on the ground in a disaster zone and encounter two different relief agencies, and both can perhaps speak of the need to respond to this crisis effectively, be it a typhoon or an earthquake or a major fire. But when you are back at base camp and listen to their leadership, it becomes clear that while they may look very similar in the field, in fact here too there is a prevailing uniqueness—again, a distinctive way of being, reflected in core values, commitments, and a sense of purpose.
Having this clarity about identity and purpose is essential for organizational effectiveness. Vital institutions cultivate missional clarity; women and men with institutional intelligence know and work with the mission of the institution of which they are a part. To get clarity about mission, it is helpful to approach the question in two stages or steps. First, we ask about the founding vision or charism; this will be the focus of this chapter. And then second, the focus of the next chapter, we spell out the key questions that help an institution come to clarity about organizational identity and purpose.
A THEOLOGICAL VISION FOR INSTITUTIONS: IDENTIFYING THE INSTITUTIONAL DNA
One helpful way to approach the mission question is through the principle—the theological perspective—of seeing institutions as having a distinctive charism. By charism we mean a gift, a contribution, very specifically a gift from God—something that reflects the way in which the Spirit, thus the language of “charism,” is gifting and making a difference in the church and in the world.
This way of viewing institutions emerged during Vatican II, the great 1960s renewal council within the Roman Catholic Church. Pope Paul VI observed that this was a potentially significant way to think about religious communities—notably religious orders, including the Franciscans, the Jesuits, the Benedictines, and more. It was the pope’s way of signaling that what defines and sustains a religious community is not, in the end, strategic plans or brilliant leadership but rather the enabling of the Spirit, who is at work in the church and in the world and at work through such institutions and communities. The charism of the religious order typically reflected the way that the Spirit, through the founder, had gifted—graced, “charismed”—the church and the world. Typically this means looking at the particular giftings and vision of the founder of the religious order. Thus, for example, deep in the DNA of the Franciscans is a call to attend to the poor. The Dominicans are the order of preachers with their commitment to learning and teaching. And the Jesuits are known for their unique synthesis of scholarship, contemplative prayer, and apostolic service.
What I am suggesting is that this way of thinking about Catholic religious orders is transferable, providing us with a way to think about the vocation of all institutions. This is so for a number of reasons.
First, the language of “charism” gives us a theological vision for institutions. We see them—regardless of how significant the person, the individual founder, or any other individuals who succeeded them—as the work of God. In the final analysis, the organization is a means by which God is doing God’s work in the world. We should always maintain a gracious humility about our organizations; it can be a little presumptuous to always assume that our organizations are God’s instrument for God’s purposes in the mission of God. And yet there is a sense in which institutions do have this quality; they are bigger than any of us and they potentially have a vocation in their own right.
We rightly think this way about congregations, and we immediately recognize the violation of a faith community when someone or some group assumes that they somehow own the church and expresses the entitlement that they assume goes with this. But the language of “charism” gives us a way to think in similar ways about the organizations that reflect our collective efforts—as vehicles by which the Spirit of God is gracing the church and the world. We are reminded that these institutions do not ultimately belong to us, even if we were involved in the startup or founding of the school or agency or church. They belong to God. And we are but stewards of the organization in that we are stewards of the charism, the means by which this organization is a gift of God to the church and to the world.
Second, the language of charism implies diversity. Though there is one Spirit, that same Spirit is the giver of many and diverse gifts that reflect the diverse beauty and the whole gospel of Christ Jesus in the world. When we compare and contrast other institutions that are our sister agencies—other universities, or other churches, or other relief or mission agencies—there will no doubt be many deep points of commonality. And yet the language of “charism” helps us consider the distinct manner in which the Spirit graces the world through each particular institution, meaning that there can be much diversity as particular individual institutions reflect a distinct embodiment of a particular grace or charism.
And the perspective of “charism” means that we can accept, affirm, and celebrate these differences. Franciscans are different from the Jesuits. This is as it should be. Diversity is not a problem but part of the wealth by which God graces the world.
G. K. Chesterton has done a couple of wonderfully nuanced studies—biographical reflections and observations—on St. Francis and St. Thomas Aquinas, a Dominican. For Chesterton, Thomas is clearly the great son of St. Dominic, the embodiment of the Dominican vision or charism. And his point is that both St. Francis and St. Thomas, while different, are both vital and essential means by which God was working in the life of the church in their respective eras. In other words, neither is the standard by which the other is judged; they each have a distinct calling or purpose. They represent a different charism.1 Thus, Thomas Aquinas would not have been a good Franciscan monk. His calling belonged—needed to be housed, one might say—in a different order, with a different charism. And I will be pressing this point as we consider what it means to speak of institutional intelligence: we will thrive or flourish if and as we can find ourselves within an institution that fits us, that has a deep congruence with our own calling or vocation.
But the main point here is that institutions can, without apology, accept differences. Moreover, we can actually view this diversity as a point of strength, not weakness. We let others be who they have been called to be and embrace the particularity of our own lives, our own circumstances, and our own calling. And this perhaps cuts against the trend and the temptation to franchise—the proclivity of some institutions or churches to find a model that has worked elsewhere and then try to reproduce this model in their own context and setting.
Third, the lens of institutional charism gives us a way to recognize and appreciate the full breadth and depth of our institutional identity, a way to think of the whole: the mission, the values, the particular network of relationships with diverse constituencies, and the geography (the sense of place). This whole is bigger than any one of us, leader or staff person, and our contribution to the institution is but a contribution to the whole, a part that we play wherein there is no person who is the embodiment of the whole. Rather, we all participate in and foster or cultivate the charism. In other words, just as we can speak of the diversity of charisms or gifts of the Spirit that are given to the church, with each essential to the whole and each a distinct contribution to the whole (see 1 Corinthians 12), even so we can speak of institutions as diverse and distinct in the way that they participate in the purposes of God in the world.
Fourth, when we speak of charism, we affirm that history matters. A theological vision for institutions takes account of the past, of the occasion and circumstances that brought an organization into existence and to this point in time. We tell our story: Where did we come from, and who and what brought us into being? What was the original purpose for which this organization was established? What was the vision of the founders? The current institution has deep continuity with its past. It did not arise out of a vacuum; there was a genesis to the organization that inevitably is part of what it is today. And so we ask the question that gets us back to institutional origins.
We can without hesitation use God-language and ask, how did God bring this organization or institution into being? And, as best as we can tell, to what end did God gift the church and the world with this organization? What occasioned the establishing of this institution? What need did it respond to—what gap, you might say, did it seek to fill? What innovation or new beginning did the establishing of this organization represent? Was there a crisis that marked the identity of this institution at the beginning, when it was first organized?
When we tell the story, we tell the good, the bad, and the ugly. We speak of those elements in our history that might not be so pretty. There is no nostalgia, no sentimentality. We do not idolize the founder or the past or “the good old times.” We are freed to name the challenges and difficulties that may have shaped our organizational history.
