If meaning and self-efficacy are key to people investing money in an organization or cause, is it any different when the people who work as staff invest their time, energy, and creativity?
Take the annual ritual of employee performance reviews, where these ideas of meaning and volition are apt to be set aside, even in the social sector. The usual approach is to "get down to business," correct deficiencies, and fit the individual into the organization's priorities.
"You've done such great work this year, Bob. But here are three areas where I'd like to see you improve (for your own good). And by the way, I've redesigned your job."
Why do we act surprised when Bob seems less than grateful for our direction and input? Or when he loses his "game" because his individual talents and desires have been ignored, any passion thwarted, and all he hears is the criticism, however carefully and "constructively" it's offered? (Remember that any "resistance" he may feel is just a sign that he has a normal human brain.)
Are you ready to entertain the idea that there might be better ways to accomplish our ends?
Weary of the usual ritual, one manager who's worked with the ideas in this book experimented with a radical notion: unconditional positive regard in the workplace.
That's right, Linda did performance reviews that contained not one word of criticism, even though there were aspects of some staff's behavior that she would have preferred to be different. She decided to trust herself and set aside the HR department's forms and procedures, with their deficit-based assumptions and numerical rankings.
She saw herself in service to her staff, as in Robert Greenleaf's notion of "servant leadership." She set out to do whatever she could to provide the conditions conducive to her staff's aspirations for themselves and for the world.
When Linda met with each person for their annual review, she asked them to tell stories of their high points on the job during the past year, times when they had been especially energized and alive. (These might have been states of "flow," in the parlance of psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi.) Together, the two of them explored what had made those best moments possible, what gave life to that particular individual and their work. They even talked about what was at the heart of their dedication to the organization and the cause it serves.
Linda concluded each session by asking the person to describe what success would look like for them in their work during the coming years. Because they had taken the time to look back, relive their best moments, and connect with what mattered most to them, they set far higher aspirations for themselves than Linda ever would have dared to suggest (or even imagined).
Each person painted a picture of success that was drawn from the colors of their unique talents, on a canvas of their highest hopes for themselves and for the world around them.
Lest you think such an approach is a license for individuals to run amok, pursuing pet projects to the detriment of the organization's agenda, I'd suggest the opposite is more often the case. Once people truly have been seen and heard as distinctive human beings (which demands of us that we bring our own authenticity), and have articulated for themselves the meaning of their work (which demands of us that we have articulated our own meaning), they are more apt to contribute fully to the success of the organization and its cause.
And guess what? In the months after these conversations, Linda saw less of the behaviors a more conventional manager would have sought to correct during performance reviews.
Now, you may think Linda must be a softy. And she is indeed a tender, caring soul. But she's also a devotee of extreme sports and an intrepid mountain-climber. And during this same staff review process she fired someone who was less dedicated to the cause than Linda expects of her colleagues.
This is not about being soft or hard on people. It's about applying what is known about human behavior to invite them to make their highest contributions, and doing so in the most effective, straightforward way. When we set aside conventional assumptions and learn about what actually makes people tick, we have to ask whether criticism can ever be "constructive."
This notion can be extended to other relationships in our organizations. Take a scene that's more commonplace than we'd like to think: a board meeting where the chair says to the staff person, "I'm going to set this aggressive numerical goal so you'll lie awake at night worrying about how to meet it."
It doesn't seem to occur to the chair that the staff person cares so deeply about the cause that she already loses sleep as she wonders how to make the organization even more successful.
We can all admire this board chair's desire, even his impatience, to urge the staff to new heights. I'm sure he would tell us that he brings to the table an important sense of rigor and focus. Still, the negation and criticism, the sheer insult, inherent in such efforts at imposing "discipline" can demoralize even the most dedicated of staff. (Besides, as we saw at Guilds' School, people can do plenty of self-criticism on their own, as they let their habitual tapes play.)
Brave and enlightened leaders in the social sector have infinite opportunities to set up the conditions that deepen the personal commitment of people that is so central to success. Rather than try to "crack the whip" and "make it happen," they can give these matters a bit of time and some sustained attention, and allow the built-in dedication to come to the surface and flourish. Naturally.