Artists, writers, and the exercise of leadership

Earlier this spring, as part of my year of fellowship through the Rhode Island Foundation, I had the opportunity to participate in an executive education session at Harvard’s Kennedy School, called, “Leadership for the 21st Century: Chaos, Conflict, and Courage.” Led by Martin Linksy, and his colleagues at the KSG and HBS, there were several underlying principles that have stayed with me and that I have tried to think about these last several months.

First, authority (position / title) has nothing necessarily to do with the exercise of leadership. Second, that all systems – teams, organizations, families – are set up to generate exactly the results that they are getting, and to preserve themselves exactly as they are. Change is – from the perspective of the “system” (more on that later) – not welcome. Third, that titles and authority are the rewards that we are given when we live up to the expectations of the system that rewards us. They are not bestowed upon us because we have exercised leadership – rather, because we have met the expectations of those who are invested in the system remaining the same. And finally, the exercise of leadership exists at the margins of our authority. We are most likely not exercising leadership if no one is at least a little bit upset. The phrase we were given as a working definition of the exercise of leadership: “disappointing your own people at a rate they can absorb.”

If one can suspend any accusations of irredeemable cynicism and any accompanying hand-wringing, one might ask, “why, then, would anyone ever exercise leadership?”

The answer is purpose.

Those who exercise leadership as it is described here, do so because they are driven by a sense of purpose that transcends a traditional system of rewards (think: job security, financial security, societal recognition, even physical safety in some circumstances). They are motivated by a clarity of purpose so that the challenges presented to them do not sway them from their work. They are willing to forego comfort (in its myriad manifestations) in service to their purpose.

As I reflected on these ideas, it seems to me that artists do this. Artists – and I mean the term to describe serious-minded individuals who make a life commitment to their craft, whatever it might be – pursue their work not because of any guarantee of financial security. Not because their friends and families will be thrilled they’ve chosen this path. Not because they will live in comfort with societal admiration, and rich rewards. Many artists spend their entire careers in relative obscurity and isolation.

To describe an artist as exercising leadership does not exclude leadership in other forms. Political figures, organization heads, corporate CEOs – it is possible, of course, for individuals in positions of authority to exercise leadership. One can’t help but wonder, however, if the positions of authority themselves serve to inhibit the practice.

Don't ask me to buy a backpack for a child in need

Last night, I attended a lecture at the beautiful Pell Center for International Relations and Public Policy at Salve Regina University. The speaker was Dragana Dulic, from the University of Belgrade. The thesis of her talk, entitled, “Geopolitics of Humanitarian Assistance,” was deceptively simple: All humanitarian aid is inextricably linked to the political strategies of the distributors of that aid. I’m paraphrasing here, but the basic premise seemed to me to be that although we tend to want to think about humanitarian aid as pure in its motives and values, it is not really possible to distribute funds into different parts of the world without there being some sort of strategic politically-motivated choices being made (why this country’s poor and not another?).

"Humanitarian aid," she stated flatly, "cannot solve the political issues."

Many in the audience – who were far, far more knowledgeable on these topics than me – questioned the data she showed toward the end of her presentation. This seems to me a kind of curse of expertise. Experts (and we probably all consider ourselves experts in something) tend to get hung up on the accuracy of the graphs (which, admittedly,are important to get right!) and gloss over the larger, more complicated issues, that in the long-term, have far more impact on social issues than whether we under-reported total humanitarian aid dollars in a research report.

I'll make a big leap from humanitarian aid writ large to individuals as donors. As donors, we typically want to give to something immediate, because it is inspiring and gratifying and motivating to see immediate change. The success and visibility of things like “backpack drives” for school children is a one simple example.

I remember seeing a television spot on a local backpack drive. What image signifies back to school better than a child wearing a backpack? So, we see photos of kids with no backpacks. How can they possibly start the school year? I go to Target, plop down my $20, buy a kid a backpack and now she's ready to go - she's invincible, equipped!

Next image - kid smiling, backpack on. And I can take credit for that change.

Of course, we know that this does nothing for the kid’s family, or for next year, or when the backpack wears out, or gets lost or stolen or left on the bus.

Short-term problems or long-term infrastructure issues? Immediate crisis or strategic change?

The answers to long-term systemic change require courage and boldness, and putting ourselves and our own comfort at risk in a way that handing over a backpack makes no claims on us – no claims on our values, our courage, our commitment.

What are the limits of individual responsibility? Does my responsibility end with my time on this committee? My volunteer hours at this shelter? My shift at the job? What responsibilities do we have beyond the boundaries of our days? Our own lifetimes? Those of successive generations?