All posts by Dorothy Nesbit

Bring on the year ahead!

About Dorothy,
Britain weather: despite deluge, ministers tell us to do more to save water

It’s been a strange week.  In the midst of drought Britain has seen more rain in recent days than I can remember for a long time – and even the odd tornado.  I have been waiting for gaps in the rain to take my beloved seedlings outside for toughening up in their mini-greenhouse (and keeping an eye on the winds lest they get blown away).

My birthday on Tuesday was much as I expected it.  I took time to have an indulgent breakfast – coffee and a bacon butty (strictly against the doctor’s orders) before I started to work.  Edward, my nephew, was also up in time to join me in opening cards and presents on our shared birthday.  Then I took to my study to pore over notes from an interview I conducted last week.  First I pulled together my evidence and decided on the ratings against the client’s competency model and then, after lunch, I wrote the report and sent it off.  It was all finished in time for me to bring those seedlings indoors and go off to choir for rehearsal in the evening.  On the way back I bought myself a McChicken burger – not so much a birthday treat as a late-evening ‘what on earth shall I eat?’ decision.  Even after all these years, I still struggle to know what to eat and when on choir evenings.

And yes, there were cards and messages on Facebook and more besides.  I phoned Mum on my way to choir who told me she’d been awake at ten minutes past midnight remembering my birth.  I came home to a message on the phone from my younger brother and his family – singing happy birthday down the phone.  (My nephew, aged six, was doing at least as much giggling as singing).  The cards and messages have continued to arrive as the week has gone on including one from a lost friend who looked me up on the world wide web and dropped me an unexpected line.  And celebrations will continue today with the arrival of my mother and my niece and her husband and a birthday trip to the Spice of Life Indian restaurant.

At the same time, I have been grappling with some kind of low-level flu-like bug which has left me feeling rather weak.  There have been moments when it has felt as though my joints were on fire.  Yesterday, when all my reports were written and signed off I checked my diary and asked myself:  is there anything that can’t wait until next week?  When I decided there wasn’t I took myself to bed for an afternoon sleep.  Later, I got up and walked around the garden and realised that, feeling so weak, there was no way I would be going to choir.  I curled up at home and went to bed ready to resume that sleep.  Today I feel refreshed – and still glad the weekend lies ahead.

I wouldn’t change a bit of it.  In the end, a rich life is made up of tiny details as much as it is of its significant events.  As I finish the week I am celebrating with a glad and peaceful heart.  Bring on the year ahead!

On my birthday: note to self

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It’s your birthday today.  You’ve got a full day ahead – don’t beat yourself up about that (just take a moment to book time off on your birthday next year).

Busy or not busy, take time today to notice what you did in the last year that you would never have dreamt of doing a few years ago.  Notice the courage you’ve shown in your learning as well as the things you’ve learnt.

Stop making comparisons.  You know they only get you down or – worse still – put someone else down (even if only in your mind).  And when you do make comparisons – with your distant ideal or some younger (slimmer, fitter, faster, something-or-other-er) or older (wiser, more gracious, richer, more successful…) self, hold yourself with compassion for where you are now.

Take time to notice what’s working in your life, including (especially) the tiniest of things.  In case you need reminding, the joy is not in the lottery win or the next big contract, it’s right there in your dining room in the seed trays by the window.

Enjoy those Christmas-and-birthdays-only illicit pleasures (you know what they are) AND notice whether they do still give you joy.  Let go of the ones that don’t.

Finish your client report on time, but not at the expense of receiving – yes, really receiving – the love and best wishes of friends, family and colleagues.  Let the day be spacious and joyful as well as busy and productive.

It’s OK to be where you are – whatever you feel today, let your feelings be welcome and hold them with care.  Everything is welcome.

If you’re reading this, you’re still alive.  Everything you experience today is only possible because you are alive. (And yes, it’s OK that you may never truly realise just what a gift this is).  Being alive, being yourself – oh!  and drinking your birthday cup of coffee – who could ask for more?

Making requests as an aspect of organisational culture

Developing as a leader, Developing leadership across your organisation, Emotional Intelligence, ,

Yesterday I was working from home, as I mostly do on a Monday.  It was a busy day, but not so densely packed that I didn’t have time to take in some fresh air at lunch time.  In fact, I did something that I have recently taken to doing and wandered the length of Lewisham’s market stalls – just two minutes from home – to ask the stall holders if any of them had any waste products that could go into my compost bin.

In recent weeks I have learnt just how willingly the local stall holders give the gift of their green waste which otherwise goes into the immense bins provided by our local council for disposal elsewhere.  Yesterday I even had advice from one stall holder – let us know in the morning or the day before that you’ll be coming to collect and we’ll save it for you.
I would add that, as the recipient of this largesse I am delighted.  It’s not just that I hope, quite soon, to have the best fed worms in the whole of South East London and, in time, a steady supply of compost to improve the soil in my garden.  It’s not even because, until recently, I hadn’t thought to ask.  It’s also because, at a young age, I somehow learnt “not to put people to any trouble” by making a request.  I still have to remind myself that that was then and this is now as part of my preparation for making a request.  And yes, because it’s a request I am learning joyfully to accept a yes or a no.
I know I am not alone.  I invite you to take a moment to ask yourself how often and how openly, you – and others in your organisation – make requests.  And I do mean a request – an open question of someone who might be able to help you and with the option for the person you are asking to respond with a yes or no.  I also invite you to reflect on how willingly you and those you lead own the personal needs that sit behind the request. This is the difference, for example, between saying could we meet at 4pm so that I can get away by 5.30pm to support my partner at home and saying actually, I’m not available at 6pm or maybe even meeting your boss at 6pm and adding it as just one more example to stoke the fire of slow-burning resentment and ill health.
Because yes, there are things that people do to avoid making requests – because to make a request is often to share information about our needs and to open ourselves up to a no and to all the meanings we make of that no.  Making requests can leave us feeling oddly vulnerable, even when we have managed to persuade ourselves that it’s a perfectly acceptable thing to do.
What do we do instead?  Here are just a few examples.  They all come with a price.  Which ones are prevalent in your organisation?
  • Ask a quasi request (“Make sure you check the report before you send it off, will you?”).  The substance of the request is vague, the language is part instruction, part request.  We haven’t asked the person of whom we’re making the request if they can do what we ask;
  • Assume that any half decent member of staff will know what to do and feel angry when they don’t deliver.  (In many organisations staff think this way about their colleagues and even their boss.  In senior leadership roles, we set the tone);
  • Wrap up a request, for example by assigning the need for the request to the organisation rather than honestly reflecting on and sharing our own needs.  Especially when we are in senior roles, this can make it hard for people to say no, though it may lead to all sorts of problems – including a kind of thoughtless obedience or quiet disobedience (yes minister style);
  • Tell ourselves that someone wouldn’t cope or would do their nut (or similar) if we made a request.  This is a great get-out clause – it may be true and, even so, it may mask a more personal reason why we are not making requests.

The approach people have to making requests in your organisation is part of organisational culture and it has significant implications for your organisation’s ability to achieve its aims.  I invite you to a seven-day curiosity exercise – just take time to notice the culture in your organisation around making requests.

Please report back.

  

Unintended consequences of our learning

Coaching, Developing as a leader, ,

Working as I do to support people to develop as leaders, I am often struck by the way coaching continues to add value long after it has finished.  I’m currently talking to a number of former clients about their experiences following coaching and I look forward to sharing what they have to say.

One conversation I had recently reminded me that the experiences that follow coaching are not all positive – at times there can be a bewildering array of side effects and unexpected consequences.  The same truth applies to all sorts of personal changes.  This is what I want to focus on today.

I want to preface my posting by adding that, over time, such challenges tend to “come good” and still, they can be hard to fathom at the time.  Here are just a few of the side-effects that I have experienced personally or observed in others over the years:

  • The “dramatic mistake” when trying something new:  Perhaps one of the greatest fears of someone who is making changes is that they will try something new and that it will go dramatically wrong.  This can range from sharing oneself – one’s opinions, feelings etc. – more fully with somebody close (our boss, spouse etc.), all the way to taking on a new role which constitutes a significant stretch.  In practice, it’s rare in my experience that the most feared outcome materialises and it’s even more rare that the world falls apart when it does.  More often, clients take small steps and discover that their fears were unfounded.  Even when something doesn’t pan out as expected it can be highly liberating to discover that we can make mistakes and still come through;
  • Relationship challenges:  A common challenge that we face when we make changes is difficulties in relationships, be they colleagues in the workplace or our loved ones at home.  I remember, for example, how one of my friends just fell away when I was in the midst of my professional coach training.  She stopped making contact and, when I commented on the change, sent me a letter saying how much I had changed and that she didn’t want to spend time with me any more.  I never knew what changes she was observing or what the impact was on her experience of our friendship.  There is, of course, a balance to be struck here.  At one end of the scale is what we might call the (insensitive) “zeal of the newly converted” – there’s nothing worse than having someone try to impose their new learning on us.  At the other end of the scale are the changes we make gently and slowly out of our growing awareness.  Sometimes the changes we make serve to deepen and strengthen our relationships.  The same changes serve to highlight those relationships that aren’t working.  Over time we may find ways to make them work.  Equally, we may be faced with the question, can this relationship be made to work – or is it time to step away?
  • Facing the truth about an untenable situation:  Coaching can support clients in finding ways to respond to challenging situations, whatever they are.  Perhaps we take steps to succeed in a role in which we were failing or to manage our relationship with a difficult boss.  Perhaps our sales go up dramatically or our profile in the business soars.  At the same time, we may become aware that our situation is untenable even whilst learning to handle it well.  We’re selling more of a product we don’t believe in, for example, or succeeding in a role at the same time as realising it’s not the right role for us.  The immediate joy of making progress can give way to doubts and uncertainty as we go beyond the challenges that brought us to coaching to face some deeper truth.  Coming to the right decision can take time and may happen long after coaching is completed;
  • The pain that comes with growing awareness:  Along the way we may experience feelings of pain and discomfort as we become more aware of things which, previously, were outside our awareness.  Sometimes, these may be the very things we needed to learn ourselves.  Having learnt to be effective in coaching those we lead, for example, our sensitivities are now heightened when we observe how our peers provide instruction without any support to staff.  Perhaps the pain we experience relates to our own unmet needs, especially when we are increasingly aware of them and have not yet found a way to meet them.

Have you experienced these or other unintended consequences of your learning?  It may be a time to get back in touch with your coach for a follow-up session.  It may a time to be attentive – to notice and to get under the skin of your thoughts and feelings to understand what’s going on.  It’s certainly a time for compassion – for yourself, for those around you, including those who stimulate the pain in you.

Inviting you to the spiritual practice of resting

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Six days thou shalt labour, and do all thy work:  But the seventh day is the sabbath of the LORD thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, nor thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thine ox, nor thine ass, nor any of thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates; that thy manservant and thy maidservant may rest as well as thou.


Deuteronomy
Chapter 5, verses 13 and 14



Every now and then I have trouble sleeping, as I did on Saturday night.  I woke up at about 2 or 3am and struggled to get back to sleep.  No worrying thoughts.  Just an awareness of being tired and yet awake.  I did what I do on these occasions – got up, made myself a cuppa, enjoyed a read for a while and then went back to bed and slept like a baby.  If you read my post on Tuesday you already know that I enjoyed a good lie-in on Sunday morning.


It wasn’t enough.  On Monday, after a slightly late night and a good night’s sleep, I woke up feeling tired and yearning for more sleep.  Almost as soon as I woke up I realised that, had I taken a moment to think ahead, I would have done well to book this week for a break.  Too late – I already had appointments in my diary throughout the week.


It has been relatively restful this week.  Realising how tired I am I have focused on those things that are time sensitive and re-scheduled anything that can wait.  I’ve slept later.  Still, it has been relatively restful but not quite rest.  I am looking forward to four days when I shall put work to one side to spend time with my family, to tend my garden and, well, to rest.


In the Christian and Jewish calendars, the seventh day is prescribed as a day of rest, in line with the commandments which are said to have been handed to Moses by God.  Rest is, in this sense, a spiritual practice and has significance alongside other key practices.  Now you may not be a Christian or a Jew.  You may have no religious faith.  Still, I invite you to pause for a moment to ask yourself:  shall I be putting aside my work this weekend and allowing myself to rest?  If the answer is no, I invite you to ask yourself why.  Perhaps your profession is such that you need, at times, to work when others are not working.  Perhaps you have a key deadline that means that this year, for once, you will be taking some time over the break to work.  Perhaps work is your haven from difficulties at home – a way to keep out of the way of your unhappy marriage or to excuse your absence from a family gathering.  Your reasons have a story to tell – if only you are listening.


I invite you, too, to ask yourself:  do I need time to rest this weekend?  In case the answer is ‘yes’, I invite you to listen.

Wouldn’t you just die without Mahler?

About Dorothy

On Sunday, along with my fellow ladies of the London Symphony Chorus, I sang in Mahler’s Third Symphony.

I could almost add “yet again”.  For this was one of countless performances of this symphony which always draws a crowd.  For members of the chorus it is something of an oddity – five brief minutes of singing tucked into this vast orchestral piece.  A brief glance at the reviews shows how little attention this commands from the reviewers if not the audience as a whole.  Rehearsals are similarly tucked away – for who can justify a whole rehearsal for just five minutes of singing?  So, usually, rehearsals for Mahler 3 happen after we have sung some other piece.

I must confess that, having sung this piece so many times over the years I do rather take it for granted.  In the midst of the rather busy affair that is my life I show up for rehearsals and sing before dashing off to the next thing.  Right now, for example, it is spring and time to get the garden going.  I was digging in the garden on Sunday until it was time to get ready to leave home to travel to the Barbican.  Out of my gardening clothes and into my concert gear (long black with strict rules about lengths of sleeves and length of skirt, though anything goes when it comes to cleavage… but that’s another story).

Even the experience of a new conductor had not entirely grabbed my attention.  Our piano rehearsal was brief and efficient and, besides, I was late after getting stuck in traffic.  Our first tutti rehearsal went without incident and our conductor, Semyon Bychkov, let us know that our presence would not be required at the second tutti. We were delighted – travelling into central London on a Sunday morning to rehearse just five minutes of singing is not something we savour.  I, for one, had already planned a Sunday-morning lie-in by the time I left the building.

So, it was not until the concert itself that I got to observe Maestro Bychkov at work and to reconnect with the vastness of Mahler’s Third Symphony.  I noticed that Bychkov’s movements were spare – no grand gestures or expressions of engagement (some conductors are famous for grunting and others for their pained facial expressions).  Instead, Bychkov gave a clear beat throughout and… well, not much more.  Even so, the effect was to bring life and drama to this already dramatic work which was anything but tired under Bychkov’s baton.  The audience’s response reflected the grandeur of this performance.  Some audience members – just a few – attempted applause between movements.  This is definitely “not the done thing” in most London concert venues.  The applause at the end of the concert was, however, strong.

For me, the last word belongs to Mahler.  As I sit and write I am especially moved by the final movement which emerges from beneath the rather jolly singing of the choir and pulls my heart-strings every time.  It evokes a stillness in me, speaking somehow to every longing.

I am reminded of Trish, in the film Educating Rita, who greets her new friend with the words, “Wouldn’t you just die without Mahler?”

Sustaining a long career

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On Tuesday I went with my niece, Rebecca Nesbit, to a talk on Climate Change.  The talk was by Professor Elinor Ostrom, whose extensive credentials are too long to be listed here but can be found on Wikidepia and elsewhere.  After the talk, Rebecca and I shared what we’d taken away from Ostrom’s presentation.  Rebecca presents a brief summary on her blog of what she took away, under the heading Climate change thoughts from a Nobel Laureate.

I confess that, throughout the talk, I was both listening to the content of Professor Ostrom’s talk and reflecting on Professor Ostrom herself.  Born in 1933, she is still professionally active at the age of 78 and a thoughtful and clearly highly intelligent woman.  I am used to singing under the baton of men who are still conducting at a mature age – I sang with Leonard Bernstein shortly before he died, my opportunity to sing with Georg Solti was snatched away when he died just before a concert, I have enjoyed singing under the baton of Sir Colin Davis for a number of years.  (As it happens, Sir Colin has conducted three generations of my family throughout his career).

So much for the men.  It’s largely outside my experience to meet women who are still professionally active in their late 70s and into their 80s.  I hasten to add that it’s not that they’re not active.  My mother, aged 81, is a legend throughout her local community and across my family for her full portfolio of activities, from the domestic (managing her household, tending her allotment, looking after her youngest grandson etc.) to the community and charitable activities (with long service as a church warden, running the bookstall at the village Saturday market, cooking for the old folks – yes, really! – at the village lunch club, and much more besides).  I still remember Mum’s plans to keep the bookstall books in the attic of her new home when she moved 6 years ago.  Needless to say, as a family, we were quick to discourage her.

So, Professor Ostrom was striking to me as an example of someone who maintains an active professional life well into her third age.  This is not new – there have always been people who do this.  At the same time, our context is such that – it seems to me – the significance of this has changed.  On the same day that I heard Ostrom speak I read (in the Metro I think) of predictions that one third of children born in the UK today will live to be 100 years old.  It seems to me that, with this statistic in mind,  the things we’re currently doing to adapt (changes in pensions, changes in employment legislation) may prove to be wholly inadequate.

Is it possible that we need to radically re-think our approach to work?  This is such an enormous topic that I am struggling to put my arms (or perhaps my metaphorical pen) around it.  Here are just three possible implications:

  • That we need to think much more holistically about the relationship between things we currently view as separate – work, unemployment and retirement.  We need to exercise more judgement based on accurate assessment of the facts and less judgement (as in “condemnation”) based on dogma in order to reshape the way we view the role of work in society;  
  • That we need to re-think our chief measures of success at work and what we want our work to deliver.  Perhaps we need to prioritise sustainability over profit, thinking about how our organisations can contribute to society over time rather than focusing narrowly on “shareholder value”.  (I’m guessing we would make this transition more easily if only we could develop a deeper understanding of the role of money in our lives – what is it we want money to do for us?  For money is never an end in itself and always a means to an end).  Equally, perhaps we need work to deliver people who are not only productive at work but also motivated, resourceful and healthy long after their careers have finished;
  • That we need to plan for careers that span as many as 70 years and which are adapted to our age and stage at each step along the way.  Already, levels of workplace stress and absent-from-work illness suggest we are not doing enough organise work in ways which enrich the lives of workers as much as it contributes to bottom-line profits and other business outcomes.  And the more we plan for a longer career, the more we need to sign up for enjoyment at work – it’s hard to sustain the view that we’re “saving for an enjoyable retirement” when retirement is 50, 60, even 70 years away.

I’d welcome your thoughts and ideas.  What are you doing to adapt to a longer career for you and your staff?

Developing your leadership? Bring on the compassion

Developing as a leader, Emotional Intelligence, ,

You’ve got the promotion.  You’re in your new role.  You’re putting on a brave face.  You’re maxing up the ‘positive self-talk’.  Come on, you can do it.  They wouldn’t have put me in the role if they didn’t think I was up to it.  And remember that project for Asia last year – this can’t be more difficult than that.  You know you have what it takes to succeed – intellectually, you know.  But sometimes, the intellectual knowing just isn’t enough.

It gets worse.  It gets personal.  You know that, in order to succeed, you need to make headway in developing new skills.  Perhaps you need to rely less on your technical skills (as an accountant, lawyer, doctor etc.) and cultivate skills in a whole new area – leadership, emotional intelligence, call it what you will.  Perhaps you have to let go of doing what you’ve always done best and start to deliver with and through others.  You’ve always got huge plaudits for your ability to deliver – but can you get others to deliver in the same way?

Maybe it gets even worse than that.  You know – you know – that whether it’s in this job or another there’s no turning back.  Doing everything yourself was barely working for you in your old job – you have to find new ways of working, whatever your job.  You were on your way to burn-out and you know it.  Or perhaps you’d got as far as you could go by getting angry with yourself, or your staff, and you know you’ve got to find new strategies.

The trouble is, you’ve acknowledged the problem – but you don’t begin to know how to address it.  You’re in one of life’s most tender spots – you’ve crossed a threshold and you don’t know where to go.  Joseph Campbell highlighted this aspect of the human journey in his research which I briefly summarised in one of the most often visited posting on this blog, entitled Joseph Campbell and the hero’s journey.  Crossing the threshold means stepping out of our comfort zone and accepting some challenge or ‘call to adventure’.  Campbell’s research – into the myths of many cultures on this subject – shows how we have to accept the call to adventure before the resources we need begin to show up.

What’s it like to stand in this most tender of spots?  Recently, a conversation with a colleague reminded me of the feelings that can – if we let them – overwhelm us in this place.  Sometimes, there is intense sadness, grief and loss as we acknowledge the impact on our lives of the choices we have made in the past.  We may be overwhelmed with compassion for our younger self who learned, for example, how to do everything personally rather than to face the ire of a parent or teacher when we asked for help.  We may be sorrowful when we realise just how much this early choice has shaped our lives, keeping us from reaching out for help.  And we may be intensely scared when we think of what we might have to do that we have never done before.

Navigating this stage of our own journeys requires a large measure of compassion, both for the way it shines a light on those areas in which we need to develop and for all the emotions that comes with this.  The language of leadership development – ‘areas for development’, weaknesses’, ‘growing edge’ marches on past this level of emotion with barely a side-glance of acknowledgement.  It helps if we are not alone in holding our emotions in this tender place – if we have a trusted coach, or mentor, or peers, or family.  All the love and support we need is available to us, though learning to receive it may be a hero’s journey in itself.

Campbell talks of the hero but we might equally talk of leaders.  Leaders are made in this place, because they are the people who constantly step across each new threshold as they meet it.  And if they can only stand close to the fire of their emotions, they are also the people who learn how to understand themselves and others – an essential quality if we are to lead others in ways which engage and inspire.

If you want to read more about Campbell’s work, I recommend his books (especially The Power of Myth) and also The Hero’s Journey by Robert Dilts and Stephen Gillighan.  For now, though, I wonder, what are the thresholds you face right now?

Listening to the wild dogs barking in your cellar

Developing as a leader, Developing leadership across your organisation, , , ,
Let me adapt some of Nietzsche’s words and say this to you:
“To become wise you must learn to listen to the wild dogs barking in your cellar”

Irvin Yalom
Staring at the Sun:  Overcoming the Dread of Death

I would read anything by Irvin Yalom, which is – far more than its subject matter – how I came to be reading his book Staring at the Sun:  Overcoming the Dread of Death.  I first encountered his deeply compassionate writings when a colleague recommended his book Love’s Executioner and Other Tales of Psychotherapy.  I have enjoyed a number of his books including his novels:  Lying on the Couch made me laugh out loud.

Yalom’s work as a psychotherapist has contributed enormously to his field.  Whilst, historically, some psychotherapists have taken the view that psychotherapy is all about the client, Yalom has understood the impossibility for the psychotherapist of being a blank canvas – a distant and dispassionate observer.  For any man or woman brings a personal history to the role of therapist.  The therapist needs to cultivate self awareness in order not to entangle clients in his or her own unfinished business.

What’s more, dispassion and distance does little to promote healing for the client.  Yalom stands alongside Carl Rogers and others in viewing relationship and especially unconditional positive regard as an important contributory factor when it comes to the success of therapy.  His writings offer many examples of interactions with clients which might well horrify colleagues from other branches of his profession.

Now, since I work as a coach and my clients are leaders, you may well be wondering “what has this got to do with me?”  The truth is that both coaches and leaders need high levels of self-awareness if they are to be effective.  Daniel Goleman (in his book Working with Emotional Intelligence) lists three competencies which are concerned with self-awareness, based on research into what makes us effective at work.  Our self awareness is also the basis for our ability to relate to others – our ability to lead, to influence, to develop others (and so on) depends on our willingness to understand others and this, in turn, depends on our willingness to understand ourselves.

Perhaps the greatest challenge is to have empathy for others even whilst recognising the fullness of their strengths, weaknesses, quirks and limitations.  We can only do this if we can view ourselves in the fullness of our own strengths, weaknesses, quirks and limitations.  There can be a paradox here;  for if we believe that excellence in leadership depends on being better than our fellow human beings, we undermine the very basis for our outstanding performance as a leader.

It’s for this reason that the quote above strikes such a deep chord.  When we can listen to the wild dogs barking in our own cellars, we can begin to understand ourselves – and others.  It takes a huge measure of compassion to be present to all sorts of thoughts, feelings, characteristics and motivations which, as children, we have learnt to condemn.  It takes compassion, discipline and dedication.

So, if you want to get by as a leader, you can afford to read this posting – and move on.  If, though, you want to go beyond getting by, I invite you to ponder the quote at the top of this posting.  How willing are you to listen to the wild dogs barking in your cellar?

The leader’s call to power

Developing as a leader,

There’s a theme so familiar in my discussions with leaders that I wonder if I haven’t written about it before.  Still, I feel called to return to the theme of the leader’s call to power.

Now, let’s be clear, many men and women in leadership roles have a highly ambivalent response to the word “power”.  Many times I have heard some variant of the following:  “Power?  No, not me… I don’t go in for that sort of thing”.  “That sort of thing” is of course a negative sort of thing – at least in the eyes of the leader.

My experience over the years – of conducting research into what makes an effective leader, of assessing individuals for leadership roles, of working in coaching partnership with leaders – suggests that an individual’s willingness to embrace and to use power is an essential part of leadership effectiveness. The leader needs to go beyond doing everything personally to engage others to do things.  This is a fundamental shift from personal achievement to working with and through others.  The leader also needs, for example, to hold a vision for the future, sharing it with those s/he leads in ways which engage – this is the use of power to influence others.  The leader needs to use the same power to influence his or her peers, providing input to the overall direction and decision-making of an organisation.

My own observations of the use of power by leaders are intimately bound up with the research of Professor David C. McClelland of Harvard University.  McClelland’s research in the field of human motivation has been made available through his writings and through his work to establish a small consultancy which was bought, in time, by my former employer, the Hay Group.  This afforded me opportunities to apply McClelland’s techniques in my work and to test it through my own personal experience and observation.  McClelland was passionate about sharing his work and his little book Power is the Great Motivator, co-authored with David H. Burnham, is a great place to start if you want to understand his research without wading through dense and academic writings.  (If you do want to wade through dense and academic writings, you might enjoy his longer book, Power:  The Inner Experience).

So why has the exercise of power in leadership got such a bad name amongst the very people who are charged with leadership?  Recently, Art Giser put this in a broad context for me at a talk in Central London in just a few passing comments.  He pointed to the record of many leaders in the 20th Century.  We only have to think of such names as Hitler, Stalin, Chairman Mao, Idi Amin, Slobodan Milosevic, Pol Pot, Mugabe, Bin Laden and Khomeini to realise just how much we fear the embrace of power and its potentially dreadful consequences for humankind.

Our ambivalent relationship with – or outright rejection of – power has also been reflected in our commercial and political activities.  On the very day that I heard Art speak, news broke of the resignation from Goldman Sachs of one of its London-based executives.  Greg Smith wrote an open letter to the New York Times (in itself an exercise of power) in which he said “I can no longer in good conscience say that I identify with what [Goldman Sachs] stands for” and highlighted the number of times in recent months that he had heard senior colleagues describe clients as “muppets”.

The power dilemma has been embodied in recent months by German politicians.  They are – not without reason – highly wary of embracing power in our current economic circumstances.  At the same time, many Europeans are looking to them to provide leadership.  So, whether you are reflecting on the body politic of our time or a leader seeking diligently to fulfil your responsibilities, I write this posting as an invitation to you to reflect on your relationship with power.  For as long as we reject power as an instrument of evil, we also fail to step up to the potential power has as a way of doing good in the world.  Is it not also true, for example, that many people are yearning for the responsible use of power to address the major challenges and issues of our day?