New address…

…please visit actinglocal.blogspot.com instead.

Does a “diversified community” come with unexpected costs?

A lot of good conversation has been happening in response to Robert Putnam’s recent study (see also: Boston Globe, Wall Street Journal, CitizenPost). It’s a fascinating discussion in a broad/philosophical sense—but more practically, I’ve been interested in how recent activity in my own community connects to the questions Putnam raises about diversity and how it relates to the civic health of communities.

For instance, last Sunday, the local paper’s letter from the editor shared differing perspectives of an area of Grand Rapids that is diversifying economically, socially, and culturally. Our downtown area is experiencing a boom right now that will bring new industry and new people to the city. Urban life has become a draw for many who may not have considered living so close to the city’s core (if in the city at all) in the past.

The letter profiled Jim Wilson, who has lived near downtown for 12 years and who questions the consequences of the development… not to mention the intentions of people moving to the city from the suburbs. As he says:

“We love living in the city, and we are living in the city. Not above it… There’s a sense of melancholy about what we’re losing. Pushed out will be the colorful characters, the street people, the restaurants that were tacky, but had real personality, the neighborhood grocery and drug stores. I miss that blend. The Press story, with pictures of a rooftop swimming pool bothered me. Those people live far above the gritty world down below. I hope that these more affluent types, who gladly pay $12 for a bottle of extra virgin olive oil, will also gladly come down from their towers and walk the streets.”

Reading Jim’s thoughts, I couldn’t help but feel a great sense of urgency… as we speak, as the cranes whittle Michigan Avenue into a new “medical mile”, something is changing forever. In one sense, the area is becoming more diverse, but is that potentially at the cost of other, perhaps less-monitored and less-noted diversity? (After all, would the Press really give quirky neighborhood features like those Jim mentions the benefit of the business/economic development coverage the rooftop pool received?)

Let me be clear—I’m very much for progress. But like Jim, and perhaps like others who have responded to Putnam’s study, I think this progress—the diversification of our communities, our people, and our economies—deserves a deeper, more questioning look, so we can understand the ramifications and seek ways for everyone to benefit.

In Grand Rapids, I’ve learned that one of the effects of our changing community is a shift in voting patterns. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m part of a team that’s developing a neighborhood-based voting project called We Vote. A significant portion of our work to date has involved collaborating with the Community Research Institute (CRI) to review voting patterns over time.

As we started the project, CRI produced color-coded maps to demonstrate local voter turnout. We had been told to expect that the city’s core would be void of color, with the colors getting more intense, and in pretty defined rings around the core, as we headed further from downtown and into the neighborhoods where voting activity is much higher. This is how the data had looked for some time.

But when we used more recent numbers, we realized the ring effect had become garbled. The definitive “donut” we had been told to expect could not be spotted. At first glance, some people interpreted this as a really positive indicator that voter turnout is on the rise in Grand Rapids, which some might also positively relate to a rise in civic engagement.

I’ve never been as comfortable with this conclusion, however, and it gets back to this whole idea of communities “diversifying” at a potentially unknown cost. When I looked at the map, I wondered how it might relate to a map of neighborhood transition from the same time period. For instance, we know that some families from suburbs that are more traditionally engaged (i.e., Rockford, Jenison, East Grand Rapids) are moving into the city. As they move in, they bring their sense of civic responsibility with them, and they also bring expectations and savvy about the kind of community and access they need and deserve.

Even from a logistical perspective, their move affects voting and other access points of civic engagement… more residents might mean additional or different polling locations. A different kind of resident (higher income, consistent voter, etc.) might also mean more attention from or access to politicians.

As Jim points out, while this transition occurs in the city, another kind of neighborhood may feel distanced or may even disappear. Perhaps people from different backgrounds, including those more likely to feel disenfranchised, no longer feel at home. Or perhaps their homes are literally transformed for this new set of urban dwellers. For instance, what happens to low-income renters whose landlords want to take advantage of downtown’s economic upswing?

In a sense, there’s diversity in all of this. But it’s diversity displaced. And when that happens, civic confidence and civic engagement are undoubtedly affected. At least from my initial reading of the Putnam conversations, that’s the key point. This isn’t about diversity threatening the civic equilibrium of places like Grand Rapids. This is about making the civic equilibrium one that is collaboratively defined, with equal access to the process, and with shared responsibility for making that process rewarding for all community members.

NP 2020: Mentoring and the language of intergenerational dialogue

The NP 2020 conference wrapped up today, and in our final open sessions, we were encouraged to reach some systemic recommendations regarding next steps.

An opportunity that surfaced again and again related to mentoring in the sector. As I’ve alluded to before, mentoring always gives me pause because of its varied interpretations. Those variations came through today both in terms of the problem-solving that groups did and in terms of the tension that could be sensed as we debriefed on key themes from our previous day’s work.

After Susan Morales-Barias (our facilitator from GVSU’s Johnson Center) shared key themes from Friday’s sessions, she invited participants to add comments. One participant, a Baby Boomer, asked that we all be more mindful of the language we use as we try to engage in conversations about mentoring, professional development, and transition in the sector. She said she felt that the tone of the group seemed to put the blame on another generation while also making large generalizations about the intentions of Boomer leadership.

Rather than dwelling on “Boomers do this to me…”, this attendee asked that we consider outside factors that affect Boomer and young leadership alike. Rather than relying on generalizations or assumptions about Boomers, she encouraged us to speak based on how we perceive Boomer leadership.

This comment provoked exactly the kind of fresh dialogue I was hoping to find at a conference like this. Some of the younger participants seemed to agree with the woman, but others argued that our generation needs the space to come together and put concerns on the table without semantics, politics, and feelings getting in the way. One participant went so far as to say that such interjections from Boomers had made her feel like she was being “scolded by a parent.”

I’ll be honest, the notion of being scolded by a Boomer hits home for me. I have definitely felt that way before, and tried hard not to feel that way at NP 2020 in a couple instances (like when one Boomer participant chided that we all “need to read our history”). At the same time, I count many Boomers as friends and mentors. I could never devalue or dismiss their role in getting me to where I am. But…I definitely feel that their approach to mentoring differs from the approaches of some of their Boomer peers.

So I say, yes, let’s propose mentoring as a solution. But let’s also clarify the language of intergenerational dialogue, which obviously needs attention based on exchanges like the one at NP 2020. If we fail to clarify this language, our generations will continue to merge haphazardly, perhaps even oblivious of one another.

With that clarification, I think mentoring itself will be strengthened. Mentoring is too often viewed as a transfer of knowledge—one person transferring a skill set, content expertise, etc. to a less-experienced person. In reality, it’s time for mentoring to be viewed as a vehicle for advancing the sector, not just an add-on for getting into the sector. One Boomer in my dinner group told me she’s participated in an approach called “appreciative inquiry”—I love that term and am going to look into it.

To set some sort of direction for all this, here’s my take: Mentoring needs to be as much an organizational development process as it is a talent development tool. As Susan pointed out, the leadership deficit is happening now—it’s not going to happen when 640,000 executive leaders leave their positions. We don’t simply mean people when we refer to a deficit. There is a deficit in meaningful exchange of knowledge and perspectives. There is a deficit in common understanding and common ground to voice concerns and celebrate progress. And if we don’t have candid conversations about that now, the changing of the guard could be the least of our worries…

NP 2020: Generating conversations…

Blogging from the first full day of the NP 2020 conference… the open source approach is interesting and definitely creates a different atmosphere than other, more structured conferences. It’s like a spontaneous focus group for the nonprofit sector… the conversations are not necessarily designed to lead to conclusions, but they do produce a fair amount of observations that those not in attendance (especially current leadership and funders) can use to inform their work and the development of their relationships with the next generation.

Because of the organic nature of the conference, I don’t have a nicely packaged post to offer. Instead, I’ll offer a series of questions and some immediate thoughts…

I attended a “session” (they are loose so it’s hard to put them in that box) that emerged from an original question of: Commitment to the cause, or commitment to the sector?

How do the two inform one another, and is it possible to have a commitment to the cause through various levels of relation to the sector (staff, board, volunteer, for-profit)?

This question interested me because it’s something I’ve been asking myself lately. As I have transitioned from working within a nonprofit to advance a mission to working for a for-profit communications firm that helps nonprofit clients advance their missions, I’ve wondered about how I fit in both the for-profit and the nonprofit worlds. I sometimes feel like I’m not a true resident of either sector… and I’ve become part of the statistics that indicate many young people are leaving or planning to leave the sector. At the same time, my commitment to strengthening the sector has probably only increased with my transition to this new job.

I don’t know that the conversation necessarily affirmed my personal question either way, but it did prompt the following:

• Is the difference between for-profit and nonprofit careers simply a matter of the demands of answering to shareholders and the demands of serving community members/clients?
• Is a degree any guarantee that a person is “qualified” to lead?
• Our conversation evolved into one about the “professionalization of the sector,” as one participant put it. This professionalization involves not only staff credentials and qualifications, but also higher standards for accounting, management, etc. I’m still noodling on this one–a lot. I do feel that if professionalization of the sector is to be valuable, its definition and standards need to be articulated in a way that allows it to adapt to organizations of varying sizes, visions, regions, etc.
• And this leads me to another question: Does the professionalization of the sector potentially threaten accessibility to the sector? Is a certain level of “soft skills” lost in the effort to professionalize? I also wonder about cultural competency in particular… at the extreme, the sector could be highly professionalized, highly standardized, and highly regulated. Is there room in that mix for leaders to emerge from the neighborhoods being served via programs? I feel like the notion of professionalizing the sector could, in some ways, be at odds with other thinking about “citizen-generated” social change (see the Case Foundation in particular).

Like I said, I have to keep thinking about that whole topic. I’m off to another session for now.

Something old, something new: Let’s skip the debate and reimagine the system.

How happy was I to see that the day after I talked about a potential generational disconnect in social sector leadership, Tactical Philanthropy tackled the old-new relationship in a great post. I love the thinking:

I don’t believe that “old philanthropy” needs to be replaced by “new philanthropy”, rather I think that Arianna Huffington got it right during the Morphing Media session when she said that we need to bring together wisdom and innovation. When the wise and the innovative are brought together, the positive outcome is not a result of each side politely acknowledging each other’s strengths and then going their separate ways. Rather the two sides are best served by engaging in verbal combat, where the weaknesses in each side’s point of view can be exposed and the strengths revealed.

Innovation needs wisdom so it may be properly cultivated. Wisdom needs innovation so it can continue to have meaningful relevance. And if I take it one step further, progress is the application of experience in innovative models… which is why I continue to think that this is about more than traditional development within the sector… it’s about intersecting the assets of old and new in a way that evolves thinking, practices, and social investment.

But does this happen only through “verbal combat,” as Tactical Philanthropy and other blogs have suggested? Hmm. I’m not sure that competition or controversy are best suited to prompt the intersection of innovation and experience. Perhaps a certain amount of competition or verbal combat helps make a relevant case where the new and the old can merge… I can’t ignore that this has happened somewhat in my experiences.

Yet I wonder if philanthropy will evolve to a point that it does not require the spark of debate to leverage what I view as the inherent assets of the new and the old. The benefits of innovation and experience seem so connected to me that no debate is needed to create their synergy.

Instead, I imagine that organizations will begin to change and be structured in a way that receives and appropriately allocates the resources of innovation and experience for the greatest impact. I’m getting systemic, but I think this is about reinventing the work of philanthropy (and the framework of how decisions are made) so that the new-old debate does not happen at the surface… instead, it’s acknowledged somehow in the infrastructure and leveraged when appropriate.

I think we are expecting the new and the old, or the innovators and the experienced, to carry too much weight via “verbal combat.” Instead it is the institution of philanthropy itself that must evolve to carry the merger of innovation and experience.

There is not a universal answer for how this could be achieved. I expect the field to keep changing, and perhaps new organizational models will emerge. I just don’t think traditional organizational hierarchy can accommodate this sort of thinking… where does the organic intersection of innovation and experience fit in a large, traditionally-structured organization? And furthermore, how do we honor the success of established organizations while migrating them to more relevant models… before jumping to the conclusion of simply creating new philanthropic organizations?

And what does this mean for donors, volunteers, nonprofits and funders? Is there any way to anticipate how much additional impact we’ll achieve if thinking like this is somehow operationalized? What’s the result: more effective programs, streamlined services, greater competency, more efficient investments, the attraction of new people to the sector?

After all, at the end of the day, philanthropy is about impact, and these days, it’s particularly about measurable impact. Of course, we sometimes only apply that expectation to our funded partners–they have to worry about systemic change all the time these days. Is this old-new issue an opportunity to be accountable to the sector in the same way?

Perhaps this is why we can’t move beyond “verbal combat”: it’s too challenging to quantify a case for why more systemic change is needed, and without identifying a clear, in-demand outcome, where’s the sense of urgency to move from verbal combat to a new model?

Traffic jam ahead: Boomers and youth merge on social sector

There seems to be an exciting transition and self-awareness happening in the social sphere, beyond even the nonprofit/philanthropic or social sector. It’s a transition that includes the community, our personal perceptions of social purpose, and the economic interpretation of actions motivated by social consciousness.

From my view, this is having particular effects on how the boomer generation and 20-somethings perceive themselves and their work… but not necessarily each other.

I’ve been a little perplexed lately by an emerging disconnect between young social thinkers and older social thinkers… for instance, here’s the introduction to the New Voices of Philanthropy blog:

After baby boomers leave the world of professional philanthropy to enjoy lake cabins and to spoil their grandchildren, who will continue the day-to-day struggle for social justice? That’s where we come in. New Voices of Philanthropy is a place where new and experienced leaders in the foundation world can come together to share strategies and tactics to change the world. Are you ready?

This does not at all mesh with my thinking about baby boomers or the transition of leadership in the sector. In fact, I imagine that the boomers who are my colleagues would be taken aback by the notion that they are simply going to ride off into the sunset to “enjoy lake cabins and spoil their grandchildren.”

Doesn’t this make the experience of a generation sound rather disposable? I fear for the young nonprofit professional who imagines that baby boomers are all just waiting to check out and head to the beach. After all, at the very least, who do you think will be serving on your boards?

Look at the thinking of organizations like Civic Ventures. Clearly, there is a movement afoot to refresh the sector with the leadership and experience of older individuals. Many are starting to imagine the sector as the next step for boomers who still have a lot to offer but want to work with a renewed social purpose.

Two schools of thought appear to be emerging, with no clear intermediary working to bring them together.

One group is calling for the grooming of young talent, armed with the Bridgespan report and saying that the sector is going to lose thousands of its seasoned leaders shortly. (The NP2020 conference claims that the Bridgespan “statistic creates more impact on the sector as baby boomers prepare for retirement in the next few years.”)

Yet the other group claims that boomers are a fitting answer to the sector’s need for leadership. This Stanford Business Magazine article points out that “a 2006 Merrill Lynch survey of more than 5,000 Americans reported that 71 percent plan to continue work in some form past age 61, and 65 percent of boomers and 70 percent of younger workers hope to move into a new profession.”

It’s as if the social sector is a busy highway, in the midst of its own transition while also facing a leadership deficit. The trouble is, I don’t know if the drivers–the boomer in the left lane, the 20-something merging from the on-ramp–have checked their blind spot yet.

Are we effectively preparing ourselves and our organizations for this mash of the young and the old? Apparently both groups think they are going to get there first, but can’t we facilitate that change in a way that enhances professional development and advances missions?

As a young professional, that’s one of the major reasons I volunteer–to be engaged with another generation and work with them to reinvent social change so it has new meaning in our community.

One request: please don’t boil this down to “mentoring.” That’s a traditional dichotomy that doesn’t go far enough. This is about good business sense. Frankly, it’s about the vitality of the sector and its capacity to create change. Like it or not, the generations are speeding toward the spot where the sector will be tomorrow. We might as well think about creating a collaborative road map now… it will be a lot easier to understand each other and enjoy the work when we all get there.

Will you choose Michigan?

When I graduated from college, my husband and I made a conscious decision to stay in Michigan. Less than a year after graduation and securing my first job, we made another conscious decision: to buy a house in the city of Grand Rapids, in a diverse neighborhood that’s close to the growing Medical Mile and a thriving downtown.

Since then, between mowing the lawn, establishing a career, replacing the windows on the house, paying the bills, and watching friends graduate from college, I’ve experienced a nagging frustration: am I the only 20-something worried about the flight of young, talented, passionate people from Michigan?

It’s a fear that distracts me when I’m driving sometimes, especially when I’m on the road to Lansing for a meeting, wondering about how our state is going to reinvent itself as the sole means of sustaining itself. I think about it when I brush my teeth in the morning. I think about it when I’m at my husband’s lacrosse games. He coaches middle school students… kids who are two blinks away from college and perhaps only a degree away from leaving Michigan.

I feel an incredible sense of urgency about this problem of Michigan’s fleeing young talent. It seems so tangible–it’s not a slowly leaking faucet that’s easily ignored. It’s a broken water main that’s threatening our infrastructure.

A recent Detroit Free Press article only confirmed my anxieties–in fact, it made my stomach hurt. Fifty three percent of more than 600 students surveyed at Michigan State University, Wayne State University, and the University of Michigan said they do not plan to stay in the state after graduating.

Fifty three percent. Imagine half of MSU’s student body simply disappearing from the state over the next few years–about 20,000 people (when considering the total undergraduate student body). Social workers, doctors, teachers, writers, actors, philosophers, leaders… a myriad of people–resources–who are gone.

Imagine if even 10,000 of them chose to stay and bought a home. Imagine if only 500 of them became engaged in their local community. Imagine if 100 of them made a commitment to stay forever, invest in their local community, and become leaders personally and professionally. How would Michigan be different in 10, 20, or 50 years?

The answer always seems to be that this is irrelevant because there are no jobs in Michigan. Times are tough–everyone can agree on that. But I can’t submit to the notion that jobs are the end-all, be-all. Most of my peers who have left Michigan did not even try finding a job here. Most of them were talented and well-networked, meaning that there job search would have been difficult but probably not fruitless.

And some friends of mine who do have jobs–and good jobs, in their desired field–still insist that they are leaving Michigan soon. Some talk about going to school, others want to just get out and try something different.

I ask them to buy a house in Michigan and travel everywhere instead. I tell them about the incredible rates MSHDA offers on mortgages to first-time homebuyers. I remind them of economic progress, like the Medical Mile. And I believe fervently… if there was ever a time when thinking globally and acting locally was critical, this is it. If there was ever a time for ambitious 20-somethings to authentically imagine themselves as social entrepreneurs, this is it. (I’m talking about incredible people like my friend Social Citizen–I’m not afraid to name names!)

In short, it’s time to ditch the flight for some fight. The departure of talent from Michigan is not just an economic development problem–it’s a social one. It’s not just a trend–it’s the pulse of our state’s future.

And let’s get this perfectly straight: it’s not just about jobs. That’s a short-sighted excuse for a bigger question about what motivates people to invest in Michigan. This is a conversation about communities–not just jobs. I expect that unless there is some response to the departure of Michigan’s young people, the flight will continue regardless of an improvement in the job market.

This is about pride. And choice. And the opportunity to shape something bigger than yourself… beginning in your local community–maybe just the home you own–and influencing the bigger picture. Maybe it’s not the allure of Sex in the City, but it’s not just homespun simplicity, either.

Michigan is my home, but more importantly: it’s my choice. Who else will choose? If we’re not asking the question, then we’re not doing enough.

Maybe I was a suffragette in my past life.

The background: Today, during an enthusiastic meeting with fellow League of Women Voters leadership team members about our new project (We Vote), a man interrupted to ask if we are always so excitable at 7:30 in the morning. “This is what happens when women get the vote,” he laughed. He meant nothing rude by it–if anything, he seemed genuinely baffled by how we really could be so excited. I’ve been thinking about him today, thinking about others like him, and wondering about the excitement and potential of voting.

I’m young enough to still be reasonably idealistic, but grounded enough to think about change in terms of measurable, sustainable action. Because of this, I tend to be passionate in principle: the talent of youth can do so much for our communities, our home is something to be proud of, our economy can be reinvented… and I tend to be grounded in action: We should offer and promote incentives for young people to buy houses in the city. We can shop at stores owned by our community members. We should invest in educational opportunities that support the growth of a knowledge-based economy.

Over the last year, I’ve come to appreciate that there is a spot where idealism and action intersect. And it’s simple: voting.

Maybe it’s so simple that it still comes across as idealistic, but I really do believe that voting possesses a sacred spot in the underpinnings of our communities. As I think about this, I realize that I intentionally do not even say the underpinnings of our democracy.

Yes, voting is a function of democracy. But taken one step further, democracy extends voting as a tool in community building. Democracy does not establish communities–people do. And one of the most fundamental ways to do that is through voting.

Voting is personal action on the one hand and collective idealism at the same time. As a voter, I make a personal decision and offer a concrete, individual action. Yet in a collective sense, voting captures the sentiments and hopes of a community and propels them in an actionable way, for change. We can learn a lot about the pride and hope in a community by understanding whether or not its members vote and why… and we can achieve action by voicing that hope–however idealistic–through voting.

It’s the difference between wishing my neighborhood was a safer place for kids (idealism) and going to the polls to vote for someone who has promised to advocate for after-school programming in the neighborhood (idealism paired with action).

If you can’t tell, I’m adamant that our community has to be a voting community. I don’t care how it votes… it’s just important that it does vote. Of course, there are issues of access, trust, quality of information and more. I may be idealistic, but I am not naive… our voting system needs support and more community members who want to preserve its integrity.

I guess I offer all this if only for the sake of exploration… and to make a case for an enhanced perception of voting. Voting should be a celebration of our communities and their futures, and Election Day should be viewed as our community’s big holiday. Voting is like a social marketing campaign rather than a political campaign… it is action that belongs to the community, and it is hope voiced… it’s so much more than a transaction.

All easier said than accomplished. And I start with wondering how can I communicate that the next time someone wonders why we’re all so excited.