A memorable lesson in clarity
It’s Sunday evening as I write. The weekend has passed, as has the self-imposed deadline to write my job description and personal action plan…
But, I procrastinate with reason, and find that I can’t let the last week pass without wanting to properly capture and acknowledge the momentousness of it. It was a week where I had the privilege to attend a great conference, a week where I surrounded myself with loads of utterly decent people and was immersed in the adrenaline and excitement of ‘my tribe’.
Conferences are terrific.
They bring together like-minded people. Especially so for our sector — the charities and for-purpose sector — they are a breeding ground of collaboration and sharing. They are a breeding ground of progressives, idealists and professional do-gooders — and I absolutely love it. I often feel like the giddy, wide-eyed school-boy running around with his mates…
There are many things I admire about a good conference; but there are two things I like in particular about the F&P conference: that is just how personal, up-close and accessible all the presentations and presenters are. There is a very likeable ‘amateur’ feel about it (which I say with utmost respect and warmth) and I would lament the day that it becomes overly and coldly ‘professional’.
But there were two presentations in particular that stopped me in my tracks; Bill Toliver’s and Simon Scriver’s. Bill Toliver is very big-picture; at the other end, is Simon Scriver.
Bill is — quite justifiably so — all about manifesto’s and creating social change through social movements. I absolutely love this kind of stuff; I find it inspiring, intellectually stimulating and could easily chat about it all day.
And yet, I found myself balanced by Simon’s presentations; he spoke about the unexpected and entirely doable nuggets of joy that our causes and charities should be delivering. Capturing and sharing those little moments that can make someone else’s day.
Whilst I paint them as being at either end of a spectrum; it occurs to me that they are not. They are basically on the same page, just coming at it from different perspectives — both are spot on and both are entirely relevant.
As Bill said, it’s not the stories that we tell that are important, it’s the morals of the stories. It’s the public narrative and ‘story of self’ that form the basis of shared values and beliefs. It’s the creation of communities that every organisation in this sector can — and should — create. It’s the attraction to something that audiences can believe in — something higher than themselves — which is the catalyst to joint action.
And then as Simon commented; it’s not necessarily a truth when we say ‘anyone can change the world’; it is however, entirely true when we can say, ‘you can change someone’s world’. Again, every organisation can — and should — do this by looking at what they’ve got, and seeking to interrupt someone’s day with a simple moment of kindness.
I was struck by the utter simplicity and profundity of this, and in here, I found a balance. A balance between big picture thinking and the creation of communities — to the plain decency of just being kind to your fellow being.
I’ve always believed that our sector has the greatest causes, content and stories. I’ve always believed that it deserves the best, and I believe that our sector should be raising the standards of all that we believe in; that indeed, we can believe in higher ideals.
And yet, I found myself asking; of what use are those higher ideals if we miss how the person in front of us feels?
It seems to me that much of the ‘problems’ and issues our sector face are really ones borne from our own making. That for far too long, we are concerned about being everything to everyone; and in the process, being nothing to nobody. As Bill Toliver perfectly put it; we adapt to satisfy public opinion, rather than form public will. If we fail to properly express a compelling argument for why our organisations exist — is it any wonder when we struggle to attract support?
If what we want is true social change, then every single one of us will have to sacrifice something. We will have to give up something. This may be money, it may be time, it may be long-held and cherished comforts, securities, power or beliefs. That’s just how it is; history has proven that every social movement and every advocacy campaign follows a similar pattern; all require sacrifice of some sort and all are entirely predictable.
But when it comes to mere financial support and donations; if we fail to recognise that every donor and every supporter has the choice to forgo personal consumption and/ or personal savings — if we don’t give them a greater reason or are unable to show simple and memorable delight — then is it so totally surprising when they ‘lapse’?
No.
When it comes to igniting a supporter’s values and wish to act on those via the promises we make; if we fail to honour that, then it is us that has ‘lapsed’.
I never want to hear the vulgar phrase, ‘donors attrite’ again; it offends me to my core. Donors and supporters leave us — and leave the causes that we all champion — not simply because they choose to go, but because we’ve failed to give them a reason to stay.
Between Bill Toliver and Simon Scriver; this is the gift you’ve given me — a memorable lesson in clarity.
Thank you.