Lost in the Electron Forest

It has now been 29 days since I last posted to this blog—the longest drought I've ever gone through since starting this publishing odyssey back in 2007. Uffda.

It is not for lack of things to say or the motivation to write. I just couldn't get into my damn blog until now. Here's what happened…

In the middle of July my laptop (a MacBook Air) battery suddenly stopped holding a charge. I could function when plugged into the grid, but the screen would go dark immediately if I pulled the electronic umbilicus. For someone on the go like me that's an incredible nuisance, so I took advantage of changing trains in Chicago July 17 to stop in at the Genius Bar at the Michigan Ave Apple Store in Chicago to see whether an hour in sick bay could make everything better.

The good news was that my laptop was still under Apple Care warranty (I am two-and-a-half years into my three years of coverage). The bad news is that when they looked up the serial number for my machine they couldn't find a record that I owned it—and they wouldn't touch my machine without proof of purchase. Oh boy. As this was the first time I had brought this laptop in to get serviced by Apple, I had no idea this problem existed.

Oh well, I figured, I would go home, root around in my files for a receipt, and then get my laptop attended to at an Apple Store in Minneapolis (after going down to Rochester July 30 for my annual post-stem cell check-up). As we don't have an Apple Store in Duluth, I have to get creative about getting my laptop serviced under warranty.

Unfortunately, I had no luck finding an Apple receipt at home. I got a lot of things filed and better organized (it was time to do that anyway), but no receipt. I even found the box that my machine was originally shipped in, but no paperwork. Frustrated, I contacted my friend Jeffrey Harris who works for Apple and through whom I bought my laptop back in February 2017. 

That turned out to be the smart move for two reasons. First, Jeffrey knew that there never was a paper receipt (so I could stop looking for one). Everything at Apple had been transferred to electronic records by then. No wonder I was having trouble with that.

Second, Jeffrey, bless his heart, had a record of the web order for my laptop, and through that Apple personnel were able to trace what had happened 29 months ago. Turns out someone on their end simply dropped the ball when it came to recording the sale, and the error didn't get discovered until now. Ha ha. I was only moderately amused.

In any event, I now—finally—had a clear pathway to getting service in Minneapolis. The folks there took a quick look at the situation and decided it would be prudent to send it to their tech all-stars in Houston—just in case there was more going on than simply a dead battery. Not knowing what they'd find, I was dutifully warned that it was possible that my hard drive would be wiped clean—did I have everything backed up? We did some backing up with iCould at the store and I left it in their hands.

I figured I could live without a machine for a few days (I was promised a quick turnaround, and it was; I left it with Apple on Wed and the repaired machine was delivered to me in Duluth two days later, Aug 2). As it turned out, however, my hard drive was wiped clean. Ugh. While I haven't lost anything (good), that doesn't mean everything is organized and accessible. 

After spending a couple days reinstalling programs and records from my backup external hard drive, I began facing the nightmare of reorganizing my email files. I have over 70,000 records and while all of that is backed up on gmail, it arrived in my laptop unsorted, excepting by date. That many unsorted records are not particularly useful, so I began the incredibly tedious task of reestablishing my filing system (I have over 200 categories). I have now devoted more than 30 hours to this task and I'm about half done. If this sounds like something akin to cleaning out the Augean Stables, then you're getting the right idea.

On top of everything else, I couldn't remember the password to my blog. After establishing the account when it was opened back in 2007, my machine simply remembered the password and I was signed in automatically whenever I visited the site (who needs to remember a password to a site I visit constantly?). Now, however, I had a stupid machine that required remedial attention.

Once again, a friend rescued me. This time it was Tony Sirna, who originally set up my blog account 12 years ago. He did a little noodling and figured out how I could get recognized as an author again, and not merely as a visitor. Whew.

Another few weeks and I'll just about be back to even. I'm looking forward to it.

Like Daughter, Like Dad

OK, I know this is going to come across as fairly geeky, but hey, I was a math major.

Playing with Powers
Tomorrow, my daughter, Jo, will turn 27. Not only is that the bloom of life, but it's three cubed. While novel in and of itself, what caught my attention is that I'm four cubed (64 if you're scoring at home). I realize, of course, that it's not particularly difficult to have a parent who was 37 when their child was born, but think about it. Realistically, this is the only dual-cubed parent-child linkage that is likely without raising eyebrows.

Sure, I could be one of those older guys who just can't stop breeding (think David Letterman) and be 64 when my child was eight (two cubed), or an undisciplined teenager who got their family started right out of the box at the testosterone-enriched age of 19 (resulting in dad being only 27 when their offspring turned eight).

Powerful Playing
While you may think that math oddities are not a particularly loving or respectful way to celebrate the anniversary of my daughter's nativity, you'd be wrong. In addition to being related by blood, Jo and I share a geeky fascination with board games. (While I know that equates to "bored games" to many, not so with us.) In fact, she has boardgamegeek.com bookmarked on her laptop. 

Let me put this in perspective. Last month I spent a week in Guelph ON doing some consulting with forming communities and attending a four-day conference in nearby Kitchener. Because the conference ended too late for me to catch the once-a-day bus to Ann Arbor MI, I had a leisurely last evening with Derek, who was my concierge and chauffeur all week.

While I put a pork roast in a crock pot with vegetables for dinner—cooking for a group is an excellent way for me to relax—Derek rustled up some friends to come over for board games after I assured him that I thought I could hang with his crowd. After dinner five of us settled on a game of Puerto Rico, which is one of the first excellent no-dice games. It was released in 2002 and nominated for the coveted Spiel des Jahres Award (Game of the Year in Germany). Twelve years old—which is long in the tooth for board games—it's holding steady as the #2 rated game at boardgamegeek.com.

Having played before, I adopted the high-income strategy, emphasizing tobacco and sugar (which allowed me to buy the best buildings) and I cruised to victory with 25% more victory points than the person in second. In contrast, when I play with Jo and Peter (my son-in-law), I'm lucky if I win one time in three. When it comes to board games, I live in a tough family.

Additional Power Plays
While it would have been enough that July 23 is Jo's birthday, there's more. I learned Sunday that my good friend, Jennifer, has a daughter Cynder, who'll turn 16 tomorrow (which, of course, is two to the fourth). In turn, that reminded me that for five months last winter I was 64 (eight squared) while my stepson, Jibran, was 16 (four squared). Pretty powerful stuff, eh?

 

Finally, on a less quirky note, Dancing Rabbit founders Tony Sirna and Rachel Katz will be leaving the community tomorrow to begin an indefinite leave of absence. As the last two standing since their land purchase in 1997, it's a fairly big deal. Last night the community celebrated their inestimable contributions with an appreciation evening, which included oral testimonials, the presentation of a book of written memories, a puppet show, cupcakes, and a dance party. (Isn't that just about the best way to be sent off with love?)

Here was the tribute I gave Tony:

This last May I got my 40-years-in-the-wildeness-of-community-living pin. While that’s a long road, for the last half of that journey I’ve been walking with you, Tony. That’s two decades. Frequently enough, we were in the same room.

I remember your first FIC meetings at Christ Church of the Golden Rule in fall 1995, where you helped staff the Community Bookshelf table. I remember visiting the Dancing Rabbit House that you rented on Prince St in Berkeley near the Ashby BART, before you started your cross-country land search. I remember facilitating the where-will-we-buy-land meetings on Sandhill’s front porch with Rachel, Cecil, Aaron, and Halley. We go back a long ways.

You have been a precious friend because, like me, you are a community builder, you've always been able to see the big picture, and you’re not afraid of the fire. We both know what it’s like to be heart sore about our community, and to come to grips with the painful decision to leave it.

I appreciate you as someone willing to trail blaze as a leader in cooperative culture, as someone who emphasized social change work ahead of income production, and as someone who was a good friend in a storm—and we’ve seen plenty of heavy seas together. You were at both of my weddings to Ma’ikwe: the first one seven years ago and the one last week.

While I’m sad you’re moving away, I don’t expect to lose our special connection. From now forward we’ll just have to substitute quality for a paucity of opportunity.

Whatever is next, Tony, my heart goes with you.

No matter how you slice it, July 23 is setting up to be a powerful day.

Setting the Right Tony

 

Last weekend, at FIC's spring organizational meetings in Prescott AZ, Tony Sirna (leaning against the railing in the middle of the image above, schmoozing with Amanda Creighton and Jack Strasburg) declined to re-up for another three-year Board term. 

That means that at our next set of organizational meetings this fall, we will not have Tony in the room for the first time since the spring of 1995. Tony was only 23 years old when he showed up for his first organizational meeting, and served as a volunteer to help keep track of book sales. At the time, his forming community, Dancing Rabbit, was renting a house in Berkeley and was still two years away from buying land in northeast Missouri. Yikes! 

While 17 years on the Board makes him second only to Harvey Baker for the obscure honor of most years in harness, Tony will be sorely missed for much more than his trenchant and insightful comments about Board matters. Though the camera caught him in an uncovered moment above, Tony has worn so many FIC hats over the years that he's rubbed his pate smooth in the steady need to shifting chapeaus—all of which bear feathers marking his estimable contributions. Here are some highlights:

o  Finance Manager
Right from the beginning of his tenure, Tony labored to put our financial house in order, computerizing our accounting system (using QuickBooks) and establishing a standard for financial reporting and concise analysis that we've relied on ever since. While this skill is not rare, FIC finances are complex and the organization faces the unenviable task of filling rather large shoes in manifesting a new CFO of comparable quality.

o  Web Manager
From the standpoint of hours spent in devotion to the cause, by far the largest claim on Tony's FIC time has been as manager of our family of websites. This work was pioneered by Elph Morgan & Jillian Downey (who were prescient enough about the future importance of web-based services to have secured a two-letter domain name for FIC in 1994) and Tony took over the helm from them around 2001-02. He managed this crucial area for a decade, until he handed over the wheel to Susan Sloan last year.

Under Tony's guidance, the web became the #1 medium for public interface with FIC, and he oversaw the release, in 2004, of our Directory of intentional communities as a free, searchable, online database (which is currently viewed by more than 2000 unique visitors every day, each requesting an average of seven pages). We now have a team of four people trying to replace him.

o  Communities Directory Editor
Twice Tony served as Managing Editor of the book version of Communities Directory (for the 2005 and 2007 editions), and he was the main technical support for the 2010 effort as well. Each book takes more than a year to produce and represents a massive logistical effort—not the least of which is determining with sensitivity what it means when a group does not respond to our invitation to update or affirm the accuracy of their old listing.

Silence can mean many things. Is the group dead, dying, disbanded, dispirited (tired of responding to naive inquiries from strangers), distracted, disorganized (no one left who has the energy to respond to inquiries), demonized (by a wider society that doesn't understand or approve of their choices, causing them to hunker down and drop below the radar), disgruntled, defensive (weary of being misunderstood), demonstrably happy (and not looking for new members or attention), or just plain dumb (as in not speaking)? Who can be sure if they even received the message? I'm telling you, it's a booger.

o  ERB Member
Tony served steadfastly as a member of our three-person Editorial Review Board from 2000 to 2012. This group mainly labors behind the scenes to make sure there isn't a scene when something goes out in public under our flag. Think of it as a group of firefighters who typically doesn't get called in unless something heats up. Occasionally it means putting out a fire, though more often it's to advise on the least incendiary way to proceed without smothering information.

FIC does not try to duck controversy, yet neither does it try to court it. The ERB is asked to safeguard the FIC's core value of promoting cooperative culture while being even-handed in collecting and displaying information about what group's stand for. It's a dance between transparency and discretion and it doesn't mean everyone will like your moves.

• • •

Now take into account that everything that Tony did above was a sideline. By far, his main work the last 17 years has been to create and nurture the development of Dancing Rabbit. In fact, he's stepping down now from active Fellowship involvement not because he no longer cares about our mission, or is too old to do the work (he'll only be 41 in May); rather it's because DR is at a crucial stage in its development as a model ecovillage, and he wants to give all of his attention to the attempt to successfully navigate the difficult transition from cohesive community to thriving, eclectic village.

Understandably, Tony wants Dancing Rabbit to make a difference in the world and he sees the potential of offering an example of how to create sustainable, village-scale culture from scratch that doesn't rely on residents having at least a six-digit grubstake to get in the door. He's reaching for a large and lofty goal and I wholly support him in that effort.

Make no mistake about it, DR is an important experiment and I fully respect Tony's choice—even as I'm personally disappointed to lose my friend as an active partner in the Fellowship's equally important mission to foster the development of cooperative culture.

One the most amazing things about Tony is his commitment to trying to be an example of healthy leadership in a cooperative setting. He's exceptionally talented in the art of making complex topics accessible to a lay audience. He listens carefully, has the emotional capacity to work sensitively in the presence of strong energy, is brilliant at balancing perspectives, and has his ego firmly under control. He works tirelessly backstage to address concerns and open up the flower of dialog that would generally be too delicate to withstand the harsh light of plenary debate. In short, Tony gives way more than he takes, and most people know only a fraction of what he does. 

While he's mostly respected and beloved at home, that attitude is not universal and he fields a near-constant stream of minority criticism as a powerful person who's motivations for being such are considered prima facie evidence of poor ego management. (Unfortunately, we have a long way to go yet in understanding the healthy uses of power and leadership in cooperative culture, and the pathfinders in this effort are taking a lot of arrows.)

For all of the laurels I've heaped upon Tony's bald head, he isn't Superman. He can be broody, and is often impatient with slow thinkers, victims, the short-sighted, & whiners. He fidgets in meetings that aren't moving productively, and tends to keep a lid on his emotional reactions until they boil over (which is no fun to be scalded by). Still, taken all together, I think Tony is as good an example I know of someone who has devoted himself to positive social change and cooperative leadership without taking his foot off the gas. The world needs a lot more Tonys and I'm proud to have him as a friend and confidant.

While I'll miss him in FIC, there's no need to close the door on the possibility of his returning down the road, and I have every confidence that I'll meanwhile still have access to my compatriot for informal consultation.

I take solace in the fact that: a) Tony lives only three miles away from me at Sandhill; b) I visit DR a lot because my wife, Ma'ikwe, lives there; and c) we're in the process of raising money to build a permanent FIC Green Office on the second story of Dancing Rabbit's new common house. Thus, I prefer to view this change in Tony's relationship to FIC as a shift more than a departure. 

It's all about setting the right tone Tony.

For Whom Laird's Bell Tolls

Wringing meaning from my blog postings is not necessary a pealing to all.

Stephan Wik, a friend in Ireland, sent me this message yesterday:
I always make time to read your blog as I find your insights useful and, for the most part, concise. Thanks for the hard work you put into them.

I'm writing to make a small suggestion. I'm not sure how much exposure you've had to non-US audiences, and I haven't seen anything in your writings that indicate you are interested in communicating with the rest of the world outside the US. If you are however, you may wish to consider replacing some of your idioms with more generally understandable expressions. Even I, a native English speaker with an American mother, find that at times I struggle to understand what you are trying to convey.

Here are some examples from your latest blog:

"Hot dog" (does this mean you are excited?)

"all sulfur and no molasses" (no idea what this means)

"This is a combo characteristic" (a combination characteristic? What does that mean?)

"I reckon" (I believe this is used in the Deep South of the US to mean 'I understand'?)

In a spirit of international understanding,
Stephan

While I'm all in favor of international understanding—and am happy to hear from readers about their reactions to my postings—this is not a simple request. Stephan is quite right to point out that my writing is full of idioms (as well as replete with metaphors and ripe with analogies). Thus, there are times (a handful of which Stephan has enumerated above) when my attempt to be breezy and eclectic comes across as an odd wind, blowing the meaning out of reach. Oops. In an effort to stretch the language (intentional) I accidentally poke a hole in the envelope, and the meaning leaks out.

"All sulfur and no molasses" is an excellent example of this. It's an old expression dating back to the early days of medicine when lay doctors would offer doses of sulfur as a general curative (think of it as a crude forerunner of sulfa drugs). However, because it tasted so awful (think rotten eggs) it was common to offer the patient two tablespoons of molasses (a ubiquitous backwoods sweetener) for every one of sulfur. It was thus an old-fashioned "good and bad" kind of thing that I resuscitated in reference to cooperative groups that offer leaders criticism (sulfur) out of proportion to compliments (molasses).

Rather than eschewing obscure, but apt phrases, I like bringing them down from the attic, dusting them off, and giving them some sunshine.

The fact is, I enjoy playing with the words as much as I enjoy working with the words. While I'm not intending obfuscation, I do intend to entertain as well as elucidate; I strive to enrich and at the same time elongate.

In short, I don't lay up—I always go for the green (golf metaphor). As a process consultant, there is no meeting so complex or volatile that I don't think I can handle the dynamics; there is no knot I don't think I can untie. Even though I sometimes fail to make the jump and land in the mud (even spectacularly), I just get back in the saddle, besmirched clothes and all, and try to make the jump the next time it's in my path.

My friend (and main tech support), Tony Sirna, has advised me that my blog entries would be much more accessible (not to mention better read) if I placed key words in the titles, or even just used titles that stated directly what the topic would be. But how boring is that?

My understanding is that contemporary newspapers are written to be understood with an eighth grade vocabulary. I'm aiming higher—at least for college freshman level. While this sometimes means I'll miss my mark—and Stephan is quite right to point this out—reaching for a simile that puts a smile on reader's lips is an irresistible temptation.

Ask not whom Laird has told; for if you read my blog, then I have toiled for thee.

More on Managing Management

Continuing the conversation I wrote about Monday, Tony Sirna came back with the following:

I wrote:
I’d define good (or effective) management pretty much the same way whether the group is using consensus, voting, ouija boards, or do-whatever-Ralph-says.

Tony responded:
While I agree, I think the interesting question is in the edge effects. The middle management might be the same, but I think the relation of CEO to shareholder is very different from Executive Director to members which is different from that of president to voting public.

While I agree that the relationships are quite different in the three diverse examples Tony cites above, I don't think what defines good management changes. That is, the answers to the laundry list I posted under the heading "Effective delegation requires clear mandates" might change significantly, but the questions don't change.

Tony continued:
At DR I’m most curious about how to deal with that relationship—between top level managers and the group, or alternately how the group can function as a good manager.

My shoot-from-the-hip response is to insist on clear mandates, so that the relationships and expectations are well defined. As a process consultant I work with many cooperative groups and, overwhelmingly, there is a marked tendency to be sloppy about crafting clear mandates for managers and committees, trusting (naively) that good intent will be an adequate substitute for comprehensive thinking. While I'm not sure this is a problem at Dancing Rabbit (I haven't seen their authorizing agreements), I am aware that they have a level of sophistication in how subgroups are categorized regarding their authority to act, and I'd like to bring that into the conversation as I widen my answer.

Jacob Corvidae (an ex-DR member and regular contributor to the Sky Talk blog) laid it out well in the thread he added to this conversation on Tuesday:

I dug up a common business concept (which I first learned from you, Tony) of defining levels of delegation. My paraphrase of it looks like this:

Level 1 – The Report:
Look into the matter, gather information and options, and report back.

Level 2 – The Recommendation:
Look into the matters, gather information and options, identify possibly actions with pros and cons and recommend one of them.

Level 3 – The Action Plan:
Decide the best course of action and make a plan to implement it. Then get the plan approved before starting.

Level 4 – Make the Decision:
Decide and take action, but report on progress and the plan along the way.

Level 5 – Full Delegation:
Go do it and report back only if something unexpected happens.

Several ideas are used around these levels of delegation. The first is that they simply help clarify to everyone involved what’s expected. That’s an important first step in avoiding future problems.

My understanding is that all managers and committees at DR are assigned a level of authority along the lines of the five enumerated above. Essentially, they choose from this menu when addressing the specific question in my mandate template that reads: "What are the limits of their authority to act on behalf of the group? (Put another way, when can they act on their own and when do they need to consult?)"

While I think it's terrific that they've developed this concept of authority levels (which simplifies a complex field—range of authority—making it easier to grasp), I'm concerned that a given manager or committee might simply be assigned one level to cover everything they do. If that's what DR is doing (and I'm not sure it is), it can't be right. Better, I think, would be to walk through each responsibility assigned to that manager (the detailed answer to my question "What is the manager expected to accomplish?") and assign a distinctive authority level to that manager for that responsibility. Thus, the Pet Committee might have Level 4 authority to confine roaming cats indoors during bird nesting season, yet have only Level 2 authority to establish policy regarding pet armadillos (which exotic thing, blessedly, has not yet occurred).

Jacob further wrote:
Other business folks use it as a progressive path for empowerment. In other words, you should never start with delegating at levels 3, 4 or 5 for a new person or committee or when someone’s taking on a significantly new role. Rather, each level builds on the other, and a good manager has to check the skill level and match it with expectations before moving on to the next.

While I like the idea of a pathway to earning the group's trust, I don't agree that you can't start new managers or new committees with high levels of authority. It depends on how clearly the mandate is established, your assessment of competency, and your sense of what degree of nuance and familiarity with the group's culture is needed in order to function well. If you hire a new CPA to handle your accounting, you can be damn sure you'll want that person to have Level 5 authority over ledger entries (though, of course, you may only extend Level 2 authority to them with regard to budget recommendations).

But let's get back to Tony's second question. Reading between the lines, I imagine that Tony's main concern is that top managers must wrestle with how much information to share with the group, when to consult before acting, and when to simply go ahead, even when the expectations in that regard have been spelled out. I suspect that Tony's worrying about the tension between a steady demand for a more streamlined governance process (read wanting fewer meetings, and thus being willing to assign higher authority levels to top managers) and members' expectations that if they complain about something they don't like that it will get addressed (read uneasiness about getting steamrollered by bureaucracy, and thus cautious about advancing authority levels too far).

While I may or may not be reading Tony's concern accurately, I think there's a definite issue of how to avoid a concomitant rise in us/them dynamics as the group steadily increases in size—which is the express path that DR is on. Put another way, how does a group intelligently minimize grumbling about what "they" are doing when members complain about the actions taken by top management?

I believe there is a five-part strategy (If you like the metaphor of five fingers on a helping hand, I invite you to envision an open palm, not a fist):

1) Insist on clear mandates (which I've spelled out in my previous blog).

2) Insist on good reporting (there's an strong link between access to accurate information and trust; if good information is not readily available, eventually, neither will trust be readily available).

3) Delegate the highest authority levels you can stand (if your mandate and reporting standards are high, you can do a lot with this, minimizing the needed for plenaries). Hint: for this strategy to work well, the group has to be disciplined about honoring the work of the managers when they operate within their mandates. If you don't like something they did, yet they stayed within the traces, don't be an ass and ream them out in plenary. Have a private conversation where you share your opinion while recognizing that they had the right to act as they did, and then move on.

4) Insist on regular evaluations of managers and committees, which should absolutely include appreciations as well as any critical feedback (I spelled this out in my previous blog, where I laid out the value of attending to minor irritations as a prophylactic against sepsis).

5) Educate the membership on the balance needed between rights and responsibilities. Thus, each member does have the right for their voice to be heard on community issues. However, that right is inexorably linked with honoring the process the group establishes for how to contribute respectfully and effectively. Members who wish for their opinions to count have the responsibility to read the minutes, go to the relevant committee meetings, add their input in a timely manner, and contribute constructively (not obstructively). Skipping all the preliminary meetings, not reading the minutes, and then bursting into the final plenary with guns blazing to shoot down the proposal at the last minute is not cool. Independent of whether the complaint is based on sound thinking, it trashes the group's process and undermines the system of governance. Don't be that person!

What I'm talking about here is developing a community-wide culture where there's definition about what it means to be a good citizen. It's an important conversation.

Managing Management

My friend Tony Sirna sent me an email this morning, asking for my reflections on a blog he just posted on "How Do We Define Good Governance." After reading it just now, I realized my response would make a delightful subject for my blog (I reckon it's a milestone of some sort that, for the first time, I'm blogging about someone else's blog—I'm sure it's a slope of no small slipperiness, but hell, you take inspiration where you find it... )

Tony lives at Dancing Rabbit, a 12-year-old ecovillage located three miles from my home at Sandhill Farm. They have a population of about 50 right now, merrily on their way to manifesting their vision of being a village of 500+. Among other issues, such as roads and waste water management, increased size puts a strain on their governance system. Up until now, they've been using consensus, yet there are grumblings about the cumbersomeness of the process. Their annual retreat is coming up the next two weekends and one of the major topics they'll tackle is whether or not to overhaul their governance system. Quite reasonably, DR is not just looking for a band-aid solution; they're trying to look ahead and anticipate what kind of system will work well for the community when its population swells into the hundreds.

In Tony's blog, he identifies the demand for greater ease of delegation and more streamlined management as a key impetus for reviewing DR's decision-making process. Springboarding off this, he focuses on the question of what constitutes "good" management. In consensus, he postulates that managers are making good decisions when they are the same ones that would have resulted from the matter being carefully considered by the full group. He also has a thoughtful analysis of how effective managers must balance the impact of their decisions on the whole group, with the effect on the staff or team who work under their managership. (While you might wish that these two sets have the same interests, Tony properly points out that it ain't necessarily so).

Tony further explores the "inertia factor" which takes into account that it's too much trouble (in terms of both time and morale) to call attention to every decision a manger makes that seems somewhat "off." Thus, beyond the ideal decision (to the extent that's knowable), the group needs to wrestles with what's good enough.

So here are my reflections on good management:
1. For the most part, I don't think the answer here depends much on what form of of decision-making is used. That is, I'd define good (or effective) management pretty much the same way whether the group is using consensus, voting, ouija boards, or do-whatever-Ralph-says. While I understand that there are very different power gradients in different forms of decision-making, I've come to believe that the most effective management always attempts to balance the impact of actions on the whole system.

If you buy this, then it follows that the issue of good management is more or less independent of the decision-making process. So, my advice to Tony is that you can tackle the question of good management and delegation first, and then consider whether the answers you come up with best fit within a continuation of consensus or something else.

2. In addition to the factors that Tony enumerated, I want to add some more. [Although I will use the term "manager" below, my comments apply equally to individuals who are designated as managers, and to groups who are identified as teams or committees.]

o Good managers are accessible. This flower has a number of petals:
—Ease of getting information from them (this is both about gracefully and promptly answering questions—even the stupid ones—and the degree to which they offer a clear rationale for their actions).
—Ease of their receiving information and concerns about the issues touching their area of responsibility.
—Their relative openness to receiving critical feedback. (I'm not talking about their agreeing with the feedback; only their ability to demonstrate that they've heard it accurately and are thankful for having been told.)

o Effective delegation requires clear mandates. That is, managers need to know a number of things in order to do a bang up job, including:
—What is the manager expected to accomplish (and how will success to measured)?
—Are there deadlines for when things need to be done?
—What resources will be made available to accomplish the work (money, labor, and access to equipment and facilities)?
—What are the limits of their authority to act on behalf of the group? (Put another way, when can they do on their own and when do they need to consult?)
—What are the factors they are expected to weigh in making decisions? (The simple answer may be the group's explicit common values, but there are subtleties here about additional factors that may be peculiar to that managership.)
—What are the expectations, if any, around collaborating with other managers?
—What are the reporting standards?
—To what extent can the manager self-govern (conversely, to what extent is the manager expected to act in a way that is consistent with the culture and precedents of the whole group)?
—Are there limits on how the manager selects people to work in their area?

o Effective delegation goes hand in hand with effective evaluation. How will managers be reviewed, both in terms of how well they're fulfilling their mandate, and in terms how good the mandate is. It's rare in my experience to find a group that does this well. Think of it like getting your teeth cleaned at the dentist. If you skip that regular chore, there tends to be a build-up of plaque that can lead to serious consequences. If you don't periodically clear the air, it leads to pockets of unresolved grousing and undermined trust in the manager (as well as in the system that paced that person there). Yuck!

o Cooperative groups have trouble appreciating managers in proportion to criticizing them. Where successful managers in the capitalistic mainstream get rewarded with bonuses, new cars, and an office with a corner window, in cooperative groups managers typically are rewarded with little more than the opportunity to serve and an occasional attaboy. If DR wants to have enough good managers to cover their bases (and I'm sure they do), they'll be wise to develop a culture that regularly appreciates good managers. Hint: In an ecovillage bent on pioneering a model of sustainable culture, this may require some creative thinking about what coin appreciation can be paid in.

o Great managers see ahead of the curve. While you can be a good manager without this quality, great ones bring up important issues and focus resources on their consideration before an opportunity is lost (or before a crisis has arrived). They inspire the group (or at least their staff) to see a bigger picture and to dream beyond the current reality. One of the insidious aspects of consensus is its conservative nature, which tends to punish initiative more than reward it. That is, leaders will not tend to be criticized for work done diligently to improve the seaworthiness of the boat the group is in, but they can count on incoming arrows whenever they propose abandoning the current, familiar craft in exchange for a different vessel, the better to weather the seas ahead. And the further ahead the storm, the greater the resistance to changing ships.

For my money, this is perhaps the largest governance conundrum that DR faces. While it is still pioneering a new culture, it is no longer just attracting pioneers. Twelve years into the experiment, many of the folks coming these days are settlers, who are happy to live a life based on what is, rather than on what might yet be built. This will act as a brake on dynamic managers unless great care is taken to make clear how their dynamism serves the group—both now and in the future. Tony wrote about the need to give managers some latitude to do things their way as part of the equation in keeping everyone reasonably happy (that is, it will not work if the concept of Servant Leader gets translated into Manager Slave, where it is all responsibility and no room for individual expression—just have a seat here on this bench and keep pulling on that oar until you drop).

It's tremendously exciting to have this grand experiment in sustainable governance unfold just three miles down the road. I can't wait to see how it turns out.

Consensus of Opinion

Are you familiar with that phrase? I am.

When I was a child, my parents used to drum into my head the redundancy of the expression consensus of opinion (if you ever wondered where my snobbery with words originated, look no further). What else, they reasoned, could a "consensus" refer to, except a collection of viewpoints held in common?

Today, however, I want to lament the lack of consensus about the meaning of the word consensus, about which I have a definite opinion. My friend Tony Sirna suggested this topic in an email yesterday:

"As the Senate now considers 60 votes needed to pass health care, if the Democrats just forget about the Republicans, then the Democrats essentially need to come to consensus (or at least unanimity) to pass health care.
It's interesting to see how they are stumbling through that process and how up in arms people get about the notion of one person blocking things.
It would be interesting to talk about how this is and is not like consensus."

As this topic appeals to me, here are my thoughts:

The Definitions
Consensus has two main meanings, which unfortunately have a tendency to overlap, fostering confusion: a) it is a specific decision-making process; and b) it refers to a preponderance of people holding a similar viewpoint, which can (sadly, because of the imprecision) mean anything from a bare majority to a unanimous opinion.

The former definition has a couple of roots. The dominant one in US culture is from the meeting practices developed by the Religious Society of Friends, or Quakers. The lesser known one is from certain Native American tribes, particularly those comprising the Iroquois Confederation. In the '60s, the Philadelphia-based Movement for a New Society pioneered a secularized version of consensus as a decision-making process, adapting the Quaker practice for use in the realm of political activism. Today, consensus, in one form or another, is the most common mode of decision-making adopted by intentional communities. Mind you, I didn't say it was well understood, or widely practiced with consummate skill; only that is was used a lot.

While there are a number of versions of consensus practiced among communities and cooperative groups today (the confusion around which has substantially contributed to my workload as a process consultant), it is clearly understood that agreements cannot be reached if there is any member—even one—standing in the way of a proposal. This is referred to as blocking. While I'm constantly amazed at how many groups blithely opt for consensus as their decision-making process without any attempt to learn what it is beyond reading a book or hearing someone describe it once, there's no question that it's a popular choice among groups determined to find a more cooperative method for reaching agreements.

The latter definition is used to indicate which way the wind is blowing when focusing on a particular issue. It is commonly pressed into service to describe the position currently favored in a political analysis and is scale independent (that is, it's just as likely to be used to label a dominant position at a PTA meeting as a position in the US Senate, as Tony did above). While consensus, when used in this sense, often has a flavor of "a strong or overwhelming majority" (as in votes to burn), that is not always the case, contributing merrily to the obfuscation.

The overlap of these two definitions is that they can both be employed to describe a situation where people are trying to decide what to do, and both are associated with the "winning" position. If the process of decision-making is consensus, then the term refers to the absence of any principled objection. If the process is voting (a la the US Senate), then consensus refers to having secured enough votes to win. In both cases, consensus refers to there being sufficient agreement to determine the outcome.

The Confusion
This similarity of definitions and overlap of usage leads to considerable mischief. Because the cultures in which consensus (the decision-making process) and voting are designed to operate are as different as night and day, when a person speaks of "forging a consensus" the implications are wholly dependent on the context.

In consensus, agreement is ideally built by a process that fosters curiosity, compassion, and creativity. In voting, agreement is reached through a process of coalition-building, compromise, and calculation (often augmented by combativeness, concessions, and control). Now, finally, we are getting to the point Tony was raising about the quality of the Senate's machinations regarding the health care bill.

Note how difficult (schizophrenic?) it would be for the Democrats to apply the culture of consensus to forge agreement on their position, only to turn around and apply the power of that agreement in order to win the vote, which decision resides firmly in the other paradigm and is the one they're deeply steeped in. (It generates the kind of brain-freeze headache you get from eating ice cream too fast.) It is all the more improbable (though the goddess only knows our society needs this kind of cultural change) that Senators would embrace the culture of consensus in that they were elected by succeeding at electoral politics. While there are historic examples of people who had epiphanies about the way they conducted business after they ascended to power, they are scarcer than potato seed and I'm not holding my breath waiting for consensus conversations among the US Senate.

When Obama opted during the 2008 election campaign to promote an image as someone who could work both sides of the aisle, he was essentially claiming the ability to use the process of consensus to get things done in Washington without the divisiveness of politics as usual. It is instructive that this message helped to get him elected, yet hard-boiled political professionals are now using this claim against him, as a sign of his weakness and a wishy-washy nature—something not admired or deemed effective in the culture of voting, where the preemptive strike is applauded, and curiosity is spun as indecisiveness and looked upon with scorn.

Note further how ridiculous it is to talk about one or two Democrats "blocking" a unified party position when there are 40 Republicans poised to join them in voting against the health care bill. This kind of high-level posturing is the ponderous dance of the political pachyderms, and there is no lightfootedness or what's-best-for the-country nonpartisan thinking about it—however much breast-beating there is to the contrary.

The Conclusion
I believe that if we want politicians to operate from the culture of consensus, then we'll have to find a way to build neighborhoods and cities that operate from that culture, and then insist that we have representatives just like us. Can I get consensus about that?

Birthday Surprises

I'm not typically big on birthdays. This year, however, I may not have a choice.

In two days I'll turn 60, and Ma'ikwe has been plotting for months about how that should be celebrated. I've been told to keep my schedule completely free from Friday afternoon through Sunday morning—that's about 44 hours worth of surprises. So even if I remain not big on birthdays, I reckon this year my birthday will be big on me. (And I'm fairly confident I'll have some great blog material come Monday morning.)

As I'm not the kind of person who tries to wheedle clues out of people, I truly have no idea what shenanigans my wife is up to. I'm just going to let the Force guide me—and hope it's guiding her as well. My mantra will be WWYD: what would Yoda do?

As it happens, Ma'ikwe turns 40 in early February, which means that no matter how out of control things get over the weekend, I only have to wait a little over three months before I have the chance to get even. (Ma'ikwe is fully aware of this, yet I'm not sure whether that knowledge is injecting some sobriety into her machinations, or egging her on to even greater excess in the hope of enhancing the luster of her own hour(s) in the spotlight of a milestone birthday. As I doubt my wife has ever met a lime she didn't embrace the light from, this could go either way.)

• • •

I just got home yesterday from a week in Colorado, and was eager to spend last night in the same bed with Ma'ikwe, but it was not meant to be. I depart early next Tuesday for the fall FIC organizational meetings (to be held Oct 30-Nov 1 in Berea KY) and I chastely stayed home (I live at Sandhill and Ma'ikwe lives at Dancing Rabbit, three rainy miles away) to compose as many of the five reports that I'm responsible for authoring for the meetings as possible. Whatever I don't accomplish before I enter Ma'ikwe's Birthday Blackout Zone this afternoon will have to be completed Monday.

I might have gotten a few of the reports done while I was in Colorado, but other than treading water in my email In Box, that time was fully subscribed by meetings about cooperative business consulting, and helping a friend rearrange the tables and (deck) chairs among the titanic mess that is her apartment.

I've never seen anyone with such a robust collection of empty boxes—all so that she won't have to spent much time re-manifesting them when she next decides to move. It borders on being a fetish. (Although partially peeved by the problem, I didn't presume to posit the possibility that the proliferation of paraphernalia in her penthouse has produced a predictable pattern that will plausibly precipitate the very peregrination and attendant distress that her procurement of plentiful boxes was meant to be prophylactic against.) I'm telling you, irony is wasted on some people. (While my observations may or may not be illustrative, at least they can be alliterative.)

The way I see it, these boxes—as in mounded so high they rain on your head or grab at your ankles whenever you try to access a shelf or a closet—are manifesting their own destiny and, sooner rather than later, she's gonna move.

For all that though, I had a great three days with my friend. We talked at length about her life choices (she's got to find a way to live in community again—living alone doesn't really work that well for anyone, but especially if you're 67, thrive on collaboration, and are trying to juggle multiple health challenges), we overhauled the furniture and organization of three of the rooms in her apartment (everything but the kitchen and the back hall closet—which has a density and tottering quality reminiscent of the legendary Fibber Magee's closet), and even managed to watch a video each night (making a modest dent in our near-hopeless backlog of Movies We'd Really Like to See).

Those three days were an excellent example of how time with friends is a major quality of life issue. In order to fully enjoy the bounty that close friendships can bring, you have to cultivate the garden of your relationships. That means spending time together where you are not always constrained by the need to be on task. One of the secrets to making my life work is that I've figured out a way to accomplish that despite having a To Do List that never reduces to a single page.

While being on the road more than half the time means I'm often away from my wife and my community (things that go on the debit side), I am richly compensated by getting to do work I love (Benefit #1) with stimulating people (Benefit #2). Less obvious are the ancillary advantages of being able to regularly see friends around the edges of my work, by extending my travel to come early and/or stay late once business has brought me to a location (Benefit #3), and by making the choice to travel by train whenever possible, thereby protecting time for reflection and transition in a life that has otherwise crowded that out (Benefit #4).

So, if you want to spend time with me, you prospects are best if you to come to Sandhill when I'm home (good luck), attend an event I'll be at, or get me work in your area. There are also possibilities if you get married and invite me to your wedding, or arrange to travel with me.

Next Tuesday I'm looking forward to spending the day with Tony Sirna, as we drive together to attend the FIC meetings in Berea. That'll supply us with the luxury of about 560 miles of visiting time. Like Ma'ikwe, Tony lives at Dancing Rabbit. Though he's a close friend and lives in the same building as my wife, we rarely hang out together when we're both in Missouri. Instead—because we're both busy guys—we've gravitated to a friendship that is substantially cultivated during blocks of time spent traveling together, usually en route to Fellowship Board meetings. While that's a somewhat exotic solution, the important thing is that it works.

And in the end, that's all that counts.

This Old House

Two nights ago Ma'ikwe and I got together with a mutual friend (Tony Sirna from Dancing Rabbit) and spent about an hour talking about the weak spots in the foundation of our relationship (see my previous blog of July 29). Tony did a good job of making sure that each of us was heard and helped us identify where to effect repairs. As often happens, shining light in the dark corners helped reduce my fear of disaster, and helped get me out of what John Bunyan styled "the Slough of Despond" in his allegorical novel Pilgrim's Progress.

In fact, we felt solid enough yesterday to spend the whole day together, working on Ma'ikwe's actual house. Just as we're working through some dramatic shifts in our relationship, she's at the point of dramatic changes on the construction site. Almost half of the rafters are up and we nailed up the first purlin as the last act before quitting time. We took receipt of the metal roofing yesterday and with any luck it will all be screwed down within the week. Then it's time for the strawbale infill, taking advantage of the crew of seven friends arriving next Wed from Albuquerque for a week of helping-Ma'ikwe-build-a-house (which is sure to provide the crew with fun answers to the questions they'll get in the fall about how they spent their summer vacation).

• • •

While I'm still nervous about how many shoes are yet to fall (how many more patterns in my behavior Ma'ikwe will reveal are non-trivial irritations), she's clearly aware of my anguish, and has done a great job of steadfastly hanging in there with me. While I'm weighed down by the accumulation of announcements (and especially by those whose delivery has been delayed by months), she feels unburdened and more hopeful. While I'm staggering under the uncertainty of when we'll hit the bottom of the barrel, she's buoyed that we're getting to this level of sharing.

There's a tendency I have that contributes significantly to why these moments are particularly difficult to navigate. When I receive serious feedback (which happened last Tuesday) I want to bore into what I can do on my side of the equation. In an effort to be vigilant against any desire to blame the other person unfairly and deflect responsibility for the part I've played in what's not working, I typically spend a few days concentrating on what I can shift. Instead of examining the other person's options, I focus exclusively on what I can do differently.

Ma'ikwe, understandably, feels left out of this. (She even feels huffy that I'm hogging all the responsibility for what's not working—every couple should have this kind of problem.) Her preference is to tackle problem solving together, after we've jointly come to some agreement about what the problems are and what would constitute acceptable remedies. She was worried about a number of things:
—I might invest considerable effort in trying to make changes that may not be things she wants.
—I may be overreacting, taking a criticism too heavily (while she's feeling relieved to be getting things off her chest, I'm questioning the viability of the relationship).
—I'm not available to help her sort out what she can do differently.
—While I engage in this intense exploration, I'm not available to her; she feels shut out and that's neither connecting nor partnering.

While my Dark Nights (and days) of the Soul tend to be productive periods for me, they're no fun to be around and Ma'ikwe is frustrated with my disappearing act. At least they don't tend to last long—about 2-3 days at the most.

In any event, here's the constructive outcome of our Thursday night house party. Ma'ikwe's willing to look at how she can communicate more directly what's going on for her and what she wants. This will help me be accurate in my responses, and help me undertsand right away when something goes awry.

For my part, I'm going for the trifecta:
a) I'll try not to interrupt, and let her complete full statements before responding or asking a question;

b) I'll try to pause to ask what kind of answer she wants before luanching into the first thing that occurs to me. This last is especially potent in that Ma'ikwe could want any of the following, in any combination:
o A sympathetic ear (no response needed)
o A response on the feeling or heart level (how am I touched by her story)
o Technical advice (about process, content, or both)
o Background information on the topic

When I guess, there's a fair risk of my getting it wrong (and while it takes a bit longer to inquire about what kind of response Ma'ikwe is looking for, she's never had a bad reaction to my asking—which makes it rather embarrassing that it's taken me almost four years to start focusing on asking the question).

c) When we uncover a recurring weakness in the relationship, I'll try to stay in the conversation long enough to get a full sense of what Ma'ikwe considers her part of the dynamic and what she'd like from me (if she knows).

• • •

Building a strong house can be tough work. But living in poorly constructed one is worse. Thankfully, I have a partner who is not afraid of hard work (and can swing a hammer).