Power and Love*

Back in May, someone recommended ‘Power and Love‘, a book by Adam Kahane.  I’ve only just got around to reading it – and it was one of the most accessible ‘social change’ books I’ve read.  It’s essentially about balancing ‘Power’ – the drive for self-realization and control-over – with ‘Love’ – the drive for unity and connection.

As Kahane admits, these ideas aren’t new (although he describes new ways of implementing them).  For example, he quotes ‘one of the greatest practitioners of nonviolent social change’, Martin Luther King Jr.: ‘Power without love is reckless and abusive, and love without power is sentimental and anemic’.

Understanding this dynamic is core to nonviolence, and needs to be core to peace and justice work.  I asked one of my interviewees this July about the power dynamic between funders and grantees.  His response was that I had asked a typical Quaker question.  I was surprised – isn’t power something we should all be talking about?  Reading ‘Power and Love’ I remembered how fundamental this understanding is to my way of thinking, and to the way that the Joseph Rowntree Charitable Trust – a Quaker organisation striving for peace and justice – works.

Now, threads linking all this keep appearing, unexpectedly.  Out of the blue I had an email from Linda Mitchell, who works with Mike Love of Together for Peace in Leeds (www.t4p.org.uk).  It was Mike who recommended the book – thanks, Mike.  Then, by chance I met a foundation colleague who’s worked with Adam Kahane’s organisation Reos (www.reospartners.com).  It turned out he has also worked with my South African colleague, the wonderful facilitator Rebecca Freeth – who has also worked with Reos.  In a fortnight’s time, Rebecca will be helping us to run a gathering of grantees, and now I’m looking forward to that event even more.

This week, at a workshop of the European Programme on Integration and Migration EPIM (www.epim.info), I saw how the power-and-love dynamic can play out in a funders’ collaboration.  Grantees value support and direction from funders – as long as it’s done with love, rather than from a ‘power-over’ perspective.  Grant-makers value working closely with grantees – as long as there is honesty and transparency about the power dynamics that exist.  It’s not easy to get right, and partners may sway towards power and then back to love, and back to power again, but when it works great things can happen.

*Adam Kahane (2010) Power and Love Berrett-Koehler Publishers

Frustration (but trying to keep positive)

After an extremely useful day, talking with and learning from Tom David (www.tdavid.net) and with Paul Carroll and his colleague at Ploughshares (www.ploughshares.org) I was looking forward to my last week in the USA, consolidating what I’d gathered there, going through the reports I’d gathered, and doing some real work on the write-up.

It had been an early start and the weather was hotter than most Californians enjoy.  Admittedly I felt tired as I began the journey home: but I didn’t realise how tired until I realised that between airport security and boarding the plane my laptop and I had parted company.  A couple of days, lots of emails and phone calls later, I had to accept that it wasn’t coming back.

With it I lost most of my notes, lots of reports, and quite a lot of analysis.

There was no point in crying, although I felt like it for several days.  Instead I abandoned myself to family time – more cuddling the baby, feeding her family and just hanging out with them generally.  We’ll never enjoy saying goodbye, but by the end of our stay I think we were all saturated with each other’s company.

Trying to look for the positives, it was good to have time for a few other things, including beginning to learn to play my new banjo (a Deeering Goodtime 2, if you’re interested).  Deprived of the reading I’d compiled, and having to resort to paper for note-taking, pushed me to realise that I rely too much on modern technology.  So this was a forceful reminder not only that life isn’t all work – but also of how much I love work: reading, thinking, and putting ideas together.

Now I’m home again – missing little D of course, but very ready to get back to work – although I’m also determined to keep practicing the banjo.

‘I can’t read your mind’

One of the partnerships I am following had a wobbly patch just recently.  The two key partners were tired, a little fed-up.  Temporarily, their joint project felt more challenging than delightful.  For a while, neither partner knew what was needed, for themselves or for each other.  At one point one person said to the other: ‘I can’t read your mind’.

So the partners stepped back briefly from the main task, drafting in other support to keep things going while they checked in with each other.  They took the chance to listen to each other and communicate properly.  It didn’t take long before things back on track.

Or rather, things were more or less back on track. The people involved remained a little wobbly; but they understood more about each other and how to look out for each other.

Actually this was a fairly minor morning episode in the life of a small family, but it reminded me strongly of comments from some people I’ve interviewed, and who’ve responded to my survey.  Communication is key: clarity is essential. We can’t read each others’ minds, even if we want to.  There are tools and techniques to draw on when extra help is needed to re-focus and re-energise the project.

I’m getting especially interested in the practical tools that exist to help us access common-sense approaches.  One very useful (and unusual) resource suggested to me is The partnership analysis tool – by Victoria Health, Australia.  It gives three exercises to work through at different stages of a partnership.  You can download it at: www.vichealth.vic.gov.au/~/media/About%20Us/Attachments/VHP%20part%20toollow%20res.ashx

Nothing is perfect

I was glad to spend time yesterday with Alicia Lara, Vice President, Community Investment at United Way of Greater Los Angeles who shared her extensive experience of partnerships in the philanthropic world. We were intrigued by the unexpected similarities between our organisations.

I’m very grateful to her for handing on a copy of  Elwood Hopkins’ book, ‘Collective Philanthropies: What Grops of Foundaitons Can Do That Individual Funders Cannot’.   I like his clear ramework, suggesting partnerships can be used by grant-makers as a tool for:

- increasing efficiency

- framing comprehensive solutions

- fostering risk-taking

- improving governance

- improving communications and knowledge management

- setting directions

He argues that partnerships are a sign of maturity in the philanthropic world.  Importantly, he acknowledges there is a flip-side.   Alicia – who has worked closely with Elwood – talked about this too.  She reminded me that there are times when the hours and effort required seems too great; when you have to say no and draw back.

We talked too about the challenges for programme officers in managing new projects and partnerships when Chief Executives have great ideas!  It’s always good to meet people like Alicia, who have vision but are not afraid to discuss the lessons we can learn from ‘failures’.

Sharing our resources

Judy and David's balcony - a haven with views of Downtown LA

House-sitting: what a great way of sharing resources, building bridges and living graciously!  We’re house-sitting now, in Los Angeles.  Judy, David and Pau are in Vermont for a fortnight (visiting her brother who has a maple syrup farm – sounds great!).  They wanted somebody to keep an eye on the house and feed the cats, Paco and Eli.  We hope we’re helping them out, but they are helping us more.

That’s because our Los Angeles family’s apartment isn’t big enough for us to stay in.  Four weeks’ of self-catering rent or hotel charges would have been difficult to find  (and who wants to stay in a hotel for that long?).  So when Lauren spotted Judy’s invitation – circulated through a local parents’ support group – we couldn’t believe our luck.  We’ve been able to stay near the new baby, cook, wash clothes, relax, and feel as though we’re really living here. It’s been lovely to learn a little about the artistic, creative hosts we haven’t (yet) met.  And it’s been a treat getting to know the neighbourhood of Los Feliz, which we’d never have found otherwise.

And what about our house, lying empty all these weeks?  An email to friends, passed on to their friends, put us in touch with Rob, Antonia and Frank, temporarily homeless while they try to buy a house.  They’ve moved in for a couple of weeks and it was brilliant to hear that Frank (aged 4) has made a den in the back garden.  Then our fab Ozzy friends Jane and Tanya will be moving in during August, with their Ukeleles – my only regret is not being there for the parties they’ll inevitably throw.

Writing about this reminded me of the phrase in the (Quaker) Advices and Queries: ‘Try to make your home a place of loving friendship and enjoyment, where all who live or visit may find the peace and refreshment of God’s presence.’

Does charity begin at home?  I never liked the phrase much: it seems to assume  that ‘we’ are more important than ‘they’ out there.  And, working in the charity sector, I know how contestable the term ‘charity’ is.  But of course home is a good place to start, not only as a bedrock for our own lives, but also as a place of safety, that we can share with others.

Small but significant partnership

Fynn and Delilah

For prospective and new parents, there is – and should be – a good time of focusing inwards.  For the past week, it’s been amazing to be part of a small, new world.  Delilah and her parents are getting to know each other, working out how to feed and burp and cuddle and sleep.    It’s been wonderful – and emotional and tiring – to share some of this experience.

This is practical partnership with a vengeance.  For Delilah’s mother, the priority is feeding the baby, resting and getting strong again – although we’re all amazed at how strong she has been during and after the birth.  Her father  is concentrating on helping them both stay calm, changing nappies and giving cuddles (and how good he is at that!)  Andi and I – and the other grandparents – have been hovering on the edges, offering meals and encouragement now and again.   Gradually, friends are calling, dropping in, bringing smiles and presents and a sense of normality.

So all of that is a joy, and good to be part of.  But I have to admit that it was surprisingly energising to return yesterday to ‘work’.  Looking again at the notes of some of the interviews I’ve done with people in foundations I’ve been reminded of the rich, practical experiences of partnerships I have to draw on.  Thanks to everyone, too, who has contributed via my online survey (www.surveymonkey.com/s/foundationpartnerships).  And I lugged a heavy folder of articles and reports across the continent, so I’d better get on with reading them now, in spite of the enticing Californian sunshine.

New perspectives

Delilah Norah Prager

Our journey has taken us through amazing places and to meet with diverse people.  Without internet access on the trains, I found myself mulling a range of blog posts.  But all were forgotten on the day we arrived in Los Angeles, when a new girl  arrived  in my life.

Delilah was born eight hours after our Amtrak train rolled, 2 hours late, into Los Angeles Union Station.  She too arrived relatively gently, slowly and quietly.  Since then, to be honest, she’s done little more than sleep and make twitchy faces.  But it goes without saying that she’s the best, most beautiful, feisty and intelligent girl that ever lived.

I have to admit it’s a step-change – seeing a new generation come into the world.  We know we have responsibilities  – presumably, for example, it’ll be up to us to teach her to swear, spit and cheat at cards, as well as to recognise the wild flowers of Britain.  At the same time, after meeting her that first day we didn’t so much as hobble down the street clutching zimmer frames, as skip away with light hearts and broad smiles.  Welcome, lovely Delilah!

Sometimes I just sits

New Mexico from the train

Surely life should include some days like this: not even sitting and thinking, just sitting.  A full day’s travel: hours of plains, mountains, desert and sky.  I barely picked up my book.  Some of the time the view was accented by the Cascades singing cowboy songs on the ipod.  Occasionally I chatted to fellow passengers, or tuned into their intriguing conversations.  My thoughts, if any, were not deep.  Mostly, I just sat.

For the technical record, we left Denver, Colorado at 05:35 – spent five hours on the Greyhound bus to Raton, New Mexico (199 miles) and eleven on Amtrak from Raton to Flagstaff, Arizona (602 miles).  With the hour’s time change we arrived at 21:55.  Phew.

Top of the world

Lake Helene

Amtrak took us, surely if a little slowly, from New York to Washington; to Chicago; and then Denver.  It’s impossible to do more than scratch the surface of a nation in a whistle-stop tour; but there have been highlights and insights.

Washington seemed full of monuments: big buildings, pronouncing the might, and right, of the United States of America.  Ridiculously, I was most impressed by stumbling across the iconic Watergate building down by the Potomac river.  Joined the Quaker Meeting in Dupont Circle on Sunday, in their large, beautifully-maintained Meeting House.

Chicago was tall and shiny – and full of volunteers.  The Youth Hostel has an information desk; Danny showed us around Little Italy, where he spent his childhood; we could have joined three other tours, shared a spaghetti dinner provided by local girl scouts, or enjoyed an international meal.  All of this was on offer, free, just on the day we visited.

By the time we reached Denver, I had – t0 be honest – had enough of cities.  We hired a car and headed for the Rocky Mountain National Park.  Walking, stunning views, scenery, fresh air – I guess I’ll just use the word correctly for once: awesome.  Walking at 12,000 feet above sea level is a little heady, and slow.

If you ever find yourself in the area, stay at Terri Schindel”s Estes Park Hostel (www.estesparkhostel.com).  It’s a home-from-home, with the added entertainment of a bear wandering down the street in the middle of the night.  Terri’s also a textile conservator and teacher, with great stories about her three gruesome years in London in the 1980s!

Today we came back down to Denver, mile-high city, ready to join Amtrak again.  We have to be up early to catch the thru’way coach at 5:30 in the morning – possibly a good thing we won’t be in bed too long, as I think I’ve just spotted a cockroach in our rather down-market hostel room…

Riding the Rails

This is where I have to admit I’m just a little bit of a train geek.  Nothing too serious: but I do love travelling by train, especially along a ‘new’ route.

Last year I signed the 10:10 pledge (www.1010global.org), aiming to cut my carbon emissions by 10% in the coming twelve months.  I’d just flown to Los Angeles and back and didn’t expect to be coming to the US again so soon.  When the opportunity came up, I realised I would have to find another way of travelling.

I would have loved to cross the Atlantic by boat; but the carbon emissions of the big cruise ships (which take a week to cross and support a wasteful lifestyle) are much worse than flying.  But a train journey across the US was a real possibility.  And – I’ll admit it – I have wanted to do this for a long time.

Yesterday we picked up our rail passes at Penn Station, and boarded our first long-distance train, from NYC to Washington .  John Pitt (‘USA by Rail’ – see above) pointed out landmarks: huge iron bridges across the Delaware; an old  Swedish church; stones marking the Mason-Dixon line; woodland surrounding an airport.

This morning, when I told somebody about our journey, their response was ‘ouch!’  – slow, dirty, uncomfortable.  For me it’s the opposite – I can’t imagine a better way of seeing something of this huge country.