The Rudy Giuliani Syndrome

Not being a New Yorker, I had never given a lot of thought to what kind of guy, or what kind of mayor, or what kind of politician Rudy Giuliani was -- but 9/11, which for some reason unfathomable to me made him a hero, turned him into a pariah in my book. His sin was his willingness to suspend the law that made him ineligible for re-election so that he might remain in office to see the city through its trauma. I might have been able to forgive him for the show of egotism -- but never for his willingness to flout the law.

I was reminded of this the other day when, paging through a trade association house organ, I noticed its officer roster, and was reminded that this stalwart group unselfishly re-elected themselves in contravention of the association's decades-old policy, enshrined in its bylaws, wherein members of the executive committee "went through the chairs," but could not repeat any, assuring the organization not only of a constant infusion of new energy at the top, but also of a mechanism to encourage ambition among the next generation of leadership.

We might call this the Smoky the Bear syndrome -- only YOU can prevent forest fires. This group persuaded themselves that only they could put out the forest fire that in truth was raging around them. And in fact, they did put out the fire. Trouble is, they have not re-planted the forest But even more important, they have not cleared out the dead wood to make room for new growth.

Now it must be said that I am not a member of this association -- and if the members are willing to stand for it, who am I to complain? Whether it's in our voluntary associations or in public life, we see the results of ignorance and apathy, shrug, and say I don't know and I don't care.

As a believer in term limits in the voluntary sector, I define the job of leadership as being to come in and see what's wrong, fix it, find a successor, and get out of the way. If you can't find a successor, maybe that's a clue to what's wrong!

After the Hiatus

I haven'tosted anything for a while on Bored of Directors, maybe because I got a little bored. I wasn't making any effort to send folks to the site; if anybody was finding it on their own, they weren't commenting; and I realized that I had started the site largely to vent, and I guess I just didn't have much to vent about.

In the past week or so, I've attended a couple of seminars on blogging, and have been impressed by the opportunities the medium affords to be seen and heard, and to be purposeful in the process.

Ergo, I'm adding blogs that will be more specialized and focused, and if they bring me some business or consulting gigs or facilitating gigs, so much the better.

Bored of Directors has tried to cover all kinds of voluntary boards, and has been sort of anonymous. On the first of the new blogs, my identity will be perfectly clear. The new site is Temple Board Authority (templeboardauthority.blogspot.com) and will focus on issues that are central to synagogues, even if not necessarily unique to them. Tune in -- and talk back!

Mixed messages

A few weeks back, I discussed an organization that has suffered a membership drop from 1700 to 1100 over a ten-year but that spent countless hours discussing a membership status that was likely to affect only a handful of people, and even them for only a short time.

I had been and have been fretting about the membership attrition, but even more about my sense that all concerned were in total denial. The leadership if pressed would pass the buck to a vacancy in the Membership Director job (having lived for several years with someone obviously inept) -- and now, having filled the job, with making it her responsibility to reverse the tide.

Comes now the new budget, and lo and behold, the budget projects another 10% membership loss!

Now given my druthers, I'd rather see a budget that lowballs expectations and then exceeds them than one that is wildly optimistic with no plan to jutify the optimism. My guess is that this one was designed by "numbers" people who were trying to be realistic, and without input from "program" people with perhaps a broader vision.

Unfortunately, I won't be at the meeting where the budget is discussed. I suspect that no one will ask for a reconciliation between the money being paid for the membership director, recruitment advertising, etc. and the expectation of failure. We shall see.

Ethical quandary

It has been part of the protocol of every nominating committee on which I have sat, or which I chaired, for the meetings to begin with a reminder that all the discussion of the committee is absolutely confidential.

In a recent instance, the committee was charged with filling 12 spots on the board; 6 more are for appointment by the president. Through an error by the chair, we actually invited 13 for our 12 spots, and the president rescued us (me) from embarrassment by letting our extra be one of her six. She also suggested that we share with her the names we considered seriously that did not make the cut, for her consideration as her five appointees. Mostly from inattention, those names did not get passed along. That is probably NOT the reason that, in the six months since, none of those appointments has been made.

Now, however, the president has asked me to provide our overflow names, which I am frankly not sure I can find. But assuming I am able to put my hands on the missing file -- is providing this information a violation of the confidentiality strictures? My gut says that the spirit of the sharing is benevolent, and therefore it's okay to pass the names along; but a nagging voice says Confidential is confidential. Accordingly, if I find it, I'll pass the list along; but this puts me on record that I was at least sensitive to the issue.

NOTE: As I was brooding about this, I discovered a resource called Non-profit Ethicist, part of Non-Profit Quarterly -- and I also raised the question with their experts. Maybe they've posted a response, but three weeks later, I havne't had a direct response. I also looked, at least in the obviuus places, for the notes that might have had the names of those who didn't make the cut -- no luck. (Or maybe that is luck.) Nor has the pres asked again for the information. So the issue remains, even if the quandary is dormant.

Fiddling while Rome burns

Why do boards spend so much energy on trivia?

One reason is that they don't want to confront the real problems -- because if you do, you're under pressure to find solutions. Dealing with trivia is a form of evasion, or denial.

For example, an organization that over a ten year period suffers a 1/3 membership attrition might focus on why it's happened, or how to reverse it -- instead of appointing an ad hoc committee to study a special status for a handful of people interested in the institution but ineligible for membership.

For example, a board that would rather debate where and when to hold their next meeting than to evaluate whether their program is meeting community needs.

For example, a board that tells management it doesn't want to discuss the attrition of an important market sector (200 customers have voted with their feet) but rather to concentrate on making sure the host hotel delivers room service orders timely (three customers complained that lunch was late).

As one savant put it, most temple boards adopt their annual budgets in July, and then spend the next ten months arguing about expenditures they've already decided on. It's easier to discuss which contractor should fix the sound system than how to engage more congregants in coming to the sanctuary to hear the sound system.

This is part of the same syndrome that causes otherwise intelligent people to check their brains at the door when they enter the meeting room of their volunteer board. (This may relate to equating their governance role here with their management role elsewhere.) As one experienced rabbi said, If the people who serve on temple boards ran their businesses the way they run their temples, they couldn't affort to serve on the temple board!

Standards of behavior

Remember the story about the two classmates who went to work for the same corporation, where one hovered in middle management and the other rose to the top?
When the successful one became a V-P, his friend asked him what his secret had been, and the V-P repled, Whenever we sat in a meeting and heard a stupid idea expressed, we both recognized it for what it was -- and you would exclaim That's bullshit while I would exclaim That's fantastic.

There are lots of reasons at a meeting of a voluntary board for not saying That's bullshit, simple civility being at the top of the list. I served on one board where two very well-meaning directors -- both of whom loved the institution, both of whom served as president -- were constantly bickering and sniping at one another. The tension that was created drove several good people off the board, and made things unpleasant for the rest of us.

I asked a question of a top staff member at a recent meeting -- and his answer was part evasion, part lie. I chose not to confront him or pursue the issue further -- and I believe that I wasn't the only one who recognized the lie. At the same meeting, several comments were made that showed the speakers were in denial of reality. No one challenged their statements, no one said the emperor has no clothes. That included me -- the climate of denial seems so widespread that I thought my trying to provide a reality check would be seen as hostile provocation and would ultimately be counterproductive. So I put myself in the position, since I was unwilling to be part of the solution, of being part of the problem.

In a room full of volunteers, the spirit of Emily Post sits next to the spirit of Robert of the Rules of Order. And Emily guides us, too often, to silence, when we should be saying Bullshit.

Board rotation/term limits

When I was due to become president of my temple board, I made a list of twenty things I wanted to accomplish during my two year tenure. I'm proud to say that eighteen of them happened. One of the two that did not was actually accomplished a few years later -- elimination of the election of honorary directors for life. (Incumbents, including me, were "grandfathered.") But legislated term limits still are not part of the temple's practice.

The connection between the two issues is close but not identical, and depends in part on what constitutes eligibility for the Life Director recognition. At my temple, the position was automatic for past presidents, and had become automatic for anyone who had served seven consecutive 2-year terms. Essentially these HDLs had full board privileges except being elected to office, although there was a requirement that they could not be appointed chairs of standing committees without the unanimous approval of the board.

The presence of a large cadre of HDLs is an assurance that the heavy hand of the past will inhibit change and innovation. Their two mantras are:

1. You can't do that. We've never done it that way.
2. You can't do that. We tried it 20 years ago and it didn't work.

The one plausible argument for extended service is that boards need to have access to institutional history. The two arguments against term limits that I remember hearing in the temple setting were that term limits caused the loss to the temple of good people and that it was not necessary to legislate them, because the Angel of Death would take care of it.

My position has always allowed for the return of a past director after a suitable lapse of time, typically either one year or one term. My HDL friend Ralph would counter this by saying that the interim allowed the individual in question to lose interest or to become engrossed in another organization. Since such people remain eligible to serve on committees and otherwise be involved, I found and find the argument spurious. I equally believe that good people are reluctant to make open-ended commitments. Moreover, well-written bylaws allow extended service for those who are elected to office and "go through the chairs."

My argument for term limits includes the recognition that they are a polite way to get rid of ineffective directors. My friend Sandy counters this by saying that's the job of the nominating committee. While he's right, my experience shows that, in the temple setting, failure to reslate someone eligible for reslating, who has made any kind of effort to participate, almost invariably leads to a departure from the congregation. Temples should not be in the business of repudiating people and/or fomenting membership loss.

I served the statutory number of years on one rotating board, accepted the ""time out," and then accepted the invitation to return. At my first meeting in the new cycle, I found the board discussing the creation of an Honorary Life Director category. When I suggested that the recycling which I exemplified was a better way, one woman, who had come on during my absence, suggested that recycling denied the board the opportunity to recruit young and vibrant people who would make a contribution. I guess I got told! It turned out that the intention was to limit the designation to people who had made truly significant contributions, who had not been and would not become president (which automatically conferred lifetime status), and that there were two specific candidates that the proponents had in mind. When I heard the names, I recognized the merits of so designating them -- and in the years that have followed, the designation has not been abused.

At the end of my second cycle in that organization, I received a call from the nominating committee chair inviting me to become assistant secretary, a title with no work attached, but which would make it possible for me to stay on the board, and then begin a new count as if I had been off the board. Here there was a conflict between my principles and my ego -- and my ego won. The next time around, I was allowed to cycle off, and I admit to a sense of resentment that they did not again invoke the legalism to keep me.


The bottom line: Limit terms. Create mechanisms for extended service. But have everyone play by the same rules - no-one is indispensible.

Career paths

In deciding whether to accept an invitation to serve on a board, many if not most people start by asking, or at least wondering, "Why me?" My guess is that nominating committees will garner a higher acceptance rate when they're prepared to answer that question.

My ego is strong enough that I don't ask that particular question. I assume I've been asked to serve because of my track record in other organizations. I do ask myself two questions, however:

1. Will I be able to have an impact on the deliberations of this board, and the progress of this organization?

2. Will I be able to go "up the ladder" and possibly become president -- and if so, do I want to?

I have to be able to answer the first question with a Yes, but not necessarily the second one. There are some things I'm interested in where the presidency would require both a time commitment and a financial commitment that are beyond my means. When I involve myself with a national or international organization, achieving a committee chairmanship typically fulfills my ambitions. You typically do have to be in some kind of acknowledged leadership role to have an impact and make a difference.

I've seen a lot of organizations that publish a list of what they expect from board members. Relatively few tell board members what they may expect in return. At some point, I'll pontificate at greater length on this point, but the short version is --

a clear understanding of how long I'm enlisting for, an opportunity to rise in responsibility as an expression that there is recognition that I have made a contribution in my prior role, a chance for pesonal growth in the process of growing the organization.

Conflicts of Interest

One of my professional assignments has involved working with a trade show board whose members are nominated by the three trade associations which sponsor the show (and share its surplus revenue -- "profits" is a dirty word in the not-for-profit sector, especially if someone thinks the IRS may be listening. )

Each of the twelve directors comes to the table with a built-in conflict of interest -- because the best interests of the trade show do not necessarily coincide with the best interests of one or more of the three associations and/or the industry function it represents, nor with those of the individual director and his or her company.

Sometimes the line is hard to draw. The event is financed by revenue from exhibitors, and at one time the operative management principle was to minimize costs for the people who were putting up the money. There was consensus that certain investments had to be made to build audience for those exhibitors, or otherwise to invest in the infrastructure. But a potential problem arises when an investment opportunity is declined not on its merits or lack thereof, but to preserve cash and build surplus for distribution to the associations (none of which is able to "make it" without the income stream the show provides). What's more, fewer than 10% of the exhibitors are members of the association which nominally represents them. All hell would break loose if those exhbitors realized that a very substantial percentage of their exhibitor fees are being passed through to associations they couldn't care less about.

The most egregious conflict arises when the interests of a participating company conflict with those of the show. Example: the board member whose company conducts a golf outing at the same time as important ancillary events of the show, thus reducing attendance at those events. Example: the board member who fought against an after-hours industry partyin the exhibit area, , which everyone else agreed would be good for the event, because he might still be conducting business in his space and the music from the party would be a distraction.

Many of the same dynamics apply in the philanthropic sector as well. Generally speaking, trustees at the hospital have no visible conflicts when they have to make policy for serving the sick, and there are no problems for college trustees in making policy for the students. But synagogue trustees are making policy for themselves. They may realize that reserved seats are an anachronism, and they would probably be willing to vote for open seating, as long as their own seats could continue to be reserved.

Serving on a voluntary board is expensive. You give up time, you have expenses in attending meetings beyond anything that may be reimbursed, you are expected to support the cause financially. But creating personal perks beyond those delineated for all board members is not appropriate. Most of us recognize what it's fair to expect by way of "protektzia" -- personal clout -- but there's typically at least one jackass in every crowd.

Presidential power

I served for three years as the board president of a small specialty hospital, and was frequently amazed at the deference I was given by my colleagues, most of whom were both older and richer. (Much of the voluntary sector, leaving aside trade associations and other business-related groups, operates by the Golden Rule -- he who has the gold makes the rule.)

In fact, I used to joke about the limits of presidential power. If I had come to my board and said that our specialty was no longer relevant to the healthcare community, and that we should choose another niche, they would have said that I was closer to the situation than they were and that we should move forward with the transition. If I had recommended replacing the administrator, they would have told me that would create burdens for me, but if I was game to go to it. But if I had recommended that we move our board meetings from Wednesday to Thursday, they would have said, Are you crazy? We've always met on Wednesday!

As it happened, there was a real demonstration of this when the administrator resigned early in my presidency. During the previous gap between administrators -- which had taken place before I was in the leadership core -- the medical director had been given the position of acting executive director during the search -- and the consensus was that it had been a disaster. There was a also a strong consensus that the medical director job needed to be full time, not combined with non-medical administrative resposibilities.

However, the doctor made it clear that he was a candidate for the (combined) executive director job. In consultation with the executive committee, I suggested that he would compromise his candidacy by becoming interim or acting executive director. He was okay with that until I told him that rather than name anyone to an interim post, we were creating an administrative committee on which he would serve along with the comptroller and the HR director. At this, he went ballistic -- not just because of the shared authority, but, I have always suspected, because the comptroller was black and the HR director was a woman. He demanded a meeting with the executive committee, to ask them to over-rule my plan, and I arranged it.

There were two major points in his presentation to the excom:
1. By forcing him into this troika, we would be emasculating him.
2. He did not think he could work under those circumstances, and unless the troika plan was rescinded, he would probably find it necessary to leave.

When we went back into executive session, my colleagues recognized how difficult it would be to keep the hospital running smoothly if we were simultaneously without an executive director and a medical director. They also recognized that the added stresses caused by a dual vacancy would be borne directly by me. The upshot was a decision to let me decide, with the assurance that I would have their full backing and support for either decision.

Well, guys, I told them, here's how I see it: Status quo means emasculating the doctor. Conceding to him means emasculating the president. If I have to decide who gets emasculated, that's an easy one.

P.S. The doctor stayed not only during the search, but for more than a year after the new executive director came on board.

Beginnings

I guess you could say that the disease is hereditary. Both of my parents were organization activists and frequent presidents, so my involvements in some measure can be construed as seeking their approbation. (It should be noted that my brother totally escaped the disease.)

Although I became president of various clubs I belonged to in high school, I did not pursue any kind of college activities in the organizational world. I did become an almost accidental member of the student government, and the equally accidental chair of its committee on student organizations. (Perhaps a harbinger, but not a deep commitment -- I was too square and too centrist for the far-left campus group which had co-opted me to really feel part of things.) The real learning experience came from watching the opposition party fight our initiatives not on their merits or lack thereof, but using a barrage of ploys based on parliamentary procedure. Ever since, I have essentially kept my distance from Robert's Rules.

During the year I spent living with my parents right after college, my dad made one or two mild efforts to interest me in joining his pet organizations, but I resisted for a variety of reasons not germane to this blog. When I left home to return to the big city where I had gone to college, I did have the insight to recognize that I couldn't build my social life around my friends in graduate school, since they would leave and I would stay. I knew I had to transition off the campus and into the community.

I hadn't yet figured out how to do it when I was invited to lunch by the new administrator of a social welfare agency who had come from my home town, and on whose board there my mother had sat. In the course of our get-acquainted conversation, and knowing my parents' track record, he asked what I was doing by way of volunteer activity. When I replied, Nothing, he asked why -- and I said I had never been asked. His reply has stuck with me and guided me for more years than I care to remember -- Where does it say that you have to wait to be asked?

LESSON: Volunteer has two meanings -- 1, you don't get paid for what you do. 2, you raise your hand when the task is presented and take it on.