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.
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, April 2, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
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.
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.
Friday, March 30, 2007
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.
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.
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