Tag: boards

  • What is the board actually here to do?

    What is the board actually here to do?

    Boards can be extraordinarily busy places. There are papers to read, risks to review, performance to scrutinise, decisions to approve and responsibilities that quite rightly need to be discharged.

    A board can do all of those things diligently and still leave a more fundamental question unanswered: What is this board actually here to do?

    Not what does the agenda require of us today. Not what does the governance calendar say we need to cover this quarter. But what does this organisation need from its board, at this particular point in its life?

    That question interests me because boards have limited time and attention. Where they choose to put it matters.

    There is another kind of board work.

    Richard Chait, William Ryan and Barbara Taylor add something I find particularly useful. In Governance as Leadership, written specifically about non-profit boards, they describe three modes of governance: fiduciary, strategic and generative.

    The fiduciary mode is probably the most familiar.

    Are resources being stewarded properly? Are we accountable? Are we acting within the law and true to our mission?

    In strategic mode, the board turns towards direction.

    Where are we going? What are we trying to achieve? What choices do we need to make?

    But their third mode, generative governance, is the one I find especially interesting. Generative work happens earlier. Before deciding what to do, we have to make sense of what is happening.

    What does this situation mean? What are we assuming? What problem are we actually trying to solve? Is there another way of understanding it? What deserves our attention?

    More macro governance, less micro management

    Chait, Ryan and Taylor argue that this kind of thinking is a critical dimension of trusteeship, alongside fiduciary and strategic work. Their broader proposition is for more “macro governance” alongside less micro management.

    For me, that gets close to the particular value a good board can bring.

    A board brings together people who aren’t immersed in the organisation in quite the same way as its executive team. They have different experiences, perspectives and responsibilities. Used well, that distance creates an opportunity to see something differently.

    But only if there is space to use it. If every minute of the meeting is already accounted for by reports, updates and approvals, we shouldn’t be surprised if very little new thinking happens.

    About this Ember.

    Purpose

    Board agendas have a habit of filling themselves. There is always another report to receive, risk to review or decision to approve. All of it can be important.

    Purpose asks us to lift our eyes from the agenda.

    What is this board here to contribute? What can it do that nobody else in the organisation can? What does this organisation need from its board now? And what might we make more space for if we were clearer about the answers?

    Sometimes returning to purpose changes the conversation before it has even begun.

    Purpose might be the Ember you need today. Or perhaps another word will open up something different.

    Take one with you. Turn it over for a while. Notice what it brings to mind.

    Take an Ember
  • What happens when nobody says the difficult thing?

    What happens when nobody says the difficult thing?

    There are meetings where everybody contributes, the agenda is covered and the conversation appears perfectly constructive. And yet something important is missing.

    Perhaps everyone knows the proposed timetable is unrealistic. There is a concern about a decision that nobody quite wants to voice. Two people disagree but carefully talk around the disagreement. Or the person with the most authority has expressed a view early and the rest of the conversation quietly rearranges itself around it.

    Nobody is necessarily being dishonest. Often, people are doing something much more ordinary: working out what is safe, useful or appropriate to say in this particular room.

    For me, this is where facilitation becomes interesting.


    Listening for what isn’t being said.

    When I facilitate a board or leadership team, I’m obviously listening to what people say. But I’m also paying attention to the conversation itself.

    Who speaks first? Who hasn’t spoken? Which subjects generate energy and which make the room go strangely flat? What gets joked away? Where does someone start to say something and then retreat? What does everybody seem to know without anybody actually naming it?

    Sometimes the most useful intervention isn’t another question about the agenda. It’s helping the group notice what’s happening while they’re having the conversation.

    a close up shot of a common heather in bloom

    The facilitator can’t manufacture courage.

    My job isn’t to force people to be brave. It’s to make the conversation that needs to happen a little more possible.

    Sometimes that means slowing things down. Sometimes it means asking the person who has spoken least what they’re noticing. Sometimes it’s reflecting an observation back to the room: “We’ve talked quite a lot about the benefits. I notice we’ve said very little about what might make this fail.”

    And sometimes it means allowing silence to last a few seconds longer than feels comfortable.

    The point isn’t to create disagreement for its own sake. It’s to help the group have more of the conversation it actually needs to have.

    About this Ember.

    Courage

    Courage in a meeting doesn’t always look dramatic.

    It might be saying:

    I’m not sure I agree. There’s something here we haven’t talked about. Can we go back to that? I don’t know.

    Or simply asking the question everyone else has decided not to ask.

    Sometimes a single word is enough to shift how we enter a conversation. Courage might be the Ember you need today. Or perhaps another word will open up something different.

    Take one with you. Turn it over for a while. Notice what it brings to mind, and what changes when you carry it into the next conversation.

    Take an Ember