Feeding the Beast

Feeding cake to a hippopotamus.

It’s rare to find an image that so perfectly represents both the delights and the dangers of the consultant’s life, particularly for those of us offering our own artful practice to organisations hungry for new experiences.

It takes a while for organisations to realise that they need what you’ve got: improv, storytelling, visual arts, dance, clowning, poetry, music, ritual, drama, etc. But when it becomes faddish they all want a bit of it, at which point everyone else and their uncle jumps on the bandwagon and claims to be able to provide it.

Actually, what organisations need is not so much the particular artful practice on offer as the creativity and humanity they can bring. At best, they break down conventional barriers and open up communicative spaces where the purposive-rational logic of the system world can be challenged by the social-communitarian values of the life world.

If that happens, then relationships can deepen, profound insights arise, and behaviours change. In fact, I believe that we must engage artfully with the world if we are to extend the scope of our concerns beyond immediate self-interest toward what my friend Richard Olivier calls “planetary purpose.”

But artful practices can be consumed merely as amuse-bouches at the corporate dining table, entertaining flourishes to alleviate the ennui of weary managers. And at worst, they can be used cynically to further reprehensible or morally dubious ends, or to “make-happy” rather than address the dysfunctional organisational dynamics of late capitalism.

For good or ill (and perhaps for both) the arts have become the latest “must have” ingredients of executive leadership events and business school programmes. For example, the notion of Narrative Leadership that I first developed more than a decade ago now has widespread currency.

Instead of knocking on doors trying to persuade reluctant HR managers that they need our skills as storytellers, I and my colleagues find ourselves much in demand. We have a responsibility not to let this bonanza blind us to the ends to which our clients use our work, and to make our artful practice accessible without corrupting it.

As an artful practitioner, the tricky thing these days isn’t to get the hippo to eat the cake, it’s to make sure the hippo doesn’t eat you too.

The Art of Narrative Leadership

It is tempting to think that if we just learn the techniques of storytelling we’ll be able to tell a compelling “leadership story” when we need one. But unless we know who we are and what matters to us we cannot authentically stand for anything; unless we open ourselves to other peoples’ stories we cannot expect them to be open to ours; unless we are willing to commit ourselves to something that is grounded in reality and helps people connect with worthwhile purposes we are merely peddling dreams or – worse – trying to manipulate others for our advantage. And these three elements of what I call Narrative Leadership are intimately and inextricably connected.

The metaphor of a tree expresses the relationships between the elements in a lively and dynamic way: the roots of the tree represent the practice of know thyself; the branches and leaf canopy correspond to only connect; the trunk symbolises stand for something. The tree draws sustenance from deep roots which anchor it firmly and enable it to grow: the stronger the root system the greater its potential to support and feed a substantial trunk and an extensive canopy of interconnected branches, twigs and leaves (through which it can absorb and convert light into chemical energy). A healthy tree is able to make the most of the resources and opportunities in its environment, contributing to the eco-system as well as benefiting from it.

Like a tree, our leadership practice grows organically. As we come to know ourselves better, our roots deepen and we tap the source of our sense of purpose and vocation; as we reach out and connect with other people we better understand what the world is calling for; nourished by a sure sense of who we are and what is needed, we can find the courage and determination to stand for what really matters. We flourish and grow as leaders by attending not just to one or two, but to all three practices together.

What is the alternative? Weak rooted trees and people topple in the wind; they wither if they don’t put out branches and leaves; they remain stunted if they don’t develop a strong trunk. Know thyself; only connect; stand for something.

To read more about the art of narrative leadership, read my new book Telling the Story: The Heart and Soul of Successful Leadership published next month by Wiley/Jossey-Bass. Click on the image below to access a special 30% pre-publication discount and to read and download a free sample chapter.