ASAW e-newsletter article (long)

[Douglas D. Germann, Sr.]

Hi friends--

Don't know how many of you saw this article in the current ASAW newsletter
(excerpted below). (Judi Neal was my connection to OST when I was looking for
it!)

                              :-Doug. Germann
                              Seeking people making community change.

c: Judi Neal, Kenny Moore

----Forwarded Message(s)----

 #: 78182 S0/CompuServe Mail  [MAIL]
     18-Mar-05  23:45:13
 Sb: [ASAW] ASAW e-newsletter
 Fm: "judineal" > INTERNET:judi at spiritatwork.org
 To: Douglas D. Germann, Sr. [76066,515]



------------------------ Yahoo! Groups Sponsor --------------------~-->
In low income neighborhoods, 84% do not own computers.
At Network for Good, help bridge the Digital Divide!
http://us.click.yahoo.com/EpW3eD/3MnJAA/cosFAA/30hrlB/TM
--------------------------------------------------------------------~->


Dear Friends of Spirit at Work,

This e-newsletter contains the following:

4.  Article on Open Space Technology by Kenny Moore

Blessings,

Judi

Judi Neal, Ph.D.
Executive Director
Association for Spirit at Work
www.spiritatwork.org

*************************************************************

4.  Article on Open Space Technology by Kenny Moore

Kenny Moore is a long-time member of the Association for Spirit at
Work, and was our very first guest in our ASAW Authors Teleconference
Series.  He is co-author of a wonderful book called "The CEO and the
Monk."  This article describes a very difficult situation that arose
during a merger his company experienced and how he used Open Space
Technology (and maybe a prayer or two!) to help bring two Information
Technology departments from different companies together.


"We are Prophets of a Future Not Our Own"
 By Kenny Moore

A few years back, my company went through a difficult merger and I
had a first-hand experience of why most of them fail.

Behind every Merger are Resentful Employees

I work for a Fortune 500 energy company and when confronted with
deregulation, we merged and acquired our way to success.  During our
first merger we had promised that it would produce $1 billion in
savings over the first 10 years of the deal.  While a somewhat
aggressive goal, we felt comfortable being able to deliver on it
largely based on the successful implementation of computer technology.

Our Chief Information Officer (CIO) had a lion's share of the
responsibility for producing these savings.  But he had a slight
problem: his original I/T staff didn't particularly "like" the
computer folks in the new company we just merged with.  And the I/T
professionals from the new company simply "abhorred" their
counterparts.

Having previously spent 15 years in a monastery as a priest, I
thought only Catholics held infallible beliefs: I/T professionals
make us look like pussycats. There was continual public rancor about
whose technology was superior and where data centers must be located,
with both sides digging in their heels and refusing to budge.
Meetings were held, discussions were had and individuals were
identified: somewhat akin to the Spanish Inquisition.  Heretics were
hastily being rounded up, and as far as I could tell, plans were
underway for public burnings.  Medieval practices had once again
found their way into the hierarchical structures of the modern-day
religion of business.

The fact that there were almost 400 people in this newly combined I/T
department and that they were intimately responsible for the $1
billion savings - all seemed to make the CIO a little edgy, and on
occasion, apoplectic.  I believe someone also let it slip that his
future career was somewhat connected to fixing these "minor personnel
issues" as well as delivering on the one billion bucks.

Leadership Saves the Day

As an enlightened executive, he planned on bringing the entire
department together at an off-site meeting to yell at them.  He also
decided to beneficently offer them a new incentive plan to force
corporate niceness and civility.  I got called into his office at the
tail end of one of his planning sessions and was invited to
participate in this up-coming gala event.  "I can give you 15 minutes
at the end of the agenda to do your HR stuff," he said.

It had been years since I worked any miracles, so I felt obliged to
let this opportunity pass.  He objected:  "You work in HR; aren't you
suppose to fix these people?"  Momentarily letting go of my desire to
throttle him, I chose to respond rationally.  "I'm not sure there's
anything I can say in 15 minutes that will solve the problem."  With
monastic patience, I plodded on:  "These employees are deeply
divided. I doubt that even the incentive plan will effect much
change."

I explained that in view of the size of the group, as well as the
magnitude of the billion dollar deliverable, any intervention would
need to be significant.  Even, possibly, radical.

The CIO's Emotional Intelligence was beginning to wane:  "Do you have
anything else in mind?" was his steely reply.

Actually, I didn't.

But then I remembered reading an article on an "Open Space" meeting
format by Harrison Owen.  While I didn't understand it completely, he
seemed to be talking about self-organizing systems, with large
numbers of people sitting in a circle with no set agenda except a
pressing problem.  Open Space seemed to be loosely based on a core
belief: singularly we're stupid, but collectively we're smart.  There
was also an unstated operating principle insinuating that one person
with passion was worth more than 99 with good ideas.  Even though
Owen is a spokesman for the methodology, he readily admits that it's
really as old as mankind, formulated by our ancestors sitting around
the primal fire - trying to figure out how to stay alive, warm and
well fed.

I shared with the CIO the little I recalled from the article and
ended by saying: "If you're truly looking to fix this problem, you'll
need to do something like an 'Open Space' to turn this situation
around."

The $1 billion company commitment, as well as his personal desire for
a future place in the corporate hierarchy, seemed to make him oddly
receptive to my conversation.  With executive alacrity, he
barked: "Well, then - we'll do it."  "Do what?" I replied.  "Why,
we'll do an 'Open Space.'"

I was now the one having concerns about a future place in the
corporate hierarchy!  I barely knew anything about Open Space.  And I
had absolutely no idea how to facilitate it.

On an executive roll, he continued talking: "We'll need to put a team
together.  And I'll have to make arrangements to cover the operations
while most of the department's at the meeting."  Somewhere out of the
corner of his eye, he may have spied my panic.  "Kenny.  Have you
ever done this before?"

I lied.

"Yes," I found myself saying.  "I do this kind of stuff all the time."

"Bless me Father for I have sinned."

Well, I didn't really lie.  From the way I looked at it, we would be
hosting a meeting of 400 people, all sitting in a circle with no
particular agenda except the hope of creating a better future.  Most
of the attendees would be either confused or despairing; several
would be hoping for a miracle to save the day.  It sounded very much
like a Catholic Mass to me! And I had celebrated many of those, often
with far more than 400 "parishioners" in attendance.

I also recalled Owen saying that the facilitator didn't need to know
much about how to solve the problem.  He was largely responsible for
getting himself "out of the way" so the group could get engaged in
the work at hand.  Oddly enough, my ignorance made me eminently
qualified. Nevertheless, after exiting the CIO's office, I ran down
to the local church and lit a candle to St. Jude, the patron saint of
hopeless cases.

Plans proceeded quickly.  It was decided to host the event at a large
hotel situated mid way between both I/T locations.  We booked the
entire facility, using the Grand Ballroom as the central gathering
point for the crowd of 400.  We likewise reserved all the other
suites as a honeycomb of breakout spaces for various group
discussions.  We'd start the day in the Ballroom with chairs in a
circle and a single microphone at the center.  On the side wall would
be a community "bulletin board" for employees to post the titles of
various topics they wanted to talk about.  The theme of the day was
expansive, yet focused: "How do we in I/T use our expertise to meet
business needs."

It was agreed that after a brief introduction by the CIO, I would
explain the concept of Open Space.  We'd quickly proceed to inviting
anyone who had passion about compelling business needs to come
forward, state their name, announce the title of their session and
tape it on the board.  The rest of the day would be spent hosting
sessions around posted topics by self-organizing groups of committed
individuals. Whoever volunteered to host a session was likewise
responsible for capturing suggestions and posting them on the I/T web
page by week's end.

The Tension Mounts

With each passing day, the excitement grew.  And so did my anxiety,
as well as the CIO's.    A week before the event, he requested
another audience with me that reflected his growing concern about the
meeting. Panic was starting to set in.

"What happens if nobody comes to the microphone," he asked.  "Maybe
we should plant some topics with the directors, in advance, to insure
that at least a few people come forward?"

I reminded him that in our corporate culture, there are no secrets.
Word would quickly leak out that the day was already "programmed" by
senior management.  I said that we'd both have to sit tight and be
vulnerable.  "We can't ask our employees to take risks if we're
unwilling to do it as well," was my way of looking at it.

"This day is costing me a lot of money" piped the increasingly
anxious Exec.  "Are you sure it's going to work?"  If truth be told,
I was as concerned about the day as he was, and I couldn't insure
that it would all be a success.  "But here's what I can guarantee," I
said.  "By the end of the day you'll know whether these 400 employees
can get beyond their petty differences to make the merger succeed.
And if they can't, then you're better off knowing that sooner rather
than later.  This way you'll have time to make an executive decision
to fire them and hire people who will deliver for the business."

Trying to bolster his courage, I continued: "My hope is that our
employees will be able to rise to the occasion.  But we really won't
know for certain till the day arrives."  His pessimism
perdured: "I'll bet we don't get more than 5 employees to come
forward."  A big part of me prayed that he would be proved wrong.

Stepping into the Unknown

The day arrived and the crowd of hundreds quickly formed in the
Ballroom.  As the CIO stood in the middle of the circle and
officially welcomed the employees, he looked awkward: no podium; no
PowerPoint; no business notes.  A brief word of thanks, followed by a
few comments regarding the $1 billion corporate commitment and he was
quickly at the end of his opening comments and inviting their passion.

Then it was my turn.

While the CIO merely looked awkward, I now personified it.  Some
scripted index cards helped me get started.  I talked about Open
Space and announced that the group itself would determine the agenda
for the day.  Employees would manage themselves, and if anything of
value transpired, it would be totally contingent on their personal
passion for the business.  Anyone choosing to host a session didn't
need to be proficient in the topic, just passionate about it.  A few
short minutes later, I brought the conversation to a close: "Open
Space is a lot like learning how to swim.  It's best not to spend too
much time talking, but rather move quickly to jumping in."  So we
jumped.

"I now invite anyone who has passion about the business to come
forward to the microphone.  State your name, what you have passion
about . Then go and post it on the community bulletin board.  If a
topic isn't posted, don't expect it to get discussed.  You're in
charge.  Who would like to go first?"

My invitation was greeted with silence.  400 employees looked around
for senior management to take the lead.  But they didn't.  Thirty
seconds slowly ticked by.  The alpha-males in the audience were
starting to twitch.  With no relief in sight, one brave soul stood up
and walked to the microphone.  "My name's Bill Kearns and I'd like to
host a session discussing the relocation of the company's call
center."  Right on his heels was another employee who took her place
at the mic and spoke her passion.  Two minutes later, we had exceeded
the 5 employees the CIO feared would never materialize.   By the end
of 20 minutes we had 53 sessions posted.

Something powerful was underway.  Something that could never have
been managerially orchestrated.  It all seemed to get energy from the
freedom inherent in a business "invitation."  Employees sensed that
they were in charge.  And indeed, they truly were.

Once the community bulletin board was filled, I counseled the crowd
to spend the rest of the day self-managing themselves, hosting and
attending a multiplicity of sessions, and offering advice for the
topics that garnished their passion.  "You're on your own," I
pontificated, "and I need everyone back in the Ballroom by 4 p.m.
sharp."  Food was available in the foyer throughout the day.  My main
contribution for the next 6 hours was to wander around, assiduously
contain my sense of surprise, and demonstrate public support by
picking up discarded coffee cups.

Many employees tried to attend more sessions than time allowed.  A
handful stayed firmly planted in only one or two locations.  A vocal
minority seemed to float around to all 53 sessions - offering advice,
playing "Devil's Advocate" and bringing a sense of mischief to the
day.

4 p.m. arrived, along with a rowdy crowd that seemed unwilling to
take their seats.  The reservation and silence displayed at the day's
start had mysteriously been transformed into excitement for the
challenges ahead.  There was a palpable force-field in the room that
seemed to transcend the organizational drag generated by the merger.

I was eventually able to bring the group under control only by
menacing them with the threat of excommunication.  We had time to
hear from just a handful of employees as to what had transpired in
their sessions.  The CIO closed the day by thanking them for their
efforts and reminding them that he needed all summary reports posted
by the end of the week.  He then committed that he would decide by
month's end as to which suggestions were going to be acted on, which
required further development and which were going to be put on the
back burner.  "People who offered suggestions should expect to
actively participate in next step implementation plans" he said.

The tectonic plates of a corporate culture had been noticeably
shifted that day.  At least in one I/T department.  Decisions still
needed to be made; differences continued to percolate throughout the
operations: but there was cohesion.  Ownership for a successful
merger had migrated from the hallowed halls of senior management into
the cubicles of the ordinary worker.  This could never have been
mandated; only invited. Fortunately, there is a vast expanse within
the human soul longing to respond to such invitations.

My company's now several years into the journey.  Savings continue to
be realized and careers are still intact, with only a smidgen of
Divine intervention.

What the Future has in Store

One off-site event does not a triumphant merger make.

Our future success, as a corporate community as well as a global one,
does not reside in offering bribes, incentive plans or clearly
articulated measurable goals.  It lies elsewhere.  It dwells within.

Confronting people with their freedom is what's required.

Inviting, convening and listening need to replace commanding,
legislating and critiquing.

A testosterone style of leadership needs to give way to a softer, more
feminine mode of conducting business.

We who toil in the world of work are invited to begin at the place we
presently find ourselves.  We plant the seeds that will be watered by
others.  We till a soil that will nurture a future generation of
laborers.

We are not yet there.  It will not be realized in our lifetime.  We
are prophets of a future not yet made manifest, for which we are only
peripheral players.

But there exists a wealth of possibilities.  They ferment innately
within the hearts of our fellow workers.

We have an obligation to convene the wounded and the flawed, inviting
their freedom and God-given talents to make the world more
sustainable.

Does behaving in such a fashion cause us to appear asinine,
vulnerable to public ridicule?  Perhaps.  Yet we also have the
possibility of being a divine harbinger for a more sacred way of
conducting life.

I remember what Fr. Theodore, my sage monastic mentor, said in my
first Bible class: "In the Old Testament, Samson slew the Philistines
using the jawbone of an ass.  Imagine what God could do with a
complete one."

There's still hope for us all.

P.S.  If you're thinking about writing me, give in to the temptation.
I love getting mail ... and being influenced by what you have to say.
Please E-mail me at kennythemonk at yahoo.com.

Kenny Moore is co-author of "The CEO and the Monk: One Company's
Journey to Profit and Purpose" (John Wiley and Sons, 2004), rated as
one of the Top Ten best selling business books on Amazon.com.  He is
Corporate Ombudsman and Human Resources Director at a New York City
Fortune 500 company.  Reporting to the C.E.O., he is primarily
responsible for awakening joy, meaning and commitment in the
workplace.  While these efforts have largely been met with
skepticism, he remains eternally optimistic of their future viability.

Kenny has over 20 years experience with change management, leadership
development and healing the corporate community. He's been profiled
on CBS Sunday Morning News, and interviewed by Tom Peters, The Wall
Street Journal and Fast Company magazine regarding his unique
leadership style.  His business practices are based on Louie
Armstrong who said: "I am here in the service of Happiness." Louis
died a rich and beloved man; his voice still rings in the ears (and
hearts) of millions.

Prior to his work in corporate America, Kenny spent 15 years in a
monastic community as a Catholic priest.  Several years ago, he had
the good fortune of being diagnosed with "incurable" cancer, at its
most advanced stages.  He underwent a year of experimental treatment
at the National Cancer Institute and survived.  Kenny came away from
that
experience recalling the words of Oliver Wendell Holmes: "Most of us
go to our graves with our music still inside us."  Kenny's lifetime
goal is to spend more of his time playing his music.   Having dealt
with both God and death, Kenny now finds himself eminently qualified
to work with senior management on corporate change efforts.

Kenny is a watercolor artist, poet and photographer.  He is Founding
Director of "Art for the Anawim," a not-for-profit charity which
works with the art community in supporting the needs of terminally
ill children and the inner city poor.  His poems have been published
in several anthologies; one was selected as a semi-finalist in the
North American Open Poetry Contest.  Kenny lives in Totowa, NJ and is
married to the "fair and beautiful" Cynthia.  Together, they are
fighting a losing battle of maintaining their mental stability while
raising 2 growing boys.

Kenny can be reached at kennythemonk at yahoo.com or (973) 956-8210.

----End Forwarded Message(s)----

*
*
==========================================================
OSLIST at LISTSERV.BOISESTATE.EDU
------------------------------
To subscribe, unsubscribe, change your options,
view the archives of oslist at listserv.boisestate.edu:
http://listserv.boisestate.edu/archives/oslist.html

To learn about OpenSpaceEmailLists and OSLIST FAQs:
http://www.openspaceworld.org/oslist