Test, test, test.

Oh, I can be so silly. Jeff, Jeff, Jeff. 

I use the rather wonderful Squarespace for my blog. I really love it; it isn’t free like Wordpress but in my opinion the cost is more than balanced out by great ease-of-use and powerful tools. 

I’ve been really excited about the new Squarespace Version 6 that is in beta. It looks so fantastic! Wowza. And the social integration is great. A few months ago I requested a beta invitation and I got one!

And thus the trap closes. 

It started innocently enough. I had a few spare minutes today between meetings and thought, what the heck? I’ll upgrade my blog. The beta has been running for months — I’m sure the kinks are sorted out. Right? Right?!?

I logged in, chose an awesome new template, and hit migrate. This is going to be awesome! And then… 90 minutes of panic and frustration ensued as — of course — none of the pictures migrated over correctly, the new user interface left me confused, and my custom domains were changed. The blogger’s worst nightmare: Editing your DNS entry. It means something has gone wrong. Very wrong.

It’s all sorted out now and I’m mostly feeling stupid for ignoring the advice I give my clients: Test, test, test!

That new blog is going to be awesome. The toolset looks incredible. But I think I’ll experiment first…

Why you need to say what needs to be said.

You’ve been there. You’re sitting in a meeting, or in class, or at lunch with some friends. And someone says something that is so obviously wrong, incorrect, ignorant, predujiced, anecdotal, off-base, or just otherwise ridiculous that you stop chewing and drop your jaw. You glance over at the person next to you and it is clear that she feels the same way you do. And you wait for a second, because someone is obviously going to disagree, right? Somebody is going to tactfully but firmly say, “Well, wait a second, I’m not sure I agree with that.”

You wait for a second or two, but the first person just keeps on talking. No one interrupts. No one disagrees. Everyone leaves wondering, “Wow, am I surrounded by idiots and cowards? And am I an idiot and coward too?”

There’s something on your mind that you probably need to say today. Telling someone that you love them; telling someone you’re sorry; telling someone that their great idea is neat but probably too risky; telling someone that you like them as a person but you can’t agree with their viewpoint. 

Speaking that thought to power is going to be difficult. But would you rather face that challenge this morning and say what needs to be said, or face yourself in the mirror tonight knowing that you let the chance to be yourself pass for one more day?

You have something valuable to say. No one hears it until you say it. 

Pareto's Principle in Fundraising: An Interactive Example

Over the last few months, I’ve presented and written quite a bit about Pareto’s Principle in fundraising. Better known as the “80-20 Rule,” the idea is simple: Most of the money we raise comes from a small number of donors. This dynamic shows up in nearly every campaign I’ve worked on. Even so-called “grassroots” campaigns are heavily dependent on a small number of donors; just because we ask for small gifts doesn’t mean all of our donors contribute equally.

What is just as amazing to me as the math, however, is the fact that many people have trouble getting their heads around the idea. Even though most of us use donor pyramids and gift tables every day, it is often hard to understand how even massive programs are really driven by small percentages of donors.

This interactive graphic, built from actual campaign data, is designed to help illustrate Pareto’s Principle. Click on any gift level to see how many donors contributed at that level — and how much of the total revenue those gifts represented.

All of this begs at least two questions: Are you trying to grow large numbers of donors or are you spending time finding and cultivating donors who are connected to you? And do you treat donors equally or do you talk to them differently based on how important they are to you?  

Click to interact.

Click to interact.

A brief soapbox about freedom and spirituality. Feel free to tune it out.

For several years I’ve listed my “Religious Views” on Facebook as “Appreciate and wonder at the beauty all around us.” I have more precise views than that, but that’s basically what it boils down to for me. And since I believe there are a lot of different doorways into the same room, I haven’t felt the need to be any more specific. Surely there’s common ground for us somewhere, right?

Similarly, I’ve listed my “Political Views” as “Teach responsibility and then trust people.” I’ve got other axes to grind, and certain issues and candidates hold my attention more than others, but that phrase sums it up.

But oh my! If it were only that easy! This morning as I look at the news and the commentary surrounding it, I’m reading a lot of concern about recent events in North Carolina and Colorado, and on the other side of the coin, a lot of passionate justification for it. 

My own feeling is that the biggest obstacle to a better world isn’t evil — it’s apathy. It is in that spirit I write the following.

I’ve been on a spiritual journey for quite some time. My 40 days in the desert have lasted a lot longer than I thought they would, and have encountered some setbacks and wrong turns. Perhaps the best way to say it is that sometimes life events (like this and this) obscure your view at first, only to provide clarity later. Some of the experiences that have been the most confusing to me have later become the most enlightening.

And so, I feel like I’m close to reaching a spiritual destination. My journey hasn’t been a specifically religious one, but in the context of spirituality, one eventually decides to at least explore that avenue. As my dad liked to say, “Organized religion is the only kind.” True enough. Thus I’ve spent quite a bit of time lately exploring the connection between religion and spirituality, and what it means for me.

In that exploration, I’ve found a lot that has resonated with me. More than I thought I would, to be honest. And by the same token, I can’t find one single thing that justifies, in a moral sense, the authority of one group to subjugate another’s ability to let their hearts decide whom they love and how they do it. And I certainly don’t believe for one second that any group has the political authority to do it either. In terms of the hierarchy of things, I believe God works for good, and vice versa. And I believe the government works for us. 

We become quickly spoiled by what we have worked for, particularly when others do the work. That brand-new HDTV you waited a year to afford looks gorgeous when you first set it in the living room. Six months later, you can’t remember what you were so impressed with. And if you get the TV as a gift? Two months.

But we must resist that same complacency when it comes to issues of justice. It is all too easy to forget that less than 200 years ago, humans were bought and sold; objectified, manipulated, dehumanized. It is all too easy to dismiss that less than 100 years ago, women were not permitted to vote because others felt anatomy somehow dictated superiority. Less than 60 years ago, a whole generation of Jews was nearly wiped off the earth forever. And for those thinking “But that won’t happen anymore,” I direct you to exhibit A, Rwanda, and exhibit B, Kosovo. Which happened … in our lifetime.

Equality is not HDTV. It doesn’t have a shelf life. And it isn’t a product meant to be accessible only to those who can afford it, or who can mobilize enough resources to argue on behalf of it. 

From what I can see, the right to love and be loved is as fundamental as it gets. It transcends the will of any one political entity and any one religious dogma, and comes, in its entirety, from the Spirit that has breathed us all into existence. 

For values to be real, whether political or spiritual, they must apply to everyone. Otherwise you don’t have values — you have a members-only club. Freedom, love, justice, and equality do not require an application. 

In 40 years, our children will look back and wonder what all the fuss was all about; and hopefully, they will shake their heads at our ignorance, and hide their shock at our bigotry, the way we do when we consider slavery and genocide. 

But between now and then, you have to live with yourself. Are your “shared values” meant for you alone? Shouldn’t you share them with everyone?

When I read “God is love,” I don’t see an asterisk next to it. 

Great news! We made it really complicated!

I’ve been reminded a few times this past week that complexity is overrated. I love big Excel models and rambling blog posts as much as the next guy, but most of the time people just need us to make things easier to follow. 

Years ago I read A Fan’s Notes by Frederick Exley. It’s a modern classic, although not a happy read by any stretch of the imagination. Exley is a tortured soul trying to find his way; he’s rather brilliant, so he picks up teaching. But as his students continue to struggle, it dawns on him that for all of his intellect he will never be a good teacher. He lacks, he realizes, “the intelligence to simplify.” It turns out that biggest obstacle facing his students is him. 

I’m not always great at learning from his example, but it stuck with me. Complexity can inspire awe — but more often than not it just perpetuates confusion. The best missions, strategies, and even relationships are simple. 

The fact is, unless your job is to design corn mazes, spelling bees, or crossword puzzles, what everyone wants is straighter lines, fewer syllables, and shorter words. No one cheers the person who makes things inscrutable hard to understand. 

The Clarion Call for Character

This piece was originally written for the April 27 edition of Event 360’s Event Fundraising Blog. Like many things I write, the essay is overly long and possibly too pedantic. And yet I consider it a deeply personal and important attempt to articulate what this entire site is about: That one person can, and should, make a difference.

One of my core beliefs about effective strategy is that it is designed to support a shared aspirational vision. In other words, the best strategies support the achievement of a big goal, or dream, or vision. If you don’t know where you are going, how can you effectively get there? We all want to be called to something bigger than ourselves. For some, that “something bigger” is simply personal prosperity. Most of us, though – particularly those of us in the social impact space – yearn to be part of something more noble than self-interest. We long for the opportunity to move the needle on the human condition.

The best visions, in turn, are rooted in a set of shared values. Every organization values something; those values define how we pursue the vision our strategy is meant to help us achieve. I’m not talking about the list of five or six attributes that are written somewhere in your organization’s annual report. I’m talking about the ways we actually behave; the things we show our constituents that we find important through our actions. In this way, strategy and leadership are intertwined.

I spend a lot of time worrying about this issue, actually. As leaders and strategists, one of our core responsibilities is to try to keep the gap between what we say is important and what we show is important as small as possible. None of us is perfect, and so neither are our organizations perfect. There’s always a difference between what we do and say. And yet sometimes the gaps are glaring. I’ve worked with groups that say “open communication” is a core value – only to find that they were unwilling to tolerate any dissent. The stated value is open communication, but the actual value is “parrot the party line.” And I’ve had times where my own team says to me, for example, “We say that we value meaningful relationships, but we slighted this person in such-and-such a way.” And yet when I get that feedback, as difficult as it sometimes is to receive, I know we’re getting somewhere. I know we’re working together to close the gap.

And so it was with a great amount of interest and empathy that I read Peggy Noonan’s April 21 Wall Street Journal editorial, “America’s Crisis of Character.” I should openly admit that I’m not a regular reader of the Journal, or any paper for that matter – Google Reader has radically changed my reading habits. I read voraciously but I’m just as likely to be reading one of the hundreds and hundreds of great blogs as I am any “traditional” news outlet. And it should also be said that like all of us, Noonan has a political slant; she was an assistant to Ronald Reagan back in the day, and tends to be identified as a conservative, although I’ve never found her to be overwhelmingly so.

What she definitely is, without question, is a great writer. In this piece she starts with the recent report by Gallup that fewer Americans than ever – 24% – believe “we’re on the right track as a nation.” She then recaps a week of bad news – from the Secret Service scandal to the GSA scandal to the latest reports of mistreatment of travelers at the hands of the TSA – and provides some commentary on, as she calls it, “the flat, brute, highly sexualized thing we call our culture.” The crux of her editorial is a compelling and disturbing point: “I think more and more people are worried about the American character—who we are and what kind of adults we are raising.” In her mind, we’re witnessing “a leveling or deterioration of public behavior” borne of lowering expectations so much that “people don’t decide to give you more, they give you less.”

It’s a quite powerful, and honestly, quite depressing piece of writing. Noonan doesn’t offer any help, hope, or solutions. She doesn’t offer us a way out. She simply concludes: “Something seems to be going terribly wrong. Maybe we have to stop and think about this.”

I will say I think there’s a bit of nostalgic superiority to the article, a sense of “things used to be better when I was young” to the piece. And yet, that wouldn’t stop me from recommending it to you, and it didn’t stop me from feeling quite an impact from it.

I read the article over the weekend, and thought about it, and then re-read it. Then I did what many of us do, which is frenetically look around for someone to talk to about it. Our social media revolution has made that process incredibly efficient: I posted the article on Facebook, and Twitter, and I think on Google+, and waited for interaction to come to me. (A sort-of passive, vaguely interactive process that has become second-nature to me, and that, ironically, could be one of the causes of the problems Noonan has described.)

In any case, I didn’t have to wait long. A number of friends and colleagues commented on the article. What was fascinating to me was that they seemed to be broken into two camps – those who said, “Yes, this is disturbing, and what on earth can we do about it” and those who said, “Yes, this is disturbing but it’s nothing new, and as usual no solutions were offered.” In other words, resigned acceptance on one hand and annoyed acceptance on the other.

One of my colleagues and friends at Event 360, Slade Thompson, wrote a very thoughtful comment back to me: 

All I read [in her article] was a synopsis of another week’s bad news … I had hoped for a little more examination of the root cause or a proposed solution. “Maybe we have to stop and think” doesn’t seem particularly insightful or constructive, and I’m afraid it will only get a few seconds consideration from most readers before the concern changes to “What’s for dinner?” or “What’s next on the calendar?” Or is this just another indication of our deteriorating character, that facts alone aren’t enough to inspire action?

I think Slade has articulated for me what I found most troubling about the article. It’s true that Noonan doesn’t get to solutions – although there’s only so much one can do a few paragraphs, and the solutions require volumes. At the same time, I believe one of Noonan’s points is that in a time when all of these terrible things happen and no one seems to notice, “stop and think” is at least a place to start. 

But at a more fundamental level, I think her point is not that we don’t seem to notice – it is that we don’t seem to feel like there’s anything we can do about it. To heal pain, one must feel it in the first place, and what I read from Noonan was a lament that we’ve become increasingly anesthetized to our own discomfort and dissatisfaction.

Are there solutions? Of course there are. To what Noonan describes, treating everyone equally regardless of background or appearance; ensuring equal access to opportunity for all; increasing our intolerance of hate and discrimination; and then enforcing all of the previous might be the right start towards creating a culture where people aren’t victimized, preyed upon, gawked at, and objectified.

At a deeper level, though, there’s a point I feel compelled to make for all of us who aspire to be leaders and strategists. The solution starts with the faith that there is one, and with the willingness to believe that we might be able to achieve it.

To go back to my opening thoughts: Those of us with even the smallest sense of awareness and humility will find throughout life constant reminders of our own inadequacy. And yet we will also find constant reminders of the world’s imperfection. It strikes me that the secret to both improving ourselves and changing the world is to let our own imperfections inspire us to a better way of living, and so remind us that the better world we seek is not so far from our grasp after all.

The real honest truth is that we are not, unfortunately, the perfect people we want to be. And yet isn’t that the good news, too? That in spite of our flaws and egos and idiosyncrasies we each still manage to have a few friends who care, families who love us, and work that requires our attention? And if that is possible at the personal level, isn’t it possible at the organizational level too? And at the community level? And at the societal level?

I agree with Noonan that the world condition requires reflection. And at the same time, the only pretension we can longer tolerate in ourselves is the attitude that we are powerless to change what we see around us. I don’t believe it, and neither should you, because it just isn’t true.  

Let's talk about you. There are two possibilities.

It could be that you have nothing to offer — no skills, no talent, no prospects, and all of the doubts you harbor about yourself are pretty much true.

Or it could be that the world has deep needs that you are uniquely qualified to address. It could be that you were put on this earth to be the exact right key for a specific lock of change that will remain tightly shut without your part. It could be that you are the precise bit of effort needed to push the needle of change on the human condition a bit more towards justice, equality, and happiness.

Which is it?