




We’re just two days shy of the third anniversary of Governor Kulongoski’s announcement (on November 13, 2003) that he was asking for the resignations of several members of the Oregon State Board of Higher Education (OSBHE). Also part of his action was to express a desire that former Governor Neil Goldschmidt be appointed to the OSBHE and installed as its president.
That Fall day in 2003 was one that not only changed the lives of the Board members involved, but mine as well; as a staff person in the Oregon University System Chancellor’s Office, the OSBHE was my direct employer. On that fateful Thursday, I was attending the annual conference of the Association for the Study of Higher Education in Portland, and I heard the news, first, as a “rumor.” Somebody mentioned to me that the Governor had “fired the Board of Higher Ed,” which, of course, was unbelievable; no chief executive in our state had ever done such a thing since the department of higher education had been established in the late 1920s. I knew all of the Board members quite well, and there had been absolutely no behavior on their part that could, or should, have led to such a wholesale action by the Governor. The Board members were, all, dedicated public servants, doing the best job they could for higher education in the State.
However, as the course of the day wore on, the information became increasingly more clear. I went to my room in the Hilton late that afternoon, watched the early edition of the evening news on KGW, and discovered the rumor was actually fact. There were a couple of main topics with my dinner companions that night: speculation about what this action would mean for Oregon higher education, and a rather wild story about a recent internet dating experience of mine. We entertained ourselves quite well over that meal, as I recall, with lively conversation on both topics.
Of course, the next few months brought about many changes for the higher education landscape here. New Board members were appointed, and the Governor got his wish by having Goldschmidt elected as the president. However, the Portland media broke the story, a mere few weeks later, that the former Governor had had a sexual relationship with a 14-year old girl during the time he had been mayor of Portland years ago. Amid huge headlines, he resigned in disgrace and Kulongoski himself assumed the role of Board president for a couple of months. The Oregon University System Chancellor resigned, after less than two years on the job, upon assessing the political environment and reading the handwriting on the wall regarding his future. The Board, at the direction of the Governor, started a process (billed as a study to examine the “structure and function” of the Chancellor’s Office) which ultimately resulted in the elimination of the Office of Academic Affairs (and the jobs of the Vice Chancellor and several staff, including me).
My life has really not been the same since that day in November 2003. I was thrown completely off-balance and have been struggling to regain it ever since. I have gone on countless interview trips, and had two “interim” positions at Oregon community colleges, of course, but have had neither predictability nor stability in my life. As the current calendar year begins to fade away, the new job search season begins again for me. I hope to secure a permanent position in higher education (somewhere!) by next June 30.
It’s been an incredibly intense week. The highlight of the last few days, of course, was the election. And, ohmygod, can you believe how well it all turned out!?!? Nationally, the Ds captured the House and Senate, and here in Oregon they did the same. Now, if this all leads to the direction and degree of change we’ve demanded, then the last few weeks and months of those awful, awful ads may have been worth it.
Additionally, Ballot Measures 41 and 48 were both soundly defeated here in Oregon. This is a very good thing. Perhaps I’ll be able to stay employed until the end of my contract (next June) after all!
And then, on an even more-personal election-day level ... I believe the results might have been a tad better. As you recall, I declared my candidacy for state representative and then immediately voted for myself. Three others also voted for me (that I know of). I had sincere hopes that this was going to turn into an eventual groundswell of support and that I’d be swept into office on the coattails of the D’s success, handily defeating the R incumbent. Sadly, that’s not the way it turned out. While there were 391 write-in votes in opposition to Representative Morgan, that still only accounted for 2.41% of the total. I guess you’d call that a landslide.
Yep, I was buried.
If you’ve ever discovered the need to show up at work everyday by first forcing yourself out of bed, and then dragging yourself into the office because you’re dreading the day there: perhaps you’re working in an “addictive organization” (a concept I briefly outlined in my recent Analysis Paralysis post).
How does anyone really cope with life in an addictive organization? How is it possible to survive, much less thrive? What is your fate if you find yourself in one? Can you promote health and recovery…and actually, eventually, find a place of well-being there?
During the time I was engaged in my doctoral research, and anticipating using the addictive organization model as a theoretical framework for my dissertation, I corresponded briefly with Anne Wilson Schaef, the model’s developer. I had been tremendously impressed with her “organization as addict” metaphor and asked about any thoughts she might have regarding “coping with” or “recovery in” such an organization. She said that her plans were to write a follow-up book to The Addictive Organization (1988) and outline her ideas there. As far as I’ve been able to determine, though, she never produced that book…I can only hope it’s not because she thinks that recovery is impossible!
Now, given that it took an entire 232 pages to outline the many dimensions of an addictive organization, I suppose it would be reasonable to assume that any discussion of recovery in one would take at least as much space. However, coping with an addictive organization has been much on my mind lately, and I thought I might get started (here) on developing some salient points regarding this topic.
Although there are several dimensions of an addictive organization, certainly near the top of the list of characteristics (and among the most applicable to individual addicts) are the descriptors of denial, dishonesty and control. So, in this brief essay, let’s begin with just these three.
Denial means that the organizational problems are not openly acknowledged, or at least not accepted as “real” by those most able to address the dysfunction: the leadership. For issues to be worked on, they need to be identified, they need to be named. Statements such as “this is just the way things are” or “this is as good as it gets” or “we may have a few small problems here, but certainly not big ones” – when everyone really knows differently – is a sure sign of organizational denial.
Dishonesty is another key characteristic of an addictive organization. Like individuals who are addicted to substances or processes, those caught up in such an unhealthy organization exhibit their dishonesty on three levels: by lying to themselves, to those around them, and to the world at large. Believing that one can effectively impression-manage (e.g., the media) and “put up a good front” to those outside the organization, for example, are a couple of obvious manifestations of organizational dishonesty.
[I was once told, in private, by a college president, “I tell lies to everyone every day. There’s no other way to do this job.” While a striking example of personal honesty, the underlying message is one that reflects normal life in an addictive system.]
Finally, there is the element of control. This more accurately might be labeled the illusion of control, though, as it is, of course, ultimately impossible to control anything. However, the addictive organization harbors the notion that it is possible to control. When likened to a dysfunctional family that revolves around an individual addicted member, Schaef (p. 66) describes this symptom as “[t]he family tries to control the addict; the addict’s behavior is controlling the family; the co-dependent spouse is trying to avoid being controlled; and everyone is going crazy.” Further, Schaef notes (p. 66), that “whenever a system is operating on the illusion of control, it is an addictive system by definition.”
I believe that it’s possible to begin the grasp the severity of life in an addictive organization by simply (and quite briefly, as I’ve done above) understanding just these three characteristics. The questions that naturally arise include: What is there to do? How do I cope? How do I survive? How can I continue to show up every day, when this is what I always find?
I suppose that any discussion of “recovery” in a system defined as “addictive” would naturally include, at some point, a 12-step model; let me leave that discussion for another day, though. I would like to begin with countering the three points above by suggesting strategies that lie on the opposite ends of our behavioral continuum.
If the characteristics of denial and dishonesty are taken together (considering that denial is essentially a lie to one’s self), then a position contrary to that is honesty. Similarly, when the element of control is considered, an alternative could be termed surrender. So, I pose the question, what if I approached life in an addictive system with a personal stance of honesty and surrender?
When I consider this question, I am reminded of the Four-Fold Way orientation developed by anthropologist Angeles Arrien. Quoting directly and liberally from the description of this model on her website, I believe it is evident how such a philosophical and behavioral stance might successfully contend with the illness of an addictive system. The four elements are:
It is my thought, and suggestion here, that to adopt the healthy elements of Arrien’s Four-Fold Way, could be critical to both personal survival and organizational change in an addictive system.
Are you with me?
A couple of nights ago I wrote about having voted in this month’s election. I really should tell you one part of the story I left out…
As I was filling in the little ovals on the ballot, I realized for the first time that the (Republican) state representative from my (new) district is running unopposed. As I meditated on this little piece of information, I made the decision, somewhat impulsively I admit, to run for public office. I filled in the little oval next to the write-in space and then penciled in my own name.
So, there I was: an ordinary citizen one moment, a candidate for political office the next.
I “announced” my candidacy at work today. And as far as I know now, I’ll have two votes in my column come next Tuesday.
I have been thinking lately that I am suffering from an affliction I suspect many others at my workplace are also attempting to cope with: for want of a better term, “analysis paralysis.”
Ever since I began my present work assignment, I have been confronted with one ambitious “to-do list” after another. We have produced many, many lists and attempted to prioritize the items at many, many meetings I have attended. Among the giant list of tasks is the recently-revised and distributed, overwhelming, intimidating, multi-page strategic-plan document.
I have to admit: in the face of so much to do, and so little guidance about what the priorities are, I tend to remain somewhat frozen. Because, everything is a priority, I’m told. And, what I know is that when everything is a priority, nothing is. And that when everybody is responsible, nobody can be.
The organization is attempting to change several dimensions of its collective being all at the same time. Stress is high. Communication is low. Ad hoc decisions abound. Everyone is off balance; or, at least I know I am.
Come to think of it, all of this is sounding amazingly familiar. Because…
My 1995 dissertation about alcohol use and socialization in a college fraternity, used the “addictive organization” paradigm of Anne Wilson Schaef (1988) as the guiding theoretical framework. This way of looking at workgroups (and, in my study, a social group) came about as a rather logical extension of the “dysfunctional family” literature, which sees family groups behaving as addicts. Schaef proposed that it is possible to “recognize that organizations themselves are addicts, and that they function corporately the same way any individual addict functions” (p. 137).
Some of the elements of an addictive organization, according to Schaef (see chapter 4, pp. 137-176), include:
Whew! Now that’s a long list of symptoms! (Yet another list, sorry!) Yet, for the purposes of summarizing the model here, I’ve tried to be quite concise.
My question: I just wonder if there is anybody else who might be seeing and experiencing any of my current reality?