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:

• Be Present. The way of the Leader is to show up. Being present allows us to access the human resources of power, presence, and communication. We express this through appropriate action, good timing, and clear communication.

• Pay Attention. The way of the Healer is to pay attention to what has heart and meaning. Paying attention opens us to the human resources of love, gratitude, acknowledgment, and validation. We express this through our attitudes and actions that maintain personal health and support the welfare of our environment.

• Tell The Truth. (Honesty) The way of the Creative Problem Solver is to tell the truth without blame or judgment. Truthfulness, authenticity, and integrity are keys to developing our vision and intuition. We express this through personal creativity, goals, plans, and our ability to bring our life dreams and visions into the world.

• Be Open To Outcome. (Surrender) The way of the Teacher (or Counselor) is to be unattached to outcome. Openness and non-attachment help us recover the human resources of wisdom and objectivity. We express this through our constructive communication and informational skills.

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:

• Communication that is indirect, vague, confused, and ineffective
• Lots of gossip and many secrets
• The expression of feelings is forbidden and outside of acceptable behavioral bounds
• Loss of corporate memory; forgetfulness; inability to learn from mistakes
• Dualistic thinking (limiting available options to yes/no, black/white, no room for gray area); setting up sides
• Denial and dishonesty (problems “don’t exist” and lies protect the status quo)
• Isolation (allows for one reality as the only reality) & self-centeredness (organization feels that it is the center of the universe)
• Judgmentalism (adds the element of “bad” to people’s choices, especially when views are expressed that are counter-cultural)
• Perfectionism (mistakes are not allowed)
• Confusion and crisis orientation (everyone is always trying to figure out what is going on)
• Manipulating consumers (covering up faulty products or faulty functioning)
• Control (including personnel practices that are built on punishment not reward, as well as the belief that the organization can control how it is seen by others), and
• Lots of time and attention working on structure (looking for cosmetic ways of addressing problems rather than attempting to discover root causes)

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?

So, it’s Halloween ... supposedly the scariest day of the year.

My thought: Ha!

This evening I finished voting in the November election. (For those of you reading this from outside of Oregon, remember that we’re the one state that is exclusively vote-by-mail. I will put my ballot in the mail tomorrow.) As I complete my personal part of this electoral process, I look forward to next Tuesday, November 7th, as the most terrifying day of 2006. The stakes are high for the country. The stakes are high for Oregon. And the stakes are high for me. Let me explain ...

Nationally, we need to elect a congress, both House and Senate, that will stand up to George W. and his failed foreign policy. And bring an end to this fiasco in Iraq. This is an absolute must.

Additionally, the voters of Oregon need to reject the latest of the wildly-insane ballot measures that would lead to catastrophic cuts in state spending and cripple our education sectors and other highly-critical state-funded services.

Finally, and obviously, the outcome of the election is of personal import, because I work in public higher education and we receive a large portion of our support from the state’s general fund. The huge cuts that would result from the passage of Measures 41 and/or 48 would almost certainly dictate eventual job loss for me and perhaps the inability to ever be employed here in my working life again.

Watch out for those Oregon voters. Now they’re scary.