Even though I often have to beg off when someone–hairdressers, or my kids’ teachers, or even another mom at the park–thinks that I can help with a psychological problem when I mention that I’m a social worker (I’m completely unqualified to provide counseling, and so I have to add the disclaimer, “not that kind of social worker,” and make a referral), I still think in clinical terms sometimes.
And, you know, working in public policy, and with elected officials, that’s sometimes really helpful.
Like this year, in my state legislative advocacy, I’ve been thinking a lot about psychopathology, or at least what I know of it, and about addictions and recovery.
And I’ve been thinking about the truism that, sometimes, our clients have to “hit bottom” before there’s enough incentive to change, and that crises can be powerful motivators for healing.
To me, that sounds a lot like where we are in our movement-building this year.
It’s hard to imagine things being much worse (although, just like in clinical social work, I’m hesitant to claim that they couldn’t be!): class sizes in public schools are too big, community mental health centers are turning people away, and public assistance offices are closing around the state.
We face the possibility of several lawsuits related to the actions of last year’s legislature–in the areas of reproductive rights and voting rights, most likely–and defending those will take even more money from the state’s coffers. It’s getting harder to be a student, or a woman, or an immigrant in our state, and there’s a collective sense of looking over one’s shoulder to see who will be the next target.
Except.
Just like when faced with a client whose life is crumbling around herself, I see promising signs of renewal.
I’m getting more emails from social service organizations with questions about how they can advocate. A workshop for agencies trying to transform themselves into agents for social change attracted more interest than they could accommodate. More letters to the editor decrying the program cuts are popping up in the papers. A community meeting about the closing of a local welfare office was standing-room only. Our local coalition against anti-immigrant legislation is growing statewide, with organizing cells taking off in communities large and small.
Just like someone dealing with his/her own personal demons, these first steps are only that–tentative, sometimes conflicted, often inadequate.
There will be more dark days.
But if the first step is recognizing that there’s a problem, we’re on the path to healing.
Our struggles have names, and we have a shared hope that comes from having companions on a difficult journey.
We may be at the bottom, or at least near it, but we’re not down here alone.
And if those with whom social workers have the honor to work, every day, can build from their strengths to best their own battles, then we can, too.
The Power of One
One fairly influential individual
There are a lot of sort of pop psychology, bumper sticker motivationals out there about the difference that one individual can make…they all sort of run together for me, but you know what I mean, right?
Probably the best known is attributed to Helen Keller, “I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do something that I can do.”
Beautiful, right? And capable of making me feel guilty when I’m, say, on my way to the fabric store instead of a rally.
The belief in the power of the individual is very much rooted in our culture, but much less frequently seen in how we build capacity for advocacy and social change.
Bet you never thought about that while stopped behind someone at a red light, hunh?
See, when it comes to how we invest in building power to make a difference, we tend to focus almost exclusively on networks of people, on the connections that bind us together, and on how we create structures that leverage those relationships for power.
Sure, it’s obvious that no social movements are the sole work of any individual, even those that are commonly associated with one. But isn’t it also just as true that single individuals do, perhaps not as often as we would wish, change the course of history in amazing ways?
So why is the organization, or the community, most often our focal unit, when we think about what we need to develop in order to reach our goals? Why do we sometimes sort of gloss over the individuals who populate those entities, as though they are somehow replaceable, even when history so clearly teaches us otherwise?
I’ve been particularly thinking about this over the past couple of weeks because of the work that I do with The Sunflower Foundation and its Advocacy Fellows initiative. The initiative is somewhat distinct, particularly in the philanthropic world, because it revolves around advocacy, specifically, rather than a more diffuse sense of nonprofit leadership, and yet, unlike many other advocacy capacity-building efforts, individual advocates are clearly the emphasis.
The theory of change animating the Advocacy Fellowship is this: “the Sunflower Foundation believes that increasing the number of nonprofit health leaders who advocate on behalf of their constituents informs public policy and leads to real solutions for those in need. By becoming involved in advocacy, nonprofit leaders are advancing their causes, building public trust, and helping the people they serve.”
Notably missing, then, is discussion about the organizations in which these individuals work (indeed, they fairly frequently move organizations during the Fellowship or quickly following it) or about the sector as a whole. Instead, the idea is to find promising people, who happen to be working in nonprofit health organizations, and to work intensively with them to develop the knowledge, skills, and, yes, relationships they need to be effective advocates themselves. They are the ones held accountable for moving their work forward, and they are seen as the keys to advancing a vision of a healthy Kansas.
We’re still very much in the early stages of evaluation, but the indications at this point are, really, that the model works–that, no, their organizations do not necessarily greatly increase their advocacy capacity, but they as individuals do, and that that makes a difference. They are quoted more frequently in media accounts of related policy debates, they engage in those debates more often and with more influence, they are more respected by a larger circle of potential targets and allies, and they are increasingly sophisticated and outspoken in their advocacy.
It’s a bit of a gamble, this business of investing in individuals. We feel safer, sometimes, with organizations, because of the law of averages, but those same “averaging” tendencies can dilute and stall the radical message we want to convey: that, in the end, justice hinges on you (and me).
Here’s to sparking movements, one soul at a time.
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Posted in Analysis and Commentary
Tagged advocacy, nonprofit organizations, philanthropy, social change