Certitude has its drawbacks. Redemption might be a better idea. Especially for nonprofit arts folks.
Happy New Year, 2024. May you be the year in which the fog lifts. May you be the year in which forgiveness and redemption replace cancellation and blacklisting. May you be the year in which grudges fade. And may you be the year in which disagreements don’t devolve into name-calling, puritanical judgements with lifetime bans.
2024, may you be the year in which certitude fades into obscurity.
At the coffee house, a Black man sits next to an older white woman. Immediately, she moves to another table. He rises and points at her. “Racist,” he shouts. She breaks down in tears and is asked never to come back to that particular coffee house, even though she’s been coming there for years. She goes to another coffee house nearby. Same guy walks in to the new coffee house and, with certitude, shouts “Racist” once again. She no longer goes out for coffee.
2024, may you be the year in which accusing people on a feeling does not get mixed up with accusing people with hard evidence, and in which jumping to conclusions based on incomplete information (or, as often happens, false information) stops being an Olympic sport.
At a brainstorming session of 8 people, the leader of the group remarks to everyone in the room that ideas are a quantity proposition. The more, the better. Not all will be used, but one idea may evoke a better idea, and so on. Terry offers a lot of ideas, some okay, some lousy—none perfect. Pat and Alex, with certitude and superciliousness, dismiss every idea Terry had, but offer no ideas of their own. Terry clams up. In fact, everyone clams up. Nothing comes out of the brainstorming session. “Brainstorming sessions are stupid,” says Pat. “They never work,” says Alex.
2024, may you be the year in which cynical mockery takes a back seat (or, better, gets kicked to the curb). May you be the year in which authentic attempts, successful or not, to make things better are celebrated. And may those who superciliously hide behind defenses of alleged anxiety or convenient hurt feelings lose all their power on society to those who try, even if they fail.
At the office, an older white man remarks to a young woman that her forearm tattoo is interesting. He asks about it. She recoils and, with certitude, claims he’s harassing her. He gets reprimanded. Boss says he can’t ask about a forearm tattoo. They guy gets sent to sexual harassment training. Office discomfort and mistrust causes HR to provide a list of accusations against him. He is forced to quit his job and can’t find another one. “Word” is out, like a game of telephone; only, this is no game.
2024, may you be the year in which redeemable bad behavior is mixed up with irredeemable bad behavior and teams are not formed based on unseen other behavior by other bad actors. Not every bad actor is Harvey Weinstein or Bill Cosby. Similarly, not everyone involved is guiltless. 2024, may this be the year in which people realize that redemption is a better idea than exile.
A 21-year-old college sophomore is part of a group that includes people aged 17-24. They’re online gamers from across the country. They’ve gotten together online every week for 2 years. As it happens, the 21-year-old goes with his family on a vacation that happens to be near one of the other members of the group. While there, they visit together, meeting for the first time in person. They strike up a romance. The other person is 17. When the other members of the group discover the relationship, they ostracize the 21-year-old as a “predator.” With certitude, but without any explanation or discussion, they kick the 21-year-old out of the group. Won’t take calls or emails. The 17-year-old apologizes to, and stays in touch with the 21-year-old, but ultimately moves on because of peer pressure from the other members. The 21-year-old, already anxious, never gets the chance to talk to any of these so-called friends again. The 21-year-old retreats into total isolation, not unlike a permanent pandemic state, and cuts himself off from all the rest of their friends just to make sure they’ll never be hurt like this again.
2024, may you be the year in which people of all kinds are not tried, convicted, and sentenced to a permanent life of anxiety, fear, and subjected to Salem-esque paranoia. And may you be the year in which people of all ages are no longer in fear/hate of each other, no matter what. Maybe, you’ll be the year in which most people just walk away rather than attack and revel in someone else’s suffering, no matter which side of the social fence you sit.
A worker is laid off of a closing company at the age of 55. She had hoped to work for 12 more years before going on Social Security. 12 years in a long time in employment circles. She carefully leaves off any reference to her age in her résumé. Her references are spotless. She applies to 100 jobs, all of which for which she is qualified. She is probably more qualified than most for some of them, but she applies to them anyway because she has heard good things about the people at the company. She gets some interviews, first by phone, then by Zoom. After the Zoom interview, she never hears back from the 35-year-olds who conducted them. Nothing—not even a rejection letter. “Too busy,” says the interviewer. “She just wasn’t a good ‘fit,’” says the interviewer, using the vague language that is often used for people with the wrong amount of melanin in their face.
2024, may you be the year in which illegal ageism is detected, punished, and disappears from the hiring practices of all companies, whether they be commercial or nonprofit. Research says that older workers work harder, stay longer, are more goal-oriented, and are not looking for the next job while working for these rotten companies. Just because they don’t know how (and are therefore afraid) to manage someone 20 years older shouldn’t handicap a company’s progress by choosing to hire the next shiny 25-year-old who, if they’re good, will be gone in 2 years.
2024, I know that’s a lot to ask.
You’re an election year, after all, and the first caucuses and primaries are happening right now. Bad people are running for office – of this we actually have proof. Good people are being told to “wait their turn,” that a better time will only come when “those people” (whoever “those people” are) are squashed, smashed, pummeled, crushed, thrashed, hammered, slaughtered, and otherwise liquidated. Then, and only then can a good person take an office – even that of city councilperson.
2024, may you be the presidential election year in which “waiting your turn” doesn’t yield candidate choices based on old, familiar names. As it did in 1996, 2000, 2004, 2008, 2012, 2016, and 2020. And others. In fact, see what you can do about creating at least 2 more parties that actually win seats.
A nonprofit performing arts organization that’s been around for 50 years no longer has an audience. People looking backward see a history of success that ended in 2020 and want to return to that by doing the things that led to that success: put on great plays, charge a bundle for them, get donations from the biggest donors (individual and foundation), make sure that smaller organizations languish, and, when all else fails, do an Oral Roberts School of Fundraising desperate act of announcing that the company will close down unless millions are raised in 20 minutes. Rather than leaning in to their charitable status by researching the future, by asking what issues the people in their communities (who pay the taxes of this organization, and are therefore the “owners”) care about—and then doing that, using art as an exceptional tool to solve the problems—they lean in on producing “excellent” art.
Art is essential. Art is a universal good. Producing art, as we know now, is neither essential, universal, nor necessarily excellent. Are 90% of the nonprofit arts organizations in America with the highest budgets even producing excellent art on a regular basis? Come on, now. Tell the truth.
2024, may you be the year in which the organizations who get all the press are the ones lifting the people in their communities. Quantifiably, measurably, and permanently.
Just pulling at some threads here. Things tend to unravel pretty quickly when you do that. Which is a good thing.
Alan’s new book, “Scene Change: Why Today’s Nonprofit Arts Organizations Have to Stop Producing Art and Start Producing Impact” will be published in less than a month! CLICK HERE TO PRE-ORDER IN THE UNITED STATES. If you live in the UK, CLICK HERE. If you live in Australia, CLICK HERE. And, of course, it is available for pre-order on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other large bookstores. If you can’t find it, just give the bookseller the ISBN: 978-1-80341-446-1. They’ll know what to do.
A few advance copies may be made available for those booking conferences, reading engagements, and speaking engagements. Recruit your local bookstore, conference panel, or boardroom to get a visit from Alan.
SPECIAL OFFER! For a limited time, Alan can offer a free copy for every board member of your nonprofit arts organization when you sign up for a consultation. Contact him at alan@501c3.guru for details.
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