In an probably doomed attempt to be modern (I am forty next month, so forgive this), I have signed up to Twitter and will be `Twittering' at appropriate intervals/ events henceforth.
The format (at 140 characters) is designed to challenge the verbose, such as I, but I am hoping it will force brevity, concision and better writing.
I hope therefore not the be the man who put Twit into Twitter and if you want to follow my ID is
CraigDeardenPhillips
Best
C
Monday, June 29, 2009
Saturday, June 27, 2009
A World of Change
Whoever wins the next general election, it is now clear that from next year onwards, we are facing the fiscal equivalent of the battle of the Somme. A defining challenge will confront the UK's public managers: they will need to be more efficient with public money while not undermining the effectiveness the population now expects of public services.
Yes, it seems a tall order. But while many predict a 1990s-style meltdown in public services, I, for one, don't believe this will happen. In fact, I think there are reasons for optimism.
First, this is because in future there simply won't be the resources to fund the cycles of structural changes in public sector organisations that have marked the past decade. Beyond a painful early adjustment to the new financial reality - in which many public managers will, unfortunately, lose their jobs - I predict we will see a period of enforced stability, which will enable public managers to cast their gaze outwards, on the needs of the public and the improvement of services.
Second, command-and-control is in retreat in the public sector. Centralised models of management are well known to be inimical to individual initiative and organisational effectiveness, even in organisations that are accountable to politicians and the public. Public managers need the power to manage and this could lead, in time, to a decline in the back-covering, "wading-through-treacle" side of public management.
Third, the coming crisis will invite massive levels of individual creativity from public managers. Crisis begets invention and the "mavericks", who think and do things differently, will be in high demand. The state sector could become a far better place for "public entrepreneurs" with a talent for piecing together new approaches, rather than people exclusively skilled in working the bureaucracy. Such mavericks are already plentiful in the public sector, but have often been marginalised or forced to leave to work in other sectors where their talent is valued.
So what will the successful public manager of 2020 be like? She will be outward-looking and deliver clear results, attested to by users, communities and partner agencies as much as by her own bosses. She will be able to work the politicians and defend herself, but she will be judged on her results. She will be able to do clever stuff with resources, marrying public money with other resources, and she will build first-class relationships, while keeping her own staff "people-facing".
The successful public servant of 2020 will not be a lifetime public servant. She will bring a world view, skills and experience from other sectors and take learning back there. The career civil servant will be virtually gone.
This is a world away. We could regress, but I don't think we will. People expect world-class public services, even though the levels of public investment of 2003-10 may never occur again. We have to find a way to bridge that gap through empowerment, creativity and entrepreneurialism during a very difficult time.
Yes, it seems a tall order. But while many predict a 1990s-style meltdown in public services, I, for one, don't believe this will happen. In fact, I think there are reasons for optimism.
First, this is because in future there simply won't be the resources to fund the cycles of structural changes in public sector organisations that have marked the past decade. Beyond a painful early adjustment to the new financial reality - in which many public managers will, unfortunately, lose their jobs - I predict we will see a period of enforced stability, which will enable public managers to cast their gaze outwards, on the needs of the public and the improvement of services.
Second, command-and-control is in retreat in the public sector. Centralised models of management are well known to be inimical to individual initiative and organisational effectiveness, even in organisations that are accountable to politicians and the public. Public managers need the power to manage and this could lead, in time, to a decline in the back-covering, "wading-through-treacle" side of public management.
Third, the coming crisis will invite massive levels of individual creativity from public managers. Crisis begets invention and the "mavericks", who think and do things differently, will be in high demand. The state sector could become a far better place for "public entrepreneurs" with a talent for piecing together new approaches, rather than people exclusively skilled in working the bureaucracy. Such mavericks are already plentiful in the public sector, but have often been marginalised or forced to leave to work in other sectors where their talent is valued.
So what will the successful public manager of 2020 be like? She will be outward-looking and deliver clear results, attested to by users, communities and partner agencies as much as by her own bosses. She will be able to work the politicians and defend herself, but she will be judged on her results. She will be able to do clever stuff with resources, marrying public money with other resources, and she will build first-class relationships, while keeping her own staff "people-facing".
The successful public servant of 2020 will not be a lifetime public servant. She will bring a world view, skills and experience from other sectors and take learning back there. The career civil servant will be virtually gone.
This is a world away. We could regress, but I don't think we will. People expect world-class public services, even though the levels of public investment of 2003-10 may never occur again. We have to find a way to bridge that gap through empowerment, creativity and entrepreneurialism during a very difficult time.
Friday, June 19, 2009
1000 Rabbits
I did my run later than usual last night, a magnficent Suffolk evening. Young corn stood green and upright in the fields, fully formed but hard and waxy. It was 8.30pm by the time I got out and just before 9.30pm when I ran into the park next to my house on the final stretch. The gates had been locked. All the cars and people had gone and I snuck in via a small, little-used gate.
As I emerged from a wooded area into open grassland, I came across what looked like a thousand rabbits, all seemingly aware of the `all clear' that dogs and people were no longer allowed and had come to feed on the lush grass in the meadow.
The arrival on scene, therefore, of myself and Terrier-Dog caused a mass scattering. Like Watership Down, a riot of rabbits fled for cover as the Terrier pulled on his extended lead to do what 100 years of breeding had made him for.
These gentle and nervous creatures looked up, zigzagged for cover, some fast, some slow. The babies taking their time, but all moving quickly to the nettles under which they could dive into the safety of the warren.
Within seconds, the carpeted meadow was, again rabbit-free, as the massed ranks waited, safely burrowed, for the second all-clear of the evening.
As I emerged from a wooded area into open grassland, I came across what looked like a thousand rabbits, all seemingly aware of the `all clear' that dogs and people were no longer allowed and had come to feed on the lush grass in the meadow.
The arrival on scene, therefore, of myself and Terrier-Dog caused a mass scattering. Like Watership Down, a riot of rabbits fled for cover as the Terrier pulled on his extended lead to do what 100 years of breeding had made him for.
These gentle and nervous creatures looked up, zigzagged for cover, some fast, some slow. The babies taking their time, but all moving quickly to the nettles under which they could dive into the safety of the warren.
Within seconds, the carpeted meadow was, again rabbit-free, as the massed ranks waited, safely burrowed, for the second all-clear of the evening.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Back to Reality
It has been a bit of a fortnight. An unexpected election. An MBE. A major development at work to steer through. How do I feel? Dazed, if I am honest. And daunted by the weight of what I have taken on.
I have spent some of the last week - the bit in which I wasn't working furiously - starting to re-order my life so that I can not only be an effective CEO, father, husband and Trustee but also a first-class County Councillor.
This has meant talking to my colleagues and trustees who, bless them, are incredibly supportive, my family, from whom I will be asking for further ladle-fulls of forebearance and one or two Councillor colleagues who will, I have no doubt, be wondering why I don't spend all my time on council business.
Because since being elected I have found that hardly anyone elected as a County Councillor has a job. Unless it is being a District Councillor, or "twin tracker" as they are called. Added together, this makes full time local politics a viable way of life for many people who stand for election, particularly those with existing pensions.
Not for me of course, or many people under the age of 50. I have to do everything for the Council in, on average about 12-15 hours per week. This means I have to prioritize. It also signals I can't get over-involved in the politics of the county council. Which, from what I have seen, might be a good thing.
For what I have noticed (perhaps these things are clearer when you are new) is that many aspects of the Council's modus-operandi are fairly anachronistic when you look at what we know about what makes for organisational success. Take diversity as an example. Its members (elected Councillors) are drawn almost exclusively from the over 50s. Most are male, most middle-class and white. Young people under 30 are invisible as are black people. While a cross section of part of Suffolk, the full chamber in no way reflects its diversity.
Related to this is the old-fashionedness of much of its political life. The Council is,I think most people would find, over-politicised. Even fairly pragmatic issues can end up dividing along party lines. A kind of mini-Westminster feeling. While, of course, we need clear parties and programmes, we also need a sense of reality too. This is not Government and we are not, thank-goodness, MPs.
Indeed it was the whipping system in the Council which brought about the policy of closing our middle school system, the unpopular policy against which contributed to mt election by people who normally vote Tory. For despite about 90% opposition locally, our former Tory Councillor voted for closure and paid, ultimately, with his seat. People just didn't get it. Their Councillor was there for them - wasn't he? Well no, he was there for his party.
I say this not to make a political shot - I expect the same from whichever party is in power (though again `in power' over-states the real situation). It is to say that, locally and probably nationally too, we need a politics that goes beyond party. Elected people need, as in the US, to be locally accountable as well as answerable to their party. People who vote for us need to know we will, in the final analysis, put them first.
Now that I am elected, my mission is to be a first class Councillor, not a local politician focused on the machinations of the council. I aim to be seen on the streets of Hardwick more than in the steel-and-glass of Endevour House, the council's glamorous HQ. People's faith in our system and our elected representatives is at an all-time low. If I can do anything at the small-time level at which I operate, to restore people's belief in the system, I will consider myself a success.
I have spent some of the last week - the bit in which I wasn't working furiously - starting to re-order my life so that I can not only be an effective CEO, father, husband and Trustee but also a first-class County Councillor.
This has meant talking to my colleagues and trustees who, bless them, are incredibly supportive, my family, from whom I will be asking for further ladle-fulls of forebearance and one or two Councillor colleagues who will, I have no doubt, be wondering why I don't spend all my time on council business.
Because since being elected I have found that hardly anyone elected as a County Councillor has a job. Unless it is being a District Councillor, or "twin tracker" as they are called. Added together, this makes full time local politics a viable way of life for many people who stand for election, particularly those with existing pensions.
Not for me of course, or many people under the age of 50. I have to do everything for the Council in, on average about 12-15 hours per week. This means I have to prioritize. It also signals I can't get over-involved in the politics of the county council. Which, from what I have seen, might be a good thing.
For what I have noticed (perhaps these things are clearer when you are new) is that many aspects of the Council's modus-operandi are fairly anachronistic when you look at what we know about what makes for organisational success. Take diversity as an example. Its members (elected Councillors) are drawn almost exclusively from the over 50s. Most are male, most middle-class and white. Young people under 30 are invisible as are black people. While a cross section of part of Suffolk, the full chamber in no way reflects its diversity.
Related to this is the old-fashionedness of much of its political life. The Council is,I think most people would find, over-politicised. Even fairly pragmatic issues can end up dividing along party lines. A kind of mini-Westminster feeling. While, of course, we need clear parties and programmes, we also need a sense of reality too. This is not Government and we are not, thank-goodness, MPs.
Indeed it was the whipping system in the Council which brought about the policy of closing our middle school system, the unpopular policy against which contributed to mt election by people who normally vote Tory. For despite about 90% opposition locally, our former Tory Councillor voted for closure and paid, ultimately, with his seat. People just didn't get it. Their Councillor was there for them - wasn't he? Well no, he was there for his party.
I say this not to make a political shot - I expect the same from whichever party is in power (though again `in power' over-states the real situation). It is to say that, locally and probably nationally too, we need a politics that goes beyond party. Elected people need, as in the US, to be locally accountable as well as answerable to their party. People who vote for us need to know we will, in the final analysis, put them first.
Now that I am elected, my mission is to be a first class Councillor, not a local politician focused on the machinations of the council. I aim to be seen on the streets of Hardwick more than in the steel-and-glass of Endevour House, the council's glamorous HQ. People's faith in our system and our elected representatives is at an all-time low. If I can do anything at the small-time level at which I operate, to restore people's belief in the system, I will consider myself a success.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Sheep-Dipped
Yesterday I attended my induction as a new Councillor.
It all took place at theglass-and-metal `Endevour House', the gleaming HQ of Suffolk County Council. Though the place felt more like RBS or Goldmans than a local authority, I prefer the open-plan, corporate feel than the fustiness of most LA bases.
The induction itself was performed with extreme efficiency. It felt like I imagine a Club Class flight would do. Smiling, attentive, highly proficient staff ensuring you are taken care of the whole time, not able to do enough for you. For a while I almost forgot I was in the public sector, not five star hotel!
The piece-de-resistace is the Members' area which is a bit like a cross between the RSA and the British Library. Here you can snuggle down with the latest copy of the New Scientist or that day's East Anglian Daily Times, check the web and pop in to see your political colleagues in a neighbouring room.
One thing that jumped out at me as a third-sector person is how big a factor IT is in the way life works inside the Council. It is simply first class. And as new Councillor I was given a laptop, Blackberry and all the kit I needed on day one to be fully-functioning citizen on the Council's e-world.
So, at the end of a long day, I walked,badged and IT'd out into the street. The door was opened for me and I was helped with my stuff to the special spaces for Councillors in the car park.
The experience seems designed to illuminate who the real bosses are - the elected representatives. But I also sensed that it is also about assimilation. Bringing you into the corporate bosom to be part of the family. A seduction of sorts.
Lovely though it is, I am deliberately stepping back a little from this. I want my time to be spent on the streets of Hardwick not the corridors of Endevour House.
And my loyalties in the correspondingly right places.
It all took place at theglass-and-metal `Endevour House', the gleaming HQ of Suffolk County Council. Though the place felt more like RBS or Goldmans than a local authority, I prefer the open-plan, corporate feel than the fustiness of most LA bases.
The induction itself was performed with extreme efficiency. It felt like I imagine a Club Class flight would do. Smiling, attentive, highly proficient staff ensuring you are taken care of the whole time, not able to do enough for you. For a while I almost forgot I was in the public sector, not five star hotel!
The piece-de-resistace is the Members' area which is a bit like a cross between the RSA and the British Library. Here you can snuggle down with the latest copy of the New Scientist or that day's East Anglian Daily Times, check the web and pop in to see your political colleagues in a neighbouring room.
One thing that jumped out at me as a third-sector person is how big a factor IT is in the way life works inside the Council. It is simply first class. And as new Councillor I was given a laptop, Blackberry and all the kit I needed on day one to be fully-functioning citizen on the Council's e-world.
So, at the end of a long day, I walked,badged and IT'd out into the street. The door was opened for me and I was helped with my stuff to the special spaces for Councillors in the car park.
The experience seems designed to illuminate who the real bosses are - the elected representatives. But I also sensed that it is also about assimilation. Bringing you into the corporate bosom to be part of the family. A seduction of sorts.
Lovely though it is, I am deliberately stepping back a little from this. I want my time to be spent on the streets of Hardwick not the corridors of Endevour House.
And my loyalties in the correspondingly right places.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Lib Dem Gain - Hardwick
In the midst of the `Tory Tide' of local government success, there were odd little eddies and swirls in other directions.
One of these was Bury St Edmunds where, with the support of my team, I turned over a ten percent Tory advantage to win, a Green came from nowhere to beat Labour and an Indepdendent took another seat leaving just one of four in the hands of the Tories.
The day of the results was bizzare. I awoke with a clear and calm sense that I hadn't won. The three polling stations had been busy (44% turnout) which I felt meant a Tory win. I arrived at the count with my Green colleague Mark Ereira-Guyer in `end of term' mood not really expecting a lot.
Then the excitement. My pile of votes was growing at a much faster rate than those of either of my opponents, one of whom was pacing the floor and biting his nails.
All of a sudden, I was being told I had won and then it was announced.
For more info go to http://elections.suffolkcc.gov.uk/candidate.aspx?areaID=46
Immediately a very nice young man approached me from Suffolk County Council came up, shook my hand and gave me a big booklet full of all sorts of helpful advice about what is to come. Then I went to talk to the local press, again two very nice, polite young men.
For the next three hours I felt in shock. Dazed a bit confused. Katy came and met me and we drove into town, me texting and emailing, but not really there.
By teatime, it had sunk in. I had won the election and am now County Councillor Craig Dearden-Phillips. My elation had turned into anxiety. How was I going to do this on top of everything else? Then I saw my kids and started to feel upset. Was this going to be at their expense?
In the evening, we took out both sets of parents to celebrate, though the feeling of apprehension hadn't entirely left me. Thankfully, as the night progressed, that sense of possibility had restored itself and I managed to enjoy myself.
A night's sleep and a meeting today with the 11 other Lib Dems who now formed the Official Opposition, after the decimation of the Labour Party. This meeting put me right. Our Group Leader told me to look after my job, my wife, my kids and the community before worrying about Shire Hall stuff. I felt pacified.
So a big two days and not the ones I was expecting. But, if you play to win, as I did, I guess it is better to expect to do so every so often.
One of these was Bury St Edmunds where, with the support of my team, I turned over a ten percent Tory advantage to win, a Green came from nowhere to beat Labour and an Indepdendent took another seat leaving just one of four in the hands of the Tories.
The day of the results was bizzare. I awoke with a clear and calm sense that I hadn't won. The three polling stations had been busy (44% turnout) which I felt meant a Tory win. I arrived at the count with my Green colleague Mark Ereira-Guyer in `end of term' mood not really expecting a lot.
Then the excitement. My pile of votes was growing at a much faster rate than those of either of my opponents, one of whom was pacing the floor and biting his nails.
All of a sudden, I was being told I had won and then it was announced.
For more info go to http://elections.suffolkcc.gov.uk/candidate.aspx?areaID=46
Immediately a very nice young man approached me from Suffolk County Council came up, shook my hand and gave me a big booklet full of all sorts of helpful advice about what is to come. Then I went to talk to the local press, again two very nice, polite young men.
For the next three hours I felt in shock. Dazed a bit confused. Katy came and met me and we drove into town, me texting and emailing, but not really there.
By teatime, it had sunk in. I had won the election and am now County Councillor Craig Dearden-Phillips. My elation had turned into anxiety. How was I going to do this on top of everything else? Then I saw my kids and started to feel upset. Was this going to be at their expense?
In the evening, we took out both sets of parents to celebrate, though the feeling of apprehension hadn't entirely left me. Thankfully, as the night progressed, that sense of possibility had restored itself and I managed to enjoy myself.
A night's sleep and a meeting today with the 11 other Lib Dems who now formed the Official Opposition, after the decimation of the Labour Party. This meeting put me right. Our Group Leader told me to look after my job, my wife, my kids and the community before worrying about Shire Hall stuff. I felt pacified.
So a big two days and not the ones I was expecting. But, if you play to win, as I did, I guess it is better to expect to do so every so often.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Awaiting the People's Verdict
Today the voters of Hardwick Division go to the polls. Win, lose or draw this has been a worthwhile experience for me. This election is difficult to call as the cross-winds of local and national issues collide and confuse the picture. It feels a bit like being on the X Factor and waiting for the calls to come in. Nervy, elated, a bit helpless.
Our campaign has been really strong - three leaflets and every door knocked on (3500 in all). The only hiccup has been our clash with another candidate who has wrung as much advantage as he can from an early and very promptly and professionally-dealt with problem in our campaign information. When problems are sorted quickly and apologies offered you expect people to accept this and move on, not milk it for all it is worth.
I guess that is politics. However,I refuse to play that particular game. My rule number one upon deciding to do this was to be myself, not get pulled out of shape. To do so is stressful and self-defeating. And it doesn't make you look good.
Today I have lots of people out as Tellers, Drivers and Callers. We have well over a thousand people to ensure turn out for us. I have been touched by the levels of support I have received, meaning that I have not had to deliver a single leaflet or do anything that is not voter-facing. My team of 15 volunteers does all of it for me, leaving me to talk to people. There has been a great atmosphere in the camp, and, as I may have said before, the spirit in the campaign reminds me of the early days of Speaking Up.
Better run, I have to run round the Polling Stations now and show my face. Win, lose or draw, this has been great fun. I recommend it to anyone.
Our campaign has been really strong - three leaflets and every door knocked on (3500 in all). The only hiccup has been our clash with another candidate who has wrung as much advantage as he can from an early and very promptly and professionally-dealt with problem in our campaign information. When problems are sorted quickly and apologies offered you expect people to accept this and move on, not milk it for all it is worth.
I guess that is politics. However,I refuse to play that particular game. My rule number one upon deciding to do this was to be myself, not get pulled out of shape. To do so is stressful and self-defeating. And it doesn't make you look good.
Today I have lots of people out as Tellers, Drivers and Callers. We have well over a thousand people to ensure turn out for us. I have been touched by the levels of support I have received, meaning that I have not had to deliver a single leaflet or do anything that is not voter-facing. My team of 15 volunteers does all of it for me, leaving me to talk to people. There has been a great atmosphere in the camp, and, as I may have said before, the spirit in the campaign reminds me of the early days of Speaking Up.
Better run, I have to run round the Polling Stations now and show my face. Win, lose or draw, this has been great fun. I recommend it to anyone.
Monday, June 1, 2009
A Fork in the Road (Goodbye Jonathan - and well done)
News came through last week of the departure of Jonathan Bland, CEO of Social Enterprise Coalition these last ten years.
First things first, it needs to be acknowledged by more people that he has done a fantastic job of building the profile of social enterprise in this country. While we can all argue the toss about how he has gone about it, there is no doubt in my mind that he deserves huge credit for getting us where we are, particularly in Government circles.
Here, on relatively low resources, he has helped develop awareness that, most recently, produced the commitment to 25,000 new social enterprise jobs. Whatever your views of his vision for social enterprise (and we all have our views on this) he has been a tenacious, passionate and effective advocate of social business and I think he sometimes doesn't get enough credit.
Personally, I believe Jonathan should feel deeply satisfied with his contribution down the years and I wish him the very best in his new life in Finland.
So what next for SEC and for the sector in general? It feels we are possibly at a fork in the road. Broadly speaking we divide into two camps, one that prefers close definition of social business, linking it with particular ownership and reward structures, as an `alternative model' to regular business and another camp which prefers a looser approach which looks as much at the social outcomes of any given organisation, regardless of its structure or ownership.
To date, the strategy of SEC, from what I can see, has been more towards definition. And, in a sense I can see why. Government in particular needs to be able to differentiate social enterprise from wider business if it is to treat it as a clearly distinct entity. Likewise, the public, human-nature even, seems to clamour for definition.
Part of this quite understandable. In a cynical age, many are keen for a label that santifies what might otherwise be quite ordinary profit-maximising businesses. Ownership represents a clear shorthand for what otherwise might not be a particularly verifiable concept.
The downside is that definition has been, for a long time now, the dominant discussion, rather than outcomes. Like a boomerang, it seems to return, no matter how hard you think you have thrown it.
Definition also has the more risky downside of sectioning-off social enterprise to the tiny minority of organisations with appropriate legal structures. So even a fast-growing sector will only ever, at its peak, perhaps encompass a relatively small number of businesses.
So strategically, the arguments rage. On the one hand, you have some saying that social business will never get out of the blocks unless it drops its fixation with definition and others saying that without definition, social business will become so amorphous as to risk becoming little more than high-octane CSR.
Where am I on this? Being the liberal-schniberal I am, I see merit on both sides of the debate as I understand it. I am worried about a world in which we cannot say who we are and what makes us different. Equally, I want us to be able to talk to the Shell's and Unilever's of this world about how they too might be able to become social businesses in the sense of achieving a better balance between profit, people and planet - plus, and this is CRUCIAL, giving transparency on this.
Can we square this particular circle? Well, any sector is, remember, full of, and indeed defined by diversity. And I am not just talking about political parties or movements. The CBI, TUC and Federation of Small Businesses all have different `wings' with varying aspirations while still managing, just about, to be cohesive and effective forces.
I see social business as similar. We need to embrace everyone who is committed to social reporting and a better balance between profit and other types of outcome. Personally I err towards definition along outcome-lines than structure lines, but this doesn't mean we cannot all stand together.
I think SEC, going forward needs to both acknowledge, publicly, that social enterprise as a number of `faces' (just as mainstream business does), support the varying needs of the sector in an even-handed way but, and this is perhaps the departure needed from current strategy, reach out to suitable private corporations to bring them into the fold. A bigger tent in other words.
Yes there are risks. Yes some people will jump up and down and form break-aways. And yes we should support them to do so. Any church worth its salt is a broad church.
We should not fear this. A broader `movement' will be a stronger one,in my view because the fundamentals of anyone who is part of it will be similar - business for multiple purposes, not just profit. For me, colours on mast at last, is what defines social business to me more than anything else.
And this is where SEC now needs to go while also keeping everyone we already have `on the bus'.
First things first, it needs to be acknowledged by more people that he has done a fantastic job of building the profile of social enterprise in this country. While we can all argue the toss about how he has gone about it, there is no doubt in my mind that he deserves huge credit for getting us where we are, particularly in Government circles.
Here, on relatively low resources, he has helped develop awareness that, most recently, produced the commitment to 25,000 new social enterprise jobs. Whatever your views of his vision for social enterprise (and we all have our views on this) he has been a tenacious, passionate and effective advocate of social business and I think he sometimes doesn't get enough credit.
Personally, I believe Jonathan should feel deeply satisfied with his contribution down the years and I wish him the very best in his new life in Finland.
So what next for SEC and for the sector in general? It feels we are possibly at a fork in the road. Broadly speaking we divide into two camps, one that prefers close definition of social business, linking it with particular ownership and reward structures, as an `alternative model' to regular business and another camp which prefers a looser approach which looks as much at the social outcomes of any given organisation, regardless of its structure or ownership.
To date, the strategy of SEC, from what I can see, has been more towards definition. And, in a sense I can see why. Government in particular needs to be able to differentiate social enterprise from wider business if it is to treat it as a clearly distinct entity. Likewise, the public, human-nature even, seems to clamour for definition.
Part of this quite understandable. In a cynical age, many are keen for a label that santifies what might otherwise be quite ordinary profit-maximising businesses. Ownership represents a clear shorthand for what otherwise might not be a particularly verifiable concept.
The downside is that definition has been, for a long time now, the dominant discussion, rather than outcomes. Like a boomerang, it seems to return, no matter how hard you think you have thrown it.
Definition also has the more risky downside of sectioning-off social enterprise to the tiny minority of organisations with appropriate legal structures. So even a fast-growing sector will only ever, at its peak, perhaps encompass a relatively small number of businesses.
So strategically, the arguments rage. On the one hand, you have some saying that social business will never get out of the blocks unless it drops its fixation with definition and others saying that without definition, social business will become so amorphous as to risk becoming little more than high-octane CSR.
Where am I on this? Being the liberal-schniberal I am, I see merit on both sides of the debate as I understand it. I am worried about a world in which we cannot say who we are and what makes us different. Equally, I want us to be able to talk to the Shell's and Unilever's of this world about how they too might be able to become social businesses in the sense of achieving a better balance between profit, people and planet - plus, and this is CRUCIAL, giving transparency on this.
Can we square this particular circle? Well, any sector is, remember, full of, and indeed defined by diversity. And I am not just talking about political parties or movements. The CBI, TUC and Federation of Small Businesses all have different `wings' with varying aspirations while still managing, just about, to be cohesive and effective forces.
I see social business as similar. We need to embrace everyone who is committed to social reporting and a better balance between profit and other types of outcome. Personally I err towards definition along outcome-lines than structure lines, but this doesn't mean we cannot all stand together.
I think SEC, going forward needs to both acknowledge, publicly, that social enterprise as a number of `faces' (just as mainstream business does), support the varying needs of the sector in an even-handed way but, and this is perhaps the departure needed from current strategy, reach out to suitable private corporations to bring them into the fold. A bigger tent in other words.
Yes there are risks. Yes some people will jump up and down and form break-aways. And yes we should support them to do so. Any church worth its salt is a broad church.
We should not fear this. A broader `movement' will be a stronger one,in my view because the fundamentals of anyone who is part of it will be similar - business for multiple purposes, not just profit. For me, colours on mast at last, is what defines social business to me more than anything else.
And this is where SEC now needs to go while also keeping everyone we already have `on the bus'.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
You Can't Dencentralise and Empower Without PR
Win or lose in this election, I will not regret having done it. First of all, you meet a lot of people. You get to understand what is on people's minds. I am also quite impressed by just how much people understand politics and current affairs.
What also hits me is the preciousness of democracy. The fact that it is the public that chooses whether I am a Councillor next week, not a committee or a bureaucrat. They have the choice.
And while choosing a Councillor doessn't translate into anything like real control or empowerment on most issues, it is a golden thread of accountability that defines the type of society we are.
I would like to see more of this: recall, citizen referenda and citizen-led legislation like you see in the US. Politics beyond politicians which invigorates civil society - and keeps politicians on their toes.
Competition is key to this. Without competition, the benefits of democracy disappear too. In the neighbouring division to mine, in which I live, there are no leaflets, poster or visits.
Because there is only one winner. Now and always. He gets around 50% of the vote but no more. Most people know the situation and, surprisingly, don't engage. And he feels more accountable to his party's whips than the people who put him there. This isn't the right balance, I feel.
By contrast the competition in my Division is intense and three-way. At least two candidates, including myself, are visiting every household in the Division and leafleting intensively.
If we win, we know we have to be active, energetic representaives, not the do-nothing types you find in the Labour or Tory monocultures that you find in inner-cities or the rural shires.
For this reason, PR is needed. Alternative vote at local level would retain the link but ensure that whovever won had the endorsement of the majority. It would also enliven debate and engagement.
Which is why Cameron's announcement and interview yesterday can be seen as politicial bluff. Because if he was remotely serious he wouldn't exclude electoral reform from his list.
Electoral reform is the oxygen of decentralisation and wider engagement in politics. Without it, most votes don't count for a thing. If Labour had any sense they too would come out for PR, like Alan Johnson has done.
`Typical Lib Dem' I hear you thinking. Well yes, you are right. For Lib Dems have always championed the radical decentralisation now being aired by the mainstream parties. But you can't give power away to any meaningful degree without a voting system that also recognises the value of each and every vote.
What also hits me is the preciousness of democracy. The fact that it is the public that chooses whether I am a Councillor next week, not a committee or a bureaucrat. They have the choice.
And while choosing a Councillor doessn't translate into anything like real control or empowerment on most issues, it is a golden thread of accountability that defines the type of society we are.
I would like to see more of this: recall, citizen referenda and citizen-led legislation like you see in the US. Politics beyond politicians which invigorates civil society - and keeps politicians on their toes.
Competition is key to this. Without competition, the benefits of democracy disappear too. In the neighbouring division to mine, in which I live, there are no leaflets, poster or visits.
Because there is only one winner. Now and always. He gets around 50% of the vote but no more. Most people know the situation and, surprisingly, don't engage. And he feels more accountable to his party's whips than the people who put him there. This isn't the right balance, I feel.
By contrast the competition in my Division is intense and three-way. At least two candidates, including myself, are visiting every household in the Division and leafleting intensively.
If we win, we know we have to be active, energetic representaives, not the do-nothing types you find in the Labour or Tory monocultures that you find in inner-cities or the rural shires.
For this reason, PR is needed. Alternative vote at local level would retain the link but ensure that whovever won had the endorsement of the majority. It would also enliven debate and engagement.
Which is why Cameron's announcement and interview yesterday can be seen as politicial bluff. Because if he was remotely serious he wouldn't exclude electoral reform from his list.
Electoral reform is the oxygen of decentralisation and wider engagement in politics. Without it, most votes don't count for a thing. If Labour had any sense they too would come out for PR, like Alan Johnson has done.
`Typical Lib Dem' I hear you thinking. Well yes, you are right. For Lib Dems have always championed the radical decentralisation now being aired by the mainstream parties. But you can't give power away to any meaningful degree without a voting system that also recognises the value of each and every vote.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
When Work Isn't Working
I was on the phone yesterday to CEO-friend of mine. It was lovely to speak to him, as ever, but he's not happy man. Not at work anyway.
Like a lot of CEOs, he's just not enjoying the job. He struggles to believe that his organisation is making a difference and he despairs at the mountain of crap he has to deal with every time he goes to work.
He contrast this life with his earlier one with a much smaller organisation. This felt far more `real' and he felt that, however difficult things got, he was making a tangible difference, not, as he put it, `wasting his time' in his current role.
We discussed the nature of senior jobs. Are they all a bit like this? Low on satisfaction, high on hassle. With an accompanying sense that only a small droplet of social good emerges from the oil-refinery of inputs and outputs over which one presides as a CEO.
Obviously not all the top jobs are bad. There is fun to be had. I, for one, am in a more fortunate situation than my friend. But he has a point. We talked a bit about money.
What you get above 45k is, he says is commensurate with the level of stress you have to ensure. The top salaries are essentially buying not only your skills but also your ability to absorb negativity and, perhaps most crucially, your consent to set aside your own fulfilment through meaningful work in exchange for a good standard of living.
Again, this reflects, I think, only some jobs - but more than perhaps we'd all be comfortable admitting. At times (normally during long meetings), I too feel I am divorcing myself from what I used to actually enjoy in order to earn more than I once did.
Where does this leave us? My friend is seriously considering his options. He yearns for a more meaningful if less well paid existence. Something brand new is on his mind.
For me, I am staying where I am, for now. My situation is cushioned by an amazing senior team and board. I consider myself one of the lucky ones. But, in the middle distance, I envisage change, if only to restore that vital connection between myself and the direct delivery of benefit.
Like a lot of CEOs, he's just not enjoying the job. He struggles to believe that his organisation is making a difference and he despairs at the mountain of crap he has to deal with every time he goes to work.
He contrast this life with his earlier one with a much smaller organisation. This felt far more `real' and he felt that, however difficult things got, he was making a tangible difference, not, as he put it, `wasting his time' in his current role.
We discussed the nature of senior jobs. Are they all a bit like this? Low on satisfaction, high on hassle. With an accompanying sense that only a small droplet of social good emerges from the oil-refinery of inputs and outputs over which one presides as a CEO.
Obviously not all the top jobs are bad. There is fun to be had. I, for one, am in a more fortunate situation than my friend. But he has a point. We talked a bit about money.
What you get above 45k is, he says is commensurate with the level of stress you have to ensure. The top salaries are essentially buying not only your skills but also your ability to absorb negativity and, perhaps most crucially, your consent to set aside your own fulfilment through meaningful work in exchange for a good standard of living.
Again, this reflects, I think, only some jobs - but more than perhaps we'd all be comfortable admitting. At times (normally during long meetings), I too feel I am divorcing myself from what I used to actually enjoy in order to earn more than I once did.
Where does this leave us? My friend is seriously considering his options. He yearns for a more meaningful if less well paid existence. Something brand new is on his mind.
For me, I am staying where I am, for now. My situation is cushioned by an amazing senior team and board. I consider myself one of the lucky ones. But, in the middle distance, I envisage change, if only to restore that vital connection between myself and the direct delivery of benefit.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Learning the Hard Way
I am mostly enjoying my new life as a small-time politician. The campaign takes me back to the early days of Speaking Up. All volunteers, young and old, all in it together. I love the challenge of working out people's skills and melding together a team that clicks. I also relish the buzz of the campaign.
My `Campaign Crew' is a motley group ranging from 82 to 22. I have senior professionals, I have call-centre staff, pensioners and students. Unusually most of my crew are not Lib Dem party members and three are members of other political parties. I've not worked with this kind of diversity for a long time. After years of working with only with my senior team and board this is actually a refreshing kind of challenge. Fortunately I am loving it. Mostly.
This week the campaign had its first hiccup. One of the team, a prominent member of the local party, wrote part of my second leaflet and included in it an incorrect fact about one of my opponents' voting record. 3500 of these had been printed and 500 delivered before I got an angry call from the gentleman whose good name we had besmirched.
Understandably upset, he demanded that we withdraw the leaflet and apologise. Then the paper called and suddenly I am part of a story about the depths to which local politicians will go to gain petty advantage.
My more experienced colleagues tell me, like kindly uncles, that this is all par for the course. Local politics is, they say, pretty aggressive and personal at times (my opponent pulled no punches in his communication). It all left me a little...unsettled, if I am honest. Which I am sure was the desired intention.
Where does this leave me? Do I accept that local poltiics is a bit of a knockabout and give as good as I get? Or do I seek to act in the way I do in other areas of my life where I try, wherever possible, to seek the common ground and get things done through trust. A path I have always found to be the most productive.
For now, I am going with the latter, whatever people tell me. The people I really admire in politics - Frank Field, Vince Cable etc - are all `real people' as much as they are professional politicians. The public actually like this about them. While I am sure they are superb operators, they are smart enough to realise that the highly adversarial means of doing politics in this country are actually not particularly effective at achieving its ends. And that they are a turn off for voters, especially the young.
If elected, I will seek to work in the way I always have to make good things happen. And, yes, this includes a personal note of apology to my opponent, despite his reaction, which was not what I am used to in such situations. When I look back in a few years time at this blog I may laugh at my naivety. But is there any point doing this if you're not going to be yourself and bring to the table what has worked well so far in your life? If that's the case, why bother?
The lessons of this week have been harsh ones though. Check your facts. Be in control of your message. Anticipate how opponents might try to convey not only what you stand for but how you operate as a person. This is, I am learning, a tough game, even at local level. The gloves are off and if you leave yourself open, as I did, you will get one in the head. I don't believe there is anything inherently `personal' in any of this stuff (candidates apparently have great fun together at the count, once the war for votes is over), but, in the meantime, anything you do which can count against the way voters perceive you is fair-game.
My `Campaign Crew' is a motley group ranging from 82 to 22. I have senior professionals, I have call-centre staff, pensioners and students. Unusually most of my crew are not Lib Dem party members and three are members of other political parties. I've not worked with this kind of diversity for a long time. After years of working with only with my senior team and board this is actually a refreshing kind of challenge. Fortunately I am loving it. Mostly.
This week the campaign had its first hiccup. One of the team, a prominent member of the local party, wrote part of my second leaflet and included in it an incorrect fact about one of my opponents' voting record. 3500 of these had been printed and 500 delivered before I got an angry call from the gentleman whose good name we had besmirched.
Understandably upset, he demanded that we withdraw the leaflet and apologise. Then the paper called and suddenly I am part of a story about the depths to which local politicians will go to gain petty advantage.
My more experienced colleagues tell me, like kindly uncles, that this is all par for the course. Local politics is, they say, pretty aggressive and personal at times (my opponent pulled no punches in his communication). It all left me a little...unsettled, if I am honest. Which I am sure was the desired intention.
Where does this leave me? Do I accept that local poltiics is a bit of a knockabout and give as good as I get? Or do I seek to act in the way I do in other areas of my life where I try, wherever possible, to seek the common ground and get things done through trust. A path I have always found to be the most productive.
For now, I am going with the latter, whatever people tell me. The people I really admire in politics - Frank Field, Vince Cable etc - are all `real people' as much as they are professional politicians. The public actually like this about them. While I am sure they are superb operators, they are smart enough to realise that the highly adversarial means of doing politics in this country are actually not particularly effective at achieving its ends. And that they are a turn off for voters, especially the young.
If elected, I will seek to work in the way I always have to make good things happen. And, yes, this includes a personal note of apology to my opponent, despite his reaction, which was not what I am used to in such situations. When I look back in a few years time at this blog I may laugh at my naivety. But is there any point doing this if you're not going to be yourself and bring to the table what has worked well so far in your life? If that's the case, why bother?
The lessons of this week have been harsh ones though. Check your facts. Be in control of your message. Anticipate how opponents might try to convey not only what you stand for but how you operate as a person. This is, I am learning, a tough game, even at local level. The gloves are off and if you leave yourself open, as I did, you will get one in the head. I don't believe there is anything inherently `personal' in any of this stuff (candidates apparently have great fun together at the count, once the war for votes is over), but, in the meantime, anything you do which can count against the way voters perceive you is fair-game.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
The Anonymous Pol
I am feeling very virtuous right now. For a small-time politician anyway. On my rounds I picked up a lot of concern about a local road near a school where there is no crossing.
I wrote a letter to the paper (the titan Bury Free Press) and was immediately called by a journalist.
Time to come clean but risk being outed a a pol or to milk the story but risk exposure? Being risk-averse, and reasonably clean, I fessed up but pointed the journo to the local mums.
However, I am, as anyone knows me, never one to miss an opportunity. So I did pop round to let the Mums know I had called the paper and they wanted to run the story. And, that, yes, I was stepping out now, because I thought it would run better without politics.
For a moment I felt the cynicism melt away as bid goodbye, jumped into my Scrapage Focus (a grand and its yours) and sped away. OK so I don't make Friday's paper. But this felt like a good result in these overcast times. And it certainly felt right. Two votes rather than, say, 20. Maybe I will live to regret it. But, somehow, I don't think I will.
I wrote a letter to the paper (the titan Bury Free Press) and was immediately called by a journalist.
Time to come clean but risk being outed a a pol or to milk the story but risk exposure? Being risk-averse, and reasonably clean, I fessed up but pointed the journo to the local mums.
However, I am, as anyone knows me, never one to miss an opportunity. So I did pop round to let the Mums know I had called the paper and they wanted to run the story. And, that, yes, I was stepping out now, because I thought it would run better without politics.
For a moment I felt the cynicism melt away as bid goodbye, jumped into my Scrapage Focus (a grand and its yours) and sped away. OK so I don't make Friday's paper. But this felt like a good result in these overcast times. And it certainly felt right. Two votes rather than, say, 20. Maybe I will live to regret it. But, somehow, I don't think I will.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Politicians - you're all the bloody same!
Its not a great week to be out knocking on doors as an aspiring small-time politician. People just don't want to know. MPs of all parties have done fantastic damage to not only to politics but also to the social fabric.
The scandals of the week have given documentary, indeed granular, proof of the grasping, maximising nature of many of our politicians. And to all the curmudgeons who say `They're only in it for themselves', well the proof is there now for all to see.
On the doorstep, all you can do is say you agree and tell them what a nightmare it is at local level where we don't get paid etc. A lot of people tell me they are not going to vote, as a protest. Others, even committed voters, just don't know what to do next. This has, flummoxed them.
And this is perhaps the most worrying aspect to all this. The cynics were always there, a small minority. Most people in this country recognise the need for politics, they might not engage that much but their tacit consent is key to our system working. If it is withdrawn, we're all in trouble.
All of this opens door not only to mass disengagement but also the political fringe. I suspect the BNP will benefit in many areas because of this.
What also interests me is the way nearly all MPs - the better people as well - all pretty much got what they could. Obviously this is so much the norm in Westminster that people soon lose any inhibition once elected. I wondered to myself what my claim would have looked like were I an MP for, say, Bury St Edmunds. Would I have a second home? Might I have used all the available means to furnish it without dipping into my own pocket. Could I have resisted the temptation to realise capital gains when I finally sold it?
I would like to be able to say No, No and No to all of these questions. But I am not sure it would always be quite so straightforward. While the moralist within me would want to resist, the human in me would ask futher questions: If all my peers claim for these things, wny shouldn't I? Is it within the rules, after all, to claim things which are incurred in setting oneself up as an MP who has to, effectively, live in two places? And, at the end of the day, I may not be an MP forever and my career prospects have already ben pretty shredded by getting into politics all those years ago.....
I think all of this is, in the wider context, pretty weak. But I can see how many MPs, otherwise pretty OK people, will have got to where they are now.
Anyway, my campaign is going well I think. I have a great team ranging in age from 22 to 82. What I enjoy is the sense that we're in it together and everyone is there because they want to be. It reminds me in many ways of the early Speakining Up. And, yes, I have having a lot of fun.
The scandals of the week have given documentary, indeed granular, proof of the grasping, maximising nature of many of our politicians. And to all the curmudgeons who say `They're only in it for themselves', well the proof is there now for all to see.
On the doorstep, all you can do is say you agree and tell them what a nightmare it is at local level where we don't get paid etc. A lot of people tell me they are not going to vote, as a protest. Others, even committed voters, just don't know what to do next. This has, flummoxed them.
And this is perhaps the most worrying aspect to all this. The cynics were always there, a small minority. Most people in this country recognise the need for politics, they might not engage that much but their tacit consent is key to our system working. If it is withdrawn, we're all in trouble.
All of this opens door not only to mass disengagement but also the political fringe. I suspect the BNP will benefit in many areas because of this.
What also interests me is the way nearly all MPs - the better people as well - all pretty much got what they could. Obviously this is so much the norm in Westminster that people soon lose any inhibition once elected. I wondered to myself what my claim would have looked like were I an MP for, say, Bury St Edmunds. Would I have a second home? Might I have used all the available means to furnish it without dipping into my own pocket. Could I have resisted the temptation to realise capital gains when I finally sold it?
I would like to be able to say No, No and No to all of these questions. But I am not sure it would always be quite so straightforward. While the moralist within me would want to resist, the human in me would ask futher questions: If all my peers claim for these things, wny shouldn't I? Is it within the rules, after all, to claim things which are incurred in setting oneself up as an MP who has to, effectively, live in two places? And, at the end of the day, I may not be an MP forever and my career prospects have already ben pretty shredded by getting into politics all those years ago.....
I think all of this is, in the wider context, pretty weak. But I can see how many MPs, otherwise pretty OK people, will have got to where they are now.
Anyway, my campaign is going well I think. I have a great team ranging in age from 22 to 82. What I enjoy is the sense that we're in it together and everyone is there because they want to be. It reminds me in many ways of the early Speakining Up. And, yes, I have having a lot of fun.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
24 Hour High
Possibly my most active 24 hours for some time. At this time (10pm) yesterday I was at UEA Norwich watching and admiring the incredible Doves play a very loud set to the East Angles. It takes a lot to get me out to live events these days (I don't like armpits, dives or hanging-around) but for Doves I waive my rules.
A bit like Elbow, Doves are all fairly un-glam, post-ego northern blokes around my age who just do what they do. They wear shit clothes, don't do `chat' with the audience beyond the occasional `Thank-you, Norwich' (which I like), but are clearly honoured by people's interest and enthusiasm. I left with my heart yearning for more, and ears ringing loudly all the way home.
A seven to seven day at work today. Six big meetings, back to back. Wondered how I would do it but actually started enjoying myself quite quickly. Funny how this happens. I even found the disciplinary-type meeting I had today oddly satisfying (I often feel physically ill in advance of these things). Reminded me I can be tough if I have to be.
Spent quality time with my Chair, my SMT and several individual SMT. I have an unsually talented senior team. In this I am incredibly lucky. All of them are super-bright, motivated and, to a person, honest and nice. I think I pick well but I simply follow the maxim that you should try to appoint people better than yourself. They never cease to impress me.
Finally got back to the kids who I haven't seen all week. Get a welcome I don't really deserve. See my mother who has been down all week and I haven't spent an hour with. Feel on a `work-high', the drug I spent most of my 20s and 30s, hooked on. The come-down will arrive in about....36 hours. It actually feels like I have taken something. Which is why I need to be careful. I can't sip from this bottle too often or I go backwards. Time to stop I think...
A bit like Elbow, Doves are all fairly un-glam, post-ego northern blokes around my age who just do what they do. They wear shit clothes, don't do `chat' with the audience beyond the occasional `Thank-you, Norwich' (which I like), but are clearly honoured by people's interest and enthusiasm. I left with my heart yearning for more, and ears ringing loudly all the way home.
A seven to seven day at work today. Six big meetings, back to back. Wondered how I would do it but actually started enjoying myself quite quickly. Funny how this happens. I even found the disciplinary-type meeting I had today oddly satisfying (I often feel physically ill in advance of these things). Reminded me I can be tough if I have to be.
Spent quality time with my Chair, my SMT and several individual SMT. I have an unsually talented senior team. In this I am incredibly lucky. All of them are super-bright, motivated and, to a person, honest and nice. I think I pick well but I simply follow the maxim that you should try to appoint people better than yourself. They never cease to impress me.
Finally got back to the kids who I haven't seen all week. Get a welcome I don't really deserve. See my mother who has been down all week and I haven't spent an hour with. Feel on a `work-high', the drug I spent most of my 20s and 30s, hooked on. The come-down will arrive in about....36 hours. It actually feels like I have taken something. Which is why I need to be careful. I can't sip from this bottle too often or I go backwards. Time to stop I think...
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Blue and Blue Sky
Sometimes you have days in which meeting after meeting helps you put your own life and future in bettter perspective. I am thinking about my future a lot at the moment. Maybe it is because I turn 40 in precisely two months. Or perhaps it is because I sense that my own needs and skills will, at some point in between the near and middle-future, require a new chapter.
The day started with a one-off, free coaching session with a wonderful man called Stephen Crookbain who works in the world of executive search. He helped me realize, definitively, that I don’t, under any circumstances, want to take a `big job’ as CEO or MD of a large social sector organisation.
This is the first time I have written this down publicly because, till now, there was a `never say never’ thing in my mind. But there isn’t any more and I feel better already. Sure, my only channel to plenty of money has probably closed but it feels a relief to say `No, that isn’t my journey’.
Then I went to the Commons to meet Nick Hurd, the Shadow Charities Minister. Nick is a likeable man with a good mind and is sincere, I believe, in his vision for the sector as a vibrant, independent sector which enjoys a more trusting, less bureaucratic relationship with the state. “What do you think of our Green Paper?” was his question.
My answer was that I liked its overall message and that it was refreshingly candid and accurate in its understanding of the challenges. Where I felt it could be clearer was on the question of how the sector can, on the one hand deliver more of what is currently delivered (often badly) by the state while remaining independent from it, its roots firmly in civil society. I sense it will take something more than trust and partnership to cover the transfer of resources that such a move would imply.
The realities of power would, I think, make it very difficult, for a new government to invest into the sector without clear `contractual’ relationships, in which the outcomes are not defined disporoportinatley by the budget-holder.
We talked about how Speaking Up has developed and he was interested to hear about the contrast between the ways different types of funder operate, from Impetus Trust on one side – where the agreement was one sheet of A4 – to certain Government funders who ask for copies of my diary and emails (I wonder if they actually ring the people I meet to ask what we discussed, what I was wearing etc).
The afternoon brought me to Mick May, founder of Blue Sky. There is only one qualification to work for Blue Sky. That you have a criminal record. Mick excepted. He is an ex-banker who did nothing naughty (according to himself) and got out years ago before his soul was corroded into nothing. He spent a year out of work and eventually got a job with Groundwork. This morphed, after a time, into Blue Sky which started in West London and is now branching out in Manchester.
Mick is one of those magnetic story-telling entrepreneurs in whose presence it is easy to fall under a spell. `So what's the truth of it all?' I ask, in response to my own reaction. Well, not everyone gets jobs and yes its very bloody hard all the time. And the secrets to its success? Having ex-cons as operations managers is a big factor, he tells me. Because the men respect them. The one non-con (and ex-copper)didn't last five minutes.
The Blue Sky story is one worth hearing and I hope Mick gets to tell it to more people as Blue Sky grows. He pops us in Nick Hurd's speeches all the time, being just on the London MPs doorstep. They are both former bankers, he says, with a smile. Mick himself comes across as a man re-born. He says he had to wait till 45 till he did what he wanted in life. He says that I (at a mere 40) have done it all so young'. And it did feel like a weird inversion, me the grizzled pro wondering about life as a retired social entrepreneur, Mick a decade older, totally mad for it.
He emailed me afterwards thanking me for a great meeting. It felt like it should have been me delivering the thanks.
The day started with a one-off, free coaching session with a wonderful man called Stephen Crookbain who works in the world of executive search. He helped me realize, definitively, that I don’t, under any circumstances, want to take a `big job’ as CEO or MD of a large social sector organisation.
This is the first time I have written this down publicly because, till now, there was a `never say never’ thing in my mind. But there isn’t any more and I feel better already. Sure, my only channel to plenty of money has probably closed but it feels a relief to say `No, that isn’t my journey’.
Then I went to the Commons to meet Nick Hurd, the Shadow Charities Minister. Nick is a likeable man with a good mind and is sincere, I believe, in his vision for the sector as a vibrant, independent sector which enjoys a more trusting, less bureaucratic relationship with the state. “What do you think of our Green Paper?” was his question.
My answer was that I liked its overall message and that it was refreshingly candid and accurate in its understanding of the challenges. Where I felt it could be clearer was on the question of how the sector can, on the one hand deliver more of what is currently delivered (often badly) by the state while remaining independent from it, its roots firmly in civil society. I sense it will take something more than trust and partnership to cover the transfer of resources that such a move would imply.
The realities of power would, I think, make it very difficult, for a new government to invest into the sector without clear `contractual’ relationships, in which the outcomes are not defined disporoportinatley by the budget-holder.
We talked about how Speaking Up has developed and he was interested to hear about the contrast between the ways different types of funder operate, from Impetus Trust on one side – where the agreement was one sheet of A4 – to certain Government funders who ask for copies of my diary and emails (I wonder if they actually ring the people I meet to ask what we discussed, what I was wearing etc).
The afternoon brought me to Mick May, founder of Blue Sky. There is only one qualification to work for Blue Sky. That you have a criminal record. Mick excepted. He is an ex-banker who did nothing naughty (according to himself) and got out years ago before his soul was corroded into nothing. He spent a year out of work and eventually got a job with Groundwork. This morphed, after a time, into Blue Sky which started in West London and is now branching out in Manchester.
Mick is one of those magnetic story-telling entrepreneurs in whose presence it is easy to fall under a spell. `So what's the truth of it all?' I ask, in response to my own reaction. Well, not everyone gets jobs and yes its very bloody hard all the time. And the secrets to its success? Having ex-cons as operations managers is a big factor, he tells me. Because the men respect them. The one non-con (and ex-copper)didn't last five minutes.
The Blue Sky story is one worth hearing and I hope Mick gets to tell it to more people as Blue Sky grows. He pops us in Nick Hurd's speeches all the time, being just on the London MPs doorstep. They are both former bankers, he says, with a smile. Mick himself comes across as a man re-born. He says he had to wait till 45 till he did what he wanted in life. He says that I (at a mere 40) have done it all so young'. And it did feel like a weird inversion, me the grizzled pro wondering about life as a retired social entrepreneur, Mick a decade older, totally mad for it.
He emailed me afterwards thanking me for a great meeting. It felt like it should have been me delivering the thanks.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
The Art of Communication
You may have heard recently that Spandau Ballet are reforming and going on tour. One of their many hits (they were one of my `guilty pleasure’ bands as a teenager, alongside my more public following of the Smiths etc) was a song called `Communication (let me down)’,
I’ve been thinking about communication quite a lot recently both in my professional and personal life. At work, we have been introducing some changes, part as an immediate response to recession, part to make sure the organisation is fit for purpose and prepared for whatever is ahead of us long-term. Thankfully, there are no redundancies and, when compared to what is going on even in other charities (cuts in budgets, major job losses, aggressive restructuring), our is low-richter-scale change.
However, I have been surprised at the level of response to these modest proposals. Which is not so much about the content of the change (people, by and large are OK with it, with notable exceptions) but the way it feels `done unto' to some people. Quite a few people have felt communication to be poor. This is despite quite a lot of time and effort from some very able people going into the very question of how we communicate the change. So a condundrum. Despite heaps of effort, not all of our communication hits the mark.
This leads to an obvious question: what indeed does good communication actually looks like in organisations? Although clearly not an expert, I have three hunches. The first is timing. People seem to respond better if the timing is right. Trouble is, of course, organisations cannot privilege some over others in terms of releasing vital information. Meaning one person’s good time may be another’s terrible time. Rules and regs mean we can't have `quiet chats',or discreet, off-the-record `heads-up' to particular key people etc, even when these are what both the person and the organisation probably would benefit most from.
The second is about medium. Being taken through plans in person is always better than by letter or email. Because it all has to be simulatanous - or worse, in some bizzare rote-order dictated by employment law, communication tends often to be electronic. This is inherently cold, even if you warm the language up a bit.
The third is about just this: tone and `humanity’. Often communication about change in organisations defaults into structural, metallic sounding language, which makes people feel immediately on guard. Again, this is partly what the rules of employment laws demand we do, but it seems to really grate with people and put them on an immediate defensive and break long-held `psychological contracts' that people feel they have with the organisation.
The really challenging thing for me as CEO of an organisation which is genuinely caring for its people is how even we, tend to struggle at important time with communication.
It can, at times, feel almost inevitable to do it a particular way, without either breaching legal processes or principles of fairness around access to information. Yet, at the same time, the standard organizational communication template, to which most organisations adhere, seems to cause real problems in terms of how people feel who are on the receiving end.
It is an interesting conundrum and not one unique to my organisation, which is why I feel I can talk about it openly. And it begs the bigger question of how we do communicate really well in organisations that contain many people.
Unfortunately neither Tony Hadley or Steven Morrissey have answers to either.
I’ve been thinking about communication quite a lot recently both in my professional and personal life. At work, we have been introducing some changes, part as an immediate response to recession, part to make sure the organisation is fit for purpose and prepared for whatever is ahead of us long-term. Thankfully, there are no redundancies and, when compared to what is going on even in other charities (cuts in budgets, major job losses, aggressive restructuring), our is low-richter-scale change.
However, I have been surprised at the level of response to these modest proposals. Which is not so much about the content of the change (people, by and large are OK with it, with notable exceptions) but the way it feels `done unto' to some people. Quite a few people have felt communication to be poor. This is despite quite a lot of time and effort from some very able people going into the very question of how we communicate the change. So a condundrum. Despite heaps of effort, not all of our communication hits the mark.
This leads to an obvious question: what indeed does good communication actually looks like in organisations? Although clearly not an expert, I have three hunches. The first is timing. People seem to respond better if the timing is right. Trouble is, of course, organisations cannot privilege some over others in terms of releasing vital information. Meaning one person’s good time may be another’s terrible time. Rules and regs mean we can't have `quiet chats',or discreet, off-the-record `heads-up' to particular key people etc, even when these are what both the person and the organisation probably would benefit most from.
The second is about medium. Being taken through plans in person is always better than by letter or email. Because it all has to be simulatanous - or worse, in some bizzare rote-order dictated by employment law, communication tends often to be electronic. This is inherently cold, even if you warm the language up a bit.
The third is about just this: tone and `humanity’. Often communication about change in organisations defaults into structural, metallic sounding language, which makes people feel immediately on guard. Again, this is partly what the rules of employment laws demand we do, but it seems to really grate with people and put them on an immediate defensive and break long-held `psychological contracts' that people feel they have with the organisation.
The really challenging thing for me as CEO of an organisation which is genuinely caring for its people is how even we, tend to struggle at important time with communication.
It can, at times, feel almost inevitable to do it a particular way, without either breaching legal processes or principles of fairness around access to information. Yet, at the same time, the standard organizational communication template, to which most organisations adhere, seems to cause real problems in terms of how people feel who are on the receiving end.
It is an interesting conundrum and not one unique to my organisation, which is why I feel I can talk about it openly. And it begs the bigger question of how we do communicate really well in organisations that contain many people.
Unfortunately neither Tony Hadley or Steven Morrissey have answers to either.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Wilf
We are having some fine morning and evenings this April. Here in Nowton, the seasons are inescapable and we’re currently seeing an eruption of green as the park takes it summer colours.
My first sight on waking each day are the ancient trees behind our house,one of which is, sadly, dying. They are beautiful in the morning sunlight and soften the senses before the days occupations arrive.
That sight is followed, almost immediately, by that of my boy whose cries have roused me from sleep. He is regular, is Wilf. Six thirty on the dot most days. Earlier if he’s ill.
Wilf is my second child. He was just born nineteen months after his sister, Ruby. He was a December baby and arrived just as the holidays began. However, unlike with Ruby, whose arrival I greeted with immediate floods of love and tears, I felt oddly detached about Wilf. And this continued for quite some time, several months in fact.
I actually got a bit worried, so different was the feeling. I knew I loved him - but in a kind of abstract, distant way. I did all the same things but it felt an echo of how it had the first time. Of course I felt guilty, a bit, but more perplexed than anything, if I am honest.
Then, suddenly, several months down the line, out of nowhere, I fell for him. Almost to the other extreme where he is now in the front of my mind more than I sometimes think he should be. I now love him utterly and totally and looking at him melts my heart.
It might be that, finally, we connected. As a newborn he was often ill and cried constantly. Plus he cleaved to Katy and seemed to be be very much what Louden Wainright III described in his song about his young son, `Rufus is a Tit-Man'.
However this did change once I could do more for him. I realised too that he is probably going to be more like me than my daughter. Wilf is clearly quite a delicate chap, unlike his gregarious, happy-go-lucky sister. He is a smallish baby and I will be surprised if he grows any taller than five six or seven. He has also taken longer or burble than his sister. I suspect he'll be a late-developer, like his dad.
I love Wilf in a very different way to the way I love my daughter. Just as passionately but definitely differently. More protectively perhaps. I sense that many people love their children in different ways - and sometimes less than their other kids, truth be told.
Yet this remains fairly taboo, despite many people reporting it in their own lives as children. Which is unfortunate, as I am sure I am not the only parent in the world who hasn't been sure whether they would ever love their child as much as they really should.
My first sight on waking each day are the ancient trees behind our house,one of which is, sadly, dying. They are beautiful in the morning sunlight and soften the senses before the days occupations arrive.
That sight is followed, almost immediately, by that of my boy whose cries have roused me from sleep. He is regular, is Wilf. Six thirty on the dot most days. Earlier if he’s ill.
Wilf is my second child. He was just born nineteen months after his sister, Ruby. He was a December baby and arrived just as the holidays began. However, unlike with Ruby, whose arrival I greeted with immediate floods of love and tears, I felt oddly detached about Wilf. And this continued for quite some time, several months in fact.
I actually got a bit worried, so different was the feeling. I knew I loved him - but in a kind of abstract, distant way. I did all the same things but it felt an echo of how it had the first time. Of course I felt guilty, a bit, but more perplexed than anything, if I am honest.
Then, suddenly, several months down the line, out of nowhere, I fell for him. Almost to the other extreme where he is now in the front of my mind more than I sometimes think he should be. I now love him utterly and totally and looking at him melts my heart.
It might be that, finally, we connected. As a newborn he was often ill and cried constantly. Plus he cleaved to Katy and seemed to be be very much what Louden Wainright III described in his song about his young son, `Rufus is a Tit-Man'.
However this did change once I could do more for him. I realised too that he is probably going to be more like me than my daughter. Wilf is clearly quite a delicate chap, unlike his gregarious, happy-go-lucky sister. He is a smallish baby and I will be surprised if he grows any taller than five six or seven. He has also taken longer or burble than his sister. I suspect he'll be a late-developer, like his dad.
I love Wilf in a very different way to the way I love my daughter. Just as passionately but definitely differently. More protectively perhaps. I sense that many people love their children in different ways - and sometimes less than their other kids, truth be told.
Yet this remains fairly taboo, despite many people reporting it in their own lives as children. Which is unfortunate, as I am sure I am not the only parent in the world who hasn't been sure whether they would ever love their child as much as they really should.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Laughter and Life
Sleep deprivation teaches you lots of things. It gives you a sense of what it must like being old, really old.
Today, following a night up with Ruby, who has chicken-pox, my mind is full of headachey fog. I keep dropping things. It takes me ages to get anything done. Thinking is hard. Every movement feels like an effort and all I want to do is just...sit down.
The best book I have ever read about ageing is by Diane Athill who last year wrote `Somewhere Towards the End' at the age of 91. While old people formed an important part of my life until quite recently, I never quite grasped what it was like to be encased in an old body until I read her book.
A successful old age, it transpires is about being able to successfully manage ones decline and to take delight in the small things. After a while, the absence of ailment feels, in itself, a blessing. The touch of air on skin. A child's smile. A tasty tomato. All of these become bigger pleasures as death nears - if you're someone whose pot is half-full.
As someone in `the prime of life' who is also often anxious and disconsolate, despite all the good things I have going for me, I fair-dread the onset of old age. I struggle, at times, to take pleasure in the big things, never mind the small ones.
And I worry too much. Far too much. I zap one worry only for another to come along, like an unending game of Pac Man. In fact, I think I probably need to be hypnotized or something. There's a Paul McKenna book in there somewhere... `I Can Make You Chill'.
I am not alone though. This inability to really enjoy the good things in life seems
to intensify in middle-age. I was reading today that Richard Curtis, that scion of comedy, said that he hasn't laughed, really laughed, since about 1982.
Although I laugh a lot (not least at my daughter's night-time interpretation of her angrychicken-pox as `A MOUSE IN MY BED DADDY!!!') something registered here. Even when I was a teenager, and, believe me, I was your typical depressive Smith-fan teen (what would be today termed an `EMO'), I recall collapsing in uncontollable laughter at something or other on a near-daily basis.
I don't remember when I last did that and indeed wonder if I will ever again. In fact, the nearest I came to this was last year when my terrier-dog ran up and nipped the arse of a particular reviled neighbour when she was putting out her bin.
What that says about me I would prefer not explore.
Anyway, the sun is out and I am about to go out to see if anyone will vote for me in June. Happy days!
Today, following a night up with Ruby, who has chicken-pox, my mind is full of headachey fog. I keep dropping things. It takes me ages to get anything done. Thinking is hard. Every movement feels like an effort and all I want to do is just...sit down.
The best book I have ever read about ageing is by Diane Athill who last year wrote `Somewhere Towards the End' at the age of 91. While old people formed an important part of my life until quite recently, I never quite grasped what it was like to be encased in an old body until I read her book.
A successful old age, it transpires is about being able to successfully manage ones decline and to take delight in the small things. After a while, the absence of ailment feels, in itself, a blessing. The touch of air on skin. A child's smile. A tasty tomato. All of these become bigger pleasures as death nears - if you're someone whose pot is half-full.
As someone in `the prime of life' who is also often anxious and disconsolate, despite all the good things I have going for me, I fair-dread the onset of old age. I struggle, at times, to take pleasure in the big things, never mind the small ones.
And I worry too much. Far too much. I zap one worry only for another to come along, like an unending game of Pac Man. In fact, I think I probably need to be hypnotized or something. There's a Paul McKenna book in there somewhere... `I Can Make You Chill'.
I am not alone though. This inability to really enjoy the good things in life seems
to intensify in middle-age. I was reading today that Richard Curtis, that scion of comedy, said that he hasn't laughed, really laughed, since about 1982.
Although I laugh a lot (not least at my daughter's night-time interpretation of her angrychicken-pox as `A MOUSE IN MY BED DADDY!!!') something registered here. Even when I was a teenager, and, believe me, I was your typical depressive Smith-fan teen (what would be today termed an `EMO'), I recall collapsing in uncontollable laughter at something or other on a near-daily basis.
I don't remember when I last did that and indeed wonder if I will ever again. In fact, the nearest I came to this was last year when my terrier-dog ran up and nipped the arse of a particular reviled neighbour when she was putting out her bin.
What that says about me I would prefer not explore.
Anyway, the sun is out and I am about to go out to see if anyone will vote for me in June. Happy days!
Saturday, April 11, 2009
On Holidays
Holidays are good. Not only do they refresh the body but a new place, a new routine also shuffle the synapses. We were in the South Downs, by the sea. I did a few long, hard eight-mile runs on the compacted sand of Bracklesham Bay. I did 24/7 parenthood. And, as always, I was glad to get back to home turf.
Although I've got better in recent years, holidays have been a challenge for most of my living memory. As a kid, I seldom enjoyed the forced proximity of all four of us in some caravan or guest house. As an adult, I either can't fully switch off or feel a bit more anxious than usual, free from the usual preoccupations.
Yes, holidays remind me of how, at the end of the day, I am a bit of a worrier for whom work is a kind of balm. A place where I can make lists and ticks them off. Where I can be in control. Where I am on top of things and myself. Take me out of this and I feel a less solid proposition altogether.
We liked the South Coast. It was warm and gentle. Palm trees fringed the garden. The people were less impressive. There is a self-satisfied air to many of them. This is the place where the wealthy retire. For this reason, I am not sure I would go back. But we enjoyed it overall.
I got to read. Jonathan Littell is a US writer, raised in France. Two years ago he published `The Kindly Ones' in French. 5000 copies were printed. He has now sold a million and has just come out in English. Its a fictional first hand account of Max Aue, an SS Intelligence officer. Aue is a bureaucrat who doesn't know how to fire a gun properly. His job is to help the SS to organise its grisly work. The central thesis of the book is that the Holocaust wasn't the work of `monsters' or sadists but ordinary men. People like Max Aue. Intellectual. Aesthete. Killer.
Littell's intention is to make you ask yourself if you would have stepped back from following orders to kill defenseless people, as troops could do, if they chose, without fear of punishment. In reality few did. They just got used to it, saw it as work. Unpleasant work, but for the greater good. Sure, there were both sadists and people who cracked up with guilt but, on the whole, you just got on with it.
I would advise anybody to read this book. While very upsetting and graphic at times, it is also provides a fresh voice in this much written about area. The voice of the SS officer. Not an `ordinary' man but not necessarily someone who would normally kill or oversee killing. At 900 pages it is rather vast but you will not be disappointed.
Although I've got better in recent years, holidays have been a challenge for most of my living memory. As a kid, I seldom enjoyed the forced proximity of all four of us in some caravan or guest house. As an adult, I either can't fully switch off or feel a bit more anxious than usual, free from the usual preoccupations.
Yes, holidays remind me of how, at the end of the day, I am a bit of a worrier for whom work is a kind of balm. A place where I can make lists and ticks them off. Where I can be in control. Where I am on top of things and myself. Take me out of this and I feel a less solid proposition altogether.
We liked the South Coast. It was warm and gentle. Palm trees fringed the garden. The people were less impressive. There is a self-satisfied air to many of them. This is the place where the wealthy retire. For this reason, I am not sure I would go back. But we enjoyed it overall.
I got to read. Jonathan Littell is a US writer, raised in France. Two years ago he published `The Kindly Ones' in French. 5000 copies were printed. He has now sold a million and has just come out in English. Its a fictional first hand account of Max Aue, an SS Intelligence officer. Aue is a bureaucrat who doesn't know how to fire a gun properly. His job is to help the SS to organise its grisly work. The central thesis of the book is that the Holocaust wasn't the work of `monsters' or sadists but ordinary men. People like Max Aue. Intellectual. Aesthete. Killer.
Littell's intention is to make you ask yourself if you would have stepped back from following orders to kill defenseless people, as troops could do, if they chose, without fear of punishment. In reality few did. They just got used to it, saw it as work. Unpleasant work, but for the greater good. Sure, there were both sadists and people who cracked up with guilt but, on the whole, you just got on with it.
I would advise anybody to read this book. While very upsetting and graphic at times, it is also provides a fresh voice in this much written about area. The voice of the SS officer. Not an `ordinary' man but not necessarily someone who would normally kill or oversee killing. At 900 pages it is rather vast but you will not be disappointed.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Demob-Happy
My last day before heading off the south coast to spend Easter getting to know Katy and the kids again after a few weeks of frenetic activity. First week off since Christmas and, I sense, just in time. We are house-swopping for the first time. The website is full of nice houses owned by people who don't have loads of spare cash for proper holidays. I feel both excited, and slightly nervous!
Had a good run-in this week: Rattled off my Guardian and Third Sector pieces without too much pain, had excellent meetings with Jonathan Lewis, CEO of Futurebuilders and Peter Holbrook of Sunlight, which is probably my favourite social business of all time. Another keynote yesterday, this time at the Big Lottery Fund. Essentially about what to do now that Lottery money isn't really there any more. Didn't dare charge for that one, given how much we've had off the Lottery down the years
And between times lots of lovely work work inside Speaking Up. I don't talk about that stuff much here, but I have to say, we have such good people in our organisation. The people really make the place what it is. And I can't praise my senior team enough. They really are what every CEO dreams about. How else do you think I manage to spend so much time doing what I think a CEO should do: build profile, plan for the future, make the right connections.
Something has bothered me a lot recently though. Not to with us but to do with one of our major contracts with a state organisation which shall remain unnamed here. Working with most of our government partners, whether local or national, is, most of the time, fine. The monitoring can be onerous at times, but seldom excessive.
Last week, however, I learned that a body paid by the state wanted to know not only who I had met in recent times but also wanted copies of my calendar and email correspondence to prove that I was not making things up. This was part of an audit which, bizarrely, has now to be audited by somebody else, not from the monitoring body, to check their audit wasn't phoney.
Civil liberties issues aside, this captures perfectly where I think things have gone a bit wrong in government this last few years. People are being paid to watch the people who are watching us watch ourselves. It does not indicate trust. It sends a very bad message. It doesn't help anyone, least of all the people we are all seeking to serve. Yes it is public money. And that's exactly my point. If the public actually knew about this waste - which of course they never will, it is never actually calculated - they would be scandalised.
As you will know now, I am not a Tory but Cameron stuck a very strong note with me recently when he said (I think at Voice 09) that the relationship between the state and its people (including the third sector) needs to start from a position of trust. I don't feel particularly trusted right now, knowing someone somewhere is poring over my diary, possibly ringing people to check we met, what we talked about etc.
Time for a new approach. Time a holdiday. Back online 14th April.
Had a good run-in this week: Rattled off my Guardian and Third Sector pieces without too much pain, had excellent meetings with Jonathan Lewis, CEO of Futurebuilders and Peter Holbrook of Sunlight, which is probably my favourite social business of all time. Another keynote yesterday, this time at the Big Lottery Fund. Essentially about what to do now that Lottery money isn't really there any more. Didn't dare charge for that one, given how much we've had off the Lottery down the years
And between times lots of lovely work work inside Speaking Up. I don't talk about that stuff much here, but I have to say, we have such good people in our organisation. The people really make the place what it is. And I can't praise my senior team enough. They really are what every CEO dreams about. How else do you think I manage to spend so much time doing what I think a CEO should do: build profile, plan for the future, make the right connections.
Something has bothered me a lot recently though. Not to with us but to do with one of our major contracts with a state organisation which shall remain unnamed here. Working with most of our government partners, whether local or national, is, most of the time, fine. The monitoring can be onerous at times, but seldom excessive.
Last week, however, I learned that a body paid by the state wanted to know not only who I had met in recent times but also wanted copies of my calendar and email correspondence to prove that I was not making things up. This was part of an audit which, bizarrely, has now to be audited by somebody else, not from the monitoring body, to check their audit wasn't phoney.
Civil liberties issues aside, this captures perfectly where I think things have gone a bit wrong in government this last few years. People are being paid to watch the people who are watching us watch ourselves. It does not indicate trust. It sends a very bad message. It doesn't help anyone, least of all the people we are all seeking to serve. Yes it is public money. And that's exactly my point. If the public actually knew about this waste - which of course they never will, it is never actually calculated - they would be scandalised.
As you will know now, I am not a Tory but Cameron stuck a very strong note with me recently when he said (I think at Voice 09) that the relationship between the state and its people (including the third sector) needs to start from a position of trust. I don't feel particularly trusted right now, knowing someone somewhere is poring over my diary, possibly ringing people to check we met, what we talked about etc.
Time for a new approach. Time a holdiday. Back online 14th April.
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