(Illustration by iStock/marrio31)
This is definitely a year of tests for nonprofit leaders everywhere. Global economic uncertainty and political instability are making even the most mundane decisions feel challenging. In the past few months, conversations about all sorts of possible shifts in philanthropy have emerged, each one of which would require making decisions large and small.
In truth, though, from the mundane to the hugely consequential, decision-making in nonprofit and other social change organizations often feels weighty and mission critical. Some decisions are operational: Should we hire for a recently vacated position or limp along and save money? Some are about fundraising: Should our board members be required to donate to the organization or not? Some are programmatic: Should we step into advocacy work to take on the bigger systems that affect our community?
Whatever type they are, the least effective time to make decisions is when the decision makers are afraid. And yet, nonprofit leaders, whose organizations depend on outside funding, are afraid so much of the time. Recent economic and political circumstances have only exacerbated that fear.
So how do leaders make decisions when the options all feel scary?
What Not to Do: Weigh Pros and Cons
Under pressure, leaders often default to listing the pros and cons—of applying for a grant, for example, or keeping diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) language on their organization’s website. This process generally yields many flip chart pages with the pros or benefits of taking action, and a much shorter list of cons or risks. The pros of keeping DEI on the website, for example, might include all the reasons the organization feels DEI is important—a long list indeed—while the cons list might just be a single line, focused on the organization’s fears of reprisal by a government that holds DEI in contempt.
Yet despite the fact that the volume of reasons on the pros list clearly outweighs the scant list of reasons on the cons side, groups tend to defer to the cons—the things they’re afraid of. Why? The answer resides in how the brain works. Human brains have two basic regions: the reflexive, reactive area, and the cognitive, creative area. The only function of the reflexive part is to keep us safe. There’s no language in this area, nor virtually any ability for creative, rational thought. Keeping us safe is about split-second reactions to anything we perceive as danger. Before we’re even aware that something has triggered it, that part of the brain has released chemicals like adrenaline to get us moving.
One of the structures in that reflexive area is the amygdala. Psychologist Dan Goleman talks about what happens in the amygdala when we feel threatened in any way:
The [amygdala] responds to an event more quickly than the thinking brain. The most primitive survival response, if it perceives an emergency, it can take over the rest of the brain before the neo-cortex (the thinking brain) has had time to analyze the signals coming in and decide what to do. That takes a long time in brain time. The amygdala, in the meantime, has decided, Oh no, I've got to do something! It can hijack the rest of the brain if it thinks there is an emergency, and it is designed to be a hair trigger. In other words, better safe than sorry.
So even when there are only two items on the cons list and three overflowing pages of good stuff on the pros list, people will often defer to the cons, because the reflexive, fear-focused part of their brain is overriding the cognitive, creative part. Because that reflexive area of the brain has no capacity for language, it’s nearly impossible to reason with it.
What to Do Instead: Work With How the Brain Works
If it’s unlikely that conversations between the two parts of the brain will lead to a reasoned decision, it’s important to stop asking them to talk to each other. Effective decision-making requires that leaders instead consider both the risks and rewards in a way that works with the brain’s mechanics. Instead of comparing aspirations (pros) to fears (cons), they can ask different sets of questions to each part of the brain, in language each area understands. This is the only way those aspirational ideas can hold up against fears. And it’s the only way to address with wisdom and logic the things that really deserve that fear response.
In speaking to the rational, creative part of the brain, this pair of questions helps compare aspirations to aspirations:
- What would doing this thing make possible?
- What would not doing this thing make possible?
This keeps the conversation in that one area of the brain—the area where wisdom and reason reside. The rational side of the brain can then easily make the comparison. Which set of answers resonates most? Which are the most exciting? Which seem most likely to bring the results the organization wants?
For example, what would leaving DEI on the website make possible? That list might include aligning actions with values, letting folks know that the organization is welcoming, and advancing the cause of inclusion and equity in a community. On the other side, what it would removing DEI from the website make possible? That list might focus on peace of mind re: government reprisal. Comparing these sets of answers helps decision makers determine which positive outcomes matter most to them.
In speaking to the reflexive part of the brain, this pair of questions helps compare fears to fears:
- What’s the worst that could happen if we do this thing?
- What’s the worst that could happen if we don’t do this thing?
Again, this keeps the conversation in one area of the brain—in this case, where fears rule. The reflexive, survival brain can then easily compare: Which “worst things” scare us the most? Which could we live with?
Coming back to the DEI example, say the worst that could happen by keeping DEI on the website is a loss of funding or an attack on the organization’s tax exemption. And the worst that could happen by taking it off the website a failure to stand up for what matters to the organization and the communities it serves. Decision makers than can then discuss: Which “worsts” are worse?
Comparing aspirations to aspirations provides a safe space to discuss results without the reflexive, survival brain interrupting with, “Yeah, but what about…” And comparing fears on the one hand to fears on the other makes the invisible visible so that it’s possible to deal with issues head on. Is there a way around that fearful issue? Is there a way to manage it? Is that scary thing even likely?
Making both sets of assumptions explicit not only results in a more effective decision, but also creates conditions for more-effective communications and decision-making conversations overall. Most importantly, this approach gives aspirations a fighting chance.
What This Looks Like in Practice
Several years ago, the systems change organization I co-founded, Creating the Future, faced a consequential question about its endgame. We originally saw Creating the Future as a 10-year project, rather than an organization that would perpetuate forever. Our reasoning was a belief in the power of deadlines, as well as a strict interpretation of the word “mission.” While most organizations use “mission” to describe what they do, we looked at its everyday usage: A mission isn’t just taking action; it’s about accomplishing something.
Our mission was to ensure that within our 10-year window, a global community of leaders would begin using the questions that comprise our “catalytic thinking” framework—questions that encourage leaders to forefront possibility, strength, and inclusion—in all aspects of their social change work. For example, instead of every grant application asking, “What is the problem, and how will you solve it?” we aimed to see more and more asking, “What is the future you intend to create, and what steps will you take to make that future a reality?”
Six years in, our community was engaged and growing, and many members expressed a desire for Creating the Future to continue beyond 10 years, forcing us to grapple with our decision: At the end of the 10-year clock, are we aiming to pause, assess, and then step into another 10 years? Or are we actually planning to officially close shop at the end of that 10-year clock and let the work continue organically?
We started by rooting the conversation in our aspirations, including looking at what both options would make possible for the people affected by the decision. (See a fuller discussion here.)
What would continuing to exist make possible for those affected by the decision?
- Possible ongoing support for people who use or want to use our resources
- More time to experiment with the questions internally
- Potential to share the questions in more spaces
What would sunsetting make possible for those affected by the decision?
- Could be an example of how other organizations might think about being “done” in their own work
- Makes us define “done”—we could be “doing” forever, but are we really getting it done?
- Forces exploration of what it would take for other institutions to teach the questions, including creating space for other people to step in and lead their own work toward our vision
Comparing aspirations to aspirations kept the conversation in the creative, rational area of our team’s brains. We also saw how many of the same things were possible and/or could be easily addressed whether or not we continued. We began to see more excitement on the side of accomplishing the mission and being done.
We then considered our fears.
What’s the worst that could happen if we continue to exist?
- Nobody wants to take on the burden of leading the organization forward
- Continuing is organization-centric; making the organization more important than accomplishing the mission goes against our values and work so far
What’s the worst that could happen if we aim at being done at the end of our 10 years?
- People who have questions won’t know where to go
- If the work is finished, maybe the impact will end too
Comparing apples to apples, fears talking to fears, these questions gave the reactive part of the brain a way to see what it might not otherwise see. We were able to consider which worst-case scenarios we were willing to live with—or figure out answers to. What could we do, for example, to ensure that people could find answers to their questions in the longer term? If sharing our resources would mean no longer needing a centralized entity to move our work forward, perhaps there was no “worst” to being truly done.
In the end, the scarier thing for us was about going against our values and commitments. And it was powerful to realize that we could address all our fears about sunsetting, even if we stopped at 10 years. By working with the mechanics of how brains work, we found the decision made itself.
Over the years, we’ve seen folks use these questions to make effective decisions on all kinds things, including whether or not to keep doing a gala, add a controversial board member, or make a strategic programmatic change. The most meaningful example for me, though, came from my personal life. My 90-year-old aunt was trying to decide whether or not to go into assisted living. We asked: What are you afraid of if you go into assisted living? And what are you afraid of if your stay in your house? By thinking through the decision this way, she was able to articulate the fears that had been quietly keeping her frozen. And she decided right there to sell her house and move into assisted living.
These times are scary. They are likely to get scarier. The communities that nonprofits serve need decision-making that isn’t ruled by silent fears. By asking these simple sets of questions, decision makers can arrive at the rational and compassionate approaches that those communities deserve, and move more confidently to accomplish their missions.
Read more stories by Hildy Gottlieb.