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Storytelling
Experience is not what happens to you; it’s what you do with what happens to you.
— ALDOUS HUXLEY
Furnished with a compelling insight and perhaps with a vision, a leader who wishes to create change has the beginnings of a story to tell, but only the beginnings. An insight is not a change, no matter how profound or exciting it might be, except in the leader’s mind. A vision, by itself, is merely a fantasy seeking commitment. A full story must emerge.
For his book Leading Minds, Howard Gardner studied in depth the lives and work of eleven leaders, including such diverse people as Alfred P. Sloan Jr., Pope John XXIII, Margaret Thatcher, and Mohandas Gandhi. Gardner says of the eleven leaders:
They told stories—in so many words—about themselves and their groups, about where they were coming from and where they were headed, about what was to be feared, struggled against, and dreamed about.1
Gardner also explains that leaders do not so much tell a story as relate it through their day-to-day actions, their histories, and the kinds of lives they lead. Gardner summarizes this point straightforwardly: “People who do not practice what they preach are hypocrites, and hypocrisy mutes the effectiveness of their stories.”2 It has become a cliché, but is nonetheless true—leaders must “walk the talk.” They win intellectual commitment through their insight and vision, through congruence between what they say and what they do, and through a life that embodies the change they espouse. Taken together, these are the ingredients of a leader’s story, and the basis of a leader’s influence. Because today’s world is one of instantaneous communication and multiple channels of communication, a leader’s ability to tell a story has never been more central to his ability to win commitment.
Storyteller Annette Simmons wrote, “When you want to influence others, there is no tool more powerful than story.” A good story, she says, forms a mental imprint that can touch others at many levels: “As a storyteller you borrow a story’s power to connect people to what is important and to help them make sense of their world.”3
The stories leaders tell contain three narrative threads:
1.A personal narrative
2.A narrative about a quest for change
3.A narrative of identity
These threads intertwine like separate plotlines in a tightly woven novel. Remove any one of them and the story unravels; it no longer makes sense and is unlikely to evoke commitment. But the full story can have great power, especially when told in an unforgettable way.
The Personal Narrative
A leader’s personal narrative contains both her life story and who she is as a person. Monsignor Dale Fushek learned about the importance of his own personal narrative from Mother Teresa when, in 1989, she visited Phoenix, Arizona, where Fushek lives and works. She was in Phoenix to dedicate a homeless shelter. At the end of a busy day she told him, “People gave me some money to help start the home here. Would you take it and put it in the bank?” The diminutive nun then reached in her pockets again and again, extracting cash and checks, and handing it all over to Fushek. He stuffed it into his own pockets. When he got home that night, he emptied his pockets and counted the money. There was over $33,000—all of it money that people had handed to her during the course of that one day. It was not lost on Fushek that he had been with her all day and people had not handed $33,000 to him.
When asked what meaning this experience had for him, Fushek said, “People don’t give to things, they give to people. They want to be part of something in some way through someone who can help them be more than they feel they can be on their own.” When he spoke of people giving, it was clear that he was speaking not only about money, but also about time and energy; he was speaking about commitment. People commit to leaders who relate compelling stories and who live lives that are congruent with their stories.
Wilma Mankiller is a very good example of a leader whose life and work, insight and vision, and congruence between what she says and does, together form just such a compelling story. She was the first woman to be elected chief of the Cherokee Nation. She held the position for ten years, winning her second term in 1991 with 83 percent of the vote. Later, after voluntarily relinquishing her role as chief because of ill health, Mankiller emerged as a leader in the fight against stereotyping and prejudice: in particular, against stereotypes and prejudices about Native Americans and about women. She does so from the platform of a life of personal battles against those who stereotyped her and held prejudice toward her—both as a Native American and as a woman. For example, during the period when she was campaigning to become leader of the Cherokee Nation many tribal members asked her to withdraw. She received hate mail and threatening phone calls, and endured the slashing of her tires and death threats. The suggestion of a woman as chief was not universally popular within the tribe, some claiming that it offended God.4
During her ten years as chief, the Cherokee Nation’s annual budget was more than $75 million dollars. Mankiller oversaw more than 1,200 employees. She was named Ms. Magazine’s “Woman of the Year” in 1987, was honored with a Chubb Fellowship from Yale University in 1995, and was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 1998.5
In a speech at Sweet Briar College in 1993, Mankiller said, “If we are ever going to collectively begin to grapple with the problems that we have collectively, we are going to have to move back the veil and deal with each other on a more human level.”6 The “veil” that she speaks of is created by stereotypes and misunderstandings that prevent people from communicating with one another in a meaningful way. Her call for people of all kinds to relate to one another on a more human level, and to turn their backs on stereotyping and prejudice, clearly reflects her own battles with being typecast as a Native American and as a woman.
There is also a subterranean echo lurking in her leadership. Her entreaty for respect and interconnectedness among the world’s various peoples reflects her Native American understanding of human relationships. She says, “I was brought up in a Cherokee community where it was implicitly understood that we are responsible for one other, that we survive in reciprocal relationships.”
The words she speaks and the music of her life fit together; everything supports everything else in a highly congruent way—there are no false notes. She sings the kind of song that attracts commitment. Her friend, publisher and writer Gloria Steinem, says of her, “I think, if this country had any sense, Wilma would be president.”7
This congruence between what a leader says, who that leader is as a person, and how that leader lives her life, is important for three reasons. First, a leader’s personal narrative establishes her credibility and helps followers answer the basic questions any follower will ask: Who is this person? Can he be trusted? Can he help me and others transcend our current circumstances? People were charitable with Mother Teresa because she was charitable toward others. People listen to Wilma Mankiller’s plea to be responsible for one another because she was raised in and reflects a culture that embodies such values. She carries her convictions with her everywhere she goes, establishing her authority when she speaks about them.
The second reason that congruence between a leader’s words and life is important is that leaders are human and will inevitably do something that seems incongruent, or off purpose, or out of character. Also, even when leaders believe they are being totally consistent, their actions will sometimes appear inconsistent to others. And, those around them may act in a leader’s name in ways that are inconsistent with the overall message. It is inevitable that a leader will be seen as singing out of tune. A leader who consciously and constantly tells her own personal story will accumulate the trust needed to overcome these gaffs and misunderstandings. When incongruity or its appearance does show up, followers who have heard the story from the leader’s own lips, are more likely to ask, “What is going on?” rather than to make the immediate assumption that the leader has strayed off course or is oblivious to her impact.
The third reason that a leader’s personal narrative is important to her story is that leaders cannot expect higher commitment than they themselves have given. A leader’s personal narrative explains why she has made a commitment and what that commitment entails. So, when a leader whose personal story is well-known asks for commitment from others, those who are being asked know that the person who is asking understands what the request means; actions and consequences, struggles and sacrifices, pain and joy—all of it. In a very real sense, leaders say to followers, “Come and share my life.” That invitation is offered through the telling of the leader’s personal narrative.
General Jim Ellis summarized the importance of the leader’s personal narrative when he said, “The leader as an individual will inspire other people just because of who he is and the way he lives his life as an individual and as a leader. How wonderful would it be if you were known through your life as ‘Honest Abe?’ How much could you do? Wouldn’t that be amazing, to have that reputation?”
The Quest for Change
Leaders also serve as narrators for the unfolding drama that is any change process. They keep the original insight or vision firmly in the forefront of their own awareness and the minds of their followers, and also remind followers about where their quest began. Bonnie Wright said, “I wasn’t afraid to go back to the beginning over, and over, and over again. ‘Remember when we said we were going to do this. Remember we agreed on this.’ Because people don’t remember.” Wright’s continual returning to the beginning is not merely a matter of reminding people about what they had agreed to. It is also about returning to what holds the group together. “Always go back to common ground,” she said.
Leaders also comment in both words and actions about the progress of their mutual pursuit. They give updates about what has happened, what is happening, and what must happen next. They become the keepers of the story. For example, in 1947, after India had achieved independence from Britain, Hindus and Muslims fought violently with one another in riots across the country. Mohandas Gandhi fasted, and promised to continue fasting until the violence came to an end. This was Gandhi’s very live and very dramatic update about what India had hoped to achieve for itself, about the problems within India that threatened the peace and stability of the recently created nation. Gandhi’s fast was a potent reminder that there was work yet to be accomplished. It reminded Indians of where they had been, where they were, where they wanted to be, and what they needed to do next.
A leader’s function as the narrator of the change process is to maintain the creative tension required to keep commitment flowing. That tension results from the gap between where people are and where they want to be. That gap can be an unsettling place—a tense place. The leader’s job is to make sure people know that they are indeed in a tense place. The tension can become a source of energy to move forward. Gandhi’s fast was, in effect, a statement that went something like this: “Hold on now. We have made progress but we aren’t there yet. And we’ll never get there unless you all stop beating up on one another.” Gandhi delivered that message in a way that assured it would not be missed.
A Narrative of Identity
The third narrative that is woven into a leader’s story is about the identity of followers. Among the reasons followers offer commitment to leaders are their aspirations to become somehow, in some way, better people. Of his encounter with Mother Teresa, Monsignor Fushek now says, “I realized, not in any way with ego, that if I was going to do anything that was going to make a difference, I had to help people to become better than they thought they could become on their own.” And Gloria Steinem said of Wilma Mankiller, “She makes each of us a little better than we would otherwise be.”8
Sometimes a leader’s narrative about the identity of followers draws upon and reinforces deeply held beliefs about who they are. For example, Wilma Mankiller, true to Cherokee beliefs about people taking care of one another, promised to build primary health care clinics in two rural communities. Cherokee people clearly stated that they wanted medical care closer to their communities. She committed to obtain funding to build two new clinics. It took ten years of lobbying Congress, and a seemingly endless series of meetings and justifications to Indian Health Service officials, to obtain funding to build the clinics.
At other times, a leader’s narrative about the identity of followers challenges their perceptions about themselves, impelling them to become better by becoming different than they are. For example, Margaret Thatcher’s narrative of identity was based on creating a society in which individual initiative and choice won out over the restraints imposed by the massive state apparatus that characterized Britain before she was elected Prime Minister.
Three Unforgettable Stories
Telling a compelling story requires much more than facility with words, graphs, numbers, and logic. It also requires a sense of drama that is too often missing in attempts to exert leadership. Business people recognize this scene: An executive of the company stands before them at a podium in a semidarkened room going over a PowerPoint presentation about a new company vision, mission, or strategy. The reaction of the audience ranges between polite attention and glazed eyes. At the end of the presentation, the words, “Any questions?” are met first with an awkward silence, then with a prudent question or two that draw a long and detailed response producing more polite attention and glazed eyes. When the questioning ends, the executive gives a brief pep talk and the audience applauds. Then everybody leaves with no greater commitment to anything, and nothing changes very much.
Here are three examples of stories dramatically told:
1.An executive who headed a product line division of a petrochemical firm asked his senior managers to attend a meeting at a seaside resort. The division was in serious trouble and he knew that business as usual would not solve their problems. The managers arrived with their presentations and handouts as they always did. They were well prepared to report to him and to their peers about the progress of projects, about financial results and projections, and about opportunities and challenges. They expected each would have a turn at a lectern, but as they arrived he invited them to join him on the beach and to bring all of their material. The charts, graphs, and handouts were set ablaze in a bonfire. When the flames settled he said, “Now let’s go inside and talk honestly to one another about what we must do.”
2.Nobel Laureate physicist Richard Feynman testified before a congressional committee investigating the Challenger disaster. In the days immediately following the tragedy, most engineers close to the investigation were convinced that the explosion of the Challenger resulted from the failure of a rubber seal—an “o-ring”—on one of Challenger’s booster rockets. Those who ascribed to this theory believed that the failure of the seal was caused by low temperature at the time of the launch. But blame was cast in many directions and the facts were murky. During his testimony, Feynman placed a section of an o-ring in a clamp, tightened it, and dropped this construction into a glass of ice water. Explaining his point as the rubber became colder, he then removed the clamp and produced a section of o-ring that was transformed by the cold from flexible to hard and inflexible. Anyone who was at the hearing, or who read the front page the next day, understood what happened to Challenger.
3.A woman was promoted to become senior vice president for the human relations function of a large corporation. One of her most immediate tasks was to appoint two new members of her management team. During her first speech to the entire human resources group she announced her appointments. Many in the audience were surprised by her choices. Then she explained, “I talked to the people we serve—to our internal customers and partners. I asked them who among us provides them with the best service. I made these two promotions based on what they told me.”
The messages in these three examples were unmistakable: We need to learn to talk honestly with one another, an o-ring failed, serving our customers will be rewarded. Furthermore, the messages were delivered in ways that are unforgettable. The ability to deliver unmistakable messages in unforgettable ways is the art of storytelling.
Development Strategies for Storytelling
The New York Times called Odds Bodkin “a consummate storyteller.” He has mesmerized audiences at Lincoln Center, the White House, schools, universities, museums, and theaters across America. He has also created seventeen award-winning audio recordings. Bodkin offers four pieces of advice for leaders who wish to become better storytellers: exercise your imagination, rely on imagery, risk being a person, and become conversant with mythology.
Exercising Imagination
“Human imagination is almost an ecological force,” says Bodkin, “What we imagine tends much more to become what actually happens than what we don’t imagine.” Bodkin urges people to discover the Five Imaginations, each connected to one of the five senses: sight, hearing, touch, smell, and taste. He says, “If you learn to use them simultaneously, that thing that you are imagining inside yourself, that you want to get out and share with others, becomes incredibly vivid.” He asks, “Can you imagine the aroma of a freshly cut orange?” If you can, you are using one of the Five Imaginations. Imagination, says Bodkin, is like a muscle—you have to exercise it.9
Leaders ask people to imagine the future. That imagining will be much more vivid if people become aware of their five senses and use their Five Imaginations. Bodkin says, “It gives you a lot of avenues toward expressing what you want to express, and will personalize it and almost automatically take you into the place of how to say, ‘Look. I am a human being. I am trying to do this in the world. You are human beings and we are trying to do this together. And above and beyond all the rest of our activities, be they technological, actuarial, or whatever, we are all in this together.’ ”
Relying on Imagery
Once leaders have exercised their Five Imaginations, they are prepared to stimulate vivid images in the imaginations of others. Bodkin uses an image of his own to illustrate the point. He suggests imagining an hourglass tilted on its side. The narrow neck of the hourglass is for communication between the two halves. There is a huge sphere, the leader’s imagination, on one side. The leader’s task is to make the other sphere the same. He says, “To get one sphere to resemble the other—the little neck where the sand moves through—that is the story time. It has to be pretty good otherwise one sphere will be this immense round glorious thing, and the other will be a little bulb—people won’t be getting it.”
If Bodkin were here now, he would have us go beyond merely imagining how his hourglass looks, and perhaps imagining the whisper of sand moving through the hourglass, the musty smell of an antique timepiece, or the feel of smooth glass under our hands.
Risking Being a Person
Bodkin says, “I never work from a script but from mental imagery.” He goes before an audience with a series of pictures in his mind. His job is to help that audience imagine the pictures. “It is really best when it is extemporaneous,” he says. “People instantly know that. They pick that up like electricity. They say, wow, this person is creating before my eyes. People immediately understand that means the person speaking to them has thought a heck of a lot about what they are doing, more so than the person who has a script.”
In order to do this, he says, one must, “Risk being a person.”
Becoming Conversant with Myth
Bodkin also says, “Being conversant with myths is a handy thing, especially for leaders.” Myths can enlighten us about our circumstances, about ourselves as individuals and as members of the human race, and about who we might become. Leaders can inform themselves about their own circumstances, and also inspire people at a deep level of the psyche, when they choose the right mythical stories as metaphors for their own stories.
As an example he uses a story from the Odyssey. Odysseus has left the island of Circe. She has warned him that he will have to pass through the Strait of Scylla and Charybdis, where a huge six-headed dragon lurks on the left and a giant whirlpool that will destroy his ship lies on the right. Here is a leader who is between a rock and a hard place. Circe has pointed out to Odysseus that, whatever course he chooses, at least six of his men will die—prey to the six-headed dragon. If he does not stay to the left of the strait, within the dragon’s reach, everyone will die in the whirlpool.
Bodkin says, “This is a story about downsizing.” There is great power in telling such stories in order to illustrate and examine the challenges faced by a leader and his followers. He says, “When an archetypal instance occurs you feel this rush of identity. It is as if the whole human race resounds within you.”
Using Every Point of Contact
Every point of contact between a leader and her followers or potential followers is a storytelling opportunity, and a story emerges from every contact, whether the leader wishes it to or not. It is imperative, then, that leaders consciously make use of all the storytelling opportunities they have—the rich variety of channels available to tell their stories. For example, Dale Fushek’s Life Teen organization helps teens embark on their own journey of faith with special teen masses, a Web site, and retreats, and helps parishes across the globe start their own chapters with informational and training materials.
Beginning in the Comfort Zone
Sometimes it helps for a leader to begin telling his story in a way that is comfortable and familiar. For example, the CEO of a midsize company was an introverted man who preferred to communicate with his people in writing. He wrote regularly for the company newsletter and sent frequent e-mail bulletins. Writing gave him the time to think through what he wanted to say, and to make certain (at least in his own mind) that he had covered all the bases. He was very personable and likeable in one-on-one discussions and in small casual groups, but uncomfortable at a dais. When his organization was faced with a dramatic change in focus it became necessary for him to be more visible—to tell his story more widely and to be more accessible. His name was Bob.
The human resources manager for the company found a coach who would help Bob with his presentation skills. She also suggested a series of “Lunch with Bob” meetings. Once a week, Bob met with a half-dozen randomly chosen employees for lunch in a corner of the company cafeteria, visible to everyone who was there at the time. They talked about the business in general, about needed change, about his vision and hopes, and about their anxieties and questions. People sometimes wandered over to listen in and ask questions. “Lunch with Bob” was a big hit!
Summary
The telling of a leader’s story is an absolute requirement for winning intellectual commitment. When leaders have stories to tell that build on their insights and visions, when they tell their stories through words and fitting actions, when their stories are about their own lives, the character of their followers, and a quest for change, when the stories serve to maintain the creative tension of the moment, and when the stories are told in memorable ways, then they can win intellectual commitment. In addition, a well-told story can also win emotional and spiritual commitment when the leader has mastered the competencies to do so. A well-told story can resonate at all levels in those that hear it.
Questions About Yourself to Contemplate or Discuss with Others
Who, in your life experience, was practiced at storytelling?
To what degree are you practiced at storytelling?
What is it about storytelling that rings true for your current leadership role?
How important is storytelling to your further development as a leader?
Notes
1.Howard Gardner, Leading Minds: An Anatomy of Leadership (N.Y.: Basic Books, 1995): 14.
2.Ibid, 9.
3.Annette Simmons, The Story Factor: Secrets of Influence from the Art of Storytelling (Cambridge, Mass.: Perseus Publishing, 2001): 29.
4.Wilma Mankiller and Michael Wallis, Mankiller: A Chief and Her People (N.Y.: St. Martin’s Press, 1993): 239–241.
5.Historical background about Wilma Mankiller was derived from her book Mankiller: A Chief and Her People. Also from Charles T. Jones, “Wilma’s Spirit Survives Adversity,” The Cherokee Observer (August 1999), and from Andrew Nelson, “Brilliant Careers: Wilma Mankiller,” at <http://www.buzzle.com> (November 20, 2001).
6.“Rebuilding the Cherokee Nation,” speech by Wilma Mankiller at Sweet Briar College (April 2, 1993). Source, <http://gos.sbc.edu/m/mankiller.html>.
7.Jones, “Wilma’s Spirit Survives Adversity.”
8.Jones, “Wilma’s Spirit Survives Adversity.”