“After all, DC was built on a swamp!”
You will hear this lament at least once a day when the heat hangs thick in late afternoon, men sweating through their dress shirts and ladies trying to keep their mascara from melting. I happen to love the heat and bake unbothered, but when it comes to running outside I play it safe and start out just as the sun comes up.
Though my pulse beats the rapid urban groove, and I am happy to weave through traffic, stoplights, and pedestrians to fulfill a morning run, I would trade monument scenery and cement for peaceful woodsy trails any day! I grew up in a swamp myself, and as a rambunctious, chatterbox of a child, I was constantly searching for adventure and action in the woods off Pine Swamp Road. We Otto siblings would build elaborate forts from trees and trash, and follow snaking paths in the shadows of swaying treetops. Even in the classroom, when my teachers could get me to shut up for a minute and read, I would always grab a Boxcar Children paperback, and stop every 5 pages to dream up even more scenarios of survival and adventure in the forest.
And so I head west into the woods every morning. Feeling “home” in an otherwise unfamiliar place evokes an inner awe, and can be sparked by anything from a familiar accent to hometown sports cap to – for me - a stretch of forest down Capital Crescent path. I am in awe when the Potomac illuminates in dazzling flashes as the sun peeks up through the tree tops to catch her reflection. Despite the odd buzzing mosquito, I feel at peace within walls of ever-growing green, and I feel a strong sense of self, unrestrained and unchallenged.
Thirty minutes later I’m showering off the sweat, I fumble into unfamiliar business attire, and walk down H Street with Christine to the World Bank, 4 enormous towers huddled together under one massive glass roof. The peaceful familiarity of my early mornings dissipates as I enter the sunlit lobby. (Actually first I greet the Ghanaian guard, learn some new Twi, and then I’m at a loss!)
I say this not to detract from my immense respect for the Bank’s mission, from my deep gratitude for this opportunity to contribute to poverty relief, or from my insatiable hunger for the challenge that lies ahead in solving seemingly intractable issues. That is all alive and well and flowing through my bloodstream. I say this to express my inability to trust what I cannot see. I can’t wrap my mind around all that goes on in that gigantic building everyday – how work is coordinated, checked, and improved. Even more so, I can’t shake from my mind certain images and memories of working in hands-on ways to alleviate poverty, and feeling somewhat disconnected from the issues in the belly of an air conditioned behemoth building. I feel distant from my passion and potential, and I wonder...
How did we as a society come to buy in to the popular notion that bureaucracies are an acceptable mechanism by which to end poverty?
In 2000 Malcolm Gladwell coined a catchphrase and capitalized off a surge of social action in our nation. Gladwell defined "The Tipping Point", as "the level at which the momentum for change becomes unstoppable." His book explains how ideas become rooted, recognized, and accepted, pointing to common patterns across diverse trends of the past and present. Was the "Tipping Point" for top-down Foreign Aid as a solution to poverty at Bretton Woods in 1944? Were there key figures, according to Gladwell's 'Law of the Few', who led, informed and persuaded the public to believe in the Bank? Or perhaps it was an increase in communications technology that let Gladwell’s 'Power of Context' take root. Certainly bringing the mass ad-campaigns of starving skeleton children into people's living room TV screens prompted public support for bureaucratic charities.
However it came about, I am baffled by my present point of view. Speaking of all large aid institutions, charitable or government run, I wonder: with so many resources, such talented employees, and such immense 'plans', how have we failed to make a notable impact in relieving global poverty? How is everyone so duped by a powerful image that shadows our collective shortcomings?
I have a big family, but I grew up in a small town. And I may have moved to a big city, but I maintained a small loyal crew and work fiercely for a small non-profit. I like knowing people, I like sharing information, I like questioning decisions, and I like being held accountable for what I say to others and for the work I produce on behalf of the group – my family, town, or workplace.
Conversations here about our first week of DC work reveal that achieving this ideal work environment is not always possible at bureaucracies in which we are based.
I first want to highlight the high caliber of work produced by Bank employees, the seemingly good intentions of all my fellow Bankers, and the absolute necessity of such an organization in the pursuit of justice. But I must say that I see clear solutions in a mess of litigation and politics. I see opportunities to improve communications, both within the organization and to the public. Even when I close my eyes I see faces of friends who misfortune proves the world is still so unjust, and I open them back up to pristine offices, elaborate wall artwork, and five pound binders full of reports and responses. Something doesn't feel right.
Not to be naive: for sure, in any new work environment when you start at the bottom rung you follow orders and learn the ropes. Experience is a knowledge one cannot acquire right away, and it would be immature to criticize a process without understanding the details of how the system works. But it's not all rocket science, it's human nature. Go with the flow to get the promo(tion).
But there will surely come a day when you are asked to follow an order that contradicts your sense of self. What happens when you are expected to follow a certain code of conduct, play by a certain set of rules, and adhere to a certain organizational culture that does not promote the behaviors and values you were raised to exhibit? At what point do you sell out in order to work your way up?
The tripping point.
A Tipping Point is when sporadic decisions become systemic action. A Tripping Point is a deviation from your natural norm. Tripping tells us when we have bought in (or sold out?) as individuals.
Many of Maxwell’s examples of Tipping Points are positive or inconsequential in nature --- the drop of crime rates in NYC or the increased sale of Hush Puppies shoes in America. But what if the movement is not necessarily a good thing? What if people buy into selling themselves short? Become accustomed to cutting corners? Deliberately delaying change afraid they could lose their spot in line?
That culture still catches on, gains momentum, and builds into a powerful force. After all, who is checking if the checkers have been converted?
I of course Googled my ‘tripping point’ concept to check for authenticity, and as suspected, it is not original! Authors Porras, Emery and Thompson, co-wrote “Success Built to Last”, and call the 'inevitable stumbles or failures on the way to success' “tripping points”. They claim that successful people "think of both success and failure as feedback. The question is not whether they won or lost this round, but what they will do with the feedback." And surely I concur that "tripping" and falling offers the opportunity to get back up and be better than you once were.
But I find it hard to believe that a well prepared mind and vigilant heart cannot foresee and step over some tripping points that may emerge. Certain obstacles should, in reality, trip up only the unaware, those not in tune with who they are, where they came from, and what they believe. I am a big believer in needing to appreciate failure as an opportunity for growth. But at a certain point that can become an excuse and a cop-out to not be brave, to not stand by one’s beliefs, to not be honest with oneself. It reminds me that I have to take time and reestablish what it is I believe is right and true and acceptable.
I find it in the woods, but it is everywhere and anywhere, depending on where you hail from. (Anyone up for a run tomorrow morning?!)
"Ideas and products and messages and behaviors spread like viruses do," says Gladwell. It may take a while, but maybe infusing enough key people with our Truman energy, concern, conscience and heart into the game of inefficient bureaucracies will eventually come to a Tipping Point, where enormous resources and knowledge will indeed be used to the fullest!
I sit back in my seat and words of wisdom bounce through my head as i-Tunes churns out one of my all time favorite albums, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill ... "You know I only say it cause I'm truly genuine/ Don't be a hard rock when you really are a gem, / baby girl, respect is just a minimum...."
PEACE! xo ko
You will hear this lament at least once a day when the heat hangs thick in late afternoon, men sweating through their dress shirts and ladies trying to keep their mascara from melting. I happen to love the heat and bake unbothered, but when it comes to running outside I play it safe and start out just as the sun comes up.
Though my pulse beats the rapid urban groove, and I am happy to weave through traffic, stoplights, and pedestrians to fulfill a morning run, I would trade monument scenery and cement for peaceful woodsy trails any day! I grew up in a swamp myself, and as a rambunctious, chatterbox of a child, I was constantly searching for adventure and action in the woods off Pine Swamp Road. We Otto siblings would build elaborate forts from trees and trash, and follow snaking paths in the shadows of swaying treetops. Even in the classroom, when my teachers could get me to shut up for a minute and read, I would always grab a Boxcar Children paperback, and stop every 5 pages to dream up even more scenarios of survival and adventure in the forest.
And so I head west into the woods every morning. Feeling “home” in an otherwise unfamiliar place evokes an inner awe, and can be sparked by anything from a familiar accent to hometown sports cap to – for me - a stretch of forest down Capital Crescent path. I am in awe when the Potomac illuminates in dazzling flashes as the sun peeks up through the tree tops to catch her reflection. Despite the odd buzzing mosquito, I feel at peace within walls of ever-growing green, and I feel a strong sense of self, unrestrained and unchallenged.
Thirty minutes later I’m showering off the sweat, I fumble into unfamiliar business attire, and walk down H Street with Christine to the World Bank, 4 enormous towers huddled together under one massive glass roof. The peaceful familiarity of my early mornings dissipates as I enter the sunlit lobby. (Actually first I greet the Ghanaian guard, learn some new Twi, and then I’m at a loss!)
I say this not to detract from my immense respect for the Bank’s mission, from my deep gratitude for this opportunity to contribute to poverty relief, or from my insatiable hunger for the challenge that lies ahead in solving seemingly intractable issues. That is all alive and well and flowing through my bloodstream. I say this to express my inability to trust what I cannot see. I can’t wrap my mind around all that goes on in that gigantic building everyday – how work is coordinated, checked, and improved. Even more so, I can’t shake from my mind certain images and memories of working in hands-on ways to alleviate poverty, and feeling somewhat disconnected from the issues in the belly of an air conditioned behemoth building. I feel distant from my passion and potential, and I wonder...
How did we as a society come to buy in to the popular notion that bureaucracies are an acceptable mechanism by which to end poverty?
In 2000 Malcolm Gladwell coined a catchphrase and capitalized off a surge of social action in our nation. Gladwell defined "The Tipping Point", as "the level at which the momentum for change becomes unstoppable." His book explains how ideas become rooted, recognized, and accepted, pointing to common patterns across diverse trends of the past and present. Was the "Tipping Point" for top-down Foreign Aid as a solution to poverty at Bretton Woods in 1944? Were there key figures, according to Gladwell's 'Law of the Few', who led, informed and persuaded the public to believe in the Bank? Or perhaps it was an increase in communications technology that let Gladwell’s 'Power of Context' take root. Certainly bringing the mass ad-campaigns of starving skeleton children into people's living room TV screens prompted public support for bureaucratic charities.
However it came about, I am baffled by my present point of view. Speaking of all large aid institutions, charitable or government run, I wonder: with so many resources, such talented employees, and such immense 'plans', how have we failed to make a notable impact in relieving global poverty? How is everyone so duped by a powerful image that shadows our collective shortcomings?
I have a big family, but I grew up in a small town. And I may have moved to a big city, but I maintained a small loyal crew and work fiercely for a small non-profit. I like knowing people, I like sharing information, I like questioning decisions, and I like being held accountable for what I say to others and for the work I produce on behalf of the group – my family, town, or workplace.
Conversations here about our first week of DC work reveal that achieving this ideal work environment is not always possible at bureaucracies in which we are based.
I first want to highlight the high caliber of work produced by Bank employees, the seemingly good intentions of all my fellow Bankers, and the absolute necessity of such an organization in the pursuit of justice. But I must say that I see clear solutions in a mess of litigation and politics. I see opportunities to improve communications, both within the organization and to the public. Even when I close my eyes I see faces of friends who misfortune proves the world is still so unjust, and I open them back up to pristine offices, elaborate wall artwork, and five pound binders full of reports and responses. Something doesn't feel right.
Not to be naive: for sure, in any new work environment when you start at the bottom rung you follow orders and learn the ropes. Experience is a knowledge one cannot acquire right away, and it would be immature to criticize a process without understanding the details of how the system works. But it's not all rocket science, it's human nature. Go with the flow to get the promo(tion).
But there will surely come a day when you are asked to follow an order that contradicts your sense of self. What happens when you are expected to follow a certain code of conduct, play by a certain set of rules, and adhere to a certain organizational culture that does not promote the behaviors and values you were raised to exhibit? At what point do you sell out in order to work your way up?
The tripping point.
A Tipping Point is when sporadic decisions become systemic action. A Tripping Point is a deviation from your natural norm. Tripping tells us when we have bought in (or sold out?) as individuals.
Many of Maxwell’s examples of Tipping Points are positive or inconsequential in nature --- the drop of crime rates in NYC or the increased sale of Hush Puppies shoes in America. But what if the movement is not necessarily a good thing? What if people buy into selling themselves short? Become accustomed to cutting corners? Deliberately delaying change afraid they could lose their spot in line?
That culture still catches on, gains momentum, and builds into a powerful force. After all, who is checking if the checkers have been converted?
I of course Googled my ‘tripping point’ concept to check for authenticity, and as suspected, it is not original! Authors Porras, Emery and Thompson, co-wrote “Success Built to Last”, and call the 'inevitable stumbles or failures on the way to success' “tripping points”. They claim that successful people "think of both success and failure as feedback. The question is not whether they won or lost this round, but what they will do with the feedback." And surely I concur that "tripping" and falling offers the opportunity to get back up and be better than you once were.
But I find it hard to believe that a well prepared mind and vigilant heart cannot foresee and step over some tripping points that may emerge. Certain obstacles should, in reality, trip up only the unaware, those not in tune with who they are, where they came from, and what they believe. I am a big believer in needing to appreciate failure as an opportunity for growth. But at a certain point that can become an excuse and a cop-out to not be brave, to not stand by one’s beliefs, to not be honest with oneself. It reminds me that I have to take time and reestablish what it is I believe is right and true and acceptable.
I find it in the woods, but it is everywhere and anywhere, depending on where you hail from. (Anyone up for a run tomorrow morning?!)
"Ideas and products and messages and behaviors spread like viruses do," says Gladwell. It may take a while, but maybe infusing enough key people with our Truman energy, concern, conscience and heart into the game of inefficient bureaucracies will eventually come to a Tipping Point, where enormous resources and knowledge will indeed be used to the fullest!
I sit back in my seat and words of wisdom bounce through my head as i-Tunes churns out one of my all time favorite albums, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill ... "You know I only say it cause I'm truly genuine/ Don't be a hard rock when you really are a gem, / baby girl, respect is just a minimum...."
PEACE! xo ko
2 comments:
Kate Otto, you are one of the best writers I've ever read and I would like to buy your book please. I love your blog, please keep writing.
Your run sounds great. Though the banks of the Charles can be quite beautiful some mornings (and evenings with the city lit up), I'm jealous of your woodsy adventures. The best run I ever did was supposed to be a 10miler along the McKenzie river in Oregon. It was a small windy trail of rich soil under thick forest cover along a bubbling river with waterfalls along the way. It was so amazing I couldn't stop. Like Forrest Gump, I just felt like running, so I turned it into a 20miler. I think my love for it stemmed from similar events in my childhood as yours. I spent my childhood in the woods behind Matt Bourassa's house building forts, clearing streams, and just running through the trees - it was as free as a child could be and runs through the woods, the sounds of rivers, leaves rustling beneath your feet, and the smell of the leaves in the fall, all bring me back to those moments.
The Tipping Point is a great book that I must read again. Next time I do I am going to reread this post so I have a deeper understanding of "your" "Tripping Point."
Let it be known: Kate Otto is a big liar.
I've never heard a single Washingtonian say anything about the District's construction upon a swamp!
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