Last week the political wing of the Muslim Brotherhood, the world’s oldest and largest Islamist organization, a group that has been banned, off and on in Egypt since 1948, won 47 percent of seats in the lower house of parliament.

Which leads me to ponder a question that has always intrigued me: how does a political party, or an individual for that matter, make the transition in identity (and action) from a radical activist position, outside the mainstream, to the head of government?

Major political transitions are seldom considered to be psychological as well as political events, but how could they not be? The citizens of the former east bloc countries didn’t just wake up one morning with a democratic understanding, attitude and behavior. Growing up in a totalitarian regime results in a state of mind, a set of behaviors that doesn’t shift when government does. Being a member of a banned, radical extremist group to suddenly being the party in the seat of power is a profound shift in identity. Looking at history, the track record for making this transition is not good. Many radical parties entered through revolution and proceeded to jail, torture, ‘re-educate’ or assassinate opponents.

It takes people years to grow into their sense of power, to grow from a young adult dependent on others to being the one responsible for others. Companies grapple with this all the time. Someone is promoted from front line or factory floor into a management position but doesn’t or can’t fill those leadership shoes: they see their new staff still as colleagues, and react competitively with the people they are meant to develop. And this is true everywhere, not just in the business world: parents struggle with this, often failing to recognize their higher rank and resorting to yelling, screaming, even violence when provoked by their children. Teachers who feel insecure or who need their egos stroked are every student’s nightmare. (more…)

How and when does power become abusive? I’ve explored this topic here frequently, and while I don’t think power is inherently abusive or corrupting, without education and training on how to use it, abuse of power does and will happen. Hence the title of this blog.

One thing often overlooked in leadership training (which I believe should focus more on power and how to use it well) is that we do not enter positions of power as blank slates, but come into positions of power with our personal story of power. We grew up in a context of power relations, and how we enact the role of the leader is influenced by a social identity forged in part by power relations. Preparing for a position of power should start with an inventory of what one has already experienced about power.

As a coach and trainer, one thing I constantly see is that we seldom outgrow the power identity we grew up with. Not only that, our earliest identity of power  asserts itself under threat or stress. Growing up smaller than the other kids, and being picked on in school, growing up poor or disadvantaged, following an older brother or sister who did better in school, or being the only Jew in the town, all of these experiences are like unresolved wounds or complexes that stay with us, and influence our self-esteem, relations with others, and more generally, how we perform in our roles. We lead with and from our wounds.

And wounding can come from both a deficit and an excess of power, and the complicated mix of both. There is no doubt, as research confirms, low status is wounding. Lack of access to resources, systemic oppression, low self-esteem, internalized lowered expectations and stereotyping influences health, opportunity, success, well-being, happiness, etc. But we are also wounded psychologically by exclusivity, unearned privilege, entitlement, and the “price of the ticket,” fitting into an elite club whose membership is the cost of our authenticity.

But our early experiences with power can also be affirming and enabling. We are empowered through the connection with our lineage, a knowledge of ancestors, connection with the community or with a spiritual belief. We can also transform our earliest suffering into self-esteem and empowerment by awareness of having endured or survived hardship.

Yet unless we develop awareness of these initial experiences, and our unresolved wounds, the temptation to use the power of the role to soothe our pain is too great. Like an addict using a substance to flee a miserable state of mind, power becomes an artificial boost, a ‘substance’ to soothe and alleviate an internal sense of low status. But this isn’t an immutable fate. It can be worked on with focus and self-awareness. I’m looking forward to exploring this and more on the intersection of the person and the role in the Leadership Lab in a couple of weeks.

I’m starting to prepare my workshop on the Gold Coast of Australia in December. This year’s workshop is called The Leadership Lab. It focuses on the inner development of the leader, something I’m very interested in.  I’m fascinated by what is not included in leadership development. Conventional leadership training  usually focuses on 1) so-called soft (yet hard to master) skills such as communication, coaching, team work, 2) technical skills such as strategy, financial management, negotiation,  innovation, leading change, and 3) power, influence, and understanding one’s own leadership styles.

What’s missing though, is learning how to use your skills under pressure. The moment is not the classroom. If you don’t practice under stress, you can’t perform under stress. It’s that simple. Cops understand this, the military understands this, athletes understand this. But leadership training doesn’t always understand this. You cannot access your tools under stress unless you have trained to access your tools under stress. Arny Mindell focuses on this aspect of facilitation in what he calls “the second training.”  (more…)

Tomorrow the first module of the Inner Activist program launches. This program, several years in the making, is the brainchild of Brad Jarvis, whose own journey of development led him to create a personal development program to help change makers, social entrepreneurs, leaders and activists be radically more effective in their life-serving work.

I was recruited by Brad, and two others on the founding team – Ian Curtin and Frank Quimby, to consult with them on the development of the program. It was a daunting task of bringing together 6 different personal growth and adult education modules into one unified program. It’s been a great privilege working with the Inner Activist team – 21 amazing educators, social innovators, facilitators and trainers. In honor of this big moment, I’m posting something one my colleagues on the team, Natasha Aruliah, wrote for the Inner Activist blog, on the ‘hierarchy of oppressions,’ and the development of conscious use of power.

I came across these two stories on the same day, and though these two women are worlds apart in who they are, and what they are about, they struck me as similar in their courage

Patti Smith belongs to my youth. Because the Night was an electrifying anthem to something I felt but couldn’t name. She was to me a punk Janis Joplin for my generation, raw and honest but unlike Joplin, showed a comfort and confidence in herself. Smith just published Just Kids about her relationship with Robert Maplethorpe, their friendship and devotion, to each other and to their art. In Maureen Dowd’s piece on it, Because The Night Belongs to Her, she quotes Smith, who wrote to Maplethorpe when he was dying of AIDS. Smith reminded him that he once said to her art “was like ‘holding hands with God.’ Urging him to grip that hand hard, she concluded: ‘Of all your work, you are still your most beautiful.’”

Flash forward a few decades. Sheryl Sandberg, COO of Facebook, whose credentials include serving as Chief of Staff to then U.S. Secretary of Treasury Larry Summers in the Clinton Administration, gave this TED talk below on the disheartening statistics of women at the top. Statistics show that progress for women (and Blacks, and other minorities) is not just lagging, but in some cases, moving backwards. Something is clearly not working. I like what Sandberg says. It’s time to look at hidden factors, at things we might be missing, including ourselves. Sandberg focuses on how women think about themselves. It’s not punk rock, but it’s bold and controversial because her critics could say she’s putting the blame on women. Like Smith, this is honest and real, and shows real devotion to her ‘art.’ When things are clearly not improving, it’s not time to play it politically correct, but to leave no stone unturned in finding solutions.

I started a Kids City Club for a group of fourth graders, as part of my work with the I Have a Dream Foundation in Oregon. Seven kids were chosen to participate in a series of activities to help them learn about government and how the city works. In one activity, we met with a city planner to learn about the redevelopment proposal for their local neighborhood, an economically disadvantaged slice of Northeast Portland with unpaved roads, no sewers or public parks, and numerous other problems.

They even made a presentation to the Portland city council on their ideas for improving their neighborhood. The kids did a great job, and the city council – the Mayor and City Commissioners (yes, Portland still has a commissioner style of city government) – was terrific. Council members really made an effort to make the kids feel at home. They asked lots of questions, gave them an extended photo op and a tour of the Mayor’s offices. (You can watch the presentation online thanks to Portland cable access). (more…)

Soft power, a term coined by Harvard University professor Joseph Nye, Jr., is widely taken as the next natural step in leadership. Soft power is the ability to lead and influence using tools of appeal: relationship, collaboration, inspiration, engagement, communication, and emotional appeal. In the November 2008 issue of HBR, Nye points to an interesting paradox about soft power women:

The United States makes it particularly difficult for women to use smart (soft) power in public life, in part because of the macho myths that dominate American culture and in part because of the climate of fear that followed September 11. Look at this year’s Democratic presidential primaries.  A woman seeking public office still has to play against the gender stereotype that women are soft. So Hillary Clinton spent a good deal of her campaign proving that she was tough and experienced. That meant that Obama was able to be the candidate who could use soft power. He could appeal to people with a message of hope, a new beginning, a new future.

To be sure, Obama was also criticized for not being tough enough. (more…)

Iâ??m a cyclist, and in summer, I spend hours and hours sharing the road with cars. Mostly I try to avoid very busy roads, but at times, itâ??s inevitable. Thanks goodness Iâ??ve never had an accident involving a car, but there have been a few tense moments, mostly involving Winnebagos on Highway 101 on the Oregon Coast. They always seem to pass me just as the shoulder gives way, on a steep ascent coming around a major headland, with a 20 mph gust of wind coming from the north, making my bike wobble in one direction, while the draft of the Winnebago pulls me sideways in the other direction. Itâ??s not pleasant.

But cars and bikes are a huge issue where I live in Portland, Oregon. Weâ??re increasingly known for our progressive bike politics; weâ??re the only city of our size with the â??platinumâ?? award from the League of American Bicyclists. There are several active and effective bike advocacy groups and a fantastic bike politics blog run by Jonathan Maus. I really admire Jonathanâ??s blog. Bike politics is a contentious topic, and there is a diverse and vocal group of frequent posters on his blog. One of the hot button issues is that of cars and bikes sharing the road. In the wake of several hit and runs, deaths, and road rage incidents (both car drivers and bike riders raging in the different cases), thereâ??s been vigorous debates about cars, riders, safety, and whoâ??s at fault. Is a car always at fault, since itâ??s bigger? What about cyclists and their responsibility?

Anyway, I was thinking about this, riding my bike down Hwy 101, south from Waldport to Yachats, enjoying a great tail wind, reaching speeds over 30 mph. I love having to slow down on my bike to come under the speed limit. But at that speed, I get even more vigilant of cars coming out on my right. Especially on a tourist route like 101. As a rider, Iâ??m not always visible since Iâ??m not directly in the driverâ??s line of vision. So I have this habit of raising my hand, sort of a like a wave. But in honesty, itâ??s actually more like a commanding â??stop!â?? The intent is to make myself visible, to get the attention of the driver, but at times, it feels more like a sentry signaling, â??Halt!â?? in no uncertain terms.

So there I was with a lot of time on my hands, thinking about this, and wondering, how is that hand signal perceived? Do people feel waved at, or do they feel commanded? Do they sense my anxiety, or do they see a cyclist, zooming along in a cycling kit, looking speedy and athletic, raising her hand in an arrogant salute?

Whatever arrogance I communicate is in fact fear. My bike and I weigh about 145 pounds, and the car weighs 5,000, not to mention whatever else velocity adds to the impact. Does the driver really identify with the 5,000 pound weapon he or she is driving? Just because they are in a bigger vehicle, do they actually feel more powerful on the road than the bike? On the bikeportland blog, and in many discussions, this is assumed to be the case. But it warrants a closer look.

Personally, I donâ??t think bigger size automatically translates into an awareness of power. I think this is the problem with many kinds of clashes involving power differentials. The person with less physical power, or material wealth, or resources insists on their lower status vis-Ã -vis the other; and yet the one with greater size, wealth, resource etc., does not always feel that way. There are psychological dynamics which intervene into what would otherwise be a straightforward social-political issue.

My friend Jan and I were riding earlier this summer in the foothills of Mt. Hood, on some lovely back country roads. It was a glorious summer day and we were enjoying a terrific descent, down into a beautiful valley. As we came around a long winding curve, we saw a car up ahead, slowing down in the middle of the road. Uncertain whether he was turning, stopping, or what, we had to slow down in the middle of a hill, which is difficult. And we didnâ??t know whether to pass him on the right, or if he was turning right. His brake lights kept going on and off, blinkers going left, then right. I felt my anger rise. Didnâ??t he see us? Does he think heâ??s alone on the road? I started to mutter something aggressive under my breath as we neared his car, but Jan silenced me. Look, she said, heâ??s lost. I looked in the car, and saw an elderly man, with a map and papers in his hand. He was leaning out the window, looking every which way, and clearly he was lost or looking for something or someone. Jan rolled up to his window, and said, can I help you? Are you lost? He said he was looking for a house number. I can appreciate how frustrating it is looking for a house out in the country. Driveways can be a half mile from the house, and the house numbers are often hard to read. We stopped and tried to help him for a few minutes, but not once did he acknowledge us, thank us, or talk to us. And then, he just turned around in the road, blocking us off completely, and took off in the other direction. Jan and I looked at each other, amazed.

I guess this guy was really frustrated, anxious or just angry at being lost. Iâ??m sure it had nothing to do with us as cyclists. But as I rode off, I thought of my parents. Theyâ??re great drivers, but they are getting older, and I know they feel more nervous on the road than they used to. They feel as much a victim of the 5,000 pounds of metal as a pedestrian or bicyclist, unsure of themselves, and unsure of other drivers.

Thatâ??s the problem with assigning power to the one with greater size. It doesnâ??t take into account how people feel, how they identify. A purely material way of determining power misses the fact that how we feel about ourselves, or how we feel inside often trumps the outer trappings of power. No matter how rich, powerful, or strong someone is, if she grew up with abusive parents or was badly bullied as a child, chances are she feels less powerful than her wealth or size would have us imagine. Psychologically, powerlessness tends to trump power. Hurt, abuse, insecurity, anxieties, itâ??s unfortunate, but these pesky little things have the power to dwarf the biggest stick, even 5,000 pounds of metal. Which is probably why I will continue my authoritarian salute as I pass by motorists. At the risk of offending them, I canâ??t trust that they are really aware of their 5,000 pound advantage.

Iâ??m offering a series called Women in Leadership beginning this June. It was something I had in mind for a while, but what prompted me to do it now was an article I read called the portability study. The portability study sought to find out how well star performers did when hired away by competitors. The study found something surprising and something unexpected: the starâ??s performance plunged, and did the market value of the new company. But one group maintained their performance: women.

Looking for explanations, the researchers found that because women built their careers more on external networks and relationships with clients outside their companies, their external networks and outside contacts made them more portable. By contrast, men tended to have stronger internal networks and relationships and thus, when transferring to another firm, were at a marked disadvantage. Their success was in part due to their relationships within their firms. Womenâ??s ability to develop strong external networks is certainly not a gender trait, but a learned survival skill. Not breaking in easily to the â??old boy networks,â?? women were forced to turn to relationships outside their teams or firms for support.

The study excited me, because it underlined something which is all too often missing from discussions about diversity in the workplace. Groups on the margins have knowledge, skills and abilities developed through the very challenges of their marginality. These marginal knowledges are critical for the health of the center. In fashion and entertainment, it is well know that trends begin on the margins. And in studies on creativity and innovation, lateral thinking, peripheral vision, cross-disciplinary thinking are critical ingredients for innovations and breakthrough ideas. In other words, the margins are a locus of change, innovation and development. There, out of necessity, new knowledge is crafted, new perspectives are developed, survival skills crafted.

This isnâ??t new, but this way of thinking about marginality is often lacking when diversity in the workplace is discussed. The perspective that women or people of color are the problem, and need legal or political intervention, misses the knowledge and skills marginalized groups bring to the table. Put another way, itâ??s not the margins that are the problem, itâ??s the center. Without the valuable information and perspective from groups outside the center, the center withers. The underuse of talent and knowledge from marginalized groups has a profound impact on the bottom line, and also on the cultural bottom line.

So, the question is, and what I will explore in my Women in Leadership groups is not, how can we develop the skills and knowledge required to compete successfully in the center, but how can we become aware of, develop, and use the specialized skills and knowledge we have gained from our experiences to not only succeed in leadership positions, but to become the innovators and transformers the center needs?

My friend Robert King, among whose many talents is drawing, has been commissioned by a local cafe here in Portland, the Bipartisan Cafe, to draw portraits of the forgotten leaders of North America: Native American leaders such as Geronimo, Chief Joseph, Sitting Bull, and others. Robert will be giving a presentation at the cafe, this Wednesday evening, April 23, from 7 pm – 9 pm on how these forgotten leaders fit into U.S. history.