After an entire quarter reflecting on the many ways we feel “ouch” in our organizations, we thought we’d offer up one of the most important antidotes to organizational “owweees.” While cynicism, apathy, or bitterness may entice us, especially after a season of protracted ouches, we’d suggest a more courageous choice: reaching for hope.
We’ve never had an executive call us and say, “Can you help our organization build some hope?” We have, however, met many executives who should have called for that. One of the most profound resources of an organization is this unspoken energy. The presence of hope is hard to describe but if you’ve seen an organization that has lost hope, you know just how bleak it can be. So what is hope and how can we get it?
Hope is created at the intersections of 1) passion – a desire for something greater, 2) perseverance – the need to prevail against great odds, and 3) faith – the belief that there could be something greater beyond those odds. When a leader, organization, or even country is facing its darkest days (which we all eventually encounter) hope is what gets us through.
Hope is not allegorical or “squishy.” Researchers Peterson and Byron point out that individuals with a higher capacity for hope are more goal-oriented and motivated to achieve their goals than those with low hope. They found that regardless of whether they were talking about sales employees, mortgage brokers, or management executives, high-hope individuals had higher overall job performance. They also found that higher hope executives produced more and better quality solutions, suggesting that hopefulness may help employees when they encounter obstacles at work.
We’ve all encountered life’s obstacles and not responded hopefully. Does that mean we don’t have capacity for hope? Hope is a fundamental choice. Hope would not be the powerful force that it is if it were chosen only when a reason to do so was obvious. The true power of hope lies in choosing it when the presenting data suggests doing otherwise — when ouches have piled up and chronic pain feels like the “new normal” for the organization.
Hope requires a leap of faith. It asks us to place our confidence behind an endeavor without necessarily having tangible evidence to back it up — especially the hope for needed change. Hope isn’t something that just appears. It must be relentlessly pursued. Its most powerful expression comes in the face of staunch opposition. Too many of us confuse hope with mere wishing, but behind the greatest achievements in all human endeavor we find profound degrees of hope from individuals and communities choosing it when facing unthinkable challenges.
So which organizational ouches sting the most for you? Which drain you of hope? Knowing the answer to these questions will help with the inevitable cost-benefit analysis we all do in our minds when deciding whether or not to choose hope. And we conduct that analysis because we all know the inherent danger in hope. Choosing it risks even greater pain should things not pan out as hoped. Dashed hope may hurt even more than the ouch requiring hope in the first place.
A client of mine recently experienced a horrific ouch at her company — the betrayal of her confidence by a trusted colleague. It sent her reeling. Angry and vengeful, she vowed to never trust people on her team again, and began to shut down and withdraw from them. I said to her, “It hurts to lose a relationship with a valued colleague, but does that mean you can’t ever trust anyone?” She said, “I can see now the risk is too great — lost trust hurts more than I knew.”
I replied, “I know you’re hurt now, so pulling away feels like a great way to prevent getting hurt again. But if you’re honest, you know the isolation you’ll eventually feel will also hurt.”
Bitterly, she said, “Pick your poison. Hoping for trust again and not getting it would hurt more.”
I asked her to consider that the rest of her team felt sad about the distance she kept. Two in her inner circle knew the origin of her pain, and resented being lumped in with the colleague who betrayed her. “While you may not hope for trust again, what should they do with the trust they still have in you and with the connection they still want to enjoy that you are withholding from them?” She could feel the tension between missing her colleagues and not wanting to hurt them, and wanting to make everyone pay for the misstep of one.
Hope was her best option.
My client’s predicament illustrates the painful intersection of “ouch” and “hope.” The moments we least want to choose hope are the ones we most need to.
Hope gives way to compassion, forgiveness, and gratitude. Staying stuck in “ouch” — regardless of where the ouch came from —makes us bitter, selfish, and spiteful.
To be sure, most organizational ouches feel unjust, cruel, and worthy of outrage. I’m not suggesting we turn a blind eye to inexcusable behavior or systemic harm. But I am asking us to consider the unintended consequences of choosing not to believe change is possible.
Yes, hope is dangerous and risky. But if we are ever going to have organizations and communities with fewer ouches in them, it will take all the hope we can muster to get there.