Preface

With this book I have come to the end of a cycle of thinking and writing which began some 40 years ago. By way of introduction I would like to share something of that history.

An unpublished dissertation, written in 1965, could have had the subtitle, “Chaos, Order, and the Creative Process.” As a matter of fact the dissertation dealt with arcane approaches to biblical interpretation, particularly as this related to the nature and function of myth. But through the esoterica of biblical scholarship there appeared a continuing theme: the great cosmic dance of chaos and order. I have been working that theme ever since.

As it turned out, my life path, and the world of biblical scholarship radically diverged at roughly the time I wrote that dissertation, thanks to the Civil Rights movement. Suddenly I found myself living the dance of chaos and order as opposed to merely reading and thinking about it.

The next several years were full to the point of bursting. Street organizing in the South, running a large poverty program in Washington, DC, off to Africa with Peace Corps as Associate Director in Monrovia, Liberia, back to the United States to head up a health care infrastructure development program. Then on to the National Institutes of Health to create the professional, public, and patient health education program for one of the Institutes (NHLBI), ending finally at the Veterans Administration with the charge to create a senior level executive development program.

During all of that time I scarcely had time to think, at least not about chaos, order, and the creative process. But a fortuitous happening occurred when I was at the VA. I met Peter Vaill. We became friends, and when I left government to create my own company, that friendship endured.

As I looked for clients for my new business I spent no small amount of time thinking about what it was that I might be able to offer them. At one level the answer was simple——just keep doing what I had been doing for the past several years. But there were lots of other people doing the same thing, and what would make me special? When I reflected on my own experience, it seemed that I had a curious ability to quickly go to the heart of the matter, and devise simple strategies and structures which, more often than not, worked in ways that totally surprised me, and (usually) delighted my clients. Unfortunately I didn’t have a clue how I managed to do all of this, but it seemed to have a lot to do with the stories people told, which in another life I would have called mythology.

Over beers and lunch Peter Vaill and I talked——and eventually it became clear to me that quite unconsciously, I had applied everything I knew about myth and ritual in the Ancient Near East to the organizations with which I worked. In a word, I listened carefully to their stories. This took me deeply into the world as they saw it, past all the odd bits of data and information, down into the realms when power flows, and real things happen, or don’t.

Peter suggested that I write an article bearing the title, “Mythology and Organizational Culture.” I sent the piece off to a prestigious journal (Peter told me which one) to await instantaneous acclamation. Shortly thereafter I received a response, but not exactly the one I was hoping for. The editor said that the whole thing was so far out that it lacked credibility and could not be published. That was 1979 and the notion that organizations had cultures and myths was rather beyond what the market would allow.

I guess I should have learned better, but I was hooked, if for no other reason than that two disparate strands of my life (academic and activist) came together with a rush, taking me to places that few others seemed interested in going. From the myth, ritual, and culture in organizations I found myself venturing deeper into what the stories were saying, and it wasn’t what most of my peers and colleagues seemed to think was being said.

According to the contemporary wisdom, organizations were engaged in a linear developmental process which some did exceedingly well, and others less so. For the latter there was a lot of help available, all under the heading of Organization Development.

My read was rather different. I could see the developmental process, but I also thought I could see virtually instantaneous, radical state change. And the odd thing was, these organizations actually seemed to be going somewhere useful, but their trajectory was anything but the standard, linear model. There was only one word that described it for me: transformation. And the fundamental mechanism was none other than the great dance of chaos and order.

It was but a small step, as I saw it, to join the words “transformation” with “organization” to create Organization Transformation.

As it turned out several friends had been having similar thoughts and we became what some people referred to as “The OT Cabal.” The focal questions were simple: What does transformation in organizations look like, and what, if anything, could we do about it?

We met in odd places for long and intense conversations——the favorite was The Penguin, a nondescript restaurant in Rosalyn, Virginia. The usual guest list included John Adams, Linda Ackerman, Frank Burns, Jim Channon, Lisa Kimball——and of course Peter Vaill. Somewhere along the line I presented a paper (with my friend David Belle Isle) at a regional Organization Development Network (ODN) conference with the title, “Myth and Ritual as the Ground of Organization Transformation.” I have lost that paper, but I recall the concluding lines. “I don’t really have a clue what Organization Transformation is, but I think it may well be the natural successor to Organization Development, suitable for life, and work in a transforming world.”

The reaction to this paper was intense, and startlingly so to me. So far as I was concerned we had only put two words together (organization and transformation) to mark out an interesting area for study, and perhaps practice. Others perceived it in rather different terms as a confrontation between OD and OT. It was also very clear that the conversation circle was expanding, and needed to expand even more if we were to have any hope of really understanding what we were talking about.

Expansion came with the convening of the 1st International Symposium on Organization Transformation which took place in Durham, New Hampshire in the summer of 1983. Two hundred and fifty people joined the original OT Cabal. We began with the clear recognition that we were starting from ground zero when it came to definition and understanding. By the conclusion I think it is fair to say that we were still wandering about in the wilderness, but now at least there were a lot more colleagues.

One of the spin-offs from this first symposium was Open Space Technology (OST). It didn’t happen immediately, but it became clear to me that although it had all been great fun and very stimulating, the truly juicy parts took place at the coffee breaks. This was a shock because we had spent basically a year organizing everything, and yet the truly delicious stuff took place only in the parts we didn’t organize.

Two years later (1985) I agreed to convene the same gathering one more time, but resolved never to go through again the extended agony of preparation. Open Space Technology seemed like the right thing to do——and we did. As some of you know, OST is simplicity itself. Sit in a circle, create a bulletin board, open a marketplace, and go to work. One facilitator, no interventions, and everything runs all by itself. The resulting conversations were rich and the journey toward understanding Organization Transformation seemed well on its way.

My own effort in this area showed up as my first book, Spirit: Transformation and Development in Organizations (Abbott Publishing). I could say that I wrote the book, but it would be much more accurate to say that the book wrote me. Truthfully I had no idea what the next chapter would be until I started to write it. And guess what? It was all about chaos, order, and the creative (transformative) process, with side trips into the worlds of myth, ritual, and the evolution of human consciousness.

I wrote that book for myself, just to see if there was any logic and coherence in the jumble of thoughts and feelings of the preceding years. However, when I shared it with friends they urged me to do something more with it, and so the typescript pages found their way between two covers, and became a book. Spirit, as it came to be known, was never a contender for the best-seller list, but it did seem to have a useful life which continues online. Its one real point of notoriety came when the Utne Reader called it a “cult classic.” I am sure they were sincere, and I never really understood what they were talking about, but what I did understand made me a little nervous.

More books came tumbling out during the 1990s——Riding the Tiger, The Millennium Organization, Leadership Is (all published by Abbott Publishing). Some of my friends chided me gently for what they saw to be repetitiousness, and I had to confess that I was guilty as charged. But what are you going to do when there is a single, overriding theme in all of your work——Chaos, Order, and the Creative Process? Besides, I came to recognize that I was much more of a storyteller than an academic author, and a major characteristic of storytellers is that they tell the same tale over and over, each time turning it slightly to reveal a different facet.

This was also the time frame when chaos and complexity theory came into the public view, and although most of the proponents were physicists, chemists, and biologists I came to look at them as colleagues on a common journey. On the rare occasions when we actually met, I did feel constrained to point out that their “New Science” was indeed exciting, but perhaps not all that new. As near as I could tell, serious thinking about chaos and order had been ongoing for probably three or four thousand years, back to the days of the Babylonian Creation Epic with the tales of Marduk and Tiamat.

In 1992 I published Open Space Technology: A User’s Guide, some seven years after the first Open Space. My reasons for writing the book were quite practical. As Open Space spread, and more and more people used it——even more people wanted to know how to do it. A book seemed a reasonable solution.

At the same time my own perceptions of OST were changing quite radically. Initially OST was only a simple way to solve a bothersome problem; organizing conferences. OST clearly accomplished that objective. However, a new problem was created. Virtually all of the theory and practice relating to organizing meetings, to say nothing of organization in general, indicated that OST could not work. But it did. How come?

Whatever the reason, it was apparent that OST played by some very different rules, and the only rules that seemed to apply were those we were all learning from the world of self-organizing systems. Even more curious was the apparent fact that much of what I had been thinking and writing about under the heading of Organization Transformation appeared to be taking place in OST gatherings. Without intention, obvious effort, or preparation—— meeting in Open Space appeared to be transformative.

I can’t say that this new appreciation of Open Space occurred in a blinding flash, but there came a point when I realized that I had serendipitously been placed in the midst of an ongoing natural experiment. We had a clearly articulated process (experimental procedure) which was now being run all over the world by multiple people in wildly differing situations.

As the experiment progressed, some very definite and interesting results turned up. Two in particular caught my attention. First was elevated levels of performance, sometimes remarkably so. Groups did in a few days what they might normally expect to accomplish in months. The second I could call only the appearance of peace. Not the sort of peace where everybody fell asleep, or sat around chanting ommn, but a very active and dynamic sort of peace in which conflicting forces coalesced and danced with each other. It would have been wonderful to see all of this as the direct result of my creation, Open Space Technology, but something of a deeper sort was taking place. The critical element was not OST——but rather the force of self-organization, which I now understood to be the driving power of OST.

If any of that was true, it would make sense to eliminate the middle man (OST) and go straight to the source. The operating hypothesis might be, Well-functioning self-organizing systems are naturally productive of peace and superior performance. Briefly stated, the eternal dance of chaos and order is the fundamental process of self-organization. When that dance is done well, positive and surprising things will happen (High Performance and Peace). And when the dance falters the emergent organization will struggle or die.

I made several efforts to pull all of this together, not only as a theoretical package, but more importantly, as a practical application. In two books (The Power of Spirit and Expanding Our Now, Berrett-Koehler) I detailed my observations and thoughts. It worked for me, but nobody seemed to be very impressed. In retrospect I can see that there was too much theory and a lack of focus on practical application. In self-defense I might cite Kurt Lewin who said, “There is nothing so practical as a good theory,” but that really did not change the situation. Practical focus was essential, and current events provided the needed impetus.

On September 11th, 2001 the world changed radically. Old perceptions and answers simply evaporated, leaving massive questions. What was happening and what could we do about it? In the midst of all of this I was invited to the Middle East. I found myself, quite literally, in the belly of the beast with hardly a clue as to why I was there, or what I could do. On the night before our program I was sitting on the rooftop of an Israeli friend near Tel Aviv. The night was soft and gentle with a full moon and little puffball clouds moving slowly by. The tranquility of the night contrasted sharply with my discordant feelings, only adding to my confusion. Then suddenly, almost as a dream I found myself speaking to that night——”It’s all about the Practice of Peace.”

The Practice of Peace became the title of my most recent book, published by the Human Systems Dynamics Institute. I proposed that when Peace is threatened, the appropriate response is simply to open space. In doing so the chaotic, conflicted human systems are invited to do what only they can do-self-organize to new and higher levels of complexity more in harmony with each other, their environment, and their own inner needs. Practically this could mean “doing an Open Space,” but could also mean utilizing the fundamental learnings from the 20 year Open Space Experiment.

The impetus for this present book was not of the same world shattering sort which occasioned The Practice of Peace, but the two books are definitely related. It occurred that a Finnish group asked that I come to their country and share what I have been learning and doing. I suggested something along the lines of The Practice of Peace as a starting point. This suggestion was greeted with a long period of silence, at the end of which my Finnish colleagues said that while they personally were very concerned about peace, most of their clients were corporate. They were not at all sure that a program on peacemaking would receive official sanction (financial support) from the several training departments. And did I have any other thoughts?

By happenstance I had just re-read Peter Vaill’s seminal paper, “The Behavioral Characteristics of High Performing Systems,” and I noticed something I had never seen before. Vaill’s behavioral characteristics described to perfection the performance of groups operating in Open Space. Could it be, I wondered, that the root source of these behaviors was nothing other than the power of self-organization? If so, high performance might be achieved through the simple expedient of opening space and inviting the system to fully self-organize. The thought seemed reasonable to me, and never being one to worry about the details, I said to my Finnish colleague that in fact I did have another thought. If they did not like Peace, how about High Performance?

One problem solved, but another immediately presented itself. What was I going to say? After reflection it occurred to me that the logic and structure of the “Peace” book would work quite well for another effort dealing with High Performance. Of course, the focus and examples would be very different, but the basic thought that a fully functional self-organizing system was (by definition) a high performing system was the same. In fact it seemed to me that a peaceful system, and a high performing system were one and the same, it just depended on how you looked at them.

Here, if never before, I could justifiably be accused of repetition, a simple change in words, but no change in substance. Guilty as charged, but in my defense I would point out that as a storyteller I have only performed as storytellers throughout the ages have performed. In revisiting my lifelong central theme of chaos, order, and the creative process, I have turned the theme once again to reveal a different facet. Whether that turn, and the revealed facet, is worthy of your attention I leave to your judgment as you read this book.