In praise of Flip-charts

In the English-speaking world, there are Flip-Charts everywhere: in managerial offices, training centres, in team-rooms, in the middle of offices, in business, in government, in schools, police-stations, universities, in the city, in the country. Even if they are used just as a crude note-pad, for messages, or reminders, or to record an event, they are useful tools.

Used with even the most basic of facilitation skills, however, they can enhance the quality of team-dialogues and thus team-efficiency, vastly improve problem-solving capacities, planning, decision-making, dilemma-resolution, idea-generation, information-sharing and leadership potential.

From community-participation projects to board-rooms, from sales-offices and research laboratories to the factory floor, flip-charts are invaluable tools for raising the levels of energy, understanding and collective-effectiveness.

When there are large numbers of people involved, as at a conference, it is commonplace for the big audiences to break up into a dozen or more smaller groups, each group working around a flip chart for thirty or forty minutes, before they reconvene to share their groups´ outputs in plenary sessions.

Such processes require teams of at least semi-skilled-facilitators. But the pay-offs are well worth the effort. Obviously these large-scale events take a lot of forethought, creativity and planning. Again, the use of flip-charts can eliminate the vagueness and uncertainty that blights much conference planning.

Learning facilitation skills is not hard, and there are many good facilitators in every effective organisation. Facilitators do not need a University degree. They just have to understand the importance of following the basic rules of facilitation and write reasonably legibly with a felt-tip pen (though I have known good facilitators with terrible writing). Secretaries seem to have a special aptitude for facilitation.

There is an enormous literature in English concerning effective large- and small-group processes. It goes back to the 1950s. In many ways, the principles underlying effective group-processes are very similar to the dialogical culture-circles pioneered by that great Brazilian innovator, Paulo Freire.

Until I came to Latin America I thought flip-charts were as universal as bicycles or computers. But they are not. They can be bought in the biggest office-supplies stores, but otherwise they are as rare as hens-teeth.

Their absence does perhaps go some way to explaining the incredibly frustrating experience of attending and contributing to a conference anywhere South of the Rio Grande. The much-lamented absence of administrative competence, customer service and innovation in government, business and the public services owes somethiong to the failure to understand the benefits of using flip-charts small- and large-group processes.

Above all the indifference to the potential benefits of using fli-charts effectively may reflect the persistence of an extreme form of the Command and Control Leadership.

These thoughts began to stir in me as I endured an endless succession of tirades from speakers at the Mercosul Social Forum (FSM) last weekend. It was a painful introduction to one of the central features of Latin American culture.

As I sat through the sessions, I thought of how sad Paulo Freire would have been to see the serried rows of passive and often blatantly inattentive listeners being harangued by through sound-systems that bore an uncanny resemblance to those installed in the Evangelical Churches that open out onto the pavements in so many city-streets. They in turn take their cue from the deafeningly amplified rhetorical techniques of multi-millionaire pastors and priests who take up much of Brazilian TV

At the FSM, there would be as many as ten impassioned orations in any two-hour session. The atmosphere resembled a three-day political rally, and at times, even a revivalist meeting.

As far as I could see, there was nothing resembling debate, or dialogue or any real learning, any more than there is from a hell-fire sermon or an election speech. The use of inspirational music, slogan chanting and hymn singing heightened that impression.

A number of films were shown, but rather than serving as a stimulus for discussion they were applauded and wrapped up with one or two words of uncritical praise. In three days I saw only three speakers who offered any kind of visual material, and none of them had bothered to tailor their presentations to fit either the time that they were allowed or the audiences they were addressing.

In their turn, the audiences scarcely bothered to listen to the speakers: a low-roar of chatting and greeting persisted in the main hall, and a crowd of people stood at the back or even in the aisles, totally ignoring the impassioned words being addressed to them from the stage. And, on the platform, mobile phones were freely used, expressions varied from the impassive to the pained, and neighbours emgaged in – admittedly muted – conversations.

And the net result of all that time, effort, and expense? Nothing as far as I could see. Of course, that could well have been the organisers´intention and that I had failed to understand what their aim had been. It is far more likely however, that their only model for a public event is taken from political rallies and religious ceremonies. They are simply unaware that another approach is possible.

In nearly forty years of organising and attending conferences, however, I have yet to meet a member of the audience who actually wanted to be subjected to endless haranguing. Instead they wanted to have the chance to tell their stories too, to question the experts and decision-makers, to listen intelligently, gain new ideas and deeper understanding of important issues, and contribute, to the development of programmes of positive action.

If I could wave a magic wand and take charge of the next social forum, my first decision would be that for most of the sessions, the microphones and sound-systems should be replaced by flip-charts. overhead projectors and power-point screen. Speakers would be told that at least 50% of the allotted time for every session would be give over to facilitated discussions much like Paulo Freire´s Culture Circles. They too would take part in the facilitated small group work. They would learn a lot by listening respectfully to what members of the audience had to say. And, the outcome of the event would be some plans, some commitments, some positive moves towards a better future – and a basis for ever-more successful Social Forums on the future.

But none of that can happen without our blissfully unpretentious flip-charts. All praise to them

FOR HUMPH

The British newspapers are all carrying long obituaries and appreciations for `Humph`, aka Humphrey Lyttleton, a jazz-trumpeter turned radio comedy-quiz show host, and without doubt, a national treasure. At 86 he was still playing a weekly date at a small jazz club in the suburbs and remained warm, easy and approachable, in spite of his great age and the awed veneration in which he was held by generations of fans.

There are hundreds of people who knew him personally who can express their appreciation of his majestic gifts better than I. For me, he was always a joy to listen to whether playing or talking about jazz, or delivering the Chairman´s script for `I´m sorry I haven´t a clue´, for more than thirty years.I won´t try to explain the show, and why it enraptured its audiences in the studio and at homw or ov er the Internet. I can only wuggest that you go to www.bbc.co.uk/radio4 and link to it through their `Listen Again´ facility.

With Humph in the chair and four comedians invited to `play´ silly panel games, such as announcing the guests at the Ski-Instructor´s Ball, the show expressed an absolutely, unique, irreverent, surprisingly erudite and quintessentially British spirit of playful anarchy.

It is an overworked cliché to say that without him, the world will never be quite the same again, but in Humph´s case it is entirely apt to say so.

In a very important kind of way, Humph was one of those very rare people who make you proud to be British.

A comedy is a tragedy that happens to someone else

As my flight started its take-off surge the other night, the young man in the next seat crossed himself, touched the knuckle of his thumb to his lips and bowed his head for a moment. I suspect a number of other people on the flight did much the same. What Muslims or Buddhists or Mormons do, I have no idea, but there must be millions who go through similar tiny rituals every day as their plane starts to roar along the runway. And again, as it bumps down at the end of the flight and the engines roar into a reverse thrust.

Since we landed safely, I suppose my devout fellow-passengers thought that their prayers had been answered. Me, I just had a statistically reasonable faith that the guys doing the maintenance checks had done their jobs properly, and that none of them or my devout fellow-passengers had decided that the best way of serving their God was to put a bomb somewhere on the plane.

I thought of my neighbour’s little ritual as I watched a short video clip from the rain-soaked Brazilian coastal resort of Paranagua. It started with the final moments before a certain Father Carli took off in an attempt to break the world record for a multiple helium-balloon flight On his previous attempt on the record he had landed somewhere in Argentina – a valiant effort,but some hours short of what he was seeking.In view of the weather, no doubt all of the people who had blown up the balloons, fastened him into his harness, secured his helmet, checked his radio, prepared his emergency rations, had not only crossed themselves and chanted prayers for his safe return, they had also prayed for the rain to stop

The clip showed the priest saying, in a rather quavery voice, that now the rain had abated, they would go for the record. Father Carli could not bless himself because he was semi-pinioned in a bulky safety suit and tightly strapped into a full-body harness. In its turn the harness connected him to hundreds of gaily coloured helium-filled balloons floating above his helmeted head.

In the next shot we see him being borne aloft by the multi-coloured frog-spawn of balloons. There is then a brief glimpse of a very distant blob sailing away at a considerable height – out to sea. Paranagua’s prevailing wind is normally from the East and Father Carli had expected to be borne inland by the breeze and land in a place that would be handy for the newsreel cameras and his supporters to find him

Sadly – and it is a terrible tragedy for the poor man and the many people who no doubt love him dearly – the whimsical weather-gods played a cruel trick, and after the rain ceased and he had been left to their mercy, they turned the wind to the West and away he sailed, over the sea and over the far horizon. He was 55 miles out to sea when he radioed a desperate plea for a rescue to be organised as quickly as possible. Four days, later, he has still not been found and thousands of brightly-coloured bits of balloon have been washed ashore hundreds of miles to the South.

Now this is an undoubted tragedy, and my heart goes out to everyone involved, not least the priest himself. But, that brief glimpse of his final moments on the ground, and the multi-coloured blob disappearing into the distance, is also blisteringly, stomach-achingly funny.

Had the guy in the next seat not crossed himself as our flight launched itself down the runway, I don’t think it would have struck me in quite the same way. But somehow, the certainty that Father Carli’s tragedy would have been accompanied by a blizzard of prayers and genuflections, not to mention the quaver in his voice as the rain stopped, got to me and I am sorry to say that I laughed out loud for several minutes – and I am still prone to giggle at the memory.

Across the aisle from me the other evening, on that same flight, a young man with earphones was laughing uncontrollably at a Simpsons cartoon he was watching on his laptop. I could see his screen, and his was yelping with delight at a sequence in which Homer and his family are killed off and arrive in Heaven, complete with wings, haloes and flowing white robes to – as it were – die for.

So there it was, for the much-loved Simpsons’ tragedy was – intentionally – totally hilarious. And we all know that when terrible things happen to people on the stage or in movies (think of the hapless burglars in `Home Alone`) audiences of all ages are reduced to helpless laughter.

But, as the Father Carli’s story shows, some real life tragedies can also be irresistibly funny.

It depends a lot on your temperament, of course. I have always thought that all of humanity is divided into two halves. There are those who cannot help but see life as – ultimately – a comedy. And there are those who see life as a tragedy. The same events provoke entirely different responses according to their basic comedy – vs – tragedy orientations.

It is not that those of us in the comedy-camp are callous. We are often extremely compassionate and take many things in life very seriously indeed – high-quality aircraft maintenance and reliable short-term weather reports, for example. But that doesn’t mean we have to be miserable about them.

I take my lead from a famous Scottish wit – in itself an amusing combination of words – a clergyman called Sidney Smith. He was laughing with some friends when a dour fellow-Scot said, by way of greeting, ‘Ah, Mr. Smith, I see you are still treating life as a joke!`

Smith smiled at him for a moment, and then said, ‘ Ah, Mr. Brown, just because I have the good fortune to be make the occasional witty remark, you should not think that I am frivolous. Just as, (A SMILING PAUSE) because you are pompous, sir, you are not necessarily serious. I wish you very good day.`

The world needs many more Reverend Sidney Smiths and far fewer Mr. Browns, don’t you think? I can imagine that if Smith had been asked to go for the world record helium-balloon flight to raise money for a good cause, his response might have been, “You surely cannot be serious!”

“The Origin of Wealth”

You will notice that the title of this book echoes both “The Origin of Species”by Charles Darwin, and Adam Smith’s “Wealth of Nations”.

The Subtitle is “EVOLUTION, COMPLEXITY, AND THE RADICAL REMAKING OF ECONOMICS”, and it published by Harvard Business School Press.

These are tremendously important – and so far, mostly ignored – issues in economics and the author, ERIC D. BEINHOFFER, is to be complimented for the energy and creativity with which he tackles them.

In approaching 500 pages of argument and information, I usually start by asking what it has to say about issues that I think are important in ‘remaking economics‘. High on my list are words like “Ecology” or “Gaia” because classical economics operates in total isolation from the natural  – the Gaian – world.

None of those words appear in the index. Pity. It begins to look as if the Beinhoffer’s remaking of economics is not going to be as radical as it will need to be if it is to address the crucial issues of the 21^st. Century.

Then in the opening pages, the author begins to try to fit the evolution of our complex, adaptive economic systems (so far, so good) within the Darwinian model of evolution, and there I think he makes a fundamental theoretical error.

Darwinian evolution is not a conscious process. Organisms do not pass on useful adaptations to their environment from one generation to the next. That was Lamarck’s theory of evolution and Darwin proved him wrong with his Theory of Natural Selection. With his theory, Darwin provided an almost complete explanation of how evolution works in the natural – the biological – world.

Now,it is true that in human societies, there is a constant and obvious process of social, economic, technological, scientific, intellectual evolution at work, but, in my view, that evolutionary process is not a biological process. Therefore it is not Darwinian: it is Lamarckian.

The fact that it is sort of spontaneous, seemingly unplanned (and I stress ’seemingly’), does not make the process Darwinian

Unlike complex, adaptive biological systems, our complex, adaptive human societies have the capacity to evolve by passing on from one generation to the next all kinds of conscious adaptations to their environments. And that is a quasi-Lamarckian process. Isn’t it?

That said, Beinhoffer’s work offers much to admire. I will return to some of his admirable insights in a later post.

For now, I would like to know if I have in any way missed something in Beinhoffer’s argument that makes the attempted Darwinian connection more valid.

Wilf is blogging now

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