Nigeria's public leaders mustn't lose faith amid the country's corruption
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Version 0 of 1. I have recently returned from Lagos, where I was delivering leadership programmes for Nigerian public sector managers. I was privileged to work with over 200 women and men from a range of backgrounds – lawyers, bankers, economists, financial traders, performance and policy managers, and economic development specialists – but the stories they told were dominated by lack of transparency, mistrust and corruption. Time after time I heard that however much leaders talked about change, they didn't really want it, because they themselves were the problem. As a creative change agent one of my mantras is that it's always possible to tell a different story, and during one of the sessions I was challenged by Yusuf, a thoughtful and emotionally intelligent corporate communications manager, to help him and his colleagues find more positive examples of change. The context of the issues they face daily tested my approach and my philosophy, but we did succeed in uncovering those alternative narratives. Here are some examples: Amina, a quiet and reserved Muslim woman from the insurgency-troubled north, found her voice and used it to set out her vision of a new Nigeria – one that played a positive role in the G20 and punched its economic weight in a way that benefitted its citizens. She managed that difficult trick of relating a complex global picture to everyday life, giving her colleagues hope and showing how they could arrive at a place where there was enough food for everyone, where girls would be educated and power supplies would be uninterrupted. Samuels' wife had travelled to the UK to study for a masters. Despite the protests from his in-laws, Charles had taken responsibility for keeping their two-year-old daughter at home with him. He had fought for his right to both work and be a parent, battling an established culture to reshape gender roles. Ade had been frustrated by the poverty he saw around him and had decided to take direct action. He had convinced his colleagues to pool some of their own money to give to local projects. They had used their skills to collect and invest millions of Naira on good works in the local economy. This was a workplace initiative, not a church-sponsored project, and it had bound his group together. Kemi, an international trader for almost a decade, was trusted to make daily trades of millions of USD all over the world, yet she was constantly undermined and called 'schoolgirl' by her older male colleagues. Finally, Kemi decided she would no longer put up with it and found a way to be assertive, yet respectful. This might sound like small stuff, but in a culture where even asking a question of your elders is considered rude, it was an important step for her and for young women in her organisation. Blessing's senior director was running a business on the side, during work hours, and with a clear conflict of interest. Many people knew about it, but Blessing was the only one brave enough to approach him in private and challenge him about it. His response was to hit back hard, and in public, victimising her. The result was that she was passed over for promotion. From one perspective this story seems resolutely negative, but by viewing it from a different angle it's possible to cast it in a more positive light. The fact that Blessing shared her story at all was a strong signal that change is beginning to happen. She also asked her colleagues whether they thought the director's behaviour was acceptable, because if they did they were saying that as a nation, and as a public service, they were never going to change. She didn't ask people to risk their own careers, but she challenged them to think and to watch, and now others are keeping an eye on her director, too. She's determined to keep going and, crucially, she is no longer alone. Stories undoubtedly help us make sense of the complexity of our lives and our organisations. The key themes here are openness, honesty and being prepared to make yourself vulnerable, but do these particular stories add up to enough to make a bigger impact? Can this odd assortment of individuals cohere into a team that can drive positive change across Nigeria's public sector? I think there's a good chance. They are part of a cohort that's coming up for its tenth anniversary in the system, so they have accrued a certain amount of experience and confidence. They know each other, they are starting to articulate their own agenda and they're beginning to realise their own power. I believe they're in a strong position to create their own endings. By seeing their challenges differently – although this may also not be popular, how else do you make change. Changing your mind and trying new things in a political environment is tough and the system doesn't help; the kind of flexibility and openness needed to deal with complex problems clashes fundamentally with the setting of a manifesto and the delivery of a democratic mandate. Add in the complexity of national/local party politics and you can see why it's difficult. By understanding how different kinds of leadership could help deliver more of their agenda in difficult times, new leadership, that is creative, honest and operates on a deeper level of collaboration, will pay dividends for the communities they serve and their individual leadership. (Names have been changed.) <em>Dawn Reeves is the author of Hard Change – a sharp edged town hall thriller and also runs workshops on creativity and storytelling in the public sector: dawn@dawnreeves.com</em> <em>• Want your say? Email us at public.leaders@theguardian.com. </em> <strong>Join the Public Leaders Network</strong><strong> for more comment, analysis and </strong><strong>job opportunities</strong><strong>, direct to your inbox. Follow us on twitter via </strong><strong>@Guardianpublic</strong><strong>.</strong> Our editors' picks for the day's top news and commentary delivered to your inbox each morning. |