by Peter Block
Conversation One: The Invitation
Hospitality, the welcoming of strangers, is the essence of a restorative community. Historically, if strangers knocked at your door, you automatically invited them in. They would be fed and offered a place to sleep, even if they were your enemies. As long as they were in your house, they were safe from harm. They were treated as if they belonged, regardless of the past. This is the context of restoration we are seeking. Our hospitality begins with an invitation. The invitation is to those who have an interest in the future you are imagining—all who have that interest, whether like-minded people, strangers, stakeholders, adversaries, or someone who is not known, yet. Whom you invite into the room is a big choice.
The conversation for invitation is the decision to engage other citizens to be part of the possibility that we are committed to. The invitation is in itself an act of generosity, and the mere act of inviting may have more meaning than anything that happens in the gathering. Even for those who do not show up.
An invitation is more than just a request to attend; it is a call to create an alternative future, to join in the possibility we have declared. The question is, “What is the invitation we can make for people to participate in creating a community of connectedness and purpose, regardless of their story or past actions?”
The Distinction for the Invitation Conversation
The distinction here is between invitation and the more typical ways of achieving change: mandate and persuasive marketing. The belief in mandate and persuasion triggers talk about how to change other people, how to get those people on board, how to make showing up a requirement, all of which are simply questions driven by our desire to control others. What is distinct about an invitation is that it can be refused, at no cost to the one refusing.
An authentic invitation operates without promising incentives or re-wards. Offering inducements such as door prizes, gifts, or a celebrity attraction diminishes the clarity of choice of those invited. The lack of inducement keeps a level playing field. When we try to induce people to show up through strong selling or the language of enrolling, we are adding subtle pressure that, in a small but important way, blurs the freely taken decision to say yes.
David Bornstein’s research describes how real transformation occurs only through choice. It cannot be sold or mandated. This is particularly true with transformation in community. Institutions and systems can mandate change or attendance from employees because they are under a legal contract. If you don’t show up, you violate the contract. This leads to a discussion of consequences, which are very popular in a patriarchal control world.
In an authentic community, citizens decide anew every single time whether to show up. Of course it makes a difference if people do not show up, but we keep inviting them again and again. If they do not choose to show up, there are no consequences. They are always welcome. As it is with friends and family. This is what makes volunteer work so maddening—you never know who will show up. The freedom of choice without consequences is also its source of power, for when people do freely decide to show up, it means something more.
The Risks of Invitation
The anxiety of invitation is that if we give people a choice, they might not show up. I do not want to face the reality of their absence, caution, reservations, passivity, or indifference. I do not want to have to face the prospect that I or a few of us may be alone in the future we want to pursue.
And I do not want to face the same truth about myself, for my fear that they will not come is the caution I feel myself about showing up, even for the possibility that I am committed to. My fear is that what I long for is not possible, that what I invite them to is not realistic, that the world I seek cannot exist. And so I imagine myself as a misplaced person, an exile. It is today’s version of an old story that I am wrong and will soon be found out. The fear that no one will show up is a projection of my own doubt, my loss of faith.
Even when we have the power to mandate attendance, the risk is that when I instruct them to show up, they will come and what I will get is lip service. They may not support the intentions or vision that gave rise to the invitation. The patriarchal fear is that without restraints, incentives, and the use of acceptable force, nothing will get done. The argument for patriarchy is that there are tasks in which choice—another term for engaging the whole person—is not required or will not contribute to accomplishing the task. This may be true, but the limitation of this stance is that even though tomorrow may be a little better, the future will be very much like the past.
The Radical Aspect of Invitation
If the essence of community is to create structures for belonging, then we are constantly inviting people who are strangers to us, and one another, into the circle. An invitation is the antidote to our projection onto those we think are the problem. We take back our projection by extending ourselves to strangers. We make the invitation, in the face of our own isolation, of having been waiting to be invited, of wanting others to take the first step, of wanting others to reach out to us, acknowledge us, and give us the gold star that never came at the right moment. This will never happen, so we are obligated to take the first step.
Invitation may seem simple and straightforward, but it is not. Especially for introverts like me. I have never attended a party without wondering if I had the right night, and have never given a party without believing no one would come.
Example: Ken Murphy: A Seminar with Purpose and Nothing Practical
My friend and client Ken Murphy and I wanted to convene a Humanities Series for people working in human resources (HR) at Philip Morris, where Ken worked at the time. The intent of the series was unusual. It was to imagine a new possibility for HR and to do it by bringing faculty in from outside the field. We selected our faculty: a poet, a philosopher, a theater director, an improvisation actor, a nun, and a city manager. Not your typical faculty for a workshop inside a traditional, high-control system.
Our belief was that these people would open our thinking and create space for something new. We also agreed that the series was not designed for better performance, for greater efficiency, or to provide new skills. The invitation would declare that we were interested only in new thinking and that we were therefore offering nothing practical, nothing that could be applied to the job in the short run. We also planned to state that the relevance of the experience would be in the hands of the participants. We would make no request of the faculty to ensure the relevance of their presentation.
It took us two years to get up the nerve to make this invitation. All these people worked for Ken, so if he had just called a typical meeting or training session, they all would have come. What was interesting was that as straightforward as the invitation might seem (they either come or they don’t), giving people real choice in the midst of a patriarchal business institution felt like a radical act. For any of us to offer others real choice in something we care about is always a risk.
Genuine invitation changes our relationship with others, for we come to them as an equal. I must be willing to take no for an answer, without resorting to various forms of persuasion. To sell or induce is not operating by invitation. It is using the language of invitation as a subtle form of control.
This rather purist version of invitation offers one reason why you cannot judge success by numbers of people or scale. The pressure for scale will distort the integrity of the invitation. What caused Ken and me to finally go ahead with our Humanities Series was deciding that if only five people accepted the invitation, that would be a beginning and worth the effort. As it turned out, we had fifty seats open, and they were taken immediately. And after every session, the feedback was consistent: thank you for giving me the space to think on my own, share with others, and not have to worry about pleasing the faculty by reassuring them that what they offered was useful and immediately applicable. This is a glimpse into the face of freedom.
Invitation as a Way of Being
Invitation is not only a
step in bringing people together but also a fundamental way of being in community. It manifests the willingness to live in a collaborative way. This means that a future can be created without having to force it or sell it or barter for it. When we believe that barter or subtle coercion is necessary, we are operating out of a context of scarcity and self-interest, the core currencies of the economist. Barter or coercion seems necessary when we have little faith in citizens’ desire and capacity to operate out of idealism. The choice for idealism or cynicism is a spiritual stance about the nature of human beings. Cynicism gets justified by naming itself “reality.”
A commitment to invitation is a core strategy for idealism and determines the context within which people show up. For all the agony of a volunteer effort, you are rewarded by being in the room with people who are up to something larger than their immediate self-interest. People who want to be there, even if their numbers are few. The concern we have about the turnout is simply an expression of our own doubts about the possibility that given a free choice, people will choose to create a future distinct from the past.
Invitation is a language act. “I invite you.” Period. This is a powerful conversation because at the moment of inviting, hospitality and choice are created in the world.
• • •
There are certain properties of invitation that can make it more than simply a request. In addition to stating the reason for the gathering, an invitation at its best must contain a hurdle or demand if accepted. This is not to be inhospitable but to make even the act of invitation an example of the interdependence we want to experience.
So the invitation is a request not only to show up but to engage. It de-clares, “We want you to come, but if you do, something will be required from you.” Too many leadership initiatives or programs are begun with a sales and marketing mind-set: How do we seduce people to sign up and feel good about doing things they may not want to do? Real change is a self-inflicted wound. People need to self-enroll in order to experience their freedom and commitment. Let this begin in the decision to attend, knowing there is a price to be paid far beyond the cost of time and perhaps money.
The Invitation List
The first critical question to ask about what is needed for something different to occur in the world is Kathie Dannemiller’s classic: “Who do we need in the room?”
The intent is to bring together people across boundaries. Each person who convenes has a network of relationships with people who might have a stake or interest in the possibility. The challenge is to include the “other” in the conversation. We have to let go of our story about the past. This means we keep inviting those who have not been in the conversation. Even if people say no, that act itself is important and counts for something.
This means that we constantly seek to have people in the room who are not used to being together. In most cases this would bring together people across sectors (business, education, social services, activists) and, more important (though rare), across economic and social classes. Hard work to make this happen, but perhaps more important than what occurs in the gathering.
Marvin Weisbord and Sandra Janoff have given a nice structure to this question in their book Don’t Just Do Something, Stand There! They want a sample of the “whole system” in the room when they convene for change. They want people with
Authority to act—decision makers;
Resources, such as contacts, time, or money;
Expertise in the issues to be considered;
Information about the topic that no others have;
A need to be involved because they will be affected by the outcome and can speak to the consequences.
The decision about whom to invite is an act of leadership that in and of itself carries a message. Many we invite will choose not to come. This recognizes that for every gathering, there are going to be people who would be useful, but are not in the room. This is forever the case. It still means that whoever shows up are the right people. Eventually those who do show up always have the task of deciding whom to invite next.
Constructing the Invitation
The elements of invitation are the following:
• Declare the possibility of the gathering
• Frame the choice
• Name the hurdle
• Reinforce the request
• Decide on the most personal form possible
Declare the Possibility
The invitation is activated by the possibility we are committed to. This becomes the reason for the gathering. The possibility is a declaration of the future that the convener is committed to. We need to work hard on a statement of possibility that is compelling to others and also inspires us.
Example: The Possibility of a Safe Cincinnati
Harriet Kaufman is committed to the possibility of a safe and peaceful Cincinnati. She believes that what is needed is a conversation that treats violence as a public health issue. She has issued a series of invitations for people to participate in a community conversation and requires that they engage as active citizens and not come to listen to some experts talk. The moment she makes her invitation, she has brought her possibility into the community.
For Harriet Kaufman’s possibility of a safe and peaceful community, she keeps inviting all who have a stake in peace. Youth, public safety, faith community, parents, activists, local government, and more are invited— every time. Everyone in her network gets invited every time. Some show up, some don’t; some like the conversation, some don’t. Some think violence is a problem for the experts to solve, or a youth problem, or a police problem. Harriet sees the violence and thinks of the possibility of safety and peace. When Harriet enters the room, safety and peace come with her.
You might ask at this point, what results did she get? What was accomplished? How many people showed up? Irrelevant questions. Harriet was and is an ambassador for peace. That counts.
Frame the Choice
We need to pay attention to our willingness and comfort in accepting refusal. This is a whole other conversation discussed later, but for now I’ll just say that for an invitation to be authentic, refusal has to be perfectly acceptable. The invitation must allow room for a no. If no is not an option, then it is not an invitation. Framing the choice means we need to be clear that we will not initiate consequences for not attending and that we respect someone’s decision not to attend. We choose to have faith that there are good reasons for others not attending what is important to us. Let them know that even if they say no now, they will always be welcome in the future.
Name the Hurdle
We need to tell people explicitly what is required of them should they choose to attend. There is a price to pay for their decision to attend. They will be asked to explore ways to deepen their learning and commitment. Here are some other common hurdles that should be part of the invitation: plan to engage with “others,” put your interests aside for the moment, commit to the time, and be willing to postpone quick action.
For one series of conversations across boundaries that we held in one section of Cincinnati, we asked people to postpone problem solving and the negotiation of interests. They were not asked to compromise their interests or their constituents’ interests but just to hold them to the side for the time being. Here is what the invitation looked like:
1. We come together to create a new possibility for Over the Rhine, an urban neighborhood. We promise to have a conversation we have not had before. We do not come together to negotiate interests, share our stories, or problem-solve the past or future.
2. No one will be asked in any way to yield on their commitments or interests. We are not coming to decide anything. We begin with the belief that the commitments and interests of each of us have to be honored and taken into account by all.
3. Each agrees to participate in all three two-hour discussions. There are always emergencies, and always pressing priorities, but the loss of even one person, for just one meeting, immensely reduces our chance of succ
ess.
The most important point is that they were told they would be asked to talk at length, and hopefully strengthen their relationships, with people they have a “story” about. The result was a durable effort to create an African American Quarter in this area. It was never really accomplished. The effort, though, brought people together, which had ripple effects beyond what we had imagined.
Paradoxically, even though there is no cost for refusing the invitation, there is a price for coming. Everything that has value has a price. Make the purchase price explicit, so that the act of showing up carries some accountability.
Naming the hurdle in the invitation gives us traction in the meeting. When people start to complain, sit in the back of the room, act as if they do not want to be here, and do all the small but noticeable things that hold back the action, we can stand on the fact that they knew what the deal was and still showed up. This gives us the right to ask them what they are doing here. It gives us traction in moving people past their typical story. When they give their habitual explanation about who else needs to change, we can deal with this in a new way, simply because the agreement was clear as to what would be required of them.
The best invitation I have run across, which got a lot of attention for a while, was from Ernest Shackleton, who in the early 1900s was recruiting for an Antarctic expedition. Supposedly he ran an ad in the London Times that read: “Wanted: Men for Antarctic Expedition. Low Pay. Lousy Food. Safe Return Doubtful.” Perfect. He reportedly got five thousand applicants.
