Theories of Change and the Practice of Organizing

Welcome guest blogger, Adam Briskin-Limehouse is an organizer, thinker, and returned Peace Corps volunteer who has worked on 9 campaigns. He’s originally from a small town outside of Charleston, SC. Recently, he was the Field Director for the winning Marylanders for Marriage Equality campaign. He can be found on LinkedIn or by e-mail: ALimehouse@gmail.com.


First things first - I have to send a shout out to Hope Wood and entire coaching team that New Organizing Institute assembled for an amazing three-day training. Thank you. Much of the following is synopsising a portion of theirs and Marshall Ganz’s work on Theories of Change. Any screw ups are mine and don’t reflect on them.

A little bit more context on the training - NOI and range of organizers from 25+ year veterans of the union movement to first time organizers spent three days talking about how you build a campaign to scale from the first meetings of the senior staff all the way out to winning an election or accomplishing your goal. We started with a talk about Story of Us and Story of Now and then got into the nitty-gritty of strategy, tactics and timing.

Theory of Change fits into the the strategy of campaigning and serves as the germ of its Public Narrative (Story of Self, Us, and Now).

Why do we all do what we do?

Why do we work the crazy hours on issues and campaigns that most people tell us don’t matter? I can’t tell you why you do it. But I know why I do it: I do the work of organizing because I want to change our nation - taking it towards being a more just, more egalitarian place. So, what is the relationship between desiring change, working for it through organizing, and achieving that change? Power. The changes we all work towards take power to happen. But, power isn’t a thing that you can touch. It’s a relationship.

Marshall Ganz, Harvard Kennedy School professor, and the trainers at NOI teach that power comes in two flavors: Power Over and Power With. Power Over is a relationship where someone holds power over the decisions or resources that we need in order to create change in our lives. If they have power over us it means they thing they don’t need us or our resources to get what they want. So, the work of organizing is figuring out how to grow our own resources, or shrink theirs, so that we have equal need of each other and can negotiate change together. Power With is a relationship where we can create the change we need just by organizing our resources with others. For example, we might pool our resources to create a cooperative daycare or a community credit union.

Ok, so power is a relationship. So What?

Understanding this insight can empower us and, more importantly, the people we work with to draft effective Theories of Change. Your theory of change is the basic, fundamental statement of your campaign’s strategy. There are five general theories of change:

the Information Theory: if we educate decision makers, we’ll get the change we desire;
the Legal Theory: if we successfully sue the Decision Makers, then we will get the change we desire;
the Market Theory: if we boycott the Decision Maker’s products, then we will get the change we desire;
the Culture Theory: if we change the societies norms or how they are represented by Decision Makers, then we’ll get the change we desire.
the Organizing Theory: if we challenge and confront the power of the Decision Makers, then we will get the change we desire.

Most of the electoral work we do is based on some combination of the Information and Organizing Theories of Change - the decision makers in question being the voters. Issue work can be any or all of the five and can and does target decision makers from voters to CEOs and Senators. Earlier I said that your theory of change is your the basic statement of your strategy but what do I mean by strategy? Strategy can be defined as turning the resources you have into the power that you need to achieve the change that you want. A good Theory of Change tells your donors and your volunteers who you will be organizing, how organizing them will affect the change you want and what that change means, i.e. what your goal is.

Two examples of Theories of Change:

Let’s say that you are working for a City Council candidate who needs to win 50% + 1 of 135,000 voters. You’re Theory of Change would go something like this: “If we recruit enough volunteers to identify, persuade, and GOTV 25,000 voters in addition to our known base of 45,000 voters, then our candidate wins and will be able to enact the change that we want.” You’re organizing volunteers in order to talk to voters to persuade them to vote for the candidate you want.

A non-electoral example - Let us say that you want Amazon.com to improve how it treats its fulfulment employees: better pay, better hours, and better working conditions. You’re Theory of Change might go something like this: “If we persuade a majority of Amazon.com’s stockholders to support a vote at the company’s annual investor meeting on forcing Amazon.com to improve worker conditions at fulfulment warehouses, then ensure that we win the vote, then the policy we want will be enacted and the company will have to change its behavior.” In this case, you’re organizing Amazon.com’s shareholders in order to get them to directly change the company’s behavior - thus obtaining the change you desire. (Note: easier said than done - also, I’m not sure if Amazon.com’s corporate charter allows investors to vote on specific policy changes from the floor during shareholder meetings.)

Getting to the Point

As you sit down with your campaign teams, think about these questions to develop an effective theory of change or to refine the theory you’ve already been using:

Power Over Power With
1) What change do we want? 1) What change do we want?
2) Who has the resources to 2) Who has the resources to
create that change? create that change?
3) What do they want? 3) If ‘us,’ why is it not happening?
4) What do we have that they want? 4) How will you mobilize resources
in new ways to make it happen?

All Theories of Change adapt as you work towards your final goal - your understanding of who has the resources to create the change you desire can change and so can your understanding of what they want. The point is to think clearly about the work that we’re doing so that we end up being the protagonists of our own story rather than characters in the stories of those who already have power.

One last thing: if your theory of change doesn’t make sense in the context of the questions above or hasn’t been accomplishing what you want, go back to the beginning and redraft it. Don’t get so tied to a single theory that you waste the resources the people your organizing have.

Martin Luther King Jr Day

"Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere."

What an inspiration to anyone interested in religion, social justice, organizing or the intersection of the three. Every American owes him a huge debt. RIP.

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do...

Press Play.

This won't work now the way it once did, cause I want to decide between survival and bliss.Now I know who I'm not,I don't I still don't know who I am, but I know I won't keep on playing the victim.These precious illusions in my head did not let me down when I was defenseless and parting with them is like parting with invisible best friends.

Not counting the Edwards campaign, I've had my heart broken three times and been broken up with twice. The first time, I decided to join the CIA. I fell in love with campaigning during my security clearance and never looked back. The second time, I went on another campaign. The third time, I decided it was time to apply to grad school and a year and a half later, here I am.

Within two weeks, I will sign a lease in New York City. In a month, I will have started school. I will cook for myself. I will sleep regular hours. When I do date it will be with more intention than I have been lately. I feel like I'm signing a contract to become an adult.

I feel like I'm breaking up with campaigns. Intellectually I've known it was over for months. That's why I started this blog. In practice I haven't worked on a race since November and that was only for a few weeks. But the option was still there. I could have picked up and driven to Wisconsin on a moment's notice. And now, not.

More than anyone I've ever dated, campaigns have been the love of my life. They were there for me when boys weren't. They were there for me when I was sick. They challenged me, they helped me find a sense of purpose. They have become a huge part of how I define myself. They've been my crutch and my security blanket. As Alanis would say, parting with them is like parting with invisible best friends.

Still, for all the things I'm losing, I might as well resign myself to try and make a change. What alcohol is to Homer Simpson, campaigns have been to Nancy Leeds: the cause and the solution of all life's problems. I've met the plurality of people I've dated while working on campaigns. Campaigns have given me solace after a break up, but they've also made it impossible for me to have a viable long-term relationship. They've been both a way to take my mind off sickness and the source of my least healthy habits. They've provided an endless source of excitement and a gaping lack of stability.

I once heard a This American Life in which Starlee Kine asks her ex-boyfriend why she's always the one being broken up with and he replies "because you never leave first." This isn't the first unhealthy relationship I've been in, but since campaigns can't leave me, it's the first one in which I've had to do the breaking. When you're really in love, I think it's a bigger burden to be the breaker than the breakee. You'll never quite know what could have been and if you wind up regretting it you only have yourself to blame. In a way it's almost brave. You're giving up something you know can be good for the promise of something better.

I looked around, thought about what I want in my life and realized that,for me, the campaign lifestyle wasn't sustainable. I'm proud that I had the courage and the wisdom to make that decision but that doesn't mean there's nothing to mourn.

I could say maybe in a couple years, who knows what will happen, but I don't want to lead myself on. In three years we both will have changed so much we'll barely recognize each other. When I do become involved again, it will be in a totally different capacity. I'm hoping we'll still be friends, but that's gonna be hard without falling back in. Maybe I'll find somewhere to volunteer once I've licked my wounds a little.

So yeah, I'm listening to wistful music. I'm trying out a new look (contacts). I'm surrounding myself with friends during the transition. You know, keeping busy. I may even go down to DC and recruit some of my former bro-workers to wax nostalgic with me before the big move. Typical break up stuff.

Field Organizing has been my constant companion since I graduated college. I'm sad and slightly afraid of losing my defense mechanism. I'm going to miss campaigns tremendously. I'm excited to start the next chapter in my life, but I'm going to feel this one for a long time. It's become a part of me and that's okay. That's good. That's how you know it was worth it.

Better to have loved and lost,
Nancy

Non-Campaign Sick

You don't just take a sick day on a campaign. Having been diagnosed with a chronic illness the summer before I started college, I had long ago redefined my concept of "sick." Working on a campaign was the first time I didn't feel like a "sick person." Although I was in remission well before I graduated, being part of something so much bigger than myself and having somewhere to focus my manic energy provided a welcome distraction from the confusing emotions in the aftermath of a chronic illness. The blessing and the curse of working on campaigns is that everything, (your health, your relationships, your hygiene) takes a backseat. One time I almost got kicked out of a chemo clinic in Denver for making event dials. (Whatever, its not like I was doing voter contact!)

So it was an interesting dilemma when I resigned to the fact that I have some kind of flu/strep hybrid and needed to go to the doctor today. Did you know that in the real world, people call out sick from work? There was seriously a part of me that thought that only happened to people faking it in sitcoms, but apparently it's quite common. I had to have my mom,my sorority sister, my boss and the nurse practitioner at the minute clinic independently confirm this for me multiple times.

I'm gonna level with you, I don't love my temp job (more on that later.) It's at a great company with great people, I just miss the all consuming passion of campaigns. Still I didn't want to miss work because a) I get paid hourly and b) I like to be responsible and do a good job at whatever I do. However when you work in customer service/sales for a travel company, you don't go in sick. There are no fires to be put out, no race against the clock, no other side working when you're not. It would be weird if you did go in. I've already redefined sick and now I'm redefining work.

This is essentially why I made this change in my life. I want relationships. I want to take care of my health. I want to work out and shower daily. But with all those things I'm gaining, I can't help but think what I'm giving up. Temping has reminded me how lucky I am to have found something I am truly passionate about so early in life. Perhaps I'm campaignsick after all.

Hopped up on pain killers, lying in bed and watching Futurama,

Nancy

No Respect aka Have you thanked a Field Organizer today?

One of the many reasons I made the long thought out and difficult decision to stop working on campaigns was the virtually complete lack of respect afforded to campaign operatives.

We've all had the volunteer come into our office to announce that he doesn't want to knock doors or make phone calls, but "just wants to work on policy." Not only is this frustrating because it is counterproductive, it's insulting. It's essentially implying that anyone off the street can do our job without training or experience. I liken it to signing up to be a candy striper and then walking into the hospital demanding to perform surgery.

There is also the volunteer who lies to your face (or at least your ear) about coming in at all. Nothing compares to feeling of humiliation and frustration that comes after spending days of recruiting for a canvass kick-off, three rounds of confirmation calls, staying up all night to put together thoughtfully laid out walk packets and driving three hours to Bumblefuck County only to have 4 of your 36 confirmed volunteers show up. Oh, did I mention one of them has to leave early and will only go to doors with a partner? It's been months since I've worked on a campaign and years since I was technically an organizer and just thinking about this situation still makes my blood boil.

"Yes, I get that your time with your family is important, but so is mine and I left them and my friends and gave up sleep and the opportunity to make much more money to come here to YOUR state to help YOU elect candidates who will better represent you so the least you can do is be straight with me!"

Even the most well meaning fellow Democrat sometimes doesn't get it. More than once I've dug my fingernails into my friend's/boyfriend's/my own arm to stop myself from going off on the hill staffer who claims to have "worked on a campaign" because he spent five days in Iowa on loan at the end of last cycle.

These, mind you, are the people already on our side.

When it comes to the general public, we've been screamed at, threatened, hung up on, ignored, chased by dogs, door slammed and one time peed on (funny story) for bringing democracy to your doorstep.

And yes, I get that it's annoying. New Hampshire residents have the privilege of voting in our nation's first primary, but they pay for that privilege by having to disconnect their telephones for six months just to get a little peace and quiet. (I would argue the privilege is well worth it, but I can see where they're coming from.)

Still, I don't think this is where the hostility comes from. I've been thinking about it a lot lately and I think that we don't respect field organizers because we don't respect our politicians.

It's a complicated and overwhelming problem. Think about it: Our government is a democracy "of the people, for the people, by the people." If we don't respect or trust our government (and that's basically what our politicians are, liaisons to our government), who or what are we really not respecting? It's clear that in our nation's mind at some point the concept of popular sovereignty got away from us, or perhaps more accurately, we got away from it.

When I tell someone I work in politics, their first reaction is invariably is to make a disparaging remark about a specific politician or group of politicians or express their disgust for our system in general. Perhaps this attitude is not so off the mark.

Our Founding Fathers weren't politicians, they were statesmen: scientists, farmers, and entrepreneurs who answered their country's call to service and planned to sink back into the woodwork when they were done. Then, as our country got bigger, the world got more complicated, and we discovered the inherit flaws of a capitalistic democracy, we decided we needed politicians who spend their entire career holding or attempting to hold elected office.

And it is a decision we've made. Think about the 2008 Presidential election. One of the most prolific criticisms of Barack Obama was that he didn't have enough experience, even though he'd spent several years as a United States Senator and a State Senator before that. With the complicated nature of international relations, party politics,and budget deficits, it makes sense that we require our elected officials to be experienced in the workings of government. At the same time, we criticize "Washington insiders" as being "out of touch." And who can blame us for that? Daily life in DC is physically and psychologically pretty far removed from rural Indiana.

That's just one of many contradictions we've created surrounding electoral politics.

Americans are winners. We're competitive, innovative and passionate as a culture, no matter where we fall as individuals on the political spectrum. As a result of our enterprising nature we've found a way to cram money, time and resources into every nook and cranny that electoral politics has to offer. This is part of what makes campaigning fun, in a sick masochistic way, but it has led us to a political arms race. Campaigns have become expensive, more aggressive and begun earlier and earlier because no one wants to give the other guy a head start.

We've gotten to the point where running for statewide or national office means raising millions of dollars, campaigning for at least two years and cultivating an almost cult-like following. When people argue that politicians spend 1/2 their time getting re-elected, they're not wrong. A local teacher, farmer or even lawyer who decided to run five months before an election without prior experience wouldn't even be allowed to enter a debate.

People complain that politicians are hypocrites and megalomaniacs and in large part, they're right. There is supporting evidence all over the place. Every day a new politician is having an affair or embezzling money or harassing a staffer. But it's little wonder that the prerequisites we've developed for office holders attract or even breed this personality type.

We ask "what kind of person would run for office, put their family under the scrutiny, spend their entire day asking for money" and those are valid questions, but I think we're asking them of the wrong people. We, the American public have created the demand for this kind of politician and this kind of politics. How many times has a field organizer thought to herself while being screamed at for disturbing a voter "if this didn't work, we wouldn't be calling you?" To quote Lucille Bluth "They turn you into a monster and then they call you one."

So what's the point? First, change has to come from within. If we believe our politicians are corrupt, hypocritical or out of touch, then the only way to change that is to cut off demand by refusing to elect corrupt, hypocritical or out of touch politicians. This is, of course, easier said than done for the reasons outlined above and also because we've gone so far down the rabbit hole. It's going to take a lot to convince the American electorate that they have the power to create accountability, but I do think it's a start to accept responsibility. As they say "the first step is admitting you have a problem." If we can acknowledge that as eligible voters in a democratic system we're laying in a bed of our own making then that gives us some sort of agency. Theoretically we could make a multilateral decision to just stop putting so much money into politics and stop allowing ourselves to be represented by people who don't actually represent us, even though we know we won't and that the solution is going to be a lot more complicated.

Second, and I can't emphasize this enough, field organizers deserve your respect. So much money goes into our elections, so much mudslinging, so many different groups seeking to gain influence by any means necessary that we've gotten a long way away from the spirit of representative government of which our forefathers conceived. I find it incredibly heartwarming, redeeming and almost miraculous that neighbors talking to other neighbors about the issues that matter to them can still change the outcome of an election. Studies show us that field can influence an election between 2 and 5 percent. As irritating as it can be, grassroots politics is the one tool we know that works and doesn't violate the values we find so conflicting.

Maybe the politicians they represent are the lesser of two evils or the slightly better of two okays. Occasionally they might be even be representing someone exceptional. In some ways it doesn't even matter. Long before Obama, we were door to door salesmen of hope. The field organizer standing on your doorstep, is empowering you to have a stake in your government. They're there because they believe in your ability to create change and to elect the kind of politicians you respect. And isn't that the first step?