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When I tell people I'm a diocesan counselor, they always laugh.
In my day job, I spend most of my time with CEOs of major global companies, highly creative entrepreneurs. The contrast is sharp between their lofty goals and ambitions and the monotonous concerns of a small village in Somerset.
But in our Parish Council – or PC as it is affectionately called – I have seen some of the best leadership of my career.
Our agenda is not world-beating, but that's the point. The council's sole purpose is to serve the residents – 1,000 of them – and we respond to their interests. There is no real policy. There are no attempts to control agendas, control or give heroic speeches. We simply want to make life here as safe, comfortable and happy as possible.
It's a modest goal, but it's not always easy. Because it is our consistent agenda, and not one that only arrives in crises, we take it seriously.
Here I saw some of the best chairs of my career. Executives always talk about the need for open debate and listening, but here, in the absence of hierarchy and party politics, both become routine. The meetings are open to everyone: when residents have ideas or concerns, they attend and the Chair ensures they get a good hearing, applying his years of experience to ensure no one feels intimidated or judged.
With only a little money, we can't spend money on a problem. But we can listen and try to formulate a good outcome for everyone. The president insists on fairness: the same rules apply whether residents live in miners' huts or country houses. There's no bragging. It's amazing how thoughtful you are when you meet people on the street who your decisions directly affect.
I have learned that the local authority provides almost none of our village facilities – social club, playground, Christmas tree, spring lights. They are thanks to the volunteer council members who dedicate their time to make things successful. I suspect that few villagers know that the playground garbage is personally handled by the chair.
Quarterly garbage collection is not organized by a distant bureaucracy. One council member makes appointments, another provides refreshments, and parents bring their children, hoping to instill good habits. We remove trash together because we want to live in a clean place. In business talk, this is “thinking like owners,” but here it is not just rhetoric.
My fellow council members take their duties seriously, even though most of them work full time and many have children at home. I don't know how they find the extra hours, but the fact that not everyone has enough time keeps the meetings brief and focused. The age range and diversity of backgrounds is impressive, although I wish there were more women. Some of the council members' families have lived here for generations, and working alongside them helps me appreciate how much we benefit from the decisions of our ancestors. It's a legacy that most of us want to preserve, and knowing that we're connected to history in this way makes life here feel grounded.
Aside from planning permission, the biggest challenges we face relate to working with a somewhat distant local authority. It is a vivid example of the way hierarchies hinder understanding. Things seem easier for our small team because we see each other as people, not as officials. Authority is always a problem. One of the reasons our small team works so well is because no one has anything.
After five years on our board, I have come to see in this small, ancient organization what I hope to see more often in the boards of larger, richer, more powerful organizations: open minds, good listening, fairness, and creative problem solving. And thoughtful work. What don't I see? Policy. Attitudes. Seizing power. selfishness. Perverse incentives contest.
Council members are closely connected to their “stakeholders,” committed to mutual support, and ditch the jargon in favor of a serious commitment to working together for mutual benefit. And we will face greater challenges, from new housing and planning permits to the climate emergency. No one knows how things will turn out, but we have a lot of things going for us that other big companies and organizations lack.
So why does this ancient institution elicit such laughter? Footage of a Handforth Parish Council meeting via Zoom that has gone viral during the pandemic, with chair Jackie Weaver playfully berating other councilors for disrupting proceedings, is likely to be all most people know about this small form of democracy.
It's probably easier to laugh when something goes wrong than to think about what could happen when it works out. Personally, I wish the Parish Council was the place where more executive functions would begin.
