In my last post I talked about the railway culture of the Great Southern region. Culture is different in different places and different organisations and there are many influences to culture and cultural change.
Every group of people will create its own culture depending on a number of different factors. It’s possible to intentionally develop a culture, but even without intention a group of people living or working together will develop a culture that is unique to their circumstances. Organisations develop their own cultures, and this culture can be very positive and uplifting for the participants in that organisation, whether they are staff, clients, or volunteers; or the organisation can have a destructive or toxic culture.
Carolyn Taylor describes herself as a culture expert, and she says that culture is created by the messages people receive about how they need to behave. She says that because everyone wants to fit in and be successful, each person will adjust their behaviour according to the messages they receive.
Those messages, Carolyn Taylor says, come from three sources: Behaviours, systems and symbols. Look back to my last post and see what I said about these three things in relation to the railway culture.
The behaviours that are role-modelled by our leaders have a huge impact on us, and we will often copy those behaviours (whether they are good or bad), and our behaviours then become the model for someone else in the organisation.
Our systems, such as the structures of the organisation, the way we plan and budget and the processes and policies that drive the organisation contribute to our culture. Sometimes those systems have been influenced by historical factors and don’t reflect what we really think the organisation should look like.
There are also many symbols which send out messages about culture, and as a result influence our culture. It is not unusual for an organisation to say they are strongly committed to a particular value, but the way they go about doing things acts as a symbol that this is not exactly what they believe.
What are your thoughts about culture?
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Along the Railway Tracks
Railways used to be the focal point for many communities across the south of Western Australia. The Great Southern Railway was the life blood of many towns, and along with the farming industry, railways provided employment, transport, life and hope to both families and communities.
On my great Anzac Day Pilgrimage (described in my last post) I talked about going to Badjaling, situated about 200km east of Perth. Until it closed in 1954, Badjaling was a railway siding, complete with huge wheat silos. Now the railway culture of that community has gone. High grass grows up through the rusty lines. The platform has gone, and so have the signals, the wheat silos, the roar of the diesel engines, the bustle of people loading the train and repairing the lines.
Over the next few weeks I want to talk about the culture of organisations. The loss of a culture such as Badjaling’s railway culture is a great starting point. There is no such culture at Badjaling now, the only thing giving an indication that such a culture existed is the symbol of the overgrown railway lines. Two other critical things that depicted the railway culture have gone. The systems and the behaviours.
People used to be able to set the clocks by the train arrival. The train whistle became a part of people’s lives in these railway communities, and their lives focussed around the dependability of the railways. These were systems that became an important part of a railway culture. So were the behaviours. Meeting the train, catching the train, loading the train with wheat, shunting the train and watching their activities were central to the railway culture.
Looking at the symbol of those overgrown railways lines I wonder, could it be that when a culture dies, all that is left is the symbols?
Next post I’ll talk more about symbols, systems and behaviours and how they impact culture. In the meantime, any thoughts of your own about organisational or community culture?
On my great Anzac Day Pilgrimage (described in my last post) I talked about going to Badjaling, situated about 200km east of Perth. Until it closed in 1954, Badjaling was a railway siding, complete with huge wheat silos. Now the railway culture of that community has gone. High grass grows up through the rusty lines. The platform has gone, and so have the signals, the wheat silos, the roar of the diesel engines, the bustle of people loading the train and repairing the lines.
Over the next few weeks I want to talk about the culture of organisations. The loss of a culture such as Badjaling’s railway culture is a great starting point. There is no such culture at Badjaling now, the only thing giving an indication that such a culture existed is the symbol of the overgrown railway lines. Two other critical things that depicted the railway culture have gone. The systems and the behaviours.
People used to be able to set the clocks by the train arrival. The train whistle became a part of people’s lives in these railway communities, and their lives focussed around the dependability of the railways. These were systems that became an important part of a railway culture. So were the behaviours. Meeting the train, catching the train, loading the train with wheat, shunting the train and watching their activities were central to the railway culture.
Looking at the symbol of those overgrown railways lines I wonder, could it be that when a culture dies, all that is left is the symbols?
Next post I’ll talk more about symbols, systems and behaviours and how they impact culture. In the meantime, any thoughts of your own about organisational or community culture?
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
The Great Anzac Day Pilgrimage of 2011
It was the journey I had to have. A “back to your roots” sort of journey. Anzac Day 2011, my sons Gavin and Dion and I drove to Badjaling Noongar Community, about 200 km east of Perth. The railway siding and Aboriginal mission were closed down in 1954, but in recent years a few people have moved back to their birthplace. Situated about 12km beyond the tiny wheatbelt town of Quairading, Badjaling is the spiritual home for many Noongar people and I felt something of the same spiritual attachment this week.
My mum, then an 18 year old girl, went to Badjaling in 1930 to be the housemaid for two Irish missionaries, Mary Belshaw and May McRidge. The mission house where she lived for two years was a disused railway cottage, and the bough shades that had previously been used for school and church had been replaced by a building made from flattened kerosene tins and wheat sacks sewn together. The Noongar people lived in humpies.
Dad went to Badjaling in 1938, a young 21 year old with no high school experience. Within days he was left in charge of the mission and running a school of 38 Noongar children. Having come to Australia at the age of 12 to live at Fairbridge Farm School, Badjaling was the only home he had, so when he was called up to join the army (this is the Anzac Day connection!), that was where he went every time he had leave. In 1944 he was manpowered out of the army and was transferred to a mission in Gnowangerup. The following year he was married, and he and mum were transferred back to Badjaling as a married couple.
This week we met some of the schoolchildren in Dad’s school, now elders in their community, and it was a great privilege to be shown around their home. We saw the well that was the only source of water for all Badjaling residents, and the site of the hospital that was set up because Noongars were not allowed into the hospital in town. This became the birthplace of many infants who have become known as the “bush babies”.
I had a strong sense of connection with the people of Badjaling community, but with it a sense of sadness that their parents had not been considered worthy to have their babies in government hospitals, and these proud elders were once in fear of being snatched away from their parents.
I'll tell you more about the great pilgrimage later.
My mum, then an 18 year old girl, went to Badjaling in 1930 to be the housemaid for two Irish missionaries, Mary Belshaw and May McRidge. The mission house where she lived for two years was a disused railway cottage, and the bough shades that had previously been used for school and church had been replaced by a building made from flattened kerosene tins and wheat sacks sewn together. The Noongar people lived in humpies.
Dad went to Badjaling in 1938, a young 21 year old with no high school experience. Within days he was left in charge of the mission and running a school of 38 Noongar children. Having come to Australia at the age of 12 to live at Fairbridge Farm School, Badjaling was the only home he had, so when he was called up to join the army (this is the Anzac Day connection!), that was where he went every time he had leave. In 1944 he was manpowered out of the army and was transferred to a mission in Gnowangerup. The following year he was married, and he and mum were transferred back to Badjaling as a married couple.
This week we met some of the schoolchildren in Dad’s school, now elders in their community, and it was a great privilege to be shown around their home. We saw the well that was the only source of water for all Badjaling residents, and the site of the hospital that was set up because Noongars were not allowed into the hospital in town. This became the birthplace of many infants who have become known as the “bush babies”.
I had a strong sense of connection with the people of Badjaling community, but with it a sense of sadness that their parents had not been considered worthy to have their babies in government hospitals, and these proud elders were once in fear of being snatched away from their parents.
I'll tell you more about the great pilgrimage later.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
Holiday .... or Holy Day?
Life seems pretty busy for most people. For some the idea of having five days off at the end of this week is pretty appealing. For others having that amount of time off when there is so much work to be done is more of an annoyance than a benefit.
I suspect that when a public holiday was first suggested at Easter time there was some thinking about recognising the importance of the event, and taking the time to honour the One who we remember at this time. Instead of it being a holy-day, it became a holiday, or a day when we could indulge ourselves in more food, more recreation and more “me time”. I have this funny feeling that this wasn’t the intention of Easter.
Instead, the holiday – or should I say holy-day – was established to remember One who gave up his own benefits for the good of others; whose sacrifice was not giving up eating meat or chocolate, but giving up his own life for the good of humanity.
Yes, I would like to enjoy myself this weekend, and I’m planning to spend some time with the family, and plant the winter veges. But I’m also going to take the time to hear again the story of Jesus and to ponder what his sacrificial love means to me. If going to church is not your usual practice on a weekend, I can think of no better time than this weekend to make the effort to visit your local church and reflect on the true meaning of Easter.
Odds are the roof won't fall in!
I suspect that when a public holiday was first suggested at Easter time there was some thinking about recognising the importance of the event, and taking the time to honour the One who we remember at this time. Instead of it being a holy-day, it became a holiday, or a day when we could indulge ourselves in more food, more recreation and more “me time”. I have this funny feeling that this wasn’t the intention of Easter.
Instead, the holiday – or should I say holy-day – was established to remember One who gave up his own benefits for the good of others; whose sacrifice was not giving up eating meat or chocolate, but giving up his own life for the good of humanity.
Yes, I would like to enjoy myself this weekend, and I’m planning to spend some time with the family, and plant the winter veges. But I’m also going to take the time to hear again the story of Jesus and to ponder what his sacrificial love means to me. If going to church is not your usual practice on a weekend, I can think of no better time than this weekend to make the effort to visit your local church and reflect on the true meaning of Easter.
Odds are the roof won't fall in!
Monday, April 11, 2011
I'd rather be a spider than a fly
We have a spider in our backyard that spins its web across a path between two bushes every night. The web it weaves is a piece of engineering excellence; intricately designed, it glistens in the moonlight and attracts any unsuspecting insects that happen to be passing that way. In the day time the spider packs up its finely woven trap so that it can sleep peacefully, or enjoy the fruits of the previous night’s bug trapping expedition.
I am amazed at the way this spider does not simply string a couple of webs across from one bush to another, but each night creates a massive booby trap that could win awards from the architects’ association, the mathematics’ institute and the artists’ guild simultaneously, so beautiful and so precise is the structure. Then every morning it packs it all up ready to start the process again in the evening.
Spiders don’t tend to get very good press in most homes where they usually suffer at the hands of those who either feel the need to remove their webs in the interests of cleanliness, or who unceremoniously dispatch them with a squirt of Mortein or a thump of Adidas. However, I’ve become quite fond of the little fellow (sorry, he’s not so little now) in our backyard and I look forward to seeing his nightly constructions.
It seems that each day we have a choice of how we are going to go about our work. We can follow the example of the spider and take our work seriously; attempting to do the very best we can and producing high quality results even in the knowledge that few people other than ourselves will appreciate the quality and intricacy of our work.
Or we can take short cuts, set ourselves lower standards and achieve less.
I think I would rather be a spider than a fly.
I am amazed at the way this spider does not simply string a couple of webs across from one bush to another, but each night creates a massive booby trap that could win awards from the architects’ association, the mathematics’ institute and the artists’ guild simultaneously, so beautiful and so precise is the structure. Then every morning it packs it all up ready to start the process again in the evening.
Spiders don’t tend to get very good press in most homes where they usually suffer at the hands of those who either feel the need to remove their webs in the interests of cleanliness, or who unceremoniously dispatch them with a squirt of Mortein or a thump of Adidas. However, I’ve become quite fond of the little fellow (sorry, he’s not so little now) in our backyard and I look forward to seeing his nightly constructions.
It seems that each day we have a choice of how we are going to go about our work. We can follow the example of the spider and take our work seriously; attempting to do the very best we can and producing high quality results even in the knowledge that few people other than ourselves will appreciate the quality and intricacy of our work.
Or we can take short cuts, set ourselves lower standards and achieve less.
I think I would rather be a spider than a fly.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Fair Trade Easter Eggs - now that's an idea!
It’s April and it's likely you’ll be doing your Easter Egg shopping soon. What are you going to buy? Lots of little eggs, or a couple of really big ones? Cadbury’s, Red Tulip, light chocolate or dark chocolate, an egg, or a rabbit or a bilby?
You may well choose not to buy an Easter egg at all, but most of us seem to fall into this annual indiscretion. Here's an idea to ease your conscience (although I hope it's more than that): Look out for Fair Trade chocolate. Reaching out with the love of Jesus means many things, but one of those things is to treat people fairly and with justice.
By buying Fair Trade chocolate this Easter you can play a part in ensuring better prices, decent working conditions, local sustainability, and fair terms of trade for farmers and workers in the developing world.
By requiring companies to pay sustainable prices, Fairtrade addresses injustices against the poorest, weakest producers. It enables them to improve their position and have more control over their lives.
This Easter, play your part in achieving a fairer, more just society. There’s information available about where to buy Fair Trade chocolate this Easter at www.fairtrade.com.au
You may well choose not to buy an Easter egg at all, but most of us seem to fall into this annual indiscretion. Here's an idea to ease your conscience (although I hope it's more than that): Look out for Fair Trade chocolate. Reaching out with the love of Jesus means many things, but one of those things is to treat people fairly and with justice.
By buying Fair Trade chocolate this Easter you can play a part in ensuring better prices, decent working conditions, local sustainability, and fair terms of trade for farmers and workers in the developing world.
By requiring companies to pay sustainable prices, Fairtrade addresses injustices against the poorest, weakest producers. It enables them to improve their position and have more control over their lives.
This Easter, play your part in achieving a fairer, more just society. There’s information available about where to buy Fair Trade chocolate this Easter at www.fairtrade.com.au
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