Over the past 20 years or so, I’ve been affiliated
with at least a dozen environmental groups, and I’ve seen it happen
several times. So has everyone who’s been involved in the movement.
I’m talking about professionalization. It begins when a
group of grassroots activists begins to feel overwhelmed. They
can’t keep up with the reams of data, hours of tedious meetings or
the technical complexity of the issues they track. Then somebody
dies and leaves the group a bundle of money, or one of the members
hits the jackpot with a grant proposal. The solution is obvious to
everyone: Hire professional staff.
At a small foundation
devoted to a particular local river, we hired a part-time executive
director. It began well enough: The executive director attended
board meetings, listened to the members, and did a fine job of
representing the group’s interests to agencies and the public.
Working only 20 hours or so a month, our director insisted that
officers and board members stay engaged with particular issues.
A professional raised more money, leveraged the group’s
funds and garnered more grants. The executive director and
fund-raiser became full-time, and they in turn needed help from a
treasurer, secretary, newsletter editor and assistant.
Maybe the board members got lazy. With a professional staff, there
was no longer a pressing need to stay personally informed and
involved. Or maybe the professional staff developed its own agenda.
Today, that group seems to have lost its focus, board members serve
in name only, and the staff salaries are rapidly depleting the
treasury. The first priority seems to be paying the bills and
staff, not protecting the river.
Members and officers
feel that they now work for the staff. At board meetings, the
executive director runs the show and gives the marching orders,
which is OK, since the officers don’t want to be burdened with
leadership. It’s fine that their job is to raise money at the
annual banquet, place calls to members and other potential donors,
show up at public hearings to read scripted comments and sign their
names to bulk-printed letters.
In other cases, over time,
I’ve seen an insidious shift in a group’s priorities. Chasing grant
opportunities from special interests can lead to mission drift. I
once belonged to a watershed group created to bring ranchers and
conservationists together in order to keep more water in a river
for an endangered native fish. But then the weeds took over. This
group also began with just a part-time professional facilitator.
Over time, the position blossomed into a full-time job, aided by a
secretary and an intern or two. Weeds were a major concern for the
ranchers, and initially it was easy enough for everyone to support
a little weed-whacking coordination with agencies and local
governments. Then the weed coordinator became a full-time position,
and now the group puts a lot of energy into a major annual
fund-raiser to buy herbicides (and fund the weed coordinator).
There is never enough time, money or effort to go around. Last I
heard, the group was advertising for a grant writer in hopes of
keeping everyone employed. As in other groups, the staff makes the
decisions, and board meetings are an exercise in passive listening.
One of the first environmental groups I helped form was
determined to get a fair remedy at a local Superfund site. Another
volunteer obtained a grant from the Environmental Protection Agency
to fund an expert who could help us understand the technical
issues. Over time, the experts came and went, and one of them
discovered there was more funding for activities like a newsletter
and a Web site. Soon, our expert and his employees were running the
organization from his office 80 miles away. Board meetings
consisted of said expert presenting an agenda of work items.
The few members — including myself — who disagreed with
the new agenda were shunned. Heaven forbid there should be
substantial, time-consuming argument and discussion at a board
meeting. Heaven forbid that ideas should move from the membership
up to the staff. The staff needed to “maintain a good working
relationship” with agency personnel and with other groups — even
groups that were fundamentally opposed to our mission.
It
becomes a pattern — and eventually, disgruntled members like me
move on. After a year or two of chill time, though, we become
passionate about some new issue. Sooner or later, we join another
grassroots group. Or maybe start a new one. Much like those tree
seedlings, we hope to plant something that will bear good fruit,
and not just turn into dead wood.
Pat Munday is
an environmentalist in southwest Montana. He is currently
researching the role of citizens in shaping Superfund
remedies.
This article appeared in the print edition of the magazine with the headline Conservation groups come and go. Why?.
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