How to resist the temptations of money, power and sainthood in the social sector—learn to laugh at yourself

About the first set, which was about donors—people like me and our organizations— they heard widespread praise and strong agreement. In those, I had been critical of the methods that people like us adopt and therefore the culture these foster in the NGO sector. The positive reaction was unsurprising.

The second set was about social-sector leaders. The one that particularly amused my friends was where I had described three seductions that such leaders face: of money, of power and of sainthood.

One friend narrated with glee the sharply divided reactions to that column. Many found my descriptions reasonably accurate, going by what they encountered, and expressed relief that someone had said it publicly. Then there was a group angered by it. Most of them said the only reason I could get away with such calumny was because I lead a large donor organization.

My friends were amused because, in their estimate, most of these angry leaders fitted to a T those who had fallen prey to one or more of these seductions.

We began discussing whether we could identify common characteristics of people who don’t succumb to these seductions. After some deliberation, we agreed on three.

First, such people have a clear idea of the role they are playing in society and the world. I am not referring to their roles as leaders of organizations, but the roles they have chosen to play or have developed—as activists, ground-level organizers, researchers and so on.

This role clarity includes an equally clear understanding of a simple fact: there are many things they would like to do but lie beyond the purview of the role they have grown into. For example, they are not politicians, administrators or policymakers. This clarity about what they are not is as important as clarity about what they are.

The second characteristic is simplicity. I mean not only lifestyle simplicity, though that often follows, but a consistent habit of mind—the ability to speak simply, convert the most complex of matters into simple and relatable terms, and to behave with people around them in a direct manner. This is not about dumbing down or oversimplification. It is about clarity of thought that enables clear communication and straightforward human engagement.

The third is that they don’t take themselves too seriously. They are conscious that the work they are doing is serious, that the purpose they want to serve is very important. However, they can laugh at themselves, see their own limitations clearly, and gladly acknowledge their mistakes. There is a lightness in their bearing even as they carry the weight of their work.

We also agreed that something underlies these three characteristics: a deep sense or awareness of the role of circumstances.

These individuals have a profound appreciation for a simple set of facts that too many tend to forget in leadership roles. They are where they are because they grew up in certain circumstances. They have had particular people around them. The world around them was at a certain moment in time. They are not wrapped up in the illusion that they are the sole authors of their destiny. There are many people and events involved. The world is a pretty random place and not everything can be explained or understood. This awareness keeps hubris and several other maladies at bay.

My friends then turned to me with a pointed question: Do you have any method by which somebody can ensure these qualities for themselves? Somebody who does not want to fall prey to those seductions and wants to develop these three sensibilities?

I don’t really have an answer. I suspect there isn’t a clear method or formula. But I can offer something based on observation: work closely with people who can laugh at you and pull your leg. Who don’t take you seriously. Not that they don’t take your role, competence, hard work, judgement and wisdom seriously—they do. But they can make fun of you without malice.

Such people are invaluable. They keep you grounded. They remind you, often through a well-timed joke or gentle mockery, that you are just another person doing your bit of work. That your work may be important, but you are not. That there is nothing special about you, even if your work is special. This distinction is crucial and easily lost.

It is also, I must add, great fun to work with such people. Laughter, particularly at oneself, is underrated as a tool for effectiveness and sanity in this work. The social sector is full of deep problems and serious work. All the more reason to not take ourselves seriously. Our work will benefit from it, and so will we.

Perhaps the ultimate test is this: Can you laugh when someone makes fun of you? Not polite laughter, but genuine amusement at your own foibles and pretensions? If you can, you are probably doing alright. If you cannot, it might be time to find people who will help you learn.

The author is CEO of Azim Premji Foundation.