Strategy as Story
2023/24 Clore Fellow Jay Bhadrica explores a fresh way of thinking about organisational strategy, one that moves beyond plans and diagrammes toward something more meaningful.
The way we think about organisational strategy is, well, a bit rubbish.
It leaves a lot to be desired, let’s say.
I’m not sure how well we’re served by Vision-Mission-Objective documents, or even Theories of Change. I think we’re drawn to that linear trajectory from activities to outcomes and the warm, fuzzy feeling of completeness that a diagram gives you. Essentially, they make it feel like we’ve done the work.
Of course, I’m being glib. There’s definitely a place for Vision-Mission-Objective documents and Theory of Change documents, but I think a real strategy sits behind these documents. More often than not, these documents are used in lieu of a proper strategy. They are written in a largely clinical language and they don’t present a strategy, they present a strategic plan.
Strategy vs Strategic Planning
So what’s the difference? What is a proper strategy? I’ve taken a lot from the writer and strategy advisor Professor Roger Martin’s brilliant writing on this topic.1 His argument about choices is integral to what I post below, but I see a simpler distinction between the two. Namely, that plans usually have tactics, whereas a strategy is an argument.
By tactics I mean actions to achieve a specific end. Tactics often aren’t interrelated – they are a list of things that will get the organisation to where it wants to be. They’re often ‘objectives’ or ‘principles’ that outline what an organisation will do but not why the organisation is best placed to take those actions.
A strategy, on the other hand, is an argument for the direction of travel. It does this by defining a choice. It argues for the choice to do some things and, importantly, not to do others. In arguing to do one thing over another, a good strategy provides a compelling theory and motivation for how an organisation is uniquely able to achieve its aims.
It’s a hard thing to do. It requires introspection. It involves identifying what you’re bad at. It means knowing what you’re good at. And it requires mastering that knowledge in order to succeed. Strategy is a creative act: it’s understanding the world as it is and imagining the possibilities for how we want it to be. A good strategy, essentially, is a good story.
So why is a ‘story’ the best form for a strategy rather than some other thing like, I dunno, a ‘tree’ or something?
Great question. Well, there are few key reasons why we should think of strategies as stories:
1. Stories are journeys
Stories are an interrelated sequence of events that build to a resolution. They are not a list of things that happen one after another. Strategies, likewise, should not present a menu of options that will help the organisation. The choices an organisation makes must reinforce one another in order to build to the goal they want to achieve.
2. Stories expect failure
We know that stories require some sort of conflict that is overcome. With really juicy stories – the ones we really love – the protagonist should fail: they need to overcome their reluctance and their doubt, and they will likely regress at some point. For strategy writing, this is accepting that things will never go perfectly to plan. This is especially true if you’re trying to make a significant change. Failure is a part of the process. Thus, visualising where those failures might be and building in mitigation factors for those failures will better help you achieve your goal.
3. Stories are about people
Stories are human. A story about a marmalade-loving bear being taken in by a family is never going to be about what it’s like to be a bear. It’s about family, belonging, xenophobia, hard stares – all incredibly human. The human element can often be forgotten in devising strategy. We have to work to put people back into our strategies (see human-centred design), but in naming your strategy a ‘story’ it should subtly shift the focus back to the people in an organisation.
4. Stories are easy to remember
I was a bit harsh on diagrams earlier. In truth, I do love them. They organise complex things into a manageable structure; they simplify complicated things. Do you know what else does that? You guessed it: stories. We’ve been using stories to make sense of the most complicated things for time immemorial. We’ve done this because we find the shape of stories comforting and familiar. With formulating a strategy as a story, it becomes easier to think about what comes next because it’s the next part in the journey.
5. We’re the cultural sector, we’re supposed to be good at stories
And we bloody are. For the most part.
6. A good story is an argument
This is something that the brilliant screenwriter Billy Ivory (if you haven’t seen Made in Dagenham, stop reading this and go watch it now) said to me in a conversation, and it’s stuck in my head: a good story is an argument. It is about something. There are plenty of stories that aren’t about something and that’s okay. But the ones that stand the test of time are about more than the sum of their parts. A good strategy should be the same. It should show, not just tell, what the organisation is about beyond the sum of its parts. In some ways, this is a rehashing of the first point. But it’s worth restating. A strategy, like a story, should be an argument.
How to structure a strategy as a story
Now that we know that stories are the surefire best way to think about strategy, what does that mean in practice?
Well, I haven’t really got that far… but let’s have a go:
It needs to be short. Just a paragraph. It sits behind all the other planning so needs to be to-the-point.
There’s a strong argument for suggesting a three-act structure to order our thoughts. We’re predisposed to this way of thinking. As John Yorke, the author of Into the Woods, outlines: “we’re all familiar with act structure because it mimics the fundamental process by which our brains assimilate knowledge. We find something new, then explore it and finally assimilate it. To perceive the world we observe, we absorb, we change: a three-stage process. In fact, we are incapable of not ordering the world in this way, and stories are the dramatisation of this process: thesis, antithesis, synthesis – beginning, middle, end.”2
So let’s start there. Let’s use a three-act structure but something with enough tent poles to hang our structure on to keep it solid. I’m going to suggest keeping to five sentences. Go crazy with em-dashes, en-dashes, commas and semicolons, but try to stick to just five.
Act 1 – Thesis
Sentence 1: the problem
First is setting up the world. Outline the problem the organisation is facing.
Focus on one problem. This needs to be an internal problem, a fatal flaw – think about your organisation as the protagonist. The hero needs to defeat the baddie, but the hero’s real problem is taking a leap of faith and overcoming his fears, in order to become who he’s meant to be.
There are two mapping exercises I like here:
- A problem map – this is a tool to identify the root causes of a complex problem. It is an iceberg model that surfaces the layers of a system by trying to identify the structures behind behaviours, and then the mindsets at play behind those structures.
- A causal map – which creates a hierarchy of causes. You point an arrow to the thing it causes and hopefully end up with one big cause at the end.
So, for example:
The biggest challenge we’re facing is our risk aversion.
Sentence 2: the choice
Next is the action of the story. Outline a direct response to the problem.
This is the core of the strategy. The inciting incident. It is what you have chosen to change about the organisation.
For example:
In order to tackle our risk aversion, we will embolden everyone to make bolder choices and more creative risks.
Act 2 – Anthesis
Sentence 3: the struggle
There is always doubt and struggle in a story. Outline the inevitable obstacles to fulfilling the choice and the ways in which the organisation will adapt to them.
The adaptations could be structures, processes or behaviours that will temper the struggle.
For example:
We know there may be fear about making a choice that will go ‘wrong’ so we’ll put a sign-off process in place to allay these fears; plus, we know that red tape and processing may slow things down so we’ll ask ‘what would the bold thing to do here be?’ to open up conversation.
Sentence 4: the turning point
This is the climax of the story, it’s usually the biggest point of action. Outline what our strength is and how that will counter the problem.
By strength, I mean the thing you’re properly good at. Be brutally honest; think about your competitors / allies (whatever you want to call them) in the sector. What do you do better than them? What do you do that they don’t? What do your beneficiaries think of when they think about you (not what you’d like them to think, but what they really think)?
For example:
We’re a brilliant convener in the sector – we can tackle our risk aversion by working in partnership and seeing if the risk can be shared.
Act 3 – Synthesis
Sentence 5: the vision
The resolution of the story where a change has occurred. Outline what should have changed and provide a concrete vision of the future.
This is the aspiration and the motivation. On top of a concrete vision we want to provide the emotional impetus too.
For example:
In challenging our risk aversion we could build a world where everyone can find the comfort and joy that comes from poetry, because poetry is the art of the people.
Final thoughts
In summary, I’m proposing a new tool for the toolbox. A tool we’ve been using for a while but never for the purpose of creating strategy. And I feel stories might be a really good tool for strategy thinking.
In the end, strategy is not just a roadmap – it’s a story waiting to be told. And by harnessing the power of narrative, we can transform our organisations, our communities and the world at large.
Themes Leadership Styles Qualities of Leadership Practices of Self Care
