As I complete my thirteenth season at Milwaukee Repertory Theater, I have found myself thinking increasingly about a question that rarely gets discussed openly in nonprofit leadership circles:
A superb reflection, Chad. When I was beginning my career more than half a century ago, I started paying attention to the tenure of the leaders I admired. I noticed that successful nonprofit CEOs stayed an average of seven years. (I have a tongue-in-cheek explanation which I'd be pleased to share in another context.) I reached 22 years, three administrative lifetimes, at my last position only because I had taken the organization through three distinct stages in its life-cycle. But I suddenly found myself resisting change, and that's when I knew it was time to find something new.
Well said. On a related note, I feel Board members face the same questions. I served on the Arena Stage Board for 23 years. At the time it had no term limits. It was a prestigious role (I served as Chair for 3 1/2 years), and I made great friends among other Board members, theater leadership and artists that I value. But there came a time when I realized that everyone knew the issues that were important to me (strong marketing, great research, advocating for younger audiences). If I made a mark on the organization, these values could be achieved without me. And I recognized that just as new audiences were important, so were refreshed ideas from new Board members. It may have taken some time, but I knew it was time to move on.
The questions you suggest asking are great. I found it helpful throughout my tenure to have an exec coach who would ask questions like these. As we were discussing the next strategic planning process, my coach gut-checked me on whether I was really ready to push the ball up the hill again. I realized that if the organization was to focus on growth of its existing model vs re-thinking and changing the model, I could do that. I neither had the energy nor spirit to lead big change in the organization anymore. I was too attached to what we had built and not energized by the thought of re-building or creating something new again. That was the signal. Too many do hang on. I think your questions would be good for a board chair or exec committee to discuss with a CEO annually and/or for them to discuss with a coach.
Chad, thank you for the thoughtful framing of these questions. You’re right: we do not talk about them enough, or in sufficiently real ways. Almost every leader I know has inherited a succession plan that lives in a binder on a shelf until—well, too late. As someone who actively chose the timing of my own eventual transition, there is perhaps one thing I would add, and one challenge I would tee up.
Beyond our relationship to an institution, there is also the ongoing leadership journey of the individual. The way our leadership expresses itself changes over time. Ideally, there remains a reciprocal energy between leader and institution—each continuing to challenge, feed, and renew the other. When that exchange begins to diminish, it may be time to start asking what comes next.
And increasingly, in conversations with early- and mid-career leaders, I think we do them a disservice when we frame succession only as an institutional exercise rather than as part of the full arc of a leadership life. If leadership is a calling rather than simply a job, part of our responsibility is learning not only when to build, but also when to hand something forward.
The challenge—the proverbial elephant in the room, of course—is money. Very few nonprofit leaders, particularly in the cultural sector, build enough financial security to truly choose the timing of their exit. We do not live in a world of stock options or profit-sharing.
If we want leaders to become active participants in their own succession, we also have to find ways to ensure they are not constantly forced to weigh what is right for themselves and their institutions against their own financial stability.
A superb reflection, Chad. When I was beginning my career more than half a century ago, I started paying attention to the tenure of the leaders I admired. I noticed that successful nonprofit CEOs stayed an average of seven years. (I have a tongue-in-cheek explanation which I'd be pleased to share in another context.) I reached 22 years, three administrative lifetimes, at my last position only because I had taken the organization through three distinct stages in its life-cycle. But I suddenly found myself resisting change, and that's when I knew it was time to find something new.
Well said. On a related note, I feel Board members face the same questions. I served on the Arena Stage Board for 23 years. At the time it had no term limits. It was a prestigious role (I served as Chair for 3 1/2 years), and I made great friends among other Board members, theater leadership and artists that I value. But there came a time when I realized that everyone knew the issues that were important to me (strong marketing, great research, advocating for younger audiences). If I made a mark on the organization, these values could be achieved without me. And I recognized that just as new audiences were important, so were refreshed ideas from new Board members. It may have taken some time, but I knew it was time to move on.
The questions you suggest asking are great. I found it helpful throughout my tenure to have an exec coach who would ask questions like these. As we were discussing the next strategic planning process, my coach gut-checked me on whether I was really ready to push the ball up the hill again. I realized that if the organization was to focus on growth of its existing model vs re-thinking and changing the model, I could do that. I neither had the energy nor spirit to lead big change in the organization anymore. I was too attached to what we had built and not energized by the thought of re-building or creating something new again. That was the signal. Too many do hang on. I think your questions would be good for a board chair or exec committee to discuss with a CEO annually and/or for them to discuss with a coach.
Chad, thank you for the thoughtful framing of these questions. You’re right: we do not talk about them enough, or in sufficiently real ways. Almost every leader I know has inherited a succession plan that lives in a binder on a shelf until—well, too late. As someone who actively chose the timing of my own eventual transition, there is perhaps one thing I would add, and one challenge I would tee up.
Beyond our relationship to an institution, there is also the ongoing leadership journey of the individual. The way our leadership expresses itself changes over time. Ideally, there remains a reciprocal energy between leader and institution—each continuing to challenge, feed, and renew the other. When that exchange begins to diminish, it may be time to start asking what comes next.
And increasingly, in conversations with early- and mid-career leaders, I think we do them a disservice when we frame succession only as an institutional exercise rather than as part of the full arc of a leadership life. If leadership is a calling rather than simply a job, part of our responsibility is learning not only when to build, but also when to hand something forward.
The challenge—the proverbial elephant in the room, of course—is money. Very few nonprofit leaders, particularly in the cultural sector, build enough financial security to truly choose the timing of their exit. We do not live in a world of stock options or profit-sharing.
If we want leaders to become active participants in their own succession, we also have to find ways to ensure they are not constantly forced to weigh what is right for themselves and their institutions against their own financial stability.