by Dr. Kevin Dean, President & CEO, Tennessee Nonprofit Network
They say I can be “difficult.” I prefer to think of it as “disagreeable,” at least in the enlightened sense championed by Malcolm Gladwell across his various literary and auditory endeavors. One might even describe me as mouthy, aggressive, terse, and frankly, impatient. My tolerance for performative bullsh** or self-serving agendas hovers somewhere near absolute zero. But let me be clear: I am here for the right reasons. To achieve meaningful outcomes. To cut through the noise and get to the core of what works. Being your best friend, however, is not necessarily on the agenda, especially when it has to do with the good of the nonprofit sector. I’m not difficult (or disagreeable) because I’m a gatekeeper, a control freak, or set in my ways. I’m disagreeable because I care, sometimes too much.
This rather brusque self-assessment, I believe, sets the stage for a discussion on the often-underappreciated value of “disagreeability” within the nonprofit sector – a realm typically characterized by its fervent pursuit of consensus and heartwarming collaboration. While harmony certainly has its place, the notion that transformative change can only bloom from universal agreement is, frankly, a charming delusion.
The Gladwellian Gospel of Constructive Disagreement
Gladwell, a man who consistently challenges our comfortable assumptions, clarifies that “disagreeableness” is not synonymous with outright obnoxiousness. It’s not about being the perpetual nay-sayer in every meeting, nor is it about deliberately undermining morale. Instead, it’s about possessing an internal compass so finely tuned to effectiveness and ethical imperative that it trumps the often-overpowering societal pressure for conformity. It’s about having the fortitude to advocate for what is right and effective, even when it’s wildly unpopular. As Gladwell sagely notes, while an utter disregard for peer opinion might land you in the sociopath category, a healthy dose of independence is, in fact, “a precondition for doing things that are extraordinary.” And let’s be honest, in the nonprofit world, extraordinary is precisely what we’re aiming for.
Moneyball in the Mission Field: Data Over Dogma
Consider the perennial plight of the underfunded nonprofit. We’re all familiar with the lament: “If only we had the resources of [insert behemoth foundation here].” This financial reality often dictates strategy, leading to a cautious adherence to established norms. But what if we could “Moneyball” our way to greater impact?
Gladwell’s dive into Billy Beane‘s revolutionary approach to baseball at the Oakland Athletics offers a strikingly apt parallel for the nonprofit sector. Beane, confronted with a shoestring budget in a league dominated by financial titans, dared to challenge the sacred cows of traditional scouting. He looked past the subjective “eye test” – the highly paid scouts’ gut feelings about a player’s “looks” or “swing” – and instead plunged headfirst into the cold, hard data.
His epiphany? Many seemingly “flawed” players, overlooked by richer teams for superficial reasons, possessed statistical attributes that were profoundly undervalued. Beane systematically acquired these bargains, assembling a highly effective team that consistently outperformed its financial peers. This was not a universally celebrated strategy. Fans booed, traditionalists scoffed, and even some within his own organization grumbled. Beane, however, possessed that critical Gladwellian disagreeableness. He didn’t require external validation to pursue a strategy he knew, deep in the numbers, was sound.
For nonprofits, the application is clear. Are we clinging to traditional program models because they’re familiar, or because they’re genuinely the most effective? Are we chasing grant opportunities that fit our current structure, rather than daring to propose innovative, perhaps unconventional, solutions that might actually move the needle further? The “Moneyball” lesson is a potent reminder that often, our greatest opportunities lie in identifying and leveraging undervalued assets – whether that’s an overlooked segment of the community, an underutilized volunteer pool, or a novel approach to service delivery that challenges conventional wisdom. It demands that we ask: are we valuing what truly delivers impact, or are we simply adhering to expensive, outdated notions of “best practice”?
The Courage of the Cold Shower: “Pulling the Goalie” for Programmatic Impact
If “Moneyball” offers a strategic blueprint, Gladwell’s fascination with “pulling the goalie” in hockey provides a stark metaphor for the courage required to abandon deeply ingrained, yet demonstrably suboptimal, practices. Hockey, for many Canadians, is practically a religion. And within this religion, removing the goalie from the net in a desperate, last-ditch effort to score is an act of sheer, heart-pounding desperation. It’s a move reserved for the dying seconds of a game, a Hail Mary pass born of impending defeat.
Yet, statistical analysis, the true arbiter of effectiveness, reveals a fascinating, counterintuitive truth: teams actually benefit from pulling their goalie much earlier – a full eleven minutes before the game’s end. Eleven minutes without a goalie. To a hockey fanatic, this isn’t desperation; it’s sacrilege. It defies every fiber of conventional hockey wisdom, every ingrained instinct for self-preservation. Fans notoriously hate this strategy, even when it works. Their emotional attachment to the game’s traditions trumps the cold, hard data.
This, my friends, is where disagreeableness truly shines in the nonprofit sector. How many times do we cling to a program, a funding model, or an operational structure simply because “that’s how we’ve always done it”? Or perhaps because it’s what our board expects? Or because it feels “safe”? The data might be screaming that a particular program is yielding diminishing returns, that a fundraising event is consuming disproportionate resources for minimal gain, or that a long-standing partnership is no longer truly synergistic.
“Pulling the goalie” in our context means having the audacity to say, “The data suggests we reallocate resources here, even if it feels uncomfortable. Even if it means temporarily exposing ourselves to perceived risk.” It means being willing to dismantle a beloved, but underperforming, initiative to free up capacity for something genuinely transformative. Fan loyalty, while boosting morale, doesn’t statistically achieve mission outcomes. And the problem with relying on social approval for change is that some of the people who disagree are profoundly invested in the status quo, often for reasons that have little to do with efficacy.
The Flat-Pack Philosophy: Disrupting the Default
Gladwell’s recounting of IKEA’s meteoric rise further cements the case for strategic disagreeableness. In the 1950s, Ingvar Kamprad, the founder, introduced a concept that was utterly alien to the furniture establishment: unassembled, “shipped flat” furniture sourced from a then-unpopular, lower-cost labor market (Poland).
The incumbent furniture manufacturers, with their elegant showrooms and high-priced, pre-assembled pieces, didn’t just dislike IKEA; they actively campaigned against it. Kamprad’s model wasn’t just cheaper; it was disruptive. It challenged their entire business model, their perceived quality, and their market dominance. They viewed it as uncouth, inferior, a threat to their very existence.
For us in the nonprofit world, the “IKEA moment” often presents itself when we consider scaling our impact or reaching underserved populations. Are we designing programs that require beneficiaries to conform to our structures, or are we developing nimble, accessible solutions that meet them where they are? Are we, perhaps inadvertently, creating “fully assembled” programs that are prohibitively expensive or cumbersome for those who need them most?
Disagreeableness here is the willingness to rethink the “assembly instructions” of our services. It’s daring to find cheaper, more efficient ways to deliver value, even if it means challenging the established “premium” of certain interventions. It’s about recognizing that sometimes, the most effective solution isn’t the most traditional or the most aesthetically pleasing to our peers, but the one that simply works for the people we serve, and does so at scale.
The Ferrissian Flair for the Unconventional: When “Difficult” Becomes “Effective”
Lest you think Gladwell cornered the market on celebrating strategic friction, I recall the delightful impudence of Tim Ferriss, author of The 4-Hour Workweek. Ferriss, a man who clearly has little patience for the conventional, offers further evidence of how a touch of “disagreeableness” can lead to extraordinary outcomes.
His legendary win as the 1999 Chinese kickboxing champion in his 75 kg weight class was not merely due to superior technique. Oh no. Ferriss famously employed a strategy of shoving opponents out of the ring – a perfectly legal, if ungraceful, maneuver. More notably, he masterfully engaged in “weight cutting,” dramatically dehydrating himself before weigh-ins to compete in lower weight classes, only to rehydrate immediately before the fight. This was not the path of least resistance. It was certainly not about making friends. It was, however, undeniably effective.
Ferriss also recounts a particularly exquisite example of his “disagreeable” negotiation tactics: receiving a grade he disliked, he would schedule a two-hour meeting with the offending professor, then relentlessly pepper them with questions. His goal? To make the experience so profoundly unpleasant that the professor would think twice about giving him a low grade again. While one might reasonably label this as “how to be a dick,” it undeniably illustrates a strategic deployment of discomfort to achieve a desired outcome.
These anecdotes, while perhaps less universally applicable to nonprofit operations, highlight a crucial underlying principle: sometimes, achieving a breakthrough requires a willingness to deviate from the expected script, to politely (or not-so-politely, depending on the context) introduce friction into the system. It’s about understanding the unspoken rules and then, with strategic intent, bending or breaking them to our advantage. It requires a willingness to be seen as “difficult” if that’s what it takes to protect our mission or achieve a critical objective.
The Uneven Playing Field: Gender, Identity, and the Cost of Disagreeableness
Now, for the less amusing, but infinitely more critical, aspect of this discussion. While I may wear my “mouthy” and “impatient” labels with a certain detached pride, I am acutely aware that the cost of disagreeableness is not evenly distributed across society. Gladwell himself readily acknowledges this, particularly regarding gender.
He concedes that society is remarkably “unforgiving of disagreeable women in all areas, and we need to get over that.” He points out that while men who take risks and face failure often experience a “softest landing,” women are frequently socialized into agreeableness and face significantly higher penalties for deviating from this norm.
This reality casts a long, often frustrating, shadow over the nonprofit sector, where women hold a disproportionate number of leadership roles, yet often operate within structures designed and often dominated by patriarchal norms. How many times have we seen a male leader lauded for his “bold vision” when a female leader advocating for a similarly disruptive change is labeled “abrasive” or “emotional”?
The Mad Men storyline involving Peggy Olson, the pioneering female advertising copywriter, painfully illustrates this. Peggy, armed with genuine insight into the female consumer, vociferously disagreed with a sexist, male-fantasy-driven ad campaign for a diet soda. Her expert opinion was dismissed, her professionalism questioned. While the ad ultimately flopped (vindicating her, of course), the cost to Peggy was immediate marginalization, a reminder of her “place.”
This is not merely an inconvenience; it’s a profound systemic barrier to innovation. When half (or more) of your talent pool is implicitly penalized for expressing constructive dissent, you are actively stifling the very breakthroughs you claim to desire. It means valuable insights are suppressed, and transformative ideas wither on the vine, simply because the messenger doesn’t fit the agreeable mold society expects.
Cultivating the “Difficult” Dialogue: A Call to Action
So, what’s the takeaway for the nonprofit executive, the program manager, the development director who truly wants to make a difference, even if it means ruffling a few feathers?
First, embrace the notion that consensus is not always a prerequisite for progress. Sometimes, it’s merely a comfortable cage. Challenge it. With data, with reasoned argument, with a clear focus on the ultimate mission.
Second, foster an organizational culture that actively solicits and rewards constructive dissent. This means creating truly psychologically safe spaces where ideas can be debated rigorously, regardless of who proposes them. It means challenging biases that penalize “disagreeable” women or individuals from marginalized communities. It means learning to listen, not just for agreement, but for the valuable friction that sparks true innovation.
Third, develop your own internal compass of disagreeable conviction. Understand your mission, analyze your data, and be prepared to advocate for what works, even when it’s unpopular. This doesn’t mean being rude or dismissive. It means being resolute.
I’m here for the right reasons. I believe most of us in this sector are. But if being “here for the right reasons” also means politely nodding along to ineffective strategies or silently enduring performative gestures, then perhaps we need to redefine “right reasons.” Sometimes, the most valuable contribution you can make is to be the “difficult” voice, the “mouthy” truth-teller, the “impatient” catalyst for change. Because ultimately, real impact often requires a little bit of glorious, mission-driven disagreeableness. And frankly, it makes the work a whole lot less boring.