Workplace Bullying...Enough Already.

Andrew Cuomo didn’t lose his job because he’s a bully. And that’s not why Donald Trump was voted out of office either. 

When former White House deputy press secretary TJ Ducklo resigned after allegedly threatening a Politico journalist, he tweeted, “No words can express my regret, my embarrassment and my disgust for my behavior.” I have no doubt that he was mortified, since he was caught out and lost his job. 

As someone who has been witness to and on the receiving end of bullying behavior across the nonprofit sector, I’m weary of it. I’ve been privately applauded for “standing up to” the bullies in question. As an independent consultant, it’s much easier for me. The bully doesn’t have power over me, and I have control over my right to refuse to work with people who engage in that kind of behavior—there are always new clients to be cultivated.

 Intellectually, we understand that bullies bully for a handful of reasons:

·      They were bullied as children

·      They have low tolerance for people disagreeing with them or challenging their authority

·      They’re ashamed of what they don’t know and are desperate to hide it

·      They are deeply insecure about their role

Or maybe they learned it on the job, and no one ever told them to stop.

When you’re bullied at work, it can be devastating. There is always a power dynamic at play, and it feels like it’s a personal attack. Because it is. As the White House press dude Ducklo went on to tweet, “I used language that no woman should ever have to hear from anyone, especially in a situation where she was just trying to do her job.”

We’d be hard pressed to find a Stanford Social Innovation Review or Harvard Business Review case study that demonstrates that management by bullying and intimidation is an effective way to motivate and inspire staff to give 110%. In the highly competitive context of today’s labor market, I wonder why nonprofits don’t take this corrosive behavior more seriously.

I’m stunned that organizations continue to tolerate bullies among their executives and even board members. Especially since—in the context of the Me Too and Black Lives Matter movements—employees are speaking out and filing grievances, taking their concerns to the press and posting on social media.

Business is booming for companies that conduct “independent investigations” to get to the bottom of these complaints. But once the reports are written, and executives have been either slapped on the wrist or invited to seek new opportunities, how do organizations move on? It’s not so easy to change culture and norms, and it’s not always so easy for the victims of bullying to get over it. Moving on may necessitate moving out, as staff no longer trust their employers to keep them safe.

Organizations put time and energy into risk assessment and mitigation, but most don’t view bullying as a major risk factor. Bullying is tolerated, particularly among so-called “high performers,” as board members and C-Suite executives shake their heads in disappointment at the bad behavior of their colleagues.

I challenge nonprofits to reflect on your mission and vision statements—which more often than not include some language about serving communities and people—and apply it to your own internal organization. I counsel you to consider your risk tolerance, and weigh the fragile ego of a bullying executive against the negative impact on your staff. 

We know that bullying is bad for people. And I think if you take this challenge seriously, you’ll conclude that bullying is bad for business.