Jim Collins

What is our mission? Such a simple question—but it goes right to the heart of the fundamental tension in any great institution: the dynamic interplay between continuity and change. Every truly great organization demonstrates the characteristic of preserve the core, yet stimulate progress. On the one hand, it is guided by a set of core values and fundamental purpose—a core mission that changes little or not at all over time; and, on the other hand, it stimulates progress: change, improvement, innovation, renewal. The core mission remains fixed while operating practices, cultural norms, strategies, tactics, processes, structures, and methods continually change in response to changing realities. Indeed, the great paradox of change is that the organizations that best adapt to a changing world first and foremost know what should not change; they have a fixed anchor of guiding principles around which they can more easily change everything else. They know the difference between what is truly sacred and what is not, between what should never change and what should be always open for change, between “what we stand for” and “how we do things.”

The best universities understand, for example, that the ideal of freedom of inquiry must remain intact as a guiding precept while the operating practice of tenure goes through inevitable change and revision. The most enduring churches understand that the core ideology of the religion must remain fixed while the specific practices and venues of worship change in response to the realities of younger generations. Mission as Drucker thought of it provides the glue that holds an organization together as it expands, decentralizes, globalizes, and attains diversity. Think of it as analogous to the principles of Judaism that held the Jewish people together for centuries without a homeland, even as they scattered throughout the diaspora. Or think of the truths held to be self-evident in the U.S. Declaration of Independence, or the enduring ideals of the scientific community that bond scientists from every nationality together with the common aim of advancing knowledge.

Your core mission provides guidance, not just about what to do but also equally about what not to do. Social sector leaders pride themselves on doing good for the world, but to be of maximum service requires a ferocious focus on doing good only if it fits your mission. To do the most good requires saying no to pressures to stray and the discipline to stop doing what does not fit. When Frances Hesselbein led the Girl Scouts of the USA, she pounded out a simple mantra: “We are here for only one reason: to help a girl reach her highest potential.” She steadfastly steered the Girl Scouts into those activities—and only those activities—that could make a unique and significant contribution of value to its members. When a charity organization sought to collaborate with the Girl Scouts, envisioning an army of smiling girls going door to door to canvass for the greater good, Hesselbein commended the desire to make a difference but gave a polite and firm no. Just because something is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—even a once-in-a-lifetime funding opportunity—is merely a fact, not necessarily a reason to act. If a great opportunity does not fit your mission, then the answer must be “Thank you, but no.”

The question of mission has become, if anything, even more important as our world becomes increasingly disruptive and turbulent. No matter how much the world changes, people still have a fundamental need to belong to something they can feel proud of. They have a fundamental need for guiding values and sense of purpose that gives their life and work meaning. They have a fundamental need for connection to other people, sharing with them the common bond of beliefs and aspirations. They have a desperate need for a guiding philosophy, a beacon on the hill to keep in sight during dark and disruptive times. More than any time in the past, people will demand operating autonomy—freedom plus responsibility—and will simultaneously demand that the organizations of which they are a part stand for something.

Dr. Marshall Goldsmith and Dr. Kelly Goldsmith

Although much has been written about the organizational application of the great question, “What is our mission?” less has been written about the personal application.

I (Marshall) had the opportunity to ask Peter F. Drucker his own question. I asked, “Peter, you have spent a lot of your life helping organizations determine their mission. What is your mission?”

He replied, “My mission is to help people and organizations achieve their goals.” He then laughed and said, “Assuming that they are not immoral or unethical.”

Recently, we completed a large study on the relationship of happiness and meaning with both organizational and personal satisfaction with life. What did we learn? In determining a personal mission, you need to make sure that you take into account both happiness and meaning.

By happiness we are referring to your personal enjoyment of the process itself, not just the results. In other words, at the high end of the scale, you love what you are doing.

By meaning we are referring to the value that you attribute to the results of your work. At the high end of the scale, you deeply believe that the outcome of what you are doing is important.

When we asked people to define what happiness and meaning meant to them, we learned that each of us has our own definition and that our personal definition is what matters to us. No one can tell you what makes you happy, and no one can tell you what is meaningful for you. These answers have to come from your heart.

What did our research show? The only way to have high degrees of satisfaction with life at work and at home was to engage in activities that simultaneously produced happiness and meaning.

Participants who reported spending large amounts of time on amusing activities that were fun, but not meaningful, experienced a shallowness in life. They were not highly satisfied with life at work or at home. Although we were not surprised about this finding at work, we were a little surprised to see nearly identical results at home. This indicates that an overpreoccupation with amusement may do more harm than good.

Participants who reported spending large amounts of time on meaningful activities that did not produce enjoyment felt like martyrs. Although they believed that what they were doing was important, they were not happy with their lives, either at work or at home.

The only group of respondents in our study who reported consistently high levels of satisfaction with life at work and at home were people who reported that they were spending large amounts of their time on activities that provided simultaneously high levels of happiness and meaning.

Drucker was a wonderful case study of this point. He loved his work and had no interest in retiring. His work made him happy. He also knew that his work mattered. His work gave him meaning. In life, this is the best that we can do.

What are the implications for you?

1. Establish a clear personal mission for yourself. Drucker always said that our mission should be short and clear and that it should “fit on a T-shirt.”
2. Make sure that the results you achieve when you succeed in achieving your mission are important to you. Look to your heart. Do what really matters to you.
3. Make sure that the process of achieving your mission is a process that you love. Life is short. Unless your goal is to be a martyr, do what makes you happy.
4. Another great piece of advice from Drucker is for you to analyze how you spend your time. Maximize the amount of time that you are experiencing simultaneous happiness and meaning. To the degree possible, eliminate activities that don't pass this test.

The great question, “What is your mission?” is critically important for organizational success. It may be even more important for personal success!

Michael Radparvar

It was spring 2009 when my brother Dave approached Fabian and me, suggesting that we take some time to put into words a reminder of what things exactly were most important to us. Our company, Holstee, was just three weeks old, we had millions of things on our plate, and coincidentally we were in the midst of the worst recession of our generation. Still, we all sensed that putting this into writing would help us on our journey. Despite the many things we each had to do for the fledgling company, neither of us questioned his proposal.

To begin, we agreed that whatever we wrote would be an important message to our future selves, coming from a time when our thinking was clear. We also agreed that this would be our best opportunity to define success in nonfinancial terms. We covered topics such as love, food, travel, relationships, and our hopes and dreams. Once we had these most important things charted out, we put them on paper. And for good measure, we decided to put them in a place we knew wouldn't get lost: on the About page of our website, where we called it our manifesto (see Figure 1.1).

Over the coming months and years, this manifesto took a completely unexpected journey. It grew to become one of the most actively shared images across the Web—and around the world—and it eventually took the form of a letterpress print for better offline sharing as well. In essence, this manifesto also became our company's mission statement. The Washington Post referred to it as the “Just Do It” for a new generation. At the core of it all, Holstee's reason to exist—since day one—would simply be to help each of us remember what is important. That to us is the most important thing of all.