Tattoos on the Heart

The views expressed are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of ASPA as an organization.

By Susan Paddock
January 28, 2022

Ever since a doctoral class where we discussed nontraditional books such as Picture of Dorian Gray and Heart of Darkness, I have learned lessons for public administration in unusual places—movies, television series and books that are not “public administration.” In that vein, I will, in this and future columns, review books that present ideas that may be of challenging to readers of PAtimes.

Tattoos on the Heart by Gregory Boyle describes his work in founding and running Homeboy Industries, a gang-intervention program in East Los Angeles. Boyle, a Jesuit priest, was instrumental in creating an inclusive and welcoming church mission. His stories reflect his profession, but a person of any faith, or even no faith, will find this book thought-provoking. 

Unintended consequences. Boyle is not reticent to admit errors, including negotiating treaties and truces between the neighborhood gangs. He writes, “The unintended consequence of it all was that it legitimized the gangs and fed them oxygen. I eventually came to see that this kind of work keeps gangs alive.” Instead, Boyle created small businesses in which rival gang members could work; it was in this environment that the young men and women found ways to live together. How often, I wonder, do we attempt to force people into what we perceive to be the “right” place, rather than allowing those people to find or create that place for themselves? How often do our attempts at doing the “right thing” lead to wrong outcomes? We cannot be prescient, but we can admit when the results of our best efforts are other than expected.

Kinship: Standing in the right place. Boyle emphasizes that it is important to stand with those one serves, to not be centered in “taking the right stand on issues but rather in standing in the right place—with the outcast and those relegated to the margins.” Wherever we find ourselves in public administration, we are urged to do things, to make plans, set goals, measure outcomes. Boyle says it is more important that we stand with people, that “we recognize that there exists no daylight between us. Serving others is a good start. But it’s just the hallway that leads to the Grand Ballroom [of kinship]—not serving the other but being one with the other…. Everyone is just looking to be told that who he or she is is right and true and wholly acceptable.” This is the next step after Denhardt and Denhardt’s encouraging a service focus. How might public administration change if we were not public servants but rather public kinspeople, recognizing that we might as easily be the served, as the servant? Boyle speaks of this as a “new jurisdiction,” replacing judgment with acceptance—or to change the “lurking suspicion that some lives matter less than other lives.”

Success. Boyle writes, “I am not opposed to success. I just think we should accept it only if it is a byproduct of our fidelity. If our primary concern is results we will choose to work only with those who give us good ones…You stand with the least likely to succeed until success is succeeded by something more valuable: kinship.” Boyle says success must be preceded by fidelity, or trustworthiness and reliability. This is the principal challenge of Boyle’s book. We measure success by results and outcomes, because those who support us financially and politically expect quantitative reports. Yet many of the “wicked problems” which face us cannot be easily solved, or even solved at all, and the quantitative measures of our efforts do not capture the depth and complexity of the problems, or of the people who inhabit them.

Suppose that, for a program you manage, you report not quantitative goals, objectives, results and outcomes, but rather qualitative ones. Not “staff delivered meals to 100 homeless people,” but “staff spent the afternoon and evening talking with homeless people living on First Street.” Imagine not regulating streets, water systems or elections, but instead standing with users or citizens. This approach is fundamental to community-based policing, where officers see themselves as being a part of the community. How you describe your work makes a difference.

Resilience. Boyle lives in a challenging and difficult environment requiring resilience. He calls this “holding your ground.” Resilience grows out of grounding yourself. Kathleen Norris writes, “If holding your ground is what you are called to most days, it helps to know your ground.” As we continue to navigate the challenges of the past two years, it is important that we know our “ground,” what we stand for, our principles and our “lines in the sand.”

The book’s title comes from a homie, who said he would tattoo an unexpected compliment on his heart. We all have stories from our professional lives that are tattooed on our hearts, that influence how we think and talk about our jobs—and how we act. Boyle’s message challenges us to move away from only reporting performance, to standing with people, tattooing stories of acceptance, mercy, kinship, humility and yes, even love, on our hearts as we carry out the important work we are called to.

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Author: Susan Paddock is a Professor Emerita from the University of Wisconsin-Madison with an interest in public leadership, and in state and local government. She lives in Las Vegas and can be reached at [email protected] or at Twitter at @spaddock1030. She welcomes your suggestions as to books that might be reviewed.

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