The Generosity of Being Generative

In Sophocles’ Antigone, Antigone defies her uncle Creon’s decree to leave her brother unburied; her brother had fought against his homeland and this was his punishment.  Even though her sister, Ismene, implores Antigone not to go against Creon’s edict, Antigone follows a higher law, a law she believes is best for her brother, and buries him.  

I’m reminded of a quote from my father, Warren Bennis, who wrote on leadership: “Managers do things right. Leaders do the right thing.”  So, Antigone’s sister, Ismene, is like a manager, following fickle orders born of personal vendetta and anger, while Antigone, a leader, does the right thing, the most generous thing. Her actions are for her brother, risking safety to herself. She is generative and generous.

I think of this story when I think of being generative as artists and communicators.  Our North Star is a bigger purpose; it is generous even when not rewarded.  It is the right thing to do.  

Both the words “generative” and “generous” come from the same root, “to birth.”   

The name “Antigone” comes from the roots: “anti,” which means “against” or “in place of,” and “gone” a variation of the spelling of “genos,” meaning womb, birth, beget, produce…mother.  So Sophocles names his heroine “Antigone” someone who acts in place of the mother, someone who does the right thing.  She risks everything; she is generous.

When I think of my own heroes, those who are giving, generous, they are also generative, they create, give birth to.  It’s not about the volume of what they generate, just the consistency, the regular process of production.

I think of both of my parents.

My father said that great leaders have a “bias towards action.”  Certainly, my father lived this way; he was a generator.  He was remarkably productive, disciplined and unafraid to just put his work out there.  He generated books, talks, conversations, relationships, articles, experiences.

There are two stories that I think of as his “Antigone moments.”  The first was during the spring of 1945 when Dad had not yet turned twenty.  As a captain in the European theater of war in WWII, he was ordered to march his men through a large meadow where he knew there were snipers. Those giving the orders were not on the front lines, but miles away.  My father disobeyed this order. He could see clearly what his superiors could not, that he and his men would be wiped out, an empty sacrifice.  As a leader, he adhered to the greater vision, to win the war, to end the fascist Nazi regime. His action, to save his men from this misguided order, was born of a deep generosity in service of the greater good. He did not just follow the order, doing things right; he did the right thing.

Another “Antigone moment” came during the anti-war protests in 1968 when Dad was acting president of the University of Buffalo.  The police reported that they had not used tear gas on the students.  Dad and a professor, the writer, filmmaker, and photographer, Bruce Jackson, knew that was untrue.  They braved the campus, walked into the now-abandoned student radio station, and reported on air what they saw: police throwing tear gas into the stairwells of the women’s dormitories.  They defied Creon for the good of others.

His actions, his leadership, was both generative and for the good of others, generous.

My mother produced, generated, in a very different way.  Her “Antigone moments” were a way of living: tiny, quotidian gestures. She wanted her efforts to be almost invisible, but the singular way in which she did things made her stand-out regardless of her efforts to disappear.  My mother’s gifts, her generous generative gifts, were to support the work of others that she valued.  She spent years inputting names and numbers into Excel docs, licking envelopes, feeding artists and students, taking care of the grunt work so that others might create.  She worked for environmental and artistic organizations satisfying her own appetites and values. She housed and fed generations of artists and students, baking bread, hosting brunches. She was perhaps the most generous person I’ve ever known in the service of art, education, and our earth.  Her wish was “to be of use.”  

She is remembered for hosting a dinner where people were served vichyssoise and champagne in paper cups while wearing a thrifted Fortuny gown which she later donated to a choreographer, knowing the gown would fund a year of work for the dancer’s company.  That about sums her up: cooking, convening, creating experiences, using paper cups so she could be with people rather than washing dishes, wearing a precious garment she bought second-hand for 3.00, and giving that garment away to fund a year of dancers creating art.

As writers, artists, creators, leaders, and communicators, we can lose sight of our why, of our purpose and values.  I remind myself to keep generating and to be generous, to think like Antigone, and do what is best for others. To help.

I love this from Charles Handy when I asked him what advice he had for his grandchildren:

 “Do what you do best.

To the best of your ability.

For the good of others.”

Today we remind ourselves that being generative is being generous.  Creating, taking action, producing, contributing, is enough.  We do what we can in alignment with our own values.  Generate, do what we do best, for the good of others.