Ideas do not arise in isolated individuals

A conversation with Bart Cambré

The World Of Liesbet Podcast Episode 14 [link]

This episode is recorded in Dutch.

Bart Cambré is internationally recognised for his work on organisational networks, collaboration and collective action around complex societal challenges.

Throughout the conversation, Bart challenged a number of assumptions that many of us carry almost unconsciously: that problems can be solved by a single organisation, that efficiency is always desirable, that leadership is the key driver of success, or that innovation is primarily the product of brilliant individuals.

The limits of linear thinking

One of the first ideas we explored was complexity.

Bart's academic work sits at the intersection of methodology and organisational networks, and while those may seem like very different fields, he sees a clear connection between them.

Much of the way we study organisations and society is based on relatively linear models of thinking. We look for relationships between causes and effects.

Good leadership leads to better organisations.

More investment leads to better outcomes.

A specific intervention creates a specific result.

There is often some truth in these statements. The problem is that reality rarely behaves in such a straightforward manner.

As a sociologist, Bart repeatedly came back to the importance of context.

Leadership matters, but leadership never operates in isolation.

The impact of a leader depends on the environment, the people involved, the institutional setting, the available resources, the history of the organisation and many other factors. A leadership style that works exceptionally well in one context may fail completely in another.

This may seem like a subtle distinction, but I find it important. We often search for universal explanations. We want to know what works. Bart's work suggests that in many situations the better question is: under what conditions does something work?

The further we move into complex societal challenges, the more important that distinction becomes.

Why some problems refuse to be solved

At one point we discussed the different types of problems organisations face. It was a concept I had previously encountered in Bart's work and one that had genuinely changed how I think about societal challenges.

Some problems are simple. Baking a cake is one of his favourite examples. There is a recipe. You follow the recipe. If you repeat the same process next week, you will obtain roughly the same result.

Other problems are complex/complicated. Sending a rocket to the moon is difficult. Building a large infrastructure project is difficult. These challenges require expertise, planning and coordination, but they still follow a logic that can largely be understood and managed.

And beyond those, what are often called wicked problems.

These are challenges such as poverty, social exclusion, school dropout, domestic violence, climate change, prisoner reintegration or labour market participation for vulnerable groups.

They persist not because nobody is trying to solve them, but because they cut across systems, institutions and sectors.

A school cannot solve school dropout on its own.

A prison cannot organise successful reintegration on its own.

A city cannot reduce social exclusion on its own.

Each organisation holds only part of the puzzle.

What struck me is how often we still approach these problems as if there must be a single responsible actor somewhere.

We continue looking for the organisation that should fix the issue. Yet the very nature of these challenges makes that impossible. They can only be addressed through collaboration between multiple actors, each contributing a different perspective, expertise and resource.

This is where organisational networks enter the picture.

Why organisational networks matter

Bart defines an organisational network as a group of organisations that collaborate around a goal that none of them can achieve independently.

At first glance, this sounds obvious. Organisations collaborate all the time. But organisational networks are different from occasional partnerships or project-based collaborations.

They exist because some goals simply exceed the capacity of individual organisations.

One of the examples Bart discussed was early school dropout. It is easy to frame that as an educational problem, but in reality many different actors are involved. Schools matter, of course, but so do social services, local governments, youth organisations, sports clubs and families. If those actors remain disconnected, important parts of the problem remain invisible.

The same logic applies to prisoner reintegration. Reintegration does not begin when someone leaves prison. It starts much earlier and requires coordination between many parties. Housing, employment, social support and education all play a role. No single actor can coordinate that process alone.

The more we talked, the more I realised that many of society's most persistent challenges may not primarily be failures of good intentions or lack of expertise. They may be failures of organisation.

Perhaps we are often trying to solve network problems with organisational solutions.

Efficiency is not the same as effectiveness

One insight that particularly stayed with me concerns the distinction between efficiency and effectiveness.

Most contemporary management systems are built around efficiency. We constantly ask ourselves how we can achieve more with fewer resources, improve productivity, reduce waste and streamline processes.

There is nothing inherently wrong with this. In many situations efficiency is valuable and necessary.

The problem arises when efficiency becomes the dominant lens through which we view every challenge.

As Bart explained, organisational networks operate according to a fundamentally different logic. Their primary concern is effectiveness.

Can we actually achieve the goal?

Can we make progress on a challenge that otherwise remains unsolved?

Only after that question has been answered does efficiency become relevant.

This sounds almost obvious when stated explicitly, yet I realised how deeply efficiency thinking has become embedded in many of our institutions. We often evaluate initiatives based on short-term outputs, measurable deliverables or return on investment. Organisational networks ask us to focus first on whether meaningful change is taking place.

That shift in perspective feels increasingly relevant in a world where many of the challenges we care about most do not fit neatly into efficiency frameworks.

The uncomfortable reality of the hockey-stick curve

Another insight that stayed with me concerns time.

We often underestimate how long meaningful collaboration actually takes.

Bart described what he calls the "hockey-stick curve" of organisational networks. Before results become visible, there is usually a long investment phase. Organisations need to learn about each other, build trust, agree on objectives, develop governance structures and clarify roles.

According to the research he discussed, this phase can easily last two to three years.

In a world obsessed with quick wins, that is a difficult message to hear.

Imagine reporting to a board of directors every quarter that progress is being made, relationships are developing and trust is growing, but there are still no concrete outcomes to show.

Many initiatives never make it beyond that stage. Not because they lack potential, but because expectations for immediate results undermine the long-term investment required.

What fascinated me was Bart's argument that this period is not a sign of failure. It is part of the work itself.

The trust, alignment and shared understanding developed during those early years are precisely what make later success possible.

Leadership looks different inside a network

One topic I was particularly curious about concerned leadership.

If organisational networks are so important, who leads them?

The answer turned out to be more complicated than I expected.

According to Bart, the skills that make someone an excellent CEO do not automatically make them an excellent network coordinator. In fact, the role often requires a very different kind of leadership.

A network needs people who can manage relationships, hold different perspectives together, mobilise stakeholders, maintain shared purpose and navigate tensions between participating organisations. It also requires practical management, coordination and administration.

Rarely do all those capabilities exist within a single individual.

That is why successful networks often distribute leadership across several people, each taking responsibility for different aspects of the work.

I particularly liked one of the examples he shared. He described a network coordinator who keeps track of people's personal lives, remembers important milestones and regularly checks in with them. It may sound trivial, yet it highlights something important. Networks are not abstract organisational structures. They are made up of people. Relationships matter.

Trust matters.

And building trust requires attention.

Perhaps much of network leadership is less about directing and more about connecting.

Developing a bullshit radar

Not every part of our conversation revolved around organisational networks.

At the beginning of the podcast, Bart had brought along a small book: On Bullshit by philosopher Harry Frankfurt.

The title alone had clearly left a lasting impression.

What fascinated him was Frankfurt's distinction between lying and bullshitting.

A liar still cares about the truth because the truth needs to be hidden or distorted. Someone producing bullshit, however, is no longer concerned with truth at all. The goal is simply to make claims, create impressions or shape narratives.

Bart jokingly described how he has developed a stronger "bullshit radar" over the years.

The more we discussed it, the more I realised that this idea extends beyond politics or public discourse. It is also relevant in research, organisations and everyday life. Learning to recognise when claims are disconnected from reality helps us make better decisions about where to invest our attention and energy.

There was something surprisingly hopeful in that insight. Not because bullshit disappears, but because becoming aware of it allows us to respond differently.

Rethinking what it means to be an agent of change

Toward the end of our conversation, I asked Bart a question that I ask all my guests: what does the term agent of change mean to you?

His answer surprised me.

He was hesitant to identify himself with the label.

Not because he does not care about change, but because the phrase often evokes images of exceptional figures who transform society through extraordinary acts of leadership. The Mandelas, Martin Luther Kings and other historical icons that dominate our collective imagination.

Bart's interpretation was much smaller, and for that reason perhaps much more accessible.

For him, change often happens through modest actions. A conversation. A new connection. A moment that helps someone see things differently. A small intervention within a larger network. An act that may appear insignificant on its own but nonetheless changes the trajectory of something larger.

The more I reflected on his answer afterwards, the more it resonated with the themes that had surfaced throughout our discussion.

If change is collective rather than individual, then perhaps agents of change do not have to be heroic figures. Perhaps they are people who create the conditions for others to contribute. People who connect rather than control. People who remain hopeful even when the challenges seem overwhelming.

Leaving the conversation with hope

What I appreciated most about talking to Bart was that his perspective combines realism with hope.

He is under no illusion that complex societal challenges are easy to solve. On the contrary. Much of his work starts from the recognition that these problems are incredibly difficult and often resist straightforward solutions.

Yet he also refuses to become cynical.

Throughout our conversation there was a recurring belief that progress remains possible.

Not because a single organisation will finally find the perfect strategy. Not because a visionary leader will suddenly appear. But because people are capable of working together across boundaries, building networks, creating new connections and persisting long enough to make a difference.

Perhaps that was my biggest takeaway.

Many of the problems we face today are larger than any individual, organisation or institution. That insight can feel discouraging at first. Yet it can also be strangely liberating. If the solutions are collective, then none of us carry the responsibility alone.

We simply need to play our part.

And perhaps that, more than anything else, is what I learned from Bart. Change rarely arrives through grand gestures. More often it emerges through relationships, networks, patience and countless small contributions that gradually add up to something larger than any of us could create on our own.