Savile, Messham, Newsnight, McAlpine, Watson and You; Of victims, villains and rescuers.

Victims, villains and rescuers.

Hard to keep track of who is who, isn’t it?

Let’s start with Savile.

Savile with his now odious “Jim’ll fix it for you” thing.  Rescuer. Yay.

Savile as alleged serial abuser.  Villain. Boo.

Next up.  Newsnight.

Newsnight originally fail to air “Unsubstantiated” Savile report.  Villain. Boo.

Newsnight subsequently air Messham’s shocking and shockingly unsubtantiated allegations. Rescuer. Yay.

Newsnight subsequently lambasted for doing so. Villain. Boo.

Messham.

Messham as a boy. Victim.

Messham goes to the press to reveal scandal. (Self) rescuer. Yay.

Messham reveals he got the wrong man. Reckless villain? Boo.

But hang on, he was shown a picture he was told it was McAlpine.  Was he misled?  Was it deliberate?  Victim?

Exploited by Newsnight?  Victim.

Lord McAlpine

(Depending on your politics here.)

Key Tory within the Thatcher government. Villain. Boo or Rescuer. Yay. Your mileage may vary.

Lord McAlpine as alleged abuser. Villain.  Boo.

Forced to instruct defamation lawyers for malicious or reckless defamation. Victim.

If he pursues everybody on the internet who commented or referred to links?  Then what will he become?  Victim or villain?

@Tom_Watson? 

Bravely reveals paedophile allegations and potential cover-up in Prime Minister’s Question Time and on his blog.  Heroic Rescuer.  Big online Yay.

Shadowy comments of threats against his safety also mentioned on his blog?  Heroic victim.

Allegations of gullibilty, not following due dilligence and protocols, impetuousness, clumsiness, naivity, hysteria and, now, seemingly, not commenting. Villain. Boo.

You?

Supporting Tom’s bravery and courage, ? Co-rescuer. Yay.

Spreading the word via tweets and links? Rescuer. Yay.

Shown to be wrong and reckless?  Villain. Boo.

Sued by McAlpine and his defamation lawyers?  Will you be victim or villain?

 

These victim, villain, resuer stories, eh?  They are so complex but utterly compelling.  The simplistic logic they present us with can be very seductive and so transient.

Looks like Karpman had a point. Or three.

See Karpman’s Drama Triangle

 

And now a disclaimer:  Dear Lawyers.  There is no explicit or implied allegation against any party in this piece.  Quite the contrary, there is only an assertion that such allegations of rescuer, villainy or victim are notoriously unreliable.

 

 

 

 

The #1 dispute resolution lesson from the USA elections.

I want to write very briefly about the USA elections, the number 1 lesson we can learn from it and run a  quick competition to enable you to win two copies of my book… scroll to the bottom for the competition.

First though, here is that #1 conflict resolution lesson that I promised you in the title.

I hope you are ready for it. This is going to rock your world.

Next time you have a debate, an argument or a difficult conversation think back to the last few weeks.

See Obama?

See Romney?

Don’t do that.

Here endeth the lesson.

Competition time

I wrote a book called Conversational Riffs; Creating Meaning out of Conflict.  You can buy it here.  It sets out an alternative to the attack-defence-counter attack rut that so many of us get stuck in when we try to deal with debates or conflicts.  It is the antithesis of what has been played out before us in debates, campaigning and attack ads over the last couple of months.

To win, simply answer this question;

What has the USA Election taught you about conflict and debate?

Post your answer in the comments and the one that I like most at 5pm GMT Friday 9th November will win two copies of Conversational Riffs; Creating Meaning Out Of Conflict, in plenty of time for you to start planning your own Electoral campaign ready for 2016!

Why it is difficult to receive an apology.

On Friday I was consumed by righteous indignation and disgust at a comment that a lawyer I know on social media platforms had written.  I told him so and “Unfollowed.”

On Sunday evening, he apologised to me directly, on Twitter.

I was surprised by this apology and challenged as well.  It occurred to me that the recipients of apologies often are.

• What do I now do with this apology?
• How does it reposition the offender in my eyes?
• What responsibility to re-evaluate does the apology now place at my feet?  Am I prepared to pick up that responsibility, and if I do, what do I then do with it?

Part of me was still angry, wanted to dismiss this apology, reduce it down to a nothingness, to a mere “Oh, he would say that wouldn’t he?” and another part of me was reacting very differently.  It was hard to understand what that other part was feeling and then I realised that it was compassion… but that means that I have got work to do now, and I was quite comfortable in my cartoon world of heroes and villains.

This apology was incredibly effective because it had no whiff of self preservation, distancing or making the offence abstract or conditional.  It was unequivocal.  It read, very simply;

U r so right and I am dreadfully sorry.

What was I going to do with that?

No response would have been the easiest thing.  Responding rejecting his apology was also a choice I had.

I went instead with what I was feeling and responded warmly;

I appreciate your guts in that ######. Good on you and I hope the incident passes. Keep well.

And I am so glad I did.

Sometimes it is easier to hold onto the demonised caricatures that we are quick to sketch out in a flashing judgment, but this straightforward apology cut through that.

We subsequently spoke on the phone.  He told me of the horror he felt at the awful moment he realised how his twitter comment looked.  When he spoke it was clear that he felt deep anguish and shame about what had happened and in that moment he was incredibly, unbearably human;  a man, as imperfect as you or I, trying to get through life, living honestly, honourably, without hurting others or causing offence and being truly shocked to realise that they have not only been capable of doing so but actually had done so.

He was as fallible as we all are and in our conversation I realised that in his error and faults I saw my own fears, some of my own past mistakes and those that doubtlessly lie ahead in my future.

“Oh Lord, that I might ever be capable of getting it so spectacularly wrong myself. “

That is a vulnerability that I would rather not admit to feeling and, within my righteous indignation, in my denegration of this man and my assumptions about his motives, thoughts and character, maybe what we do in part is try to calm our own fears, that we might ever fall into a similar hole.  It is far easier to reassure ourselves by demonising “Them” and therefore distancing them from us, making them different and not at all like you or me.

A few points therefore;

• A clear, unequivocal apology can quickly cut through the demonisation.
• When we receive an apology such as this, whether we had asked for it or not, we have a responsibility to handle it with respect and courtesy.
• When we do that then we join the apologist in a kind of redemption – not only of their misdemeanour but also our own rush of condemnation… and when we do that then maybe we learn a little more about ourselves as well as learning a whole lot about them.

We are never more wrong than when we are most right.

When we are convinced that we are right then we close ourselves off to criticism or to dissenting voices and opinions.

The results can be devastating.

A report on the Fukushima nuclear disaster has stated that the crisis was caused by

““Our reflexive obedience; our reluctance to question authority; our devotion to ‘sticking with program’; our groupism; and our insularity”

For the full article see the Fukushima Crisis “Made in Japan” from the Financial Times.

What does this teach us?

 

Organisations which do not allow dissenting views run the risk of crisis.

Dissenting views can serve to test strategy and decision making.  They do not, of themselves,  question authority although closed authorities can easily perceive dissent in such a light.  When permitted dissenting views can support and assist authority and leadership.

 

There is often a general reluctance to question or to call out issues that we may perceive.  This can fall under conflict avoidance – not wanting to rock the boat or to be seen as a troublemaker or insubordinate.

Speaking out and stepping into these conflicted spaces takes courage.  We need to be able to raise our hands and say “You know what, I’m not so sure about this…”

Instead, “sticking with program and groupism” proves to be much more alluring.

It can feel safer to stay with the herd, even as it runs itself off the cliff.  We assume that they know what they are doing.  They could not all be wrong after all, could they?  And out of all of us, surely someone else has already raised the question that has sprung to my own mind.

The danger of this self destructive, conflict avoidant compliance is perhaps increased in these current times of perceived scarcity.

If we perceive a scarcity of jobs and a threat, no matter how slight of cuts or redundancies, then it is natural perhaps that we should look to be even more quiet and compliant.  After all, if we were to highlight a critical flaw in process or regulation and call it out, would we not be marking ourselves as troublemaker?

Organisations need debate.  They need to address the opposing views and invite them out, explicitly, as a means of testing and refining policy.  As long as we allow ourselves to be deluded that we are right, then we run the risk of being blindly, catastrophically, wrong.

Doubt, debate and dissent could well be your best leadership allies.

 

 

How to receive feedback

A couple of days ago a delegate from a keynote talk I recently gave (see www.getartisan.co.uk) got in touch by email.

By all accounts she had loved the talk.  I was pleased about this as her own training work within mediation and collaborative practice is something that I admire and respect.

But there was something else in the email.

Could she give me a “wee bit” of feedback, she asked.

How do we respond to that question?

I felt anxious, suddenly fragile.  What does that mean?  What did I do wrong?  She didn’t like it at all.

What nonsense we tell ourselves when someone offers feedback or critique.  We are like the man or woman who blows up a balloon with every good feedback comment, only to find that when we receive a single negative remark that the balloon bursts and we must start all over again.

Fortunately that is a feedback lesson I learnt a couple of years ago from a dear friend and mentor Geo Roberts.  It is something I have shared with many groups, together with another excellent feedback lesson – Say thank you, whether the feedback is good or bad.

It was time for me to take my own medicine!

I emailed back and we arranged a time to Skype.  We spoke a couple of hours ago as I write this.

I was no longer anxious.  I had become the man or woman who piles a shovelful of sand onto this pile of great feedback and, for each negative comment, would simply take one shovelful away from it.  Much better.

The feedback conversation itself was a delight – a gift even.

During my talk I named a short list of several leaders within the field I was talking about.

Unwittingly, all of them were men despite the sector being amply populated and led by brilliant female practitioners, many of whom were even n the room!  The feedback was absolutely spot on and I am glad that I got to hear it.

I thanked her for it, through laughter that represented a touch of embarrassment but also delight at what had just been revealed to me.

My friend went on to say that she figured that I was a man and it was easier n the heat of the moment up there on the podium to think of men, like me, working in this field.  I explained that I am sure she was probably right but that I had been blind to that.  I was, and still am, very grateful to her for taking the time, reaching out and stepping into her own discomfort, to make a gift to me of this, her observation.

Feedback, even the challenges, really are gifts.  Heaven forbid that we delude ourselves that we cannot improve or that we are perfect.

I am glad that I am not.  I enjoy the learning and growth far too much and I am pleased to have the light shone onto those areas where I can improve.

Are you?

 

 

Playing Musical Statues With The Conflict Averse

There is a moment at every child’s party that I have grown to detest.

It is the popular but increasingly fraught game of musical statues.

For those unfamiliar with the rules in musical statues you play music and all of the children dance.  Or run.  Or just wave their arms around.

The music is stopped and the children have to stop and stand still. Like statues, you see?

A judge then has to call out who was the last person to stop moving and that child is then out of the game.

What I observe is this.

The music plays.  All of the children dance.  Or run. Or just wave their arms around.

The music stops.

It is obvious to everyone who the last child to stop was.  It is obvious, even, to the judge.  you can tell because the judge is looking at that child.  But there is a problem.

The judge is conflict averse.  they avoid conflict or risking upsetting anyone.

And so we play a different silly game where the judge, filled equally with compassion for the child and with concern about what his or her parents will say, does this…

“Oooh, I don’t know.  Oh. Its so hard.  I, really, erm, well let’s start the music again and see what happens next time round…”

Musical statues is like leadership.

We cannot do it without feedback and stepping into those areas of potential disagreement.  If we cannot bring ourselves to do this then we need to work on our own conflict competency levels to help us, and those who are led by us.

If we do not, then the whole game becomes both meaningless and endless.  In a bad way.

For more on this idea of conflict leadership and fear of conflict, see this blog article by Mike Figliuolo

Worthless pesky trespassing scum

Oh the irony.

So, I am on my way home from delivering my Grudgeology workshop in London.  It has been well received,  I’m going to be home within the hour and all is well. I then become aware that we have come to a standstill, the train has stopped.

No station.

“Look, there’s some kids out there!” shouts a passenger, and there they are, just up on the embankment on the left.

There’s an announcement from the train conductor.  We’re going to be delayed because of trespassers on the track.  And that is all it takes for my own Grudge gland to kick in, and I’m off.

“Worthless pesky trespassing scum” is what I am thinking to myself (edited).  Now I’m going to be late because you losers have got nothing better to do than play on train tracks.  How frikking selfish can you be.

I’m feeling mean, irritated. My stress is rising.

I then have a “physician, heal thyself” moment.  I think back to the course I have just taught.

1. Do not take offence.  Of course, idiot.  I am choosing to be offended by these children’s games.  Why?  Relax.  It’s Friday evening.  Go and get a beer from the canteen.

2. Take responsibility for your feelings.  Another good lesson. I allow myself to be ashamed for a brief moment about my thoughts for these (very young) children.  That’s not on.  Where’s the curiousity?  As soon as I’m curious, I am not feeling the grudge.  You cannot do it.  You cannot be curious and mean.

3. Don’t tell grudge stories.  As I walk through a couple of carriages to get a beer, the seats are full of similarly indignant, righteous and delayed passengers, stirring each other up.  It is clearly not helping anyone.

I’m feeling much more at ease with the situation as I pay for my beer and sit back down.

There’s another announcement.

“Ladies and gentleman, we’re going to be here for another ten minutes or so.  The good news is that a couple of the trespassers have been arrested…”  A cheer goes up and the conversations change.  People are now fantasising about retribution and revenge.

“Hah, it’ll be the escorted drive home to their parents for them…”

“I hope they get what they deserve…”

Worse of all “I would have driven the train straight through them”  Sir, these are children!

I sip on my beer.  These grudges that we can all fall into do not serve us well at all and it is so hard to resist them.  We have to make conscious decisions to do so, but these are decisions that once  we know, then we can take them really quite easily.