Mud Wrestling in a Tutu

In recent months I've been working with a forming group that has encountered some interpersonal tensions that have persisted—in some instances for years (they've been forming for seven). As everyone involved is new to community living, they did not understand at the outset that such tensions would arise or the importance of working them through (or put another way, the cost of not working them through).

They are good people (by which I mean intelligent and well-intended) yet this was new territory and they didn't know how to frame it. Essentially, they did the best they could—some things got worked through and other things didn't. In no case, as far as I could tell, did they believe that concerns were serious enough to bring in outside help prior to my arrival. In short, I experience them as a fairly normal group.

What's somewhat unusual about this situation is that my invitation came not from the people in the stew, but from new members who became aware of the deleterious impact of the unresolved tensions (think dark clouds overhead that rarely dissipate) and pushed the longer-term members to bring in outside help to see if things could be cleared up.

When the older members agreed, I was hired, and I set up interviews with the folks identified as being the sources of the long-term tensions. From this I produced a summary of what I discovered in the interviews (not a he-said-she-said, but an overall picture).

My observations didn't go down smoothly with everyone. This didn't surprise me, as things had deteriorated to the point where each of the people I spoke with had at least two others on the list that they were not talking to. Thus, I had done something that no one else among them had done in recent times: I spoke with everyone and listened to what they had to say. I didn't expect the stories to align easily (after all, I didn't get asked in because everything was in laminar flow) and I pointed this out. As some very much wanted their story to prevail, they had trouble with my rocking that boat.

Next I offered a proposal for how to move forward, the main feature of which was doing relationship repair with any pair who was willing, with me facilitating. Some dropped out at this point; others are staying the course. In the main, the folks who declined to continue with me reported that they didn't have anything to clear with anyone else and were sufficiently open to doing so that they didn't need help from me. Further they considered it voyeuristic and awkward to be present while others did that work.

What I want to drill down on today is that two of those who opted out of working with me interpersonally have careers in academia, and I lay in bed this morning chewing on that. As I understand it, good professors have a foundational commitment to curiosity and openness to new ideas (based on the premise that no one has perfect knowledge, we can all learn new things, and it'll be a better world if we are open to that possibility—that they aspire to instill a thirst for learning among their students as well as a capacity for critical thinking, which expressly includes the idea that it's invaluable to hear new thoughts). Yet I wasn't experiencing these professors as operating from that framework—even though I was speaking from my area of experience about something they were new to. What was going on?

Here's what I intuit has happened. While the personalities of the two are quite different (and, interestingly, they don't particularly get along with each other), they both rejected working with me further after: a) I did an interview with each to listen to what they wanted me to know about what was happening in the community and where I might be useful; and b) they read my summary of what I learned in the interviews—which included the observation that among all who participated there were at least two others in the mix who were carrying animus toward them. In other words, I was able to confirm that unresolved tensions existed in all directions.

For one of the professors there was deep skepticism that this kind of work was needed to build a successful community. For the other there was skepticism about whether I was accurate in my summary and the suspicion that I might be overplaying the situation to drum up business for myself (this is styled "churning" in the investment broker field, and is highly unethical). Both held the view that they were open to working through tensions with others and if someone was upset with them and didn't approach them, that it was on them and let's move on. Wallowing in someone else's shit with Laird did not appeal to them.

Then I further reflected about what I know about group dynamics in academia. While my knowledge there is limited, I have occasionally worked with universities and have been largely appalled at the Byzantine politics and rancorous dynamics that obtain when faculty disagree. In short, it tends to be highly competitive (if not outright combative), standing in sharp contrast with the collaborative culture that intentional communities generally strive for. 

To be fair, I have no specific knowledge of the professorial dynamics at the institutions that these two teach at, but it occurred to me that these professors were willing to dismiss me and what I offered without bothering to hear why I thought what I offered was important, to learn any details about what I proposed to do, or even an openness to experiencing what I could to do, so that they could make an assessment about its efficacy based on first-hand knowledge—rather than on a projection. I'm guessing that they deem themselves to be successful in navigating dynamics in academia and see no reason that this expertise won't apply just as well to community dynamics. While it's amazing how far ignorance can take you, I can see how this might have happened. It's a phenomenon I call "unencumbered by reality." Not knowing what community might be like, they have simply projected from their life experiences that it would be more of what they already know. While that's not particularly sound thinking, I can appreciate how it might happen. Haven't we all been guilty of making unwarranted assumptions?

On the one hand, I am sympathetic to the dynamic of not knowing what you don't know. On the other, I think it's reasonable to expect professors to be sensitive to this possibility, and to be held to a higher standard, more in line with their professional ethics. 

I think what's happened at a visceral level, is that my report calls into question the value of what they know (or assume) about group dynamics in community and that it's hard for them to accept my word that it ain't so, as it threatens how they see themselves in the world and the application of their academic savvy. They see themselves as open to information from others—in particular, critical information about how their behavior is seen—yet their self perceptions matched up poorly with what others reported to me about them and this was unwelcome news. It was far more appealing to dismiss or attempt to discredit my observations than to look in the mirror (which I reckon is how they go about testing the resilience of divergent ideas in academia).

From where I sit, presuming to project the application of academia dynamics onto community life is about as accurate as saying that you expect to be good at ballet because you're experienced at mud wrestling. It turns out, in fact, that they are quite different endeavors, and what you learn at one is not at all sufficient to prepare you to be proficient at the other. 

Now where did a put that leotard?