Why I Never Say "Compromise" When Facilitating

As a consensus facilitator, I am constantly trying to make it easier for everyone to contribute what they have that's relevant to the conversation. Then I do what I can to establish how those contributions are rooted in a reasonable interpretation of group values (and therefore worthy of taking into account), as distinct from personal preferences. 

About this time, I generally point out that the right to offer one's views and have them be taken seriously is tied at the hip to the responsibility to treat respectfully the views that differ from theirs and have been similarly vetted.

Absent this framing, it's relatively common for groups to get bogged down with people who are inspired to defend their viewpoints because they are tied to common values—accusing those with disparate views of being selfish and not thinking of what's best for the group. In short, such folks believe they are holding the high moral ground and defending the group against self-centered marauders. 

But let's break this down. suppose one segment of the group favors installing solar panels on the roof of the common house. While there is an initial capital outlay, it will repay itself over time in lower utility bills and is in line with the group's commitment to being environmentally responsible (which we'll refer to as common value E, for ecological impact). What's not to like? 

Now let's imagine there is another segment of the group that objects to this action, because HOA dues will go up (at least temporarily) to fund this project and they are hanging on by their fingernails to meet current HOA dues. They are afraid of being priced out. Their concern is grounded in the group's commitment to being affordable (which we'll cleverly label value A). They feel solid in raising their concerns about the solar panels.

The key to keeping the conversation away from tug-of-war energy (which is rarely productive and feels yucky) is laying out that being concerned with common value A is not tantamount with being anti-environmental. Just as being promotional of value E does not mean you're oblivious to concerns about affordability.

While I'm not saying people are never selfish, mostly they're reasonable and the thing I need to do in a situation like the above is to establish that no one is holding the high morale ground (so please check your righteousness at the door). The challenge is figuring out how to balance these two values in this situation. Who has ideas about how to fund the solar panels without pricing residents out of the community?

What I don't suggest is a compromise, which might look something like "Lets' buy half the solar panels now so the strain on budgets is more tolerable, and look at buying the other half later." I do not favor cutting the baby in half. Instead I work hard to get the group to see that no one is in the wrong place or saying anything inappropriate. You are on the same team. Who has ideas about how to move forward in such a way that both sides' concerns are addressed?

Examples of what this might look: a) borrowing money from the capital fund to finance the solar panels (with the understanding that the fund will be replenished with the money saved on utility bills; b) perhaps one or more members with deep pockets would be willing to front the purchase price of the solar panels, to be repaid by savings from utility bills; or c) maybe the group could do a series of fundraising event to generate the money needed for the panels, so that they can be a model for the neighborhood.

Do you see how all of these potential solutions respect both core values in play, and do not call for anyone to compromise their principles?

While I believe that the good intention behind asking people to compromise (or to accept that a proposed solution is "good enough for now") is to get everyone to recognize that we won't get out of a stalemate if no one moves, this framing has more than a whiff of least common denominator, and lukewarm energy. It's invites the group to settle for a "solution" that's equally painful to all parties, and generally lacks dynamism. 

The key to finding creative solutions—perhaps ones that no one had in mind at the start of the meeting—is holding the group in a space where they believe that synergy and magic are possible, and the group has learned to appreciate the breadth of differing viewpoints for its ability to broaden the foundation, rather than dreading their expression as a complication.

Yes, this is radical stuff. But way better than pressuring one another to compromise, or to try to carry the day through the dubious strategy of stating one's preference repeatedly in the vain hope that you'll wear down the opposition through persistence, perhaps accompanied by steadily increasing shrillness. Have you ever been in that meeting? They're exhausting, and strain the fabric of the community.

What I Think I'm Good at as a Facilitator

Lately I've been wrestling with some health issues related to my dance with multiple myeloma, which brings into sharper focus my mortality. In consequence, I've been thinking a good deal the last month about how to wrap things up, how to hand off, and what I still want to say in this forum. Today's entry falls into this last bucket.

I've been a professional facilitator since 1987—about half my life. So what, after all these years, do I think I'm really good at as a facilitator of groups who desire inclusive outcomes? To be clear, I'm not talking about things I alone can do; just the things I can do consistently at a high level, and which I hope are both useful and aspirational.

In no particular order, here's my list—all of which are learnable: 

1. I'm fluent in the language of numbers

Math has always come easily for me, and it took quite a while to understand that that's relatively rare. That is, many people zone out when numbers enter the conversation. They may not understand which numbers are important, or how to display them to illuminate an issue. Most groups defer to those who claim facility with numbers and hope for the best. Thus, it's an advantage that I can wade into numbers and sort out what's happening in short order. 

While not every issue has a significant financial component, many do, and I can ride the waves.

2. I'm good in a storm 

By which I mean I don't lose my center in the midst of high reactivity. If anything, the moment slows down for me when people go into emotional distress. (For one thing, I don't have to guess what's going on; upset people are going to tell me.) The leverage point here is that I don't get tense when someone else gets tense. Emotional reactions are normal (part of the range of human response) and I've learned to treat them as data and energy, both of which can be highly beneficial—if you learn to see them that way and how to work with them constructively.

When groups do not have an understanding about working with emotions, or any agreement about how to do it, there tends to be considerable nervousness about how to proceed in the presence of high reactivity, accompanied by a strong vibe that expressing upset is immature and inappropriate (we were having a civil conversation until you erupted).

3. Pinning down details

While this tends to be a non-sexy mop-up phase of working an issue, I'm diligent about who will do what, by when, with what resources, in collaboration with whom, and with what expectations around reporting along the way. When implementation details are left unspecified, you often have to come back later. and clean up the ends you left loose. Inefficient.

4. Finding suitable homes for orphans and loose ends

It's not at all unusual for something to surface in the context of working an issue that is beyond what you agreed to address. While it may be appropriate to tackle at the group level, you may not have time to deal with it in the moment. Perhaps it's an expansion of the topic at hand, or maybe it's something tangential. In either case, I don't let the group go there—unless it makes an explicit decision to do so—and I'm good at seeing that such items are assigned a shepherd so that the topic comes back in an orderly way.

5. Adept at separating wheat from chaff (or signal from noise, choose your metaphor)

There is an art to sussing out which pieces of information or viewpoints are crucial to a consideration, or might become serviceable bridge planks connecting people who see an issue differently. Some of this is discarding repetitive or off-center statements; some of it is noticing when there is an energetic surge in the room when someone offers something potent.

This shows up in tight summaries, and the ability to highlight leverage points when a group struggles to find the balance point among strongly held differences. It is not necessary to include all input in a summary, so long as you include the key pieces, which helps participants feel heard and establishes forward momentum, from which workable solutions can be build.

6. Extracting all the product possible in the last 5 minutes of a consideration

This is a special application of the last point—understanding what's possible toward the end of the time allotted to work an issue. Often there is potential agreement that is in the air but not yet widely seen or made explicit—product that will dissipate if not identified and validated in the moment—product which will have to be reassembled later, brick by brick.

Many times this is partial product rather than final solutions, but it all counts and helps people feel good about having participated in the meeting.

7. Constantly shifting the lens through which I experience a meeting

This has at least three components: I'm tracking a) ideas, b) energy, and c) time. I am not doing these things simultaneously, but sequentially, over and over—without drawing the group's attention to where my focus is at any given moment.

The sum of these assessments helps me determine what is the best use of the group's time in the moment, and is constantly shifting. 

8. Ability to work fluently with both ideas and energy

As a subset of the previous point, I purposefully attempt to ride both horses whenever I facilitate, weighing such disparate factors as where is the conversation going, who haven't we heard from, do I detect tension or boredom in the group, is the group engaged or listless, which ideas seem to have landed mostly strongly, where is there resistance to the main thrust of the conversation, and what does it mean?

In particular, I have a facility for working with the non-rational, as well as the rational, which can be a significant aid in participants feeling that I am present for what they have to contribute, and will be an ally in their views being accurately understood.

9. My energetic range of engagement

While my default mode is up-tempo and high energy, I am able to slow down and soften my approach when I sense that shift is called for (say, when a person is in tears, or sharing something vulnerable with the group). I am much more effective as a facilitator when I'm able to bring my energy into alignment with that of the speaker, and that calls for range.

10. Understanding the myriad ways in which groups of people will necessarily contain considerable diversity, and the power of offering a variety of on-ramps into conversations

While most cooperative groups include a commitment to diversity among their common values, few have actually talked through what that means. For the most part they are thinking about not discriminating on the basis of factors protected by Fair Housing laws (ethnicity, race, religious preference, sexual orientation, gender, age, and the like). But diversity shows up in many more ways than that (for example, high structure/low structure, risk tolerant/risk averse, fast thinkers/slow thinkers, introverts/extroverts, people who love speaking in front of 30 people/those who are scared to death of public speaking).

When groups fail to understand that such diversity is present, they tend to default into operating in ways that are most comfortable to those with the strongest voices (or those who were there first), with the unintended consequence that others feel marginalized and unwelcome—which is rarely intentional, or helpful.

Aware of this dynamic (and the tendency for it being a blind spot) I'll conduct my work with a variety of formats, greatly increasing the likelihood that there will be something for everyone.

11. Information is concentrated in resistance

I try to be sensitive to signs of resistance in the group, as it almost always indicates a tender spot that needs to be understood in order to solve the issue at hand. Instead of being irritated by resistance, I get curious about it. What does the reaction mean relative to the topic? How does the reaction give me clues about how to build bridge to that person?

12. The potency of passionate neutrality

Many hold a model of the facilitator as someone who is dispassionate—who never loses their cool, and is always even-tempered. I'm not that guy. I figure if I'm going to ask meeting participants to show up with their whole selves, then I need to do so as well. This does not mean that I take sides (a facilitator non-no), but it does mean that I laugh, cheer, and express frustration. I'm human and I think it's a misstep to try to be an automaton. You need to be real.

13. Why and how to integrate heart work with head work in the same meeting

While there is increasing awareness among cooperative groups that room needs to be made for working emotionally, in many groups this translates to designating certain meetings as "heart circles" where reactions are explored but no decisions are made. 

While this is better than never making space for emotional sharing at all, it's my belief that people are complicated all the time and groups are better served by allowing the widest possible range of human input all the time (rather than insisting that it be translated into rational statements in order to be seriously considered). Yes, this is a challenge—but so is group living. Operating as if rational input is the only kind that's legitimate means cutting yourself off from emotional, intuitive, spiritual, and kinesthetic knowing. How smart is that? 

Over the course of my career as a facilitator I've learned when and how to offer ways to access these different kinds of knowing.

14. Can hit the curve

While it's always a good idea to have a clear plan for how to work an issue, sometimes, in the course of a meeting you encounter surprises. Now what? You have to be able to see that something unanticipated has occurred, assess its impact on your plan, and decide on the spot whether to continue with the path you'd laid out or start off-roading. This calls for courage, as the plan represents a safety net for some facilitators and they may be loath to give it up—even when it isn't working—because it's too scary to go off-script. 

15. Can see the bridge before others

Most of us have been raised in competitive culture, one consequence of which is a conditioned psychological imperative to be able to identify one's personal contribution in any given situation—as it satisfies the need to see how we are unique. Thus, we tend to look for differences before we look for similarities when responding to the ideas of others. 

Because I'm aware of this dynamic, I've worked hard to train myself to undo this conditioning, and to look for common ground before I look for ways in which ideas don't fit together well. As expectations have a profound impact on what you find, I tend to see solutions sooner than others, simply because that's what I'm looking for. 

16. Fearlessness

While there's no question but that I sometimes get things wrong (perhaps I frame a conversation poorly, struggle to connect accurately with an isolated speaker, or push someone beyond their capacity), I am always going to try—excepting only when I see no hope of how my stepping in can be helpful‚ either because I have no clarity about how to connect with a person, or because I experience someone as completely barricaded against my observations and insights.

That said, if I sense a way to name what's happening that has heretofore not been articulated, I am always going to try to offer that picture to the group.  

17. Weaving

I've come to understand that I have an unusually large RAM (random access memory in IT parlance), which allows me to recall on Sunday afternoon what someone said Friday evening, demonstrating that I'm paying close attention to what people are saying, and am constantly looking for ways to put together elements from different speakers—both to reduce complexity to something more manageable, and to establish a broad foundation for potential solutions. 

Understandably, people love it when the facilitator remembers what they said. To be clear, it's not a matter of my taking sides—it's a matter of my remembering and valuing their input. They don't have to repeat their view, or defend their turf, because I won't leave them behind.

18. Reports

This may seem like a mundane thing, but the standard for reports is actually quite low and there's an art to writing summaries that are pithy. yet complete and accessible. And I'm good at it. There was a time when I was essentially crafting a report (or a handout, or blog entry, or article for publication) nearly every day, and I honed my skills through years of practice.

As a facilitation trainer, I commit to giving students detailed reports of my observations about their efforts facilitating meetings that I have observed. It takes me about as much time to craft those reports as it does to observe the meetings, but it's an irreplaceable element of what I offer as a teacher and professional facilitator.

19. Giving and receiving constructive feedback

One of the (many) areas in which cooperative culture strives to be different from mainstream culture, is when it comes to feedback. Because the mainstream models are generally atrocious, most of us come to community living with little understanding about how to do this cleanly. That's the bad news.

The good news is that it can be learned—and is well worth doing. As a trainer, it's imperative that I walk my talk on this, which means being willing to listen carefully to critical feedback with maximal openness and minimal defensiveness. To be sure, this isn't always easy, but it's important.

20. Ability to walk in another's shoes

When it's clear that someone is sharing from a depth of conviction, I try to feel into how the situation looks to that person, the better to "get" where they are coming from. When I do this well, and am able to demonstrate that level of understanding when reflecting back what they said, the speaker relaxes—because they have been understood—satisfying an almost universal human desire. 

21. Ability to speak plainly and accessibly

As you can probably intuit from this blog, there is a fair amount of my speaking and writing, and I work hard at expressing myself in ways that are concise, memorable, and easy to understand.  I do this by using plain language (not pedantic), employing apt metaphors, avoiding the passive voice, and not ducking the hard stuff. It's a dance, but I can hear the music.

Adapting to Reality

Well, I saw an orthopedic specialist last week and it's official: my rotator cuff muscles are shot and I'm giving up my ambitions to become a Major League pitcher. I tell you, this growing older business comes at a cost and you have be nimble to keep up.

In the last couple years I've been focusing more on the challenges of aging, and adapting to a changing range of options. Many of the things I used to enjoy doing when younger are no longer possible, and I've had to reconfigure expectations to bring them into alignment with diminished capacities. 

Part of this is giving up being John Wayne. These days I let my partner shovel the snow, mow the lawn, and schlep the heavy suitcases upstairs—because she's stronger than I am. Fortunately, there is still plenty I can do, and derive pleasure from, so I dwell there, instead of in the land of lament.

For example, I can still cook and get things done in the kitchen (even though I rely on a step stool these days to access the higher shelves), which is something I've always enjoyed and now have more time to indulge. While I no longer do concrete work, I took pleasure in repairing a wooden high chair this afternoon in anticipation of a visit next week from Susan's daughter (Britta) and eldest grandson, 4-year-old Nico.

And, knock on lignin, I still enjoy full cognitive capacity, which includes writing, teaching, facilitating, and playing duplicate bridge. I read voraciously (and eclectically), and Susan and I plot out vacations to exotic places, to spice up our days. 

(During a family reunion last month, I reconnected with a nephew who works for the State Dept and has just begun a three-year assignment in Melbourne, Australia. This inspired my daughter (Jo) and me to cook up a month-long once-in-a-lifetime trip to Oceania in December 2024—partners included—taking advantage of having family in country. We've already put down a deposit on a steeply discounted 10-day cruise from Sydney to New Zealand as part of the itinerary. We're pretty stoked. Jo is a terrier when it comes to organizing and sniffing out bargains, so mostly I just stand back and send in money when she tells me to. After a lifetime of handling my own logistics, which I still do for solo travel, it's a pleasure to turn it over to my competent daughter. I've always wondered what it would be like to fly halfway around the world—now it looks like I'll get to find out.)

Though I have two flavors of cancer (multiple myeloma and prostate), both of which my oncologist has been clever enough to manage for me with minimal disruption of my everyday life (my pill regimen contains more syllables than you can imagine), it's a wondrous life, and I wouldn't miss it for anything.

Navigating the Boundary Between Transparency and Discretion

This past week I received notice that Communities magazine is planning its winter issue on the theme of Privacy and Transparency. Reflecting on that inspired this monograph.

As a process consultant, I frequently get hired to work with groups bogged down in conflict—often intractable conflict, by which I mean the group has tried what it can think of doing on its own, and it's still stuck in the swamp.

Aside from the challenge of inviting groups into the chaotic, yet potent world of emotional exploration (which is always an element of conflict), whenever a portion of my work is done on the side—in contrast with working the dynamic in the presence of the entire group—there arises a question about what, if anything, that gets disclosed in the examination is appropriate to share with the rest of the group.

Coming from the perspective of professional counseling and/or HR concerns, there is often a strong urge to shut it down, promising protagonists that nothing shared in the process of working through the conflict will be revealed to others. While well intended, I think, in the context of community, this is a big mistake.

Better, I believe, is that the group offer support to members working through conflict with the understanding from the outset that a summary of what comes out in the exploration will be shared with the rest of the group. Mind you, a summary—not a court transcript or a Zoom recording.

Here's how I think it should be set up. Someone should be assigned to drafting a neutral summary ahead of time (so that they are doing the work of gathering the needed information from the get-go), and after it has been drafted it should then be reviewed by the protagonists for acceptability before it's disseminated to the group. I think it's fine that this information not be shared outside the community except with the express permission of the people involved.

To be clear, a good summary will include mention of people's emotional responses—that's part of the story. However, I know from experience (having personally crafted any number of these summaries) that you can adequately defang outbursts, such that you're accurately reporting the reactions, yet leaving out any name-calling or incendiary statements. This is not about voyeurism; it's about getting an overall sense of the full picture. Neglecting to mention that people are hopping mad (when in fact they are) doesn't help anyone understand what's truly happening.

Why do this? For a number of reasons:

• It's quite rare that no one in the group is aware of the tension being worked on, and in the absence of first-hand information about what's happening, people will speculate or make up stories to fill the void. A century ago, Mark Twain sagely observed, "A lie can travel around the world and back again while the truth is lacing up its boots." Better, I think, is supplying the truth with slip-on footwear with good traction.

• Trust and good relationships are the lifeblood of community. Anything that impedes the flow of accurate information, however well-intentioned, degrades trust.

• One of the ways that bullies control the narrative and undercut attempts to hold them accountable for unacceptable behavior, is by isolating people and thereby dominating the story about what happened between themselves and others. It's their word against yours, and they'll make you pay for speaking out against them. (if you question whether people could really get away with such outrageous behavior, you need look no further than the popularity Donald Trump has enjoyed through outright lying, and attacking anyone who dares stand up to him.) It's much harder for this approach to be successful when everyone is current on what's going down.

• It's not unusual for the parties involved in the conflict to make agreements about doing things differently going forward, and these commitments tend to carry more gravitas when posted publicly (I'm not talking about printing minutes in the local newspaper; I'm talking about sharing summaries on the members-only community listserv).

• Agreements made in the dynamic moment may be abundantly clear, yet that clarity is susceptible to serious erosion if not captured in writing. People's memories tend to diverge over time and hard-earned agreements have a way of slipping away if you're not diligent and capturing them in the moment.

• There can be confusion about what the Conflict Support Team is doing if they never report on their activities. How can the community reasonably evaluate the performance of a team that operates in secrecy?

• When members work through tensions and reestablish repaired relationship, that's a success. Rather than worry about everyone knowing details about how you may have messed up, think of the benefit of everyone knowing how you owned up to deleterious impact, and labored to put things right.

• There is a marked tendency for people to behave better when they know that everyone is watching, or will be told how they behaved in a session set up to work through conflict.

A community is not just a random group of strangers—it's an aggregation of people who have explicitly agreed to create a cooperative culture based on a known vision and common values. They have committed to healthy relationships with one another, and cleaning up missteps as they occur. As a result, there is a different standard of compassion, accountability, and engagement and I am basing my recommendations on what will best serve those goals. Burying dirt under the carpet will not get the job done. It only leads to lumpy floors, and poor footing going forward.

All of that said, you cannot expect group members to be of one mind about this without a conversation about its implications. That means you have to talk about how you want handle this at the time you establish the Conflict Support Team, and before you need to apply it to a specific situation—when the discussion will tend to be seen through the lens of how to manage a particular person, rather than what's best as a standard for everyone.

The Exception that Proves the Rule

One more point. Although I support a baseline understanding that nothing gets disseminated about what occurred in a conflict clearing without the people involved in the conflict signing off on the summary, there is a circumstance where I think protagonists should not be permitted to block the sharing of discovered information—when the facilitators learn that something happened (or is reasonably likely to have happened) that puts the community at serious risk. 

I'm thinking about major financial exposure, illegal activity, compromised member safety, a direct violation of a member agreement… those kinds of things. While such occurrences are rare (thankfully), they are not unknown, and there needs to be a clear path whereby the community is promptly informed about what has been learned, so that it can complete any investigation of events and determine the best course forward. 

Note that if this occurs, the follow-up should be managed by a different configuration of people—not by the Conflict Support Team, as it's outside their mandate.

The Third Rail of Emotional Abuse

I recently received this anonymous inquiry:

I'm very curious about emotional abuse. I'm concerned about a community member who has a history of trauma and is also a trauma therapist who is twisting the words of others to cause them to feel bad about themselves. It feels like emotional abuse. We're working toward mediation process but I'm wondering how a conflict resolution team would work with this type of pattern.

While I know no more details about this situation than what's contained in the paragraph above, I think it's a good topic. 

At the outset, it's important to understand that I have no training in trauma response, per se, and do not consider myself an expert in that arena. That said, I do consider myself an expert on conflict in cooperative groups, and hold the view that it's imperative for cooperative groups to be able to work constructively with feelings (which are invariably in the room whether you have agreements about them or not, and undoubtedly are a central feature of trauma).

While it's up to each community to establish what protocols will serve the group best with respect to the emergence of conflict and non-trivial distress, here's how I would engage with the dynamic described by the inquirer:

Let's make this as messy as possible, and assume that there are at least three different perspectives on what was happening (where the same event was experienced first-hand by three different people, all of whom may be having a different response).

Let's say Pat is the trauma therapist, Chris is the person who has been made to feel bad about themselves, and Dale is someone upset observing this. 

If I were facilitating when this dynamic emerged, I would step in to interrupt the dynamic as soon as I was conscious of someone being in noticeable distress (most likely cuing in to Chris or Dale, based on the scenario presented). Note that I would interrupt the exchanges as soon as I recognized distress or reactivity—I would not wait until I determined that abuse had occurred, which can be a more complex assessment.

When stepping in, I would try to engage the person I sensed was most in distress and then work my way around the room, until everyone in reaction had had a chance to say what was going on for them. In this instance, the fulminating tension may be between Chris and Pat, or it may be between Dale & Pat. 

(For that matter, there could be tension between Dale & Chris: I recall how irritated my mother was when I would would criticize my father for going into a rant and belittling her—she told me in n o uncertain terms to butt out; she didn't want me defending her.)

I would engage with each person long enough to establish what they are feeling, their version of what happened, and its impact on them. I would steer them away from labeling others, assigning motivation to others, or from analyzing the situation. I would simply be asking them to report what they've experienced and its meaning to them. After listening to their responses, I would reflect back the essence of what I heard, doing my best to match both their words and their energy. I would be trying to walk in their shoes.

Essential to this being effective is staying with it until the speaker reports feeling heard. Caution: It is often insufficient to simply assert, "I hear you" or to nod sympathetically. You have to be able to demonstrate to the upset person's satisfaction, that you get what they've told you.

My thinking here is that people in distress often feel isolated and are not confident that others will be open to hearing about their experience, or to understand it even if they get to tell their story. With that in mind, the very first order of business is to establish connection, so that information can flow.

How It Might Look to Pat

This can have a very wide range, including the following possibilities:

• Pat may have been abusive yet have no consciousness of it.

• Pat may own that they were purposefully trying to hurt Chris (I don't run into this often, but it's a possibility).

• Pat may believe they engaged with Chris in ways that they felt were ethical and constructive.

• Pat may be oblivious to what they had done, or its impact on Chris.

• Pat may recognize that they had gone overboard (in some sense) and are in remorse about it.

Even if you stipulate that Pat is skilled as a trauma therapist, that doesn't preclude their having a blind spot about the ways in which they can trigger trauma in others, nor does it guarantee that they are always aware of when they have been triggered. Finally, therapists are likely to have a preferred method for working trauma, and there is no single approach that's 100% effective.

Thus, while it's reasonable to expect a trauma therapist to be sensitive to what will be triggering in others, and to be deft in picking up on cues that what they're doing is landing poorly, there are no certainties.

Pat might be completely at ease with what they did; they might be embarrassed; they might be curious (that Dale thinks they were abusive); they might also be in reaction themselves (to who knows what). 

How It Might Look to Chris

Just because Dale believes Pat was abusing Chris, does not necessarily mean that Chris experienced Pat as abusive. It's important, I think, to not jump ahead, and to listen carefully to each player's story. There could well be three very disparate realities in play without anyone being "wrong."

While it seems unlikely that Chris enjoyed their interaction with Pat, discomfort or confusion is not necessarily abuse. Was the exchange embarrassing? Overwhelming? Unrelenting? Accusatory? Trauma-triggering (in ways that Pat might reasonably be expected to know or be sensitive to)? There is a wealth of possibilities here.

I can imagine that Chris might be in tears, shaking, or completely shut down. Or they might be outwardly calm, or even untouched by what Dale found intolerable.

By describing Pat's interactions with Chris as "abusive," it suggests that Pat—at least in Dale's eyes—placed Chris in an awkward (excruciating?) spot, without license to do so.

How It Might Look to Dale

It seems certain from the description that Dale had a definite negative reaction to what Pat was doing with Chris.

This could stem from any or all of the following:

—Outrage on behalf of the group (that Chris could be treated this way).

—Upset over the perception that Pat is acting out of integrity as a trauma therapist (misusing their license).

—Frustration with the group that Pat's behavior has been tolerated.

—Personal irritation with Pat that has its roots in prior unresolved issues.

How to Proceed

With all these moving parts, I'd need to make an in-the-moment assessment of where the major axis of tension ran and begin there. In condensed form, here is the sequence I'd follow:

• Interrupt the damaging or upsetting exchanges (stop the merry-go-round)

• Acknowledge the protagonists' experiences (noting where they are similar and where they diverge)

• Decide (interactively with the players and the group) whether to take it further in the moment, or set something up afterwards in another setting. If the former, I would work in dyads, starting with those most triggered or most in distress, attempting to repair relationship damage and to reopen channels of communication. Problem solving would follow that (commitments the two might make to each other about how to proceed differently in the future).

If the latter, I'd stay with it long enough to get a commitment from each party about a time and place to reconvene.

If the Facilitator Is Overwhelmed or Ineffective

This is where the Conflict Resolution Team might come into play, being on call to step in at need if the facilitator cannot answer the bell. While I strongly advocate that groups have such a team, there are three essential things that need to be in place for that hope to be realized:

1. A general agreement to engage with strong feelings when they surface (permission).

2. Clarity about how those feelings will be worked with (while there are a number of modalities for working with conflict, the group needs to bless at least one of the them, so members know what they've signed up for).

3. Sufficient skill in the community to be able to facilitate this work using the chosen modality.

It does no good to have a general agreement to work with conflict if there is no agreement about how to go about it, or no confidence in the group's ability to navigate it successfully.

Spring Trainings 2023

This past weekend marked the start of the second quarter—a time of transitions. Winter is nearly over (though it doesn't feel that way in Duluth, where we're flirting with all-time record snowfalls) and it's time to think spring.

Play Ball!

In sports, transitions are everywhere. The baseball season opened last Thursday. College hoops ends tonight, and the pros will enter their playoff gauntlet in another week, with pro hockey to follow the week after. 

For all of that, the sporting highlight of the week is the Masters golf tournament, to be contested April 6-9 in Augusta GA, amidst the azaleas. 

Brave New World

I am also undergoing an important personal transition—with respect to treatment of my multiple myeloma (MM), an incurable blood cancer that nearly stopped my clock back in 2016, when it was first discovered in me. Back in the fall, when it was apparent that my current regimen for MM management was starting to lose its efficacy, my Duluth oncologist and Mayo hematologist agreed that it was time for CAR-T as the next step. This is where science fiction meets the present.

CAR stands for chimeric antigen receptor. Through genetic engineering (accomplished in a Bristol-Myers-Squibb lab in NJ), CARs have been added to my natural T-cells which allow my own immune system to recognize and combat the cancer directly—rather than relying on chemical poisons, and their attendant side effects. Because the original cells came from me, there are no rejection issues. Further, because the new T-cells will reproduce true, I will not need further infusions. It's one and done. 

I'm typing this from my hotel room in Rochester MN, where I've already been in residence for a month, principally to undergo CAR-T cell therapy. I just received the infusion of the new T-cells last week, yet will need to remain in town through April to make sure the integration goes smoothly. Mayo is currently the only location worldwide where CAR-T is offered on an outpatient basis. I go into Mayo (two blocks away via carpeted underground tunnels) every day and get looked over by the CAR-T team. Mostly this is routine (knock on wood), and I'm done in less than an hour. The rest of the day I'm free. 

This only works because Mayo is large and forward looking. They made the commitment to this therapy some years ago and now have a dedicated suite location within their sprawling complex where a trained staff of 20 focuses solely on CAR-T treatment for blood cancers, under the auspices of their hematology department. In a few years they will have developed the in-house capacity to do the genetic work as well. One stop shopping.

What an exciting time to be alive! CAR-T only received FDA approval as a treatment for MM 18 months ago, and I am riding the crest of the advances being made in blood cancer treatment.

Process Trainings This Spring

Much as I enjoy watching sports (and benefitting from the latest advances in cancer research), life is much more than just enjoying the efforts of others from the sidelines. It's a participatory sport. With that in mind, Let's talk about what I can do for you. 

I have lined up a number of hands-on learning opportunities this spring—all via Zoom—that build on my 40 years of community living experience and 35 years as a cooperative group dynamics specialist.

In chronological order, I'm offering:

10-hour courses produced by the Foundation for Intentional Community—

1. Aging Gracefully in Community • 5 two-hour sessions delivered on consecutive Thursdays • March 30-April 27

If we live long enough, we all reach our senior years. This course will help you understand how to make the most of those years, and how intentional community can be a terrific context for it.

2. Participation & Work in Community • 5 two-hour sessions delivered on consecutive Tuesdays • April 4-May 2

A close look at the myriad ways groups get bogged down over member contributions to the maintenance and well-being of the community, along with ideas about how to set up a high-functioning program.

3. Working with Conflict in Community • 5 two-hour sessions delivered on consecutive Thursdays • May 11-June 8

Understanding the imperative of groups being able to work constructively with feelings, and how to do it. 

For each of the above, clink on the hyperlink for details about costs and timing.

Two-year course produced by CANBRIDGE, my process consulting collective—

4. Integrative Facilitation & Leadership Training 

This two-year program consists of 8 three-day weekends, spaced approximately three months apart (allowing ample time for integration and practice between sessions).

I pioneered this training program in 2003. Since then I've delivered it 15 times. It's the most fun thing I do. The faculty for the course will be myself and two accomplished former students, Penny Sirota and Brent Levin.

Each weekend will be organized around one or more components of the facilitator's skill set. In addition to a set of handouts germane to the teaching themes of that session, there will be an opportunity for in-depth practice with the material to make sure the principles are well understood. That said, the bulk of each weekend will be devoted to student teams preparing for, delivering, and debriefing the facilitation of live meetings for a volunteer group with real issues—all under the guidance and safety net of the trainers. (I figure you'll learn faster how to swim if we throw you into the deep end of the pool right away—with appropriate life rings—rather than watching me swim or hearing stories about it.)

Teaching themes include:

• working with the whole person

• working content (the facilitator's basic tool kit)

• formats & containers

• consensus (how to work issues effectively)

• conflict (working with emotions)

• diversity & privilege

• foundational personal work

• power & leadership

• organizational structure (the key committees and their functions)

• delegation

• challenging personalities

No prior facilitation experience is needed—you just need curiosity about how things can function well in cooperative culture, and a willingness to learn.

There are two ways to participate in the course: 

a) As a full student, you are eligible to do the live facilitating, receive 1:1 time with a trainer (personal mentoring), and a detailed written report from me about your live facilitating, including what you did well and where you can improve.

b) As an auditor, you can participate in all classroom activities and will receive all handouts, but are not eligible for doing live facilitating, or the same degree of personal attention as a full student.

This newest edition of the training—my 16th—begins June 22-25, 2023, and will run through March 6-9, 2025.

While there is an upper limit of 18 in the class, there is still room for a few more to enroll.

For additional details (including cost), or to reserve your space in the course, write me at laird@ic.org

Is it time to make a transition in your life?

The Genius of Indigenous Culture

Over the winter holidays I read a fascinating book that I picked up on whim while Xmas shopping at one of Duluth's indie bookstores: Covered with Night, by Nicole Eustace.

It's well-researched historical fiction, examining the machinations surrounding the murder of a native fur hunter by two white traders in eastern Pennsylvania while dickering over the price of the hunter's pelts in February 1721—fully three centuries ago. This occurred at a frontier outpost some 30 miles west of Philadelphia, which at that time was a burgeoning, yet modest trade center and port on entry. William Penn, the founding Quaker, had just died (in 1718), and Pennsylvania was in the midst of trying to sort out who would control the colony and whether it would remain in Quaker hands.

The power of the narrative is that the dialog and thoughts are extrapolated from detailed diaries kept by Quaker officials who were part of the Philadelphia town council at the time, as well as the correspondence of other key white players. While there was (apparently) no source material available from indigenous people, there was nonetheless plenty of critical statements about the actions and motivations of the white players because of the ongoing tensions between Quakers and non-Quakers.

On the indigenous side, the largest player was the Haudenosaunee—otherwise referred to as the Iroquois Confederacy—an aggregation of five tribes in the northeast: the Mohawk, Seneca, Oneida, Onondaga, and Cayuga (just after the seminal incident that the book is based around, the Tuscarora joined the Confederacy, making it six nations). While other regional tribes were also part of the mix, I want to focus in particular on the role of the Haudenosaunee in this reflection.

Eustace does a terrific job of unpacking the varied ways in which the Eurocentric and Indigenous cultures differed and often misunderstood each other, a problem that has persisted throughout US history, often with tragic and outrageous consequences.

In no particular order, here are some of the contrasts illuminated by Covered with Night:

A. Relationship to Gender

While there were gendered occupational roles among the native peoples, when it came to decision-making, the views of tribal women were taken every bit as seriously as those of tribal men. The Haudenosaunee would simply not proceed on an important tribal issue until they'd heard from the women. This stands in sharp contrast with the European practice of not even asking women what they thought, or allowing them to hold political office.

B. Relationship to Integrity

In reading about the Haudensaunee's emphasis on personal integrity, I was reminded of the first of Miguel Ruiz' tenets for living a quality life: be impeccable with your word, which essentially means keeping your commitments and walking your talk. This is laid out in depth in his 1997 book, The Four Agreements. Not surprisingly, Ruiz' writing is a distillation of ancient Toltec wisdom, helping people to live in right relationship with themselves, with others, with life itself, and with God (if your cosmology includes the concept of a supreme spiritual entity).

While such guidance may not seem that special, the white folks on the scene struggled mightily with it—then as now. They would repeatedly make promises to indigenous people that they would not keep (setting the tone right away for a pattern of treaty violations that continued for centuries). And it was even worse than that. The Quaker Meeting based in Philadelphia came out solidly against slavery about a decade before this murder incident, yet all the wealthy Quakers in town owned and traded in slaves. Hypocrisy R Us. 

Further, it is no little thing that the two brothers who committed the murder represented the European law in their segment of Pennsylvania. Oops!

Among whites, apparently, personal integrity is standard you hold others to. If you question that as a relevant part of our white heritage (given that it happened 300 years ago), reflect on what we're seeing among us today, where the outrageous lies and behavior of Donald Trump, George Santos, and Fox News can be documented and exposed and it's not clear that there are consequences. Among the Haudenosaunee you would be held accountable for your word.

C. Relationship to Land

The Haudenosaunee, like most indigenous tribes, did not view land as a privatized commodity, and thus they had trouble understanding the white's continued interest in expanding farmland (and fencing it in) and obtaining mineral rights to traditional native lands. In indigenous thinking, the land was an asset held in trust for all. Among Europeans, it was an asset in which to store wealth, and suitable for exploitation at the owner's sole discretion. All manner of mischief ensued from this discrepancy of perspective.

While the native approach may not have been the acme of regenerative agriculture, they had been productively working the land for centuries before the whites arrived. The contrasting European style was to emphasize quick returns. Once the land's natural fertility had been depleted, they simply moved further west.

D. Relationship to Justice

A key element of the cultural misunderstandings was a profound difference in how justice was perceived. While the Haudenosaunee sense of justice had evolved (over a long time) into one that emphasized reconciliation and relationship repair, Europeans were locked into a focus on retribution, punishment, and assignment of blame. Reputedly, the dying words of the native hunter were, "My friends have killed me," indicating that even after having received a mortal wound, he continued to view his attackers as his friends (with whom he'd done business in the past).

Where the Iroquois tried to reinforce good behavior through the reward of connection and a secure place in the tribe, the Europeans were attempting to control aberrant behavior through threat of punishment and loss of freedom. One used the carrot; the other the stick. Where the Haudenosaunee expected gifts from the Europeans as a token of what value they placed on a good relationship with them (all the more important when that relationship had been strained), the Europeans interpreted that expectation as compensation, more like a fine. As such, the signals were constantly being misconstrued.

E. Relationship to Relationship

The whites saw the indigenous people as inferior (essentially as children and undeveloped), consistently misunderstanding that other cultures may not only be well developed, but better adapted. It is fundamentally different to be trying to outcompete or dominate those around you, versus trying to coexist peaceably with your neighbors. Where Europeans were looking for edges and information to file away for future advantage; indigenous peoples were looking for ways to find harmony and file away edges and rough spots.

F. Relationship to Intentional Communities Today

In reading this story I was profoundly struck by the parallel between the culture that the Iroquois Confederacy had consciously chosen (moving away from embracing war as a solution to problems) and what intentional communities strive to create as cooperative culture, as a distinct alternative from the competitive and adversarial mainstream culture of the dominant society.

To be clear, I don't think intentional communities are consciously trying to emulate indigenous culture (though there may be some of that in places). Rather I think it's a matter of a good idea resurfacing independently at a different point in history, because of the inequity and misery that's endemic in modern society, and the compelling need to integrate better with the natural world.

I find it incredibly heartening to learn that the cultural path we community builders are trying to define is one that has been trodden before.