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.

Remembering Lina

My friend and mentor, Caroline Estes, died July 13, passing peacefully after four months in hospice. She was 94 and had lived a full and impactful life that touched me deeply.

We first met in the spring of 1987. I had taken Amtrak's Empire Builder from Chicago to Oregon, fresh from the first board meeting of the newly reconstituted Fellowship for Intentional Community (FIC) at Stelle IL. I caught up with Caroline for a cup of coffee at Alpha-Bit, the magical bookstore/cafe/art gallery that her community, Alpha Farm, operated in Mapleton—a wide spot in the road between Eugene and Florence, on the sinuous banks of the Siuslaw River (of Once a Great Notion fame). 

I had set up the rendezvous both to put a face to the name, and to fill her in on what had happened at the seminal FIC gathering. She had a reputation as a tour de force as a community networker in the Pacific Northwest, and I aspired to strengthen connections with communities on the West Coast. As an added incentive, Alpha Farm was an income-sharing community—just like my community, Sandhill Farm—and there weren't many of us around with whom to talk shop.

We clicked immediately, nattering nonstop for a couple of hours, pausing only to inhale and to refill our coffee cups. (I knew right away that I was in the right place because Alpha-Bit served half-and-half in a small pitcher.)

She spent her early childhood in a privileged family in Texas, before moving to California at the age of 10. As an adult she became a Quaker, which was the grounding for her understanding of consensus. Her nickname as a child was Lina, and I am invoking that term of endearment in this remembrance.

Caroline as Grandmother of Secular Consensus

We didn't meet face-to-face until she was 57, and already well established at Alpha (15 years after she'd helped found the community in 1972). By then she'd already worked to adapt consensus as a religious practice to meet the needs of decision-making in community settings. In response to requests to share her methods, Caroline had developed a five-day consensus & facilitation training, and I eagerly signed up for the next round. It came at just the right time for me. I knew enough about cooperative group dynamics to have a slew of questions, but wasn't so settled in my ways that I couldn't shift my thinking or practice.

Together with her protégé, Lysbeth Borie (also a long-time Alpha member), the two comprised Alpha Institute, a subsidiary of the community that offered consensus training and professional facilitation. In addition to steady work in cooperative groups throughout Ecotopia, for a number of years they were the consensus trainers of choice among Waldorf schools across the breadth of North America.

The occasion of Caroline's passing weaves together a number of threads for me. Lysbeth was the person who broke the news to me, and I have a fond memory of my first gig as an outside facilitator in December, 1987, when Lysbeth and I partnered to assist Appletree, a fledgling income-sharing community on Cottage Grove OR. Caroline helped us plan the engagement—even pulling out a packet of precious frozen blueberries from Alpha's larder, so that we could offer Appletree members a memorable dessert as part of our time together. For Caroline, good food and good dynamics went hand in hand, and it was a signature element of her penchant for interweaving engagement and conviviality.

Caroline as Mentor

Caroline was both a friend and a Friend, who was able to retain the spirit of Quaker consensus without necessarily defining it as a pathway to knowing the divine. Under her deft touch, it was also developed as a pathway to divine what was best for the group, which was the field in which she and I walked together.

Among the lessons I absorbed from Caroline was the preciousness of facilitator neutrality, without lapsing into passivity. It is an art knowing when you've heard enough from the group to be able to float a proposal that might balance the whole, and facilitators need to be brave as well as disinterested.

Caroline taught me how to read a meeting—which is a subtle combination of listening deeply to statements, while at the same time tracking the energy that lay beneath and around the words. (Neither of which, BTW, is enhanced by today's increasing reliance on social media, which has significantly degraded both attention spans and the ability of people to hear accurately. Impatience and consensus don't play well together.)

As a master facilitator she was a rock. When managing large groups (100+), which she did on a number of occasions at the height of her career, she had legendary stamina (and erect posture), and was able to redirect obstreperous behavior simply through her presence, the judicious use of silence, and a raised eyebrow. When the number of participants exceeded her capacity to track each person, she learned to scan sections of the group for discordant energy, following that up with individual scrutiny as needed.

She taught me how to toggle one's attention when facilitating, alternately lightly between what was being said (and how that applied to the topic at hand), and where the energy was trending—two things that are not always aligned, yet need to be to reach the promised land.

Based on her genteel upbringing, it was hard for Caroline to express or to work directly with strong emotions—especially negative ones—which is something I've come to view as an essential skill as a consultant/facilitator working with cooperative groups. To be sure, she understood fully when feelings were in play, but considered it unpleasant, invasive, or ill-bred to expose them in group. Thus, she was never comfortable sailing close to the winds of distress.

Caroline's gifts were overwhelmingly offered orally and in person. She left behind a paucity of written material—very few articles or reports. If she wanted to communicate, she would dictate an email, pick up the phone, or write a letter (remember when people used to do that?). To my knowledge, she didn't participate in social media at all, which, as you might imagine, contributed significantly to her disappearing from the radar of folks in need of what she had to offer the last couple decades.

While it's my sense that there is every bit as much need today as there ever was for what Caroline could teach, in the 21st century she had essentially outlived the ability to attract clients, given the limitations of how she functioned. Contemporary marketing had left her behind—making it all the more important for me to honor my professional debt to her in this eulogy.

For two decades (1988-2008) Caroline was a regular participant in FIC, which met semi-annually for three-to-four days at a time to discuss strategies and reset the gyroscope. Caroline was at the center of the wheel and a significant voice in how the organization evolved. For many years, the two of us made a point of carving out one evening at each gathering to go out to a local restaurant for dinner. For three hours it would just be the two of us—catching up, musing, laughing, and strategizing about the road ahead.

Caroline as Communitarian

I consider Alpha to be one of the most beautifully sited communities I've ever seen, nestled into a finger valley of Oregon's Coast Range. Bordered on two sides by BLM land and Forest Service property, it even features a babbling stream that feeds into Deadwood Creek and is home to spawning salmon. 

Many years before the community landed there, Alpha was the site of an early post office, when European settlers first populated the Willamette Valley. Interestingly, operating a rural mail route has been a mainstay of Alpha's balance sheet, offering dependable income in an otherwise uncertain backwater economy. (While Alpha-Bit was a solid success when it came to local relations, it was never a profit center.)

Caroline was devoted to Jim, her husband of many years. He grew up in Mississippi and shared her sharp intellect, political savvy, progressive outlook, love of language, and the discipline of speaking with a civil tongue (a diminishing art these days). He worked as a newspaperman, and would recreationally edit menus while awaiting service at restaurants. When possible, they'd attend live theater and symphony concerts, especially the annual Oregon Bach Festival in Eugene. He predeceased her by nine years.

In 2008, while Jim was still with us, I took the train to Oregon following my niece's wedding in San Antonio to attend Lina's 80th birthday bash at Alpha Farm. It was a joy to witness firsthand the appreciation of so many people whose lives she had touched—both in the community and among the Deadwood neighborhood. (I don't believe I've ever cooked so much fresh asparagus in my life.)

Caroline was also stubborn—especially when it came to Alpha. She cared deeply about her vision that the community be a sanctuary of sanity and a beacon of light in times of darkness. She was loath to delegate significant authority without her oversight. She insisted on a complex olio of social justice, hospitality, environmental consciousness, and graciousness—all of which was both inspiring and exasperating for those who sometimes wanted to balance things differently… especially the budget. 

Impressively, Caroline lived to celebrate Alpha's golden anniversary. She was there for every one of the past 50 years, and it's a monumental testament to dedication and service that few can claim.

Goodbye Lina, my mentor and friend. Please know that I will continue my grieving by baking a cherry pie, with Montmorencies harvested from a neighbor's backyard, topped with locally churned vanilla ice cream (nothing low fat about it)—all of which I know would make you smile.

The Inspiration of Inuit Consensus

In the world of intentional community, the most common form of decision-making is consensus. While it shows up in myriad flavors, almost all variations have the same root: a secular adaptation of the worship practice of the Religious Society of Friends, better known as the Quakers, who developed this in the 17th Century.

Quaker Strand
Key to what we know today as secular consensus, was the pioneering work done by the Philadelphia-based Movement for a New Society (MNS) in the '70s, under the guidance of Lawrence Scott, George and Lillian Willoughby, Bill Moyer, and George Lakey. They were dissatisfied with the response of mainstream Quakers to the Vietnam War, and formed MNS to develop the tools of nonviolent protest and organizing to effect revolutionary change—such as moving our culture from competitive to cooperative.

From that beginning, the work spread broadly among protest groups and intentional communities, which happened to be going through the Hippie-era growth surge at that time—also, in part, in response to the Vietnam War. Most of the communities that sprouted up then were a conscious rejection of mainstream politics and culture—but that didn't mean they were clear about what constituted a viable alternative. In that context, choosing to make decisions by consensus was a good fit, as it was completely different from what anyone had learned from student council days or from observing the practices of the US government (think Robert's Rules of Order, which is an adaptation of parliamentary procedure for non-legislative bodies).

Iroquois Strand
But the Quaker brand of consensus is just one version of what's out there. In addition there is the Iroquois Confederacy, or Haudenosaunee League, originally comprised of five Native American nations in the northeast: Mohawk, Oneida, Onandaga, Cayuga, and Seneca (the Tuscarora joined in 1722). The league and its practices were developed even earlier than the Quakers, somewhere in the range of the 1450-1660. 

Notably, each nation retained its identity and independence while agreeing to operate collectively as a single political entity, with a durable non-aggression pact among member tribes. This arrangement has been incredibly resilient (it continues today) and decisions are made by a brand of consensus that was uninfluenced by the Quakers.

Inuit Strand
Less well known is a third strand in the consensus braid: the practice of the Inuit, an indigenous people of the Arctic (they live in the north slope of Alaska, northern Canada, Greenland, and Denmark). While these peace-loving people have never been large in number (their population is about 150,000 today) they have endured for millennia in a harsh natural environment that few covet—which has undoubtedly contributed to their survival.

Taken all together, they refer to their culture as Inuit Qaujimajatuqangit (a Scrabble bonanza that I have no idea how to pronounce). It is abbreviated IQ and translates roughly to "that which has long been known by Inuit." Within their IQ is the belief that decisions should be for the good and betterment of society. It stems from their hearts, and a commitment to use reasoning abilities based on the truths of Inuit culture and the desire to live in harmony. 

In 1999, the Canadian government established the new province of Nunavut, encompassing various portions of the Northwest Territories, the northern third of Quebec, and chunks of Labrador. Because the population of Nunavut is over 80 percent Inuit, IQ is predominant in how the provincial government was established. Here is Nunavut's official vision:

—Decision-making through discussion and consensus. Silence is part of the communication and does not necessarily signify agreement.

—Respecting others, maintaining relationships, and caring for people.

—Fostering good spirit by being open, welcoming, and inclusive.

—Serving and providing for family and/or community.

—Respect and care for the land, animals, and the environment.

—Working together for the common cause.

—Being innovative and resourceful.

Pretty impressive. As with the Iroquois, this cultural tradition was developed independently from the others.

Reflection about the Timeline
Take a look at this selective timeline for governing systems:

• Robert's Rules of Order—first published in 1876
• Quakers—mid-17th Century
• Haudenosaunee—mid 15th to mid-17th Century
• Inuit—pre-Christian Era

I find it incredibly uplifting that there have been multiple incidents of consensus arising among groups of people over the course of history and that these experiments in self-government have been successful over the span of centuries—much longer than Robert's Rules of Order has been in the field.

It's something to think about.

How Experts Can Become Estranged

One of the more poignant patterns that I've observed in community is how the advice of experts—people with skills or knowledge that the community could benefit from—is not always received well, with the sad consequence that they pull back and do not become well-integrated into the group. In effect, their expertise becomes a liability instead of an asset. Yuck. How does this happen?

I've been thinking about this for years and I believe I have some insights into the dynamics of this backward result.

The initial thing to keep in mind is the foundational shift from competitive to cooperative culture (which is a regular theme of this blog). While intentional community living always entails a certain amount of this, there is a nuanced question about how far the group intends to go (it is not just an on/off switch; it is a matter of degrees) and whether newcomers understand that this is part of the deal and how this effects them and their prospects for finding joy in the their new life.

I want to explore this in four flavors, none of which are mutually exclusive:

Version I: Technical Skill
One of the most common ways this surfaces is in the context of a member offering advice about something physical in the community. It could be plumbing, lighting, gardening, fencing, animal husbandry, acoustics, tiling, yoga asanas… you name it. In general the person offering advice has done this before, perhaps professionally, and is used to both having their advice (in their area of knowledge) accepted without reservation and producing decent results (after all, they presumably know what they're talking about).

In community, however, the ground has shifted from the world in which the expertise was developed, producing different and unexpected results. For one thing, their fellow members may not be so convinced of the adviser's credentials (anyone, after all, can talk a good game), and in the spirit of cooperation people naturally want to make room for others' viewpoints before making a decision. While "others' viewpoints" may include all manner of shenanigans (to the exasperation of the expert whose advice has been put on ice while all this is sifted through), it may also include honest dissent (perhaps even from another self-proclaimed expert) and it can take a while to sort it out. When you're used to having your viewpoint be respected and carry the day with minimal delay, this can be tough to swallow.

The other angle on this is the delivery. In cooperative culture the how matters as much as the what. Thus, if the adviser offers up their thinking with a whiff of arrogance (an air of confidence that sells well in mainstream culture can be viewed with a jaundiced eye in community), that will not go down well, independent of the sagacity of the advice. If the adviser is slow on the uptake this shift in preferred communication style can be really awkward.

I know of cases where even a single incidence of this can result in the adviser pulling back from engagement (once burned, twice shy). However, even if they're willing to try again, it won't take too many repetitions to teach them to do something differently. That could mean the way they engage; or it may mean whether to engage at all. It could go either way.

Version II: Group Process Experience
This dynamic also surfaces in the arena of group process. Most often this occurs when members have prior experience with consensus and/or collaborative decision-making. When they enthusiastically share their expertise with the group (which can either be in the form of things to embrace or things to avoid), they can be surprised when it is met with less than wholehearted acceptance. Why does this happen?

Consensus is practiced in a wide variety of ways, many of which aren't that functional. If the group is aware of that possibility, it behooves them to be careful about building their process agreements on the foundation of another group's practice.

Further, it is not that rare for me to encounter folks who rave about their prior consensus experience (which may be the best thing since pockets on shirts for all they've seen), but which does not strike me as that advanced. After all, producing meetings and decisions that are superior to what's considered normal in the wider culture is a spectacularly low bar.

For the "expert," this can play out exactly the same as in the previous version above. It hurts. You thought you were being helpful and it didn't go anywhere. Worse, it may have been actively resisted, depending on how far the advice has strayed from where the group is otherwise headed. Instead of being a hero, you're perceived as a pain in the butt. Ouch!

Version III: Community Experience
A third way this surfaces is more subtle. I know a number of community veterans who have asked me about groups they might move to after living by themselves or with a romantic partner for a stretch. While it isn't that hard to match their strengths and values with the inventory of community's extant, the bigger issue is how they'll integrate into an existing community.

Both because they're experienced in community living and older (and therefore richer in life experience), this category of folks is susceptible to bringing with them an expectation that they'll immediately be able to improve things wherever they go. While it's almost certainly true that their understanding of community living may offer their new host valuable possibilities, these offerings may be tainted by being delivered with a lack of humility (or even entitlement).

Worse, it is all the more likely that new member offerings will be perceived as pushy when the community has not done sufficient work to drain the swamp of sulfuric dynamics around how power is used in the group, or developed a model of healthy leadership—which, unfortunately, most groups haven't gotten around to. (Do you see the pattern here about how group issues tend to interweave?)

Version IV: Partner Dilemma
Lastly, I want touch on how disparities in partner enthusiasm can gum up the works. As any observer of community living knows, partners generally join groups together, yet the ardor for the attempt may not be equally shared between the two. It is not at all unusual for one member of the partnership to be all in, while the other is all lukewarm, or even downright skeptical.

As members are encouraged to get involved in community life, this can put strain on the partnership. In some cases, the active member tries to contribute double, so that the household is pulling its weight. Sometimes it's understood that the less interested partner will just be a ghost on work days or cleaning up after potluck, and the community more or less accepts that having the enthusiastic partner is a reasonable trade-off.

In other cases, the less enthused member may make an attempt at helping out, yet they are likely to have a weaker understanding about the dynamics of cooperative culture (to which they have made no commitment) and a weaker set of communication skills. In consequence they are more likely to run afoul of having any offering of expert help land poorly, and are more easily discouraged from figuring it out or trying again. (Why bother? This weird community living thing is my partner's trip, not mine.)

• • •

As always, I offer this analysis in the hopes that it's easier to navigate tricky dynamics if you can understand better how they happen. At the end of the day, the way out looks a lot like the way in; you just have walk it in reverse.

Consensus Ritual at the Point of Decision

I've been working seriously with secular consensus since Sandhill started in 1974. Although the bulk of my learning has been distilled from living it (on the job training), I participated in a five-day consensus and facilitation training taught by Caroline Estes at her home community (Alpha Farm) in 1987, and I started my career as a group dynamics consultant later that same year.

As consensus—in one or another of its many guises—is by far the most common form of decision-making in intentional communities, and communities are the foundation of my consultancy, I have necessarily been hip deep in consensus for the last four decades, the last three as a professional.

As someone who believes firmly that meetings should be enjoyable as well as productive, I look for occasions where whimsy can seamlessly be inserted into the flow without sacrificing continuity or efficiency. One such place—and the subject of today's essay—is the specific moment when a group is poised to make a decision.

Much of what happens in a meeting is informal (thank god)—things like where to focus the conversation, what topic to address next, whether a summary is good enough, or when to take a break and for how long. While these questions may have gravitas in the moment, they are procedural matters with a short lifespan and will promptly be covered over by the sands of time. This class of decisions stand in sharp contrast with binding decisions about budget or policy—things you want carefully captured in the minutes and the agreement log, ad which may impact the community for years.

While it's generally not that big deal if you're loosey goosey about procedural decisions, you don't want any sloppiness when it comes to policy agreements. Thus, it tends to be a good idea to have some kind of ritual by which group members indicate whether they're in agreement (green light), standing aside (yellow light) or blocking (red light).

A number of groups employ colored cards for this purpose, both to indicate the nature of their comments during discussion, and to indicate their position when testing for consensus. Essentially, each member raises a card at the key moment instead of their hand. Other groups use thumbs (up=yes; sideways=stand aside; down=block). Some are more nuanced, such as relying on the number of fingers held aloft to indicate their degree of support:
0=Over my dead body
1=Stand aside
2=I can swallow
3=No problem
4=I'm liking it strong
5=Best thing since pockets on shirts

Some more adventurous groups really go for the gusto—I once encountered an art collective where people gave a hearty pirate Argh! to signify affirmation. Opa! (At least in my presence rum was not involved and no planks were walked.)

Really, anything can be done so long as the meaning is clear.

Is Silence Golden… or Iron Pyrite)?
A word of caution. It's not such a great idea relying on silence=assent. While it's tempting to reach for this time-tested Quaker standby (after all, the strongest roots of secular consensus are traceable to the worship practices of the Religious Society of Friends, and they like silence=assent) don't be seduced! I counsel against mum's the word, since silence is so easily misunderstood. It can mean any of the following:
o  I heard you and have no problem
o  I'm confused and don't know what you want
o  I'm thinking and not yet ready
o  I didn't hear you; I'm oblivious
o  I'm so angry that I can't speak 

Yikes! Since guessing is a poor strategy, it's better to rely on something proactive and unambiguous. Best is using a symbol that is not used for anything else—so that its employment is crystal clear. (Arghing, for example, is unlikely to be confused with anything else—unless your group is reprising Peter Pan or rehearsing for The Pirates of Penzance).

I figure this is just the kind of opportunity I like: bring out the clowns and the dancing bears! Maybe it could be a perk of facilitating (or a bonus for volunteering to take minutes)—you get to be queen for a day and announce the consensus ritual de jour. It's OK to have fun; just make sure that it's also obvious.

Democracy Does Not Have to Be Majority Voting

In response to my most recent post, The Mourning After, Frands Frydendal wrote:

Can democracy be wrong?

I think it can, meaning it has its weaknesses, and the recent election—in the nation that is supposed to be the vanguard of democracy—shows that a serious update is long overdue. Fortunately new knowledge to create updates has recently become available. 

The election of Trump as the President of the United States is only part of the evidence that democracy as we know it is obsolete. Clinton as the final counter-candidate and the whole process has denounced democracy's claim of being the final solution to the questions of state. 

Versions of democracy differ a lot, but they all rotate around majority decisions, and all the possible ways to influence the majority, including ways that allow for manipulation and collective folly. Of course majority voting is not used for decisions about scientific evidence, neither is it used (much) for business. 

The recent US election is only one out of many democratic decisions leading to questionable, inferior, or even disastrous consequences. Think of the democratic triumphs of Hitler, Brexit, Putin, Assad, Erdogan, and other examples of democratically re-re-elected despots.

Why is it that so many believe that democracy with majority vote is the best decision-making system for a nation or state? It all comes down to the lack of a better alternative. Winston Churchill said:  “Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others.” Maybe it is time to try something new. Otherwise democracy will indeed be the end of that chapter of history. 

I think it is an important task for community workers to locate and inspire communities that have the wish and potential to develop better, alternate versions of democracy, to a point where we can say it has been tried at least on a local scale. 

The bits and pieces to replace majority voting are evolving fast in the circles of sociocracy.

[As English is not Frands' first language, I have lightly edited his statement—hopefully without altering its meaning.]

In the face of our recent US Presidential election, Frands has made an impassioned plea to expand our thinking about what's possible with democracy. In particular, he questions how much practicing democracies have relied on majority vote to make decisions—offering up the recent US election as prima facie evidence of the folly of relying on the current system to yield reasonable results—and makes a plea for experimenting with other forms of democracy to liberate it from the manipulation we just witnessed.

By definition democracy means "rule by the people"; where every eligible citizen has a say in how things will go, and there is no presumption that some people have superior wisdom to others. At larger levels (nation, state, or even municipal) this generally translates into some form of representative government where decisions are made by a majority of elected officials or delegates. This adaptation is typically done to reduce to manageable levels the time it takes to hear from everyone. In a direct democracy—where everyone who cares to is given the chance to speak to the issues at hand—there just isn't enough air time to get it done.

Of particular interest to me, Frands hints at the direction he'd like to see experimentation take: some version of consensus, which stands in sharp contrast with majority voting. From this point forward I want to respond in two parts: a) consensus in contrast with voting; and b) sociocracy in particular.

Contrasting Consensus with Majority Voting
Consensus has two major historical threads that I'm aware of: 1) The Religious Society of Friends; and 2) Native American cultures. In the case of the former, Quakers developed consensus (which they style "sense of the meeting") as a way to conduct religious meetings. By creating a contemplative meeting environment with plenty of spaciousness in which members of the congregation can speak as moved, Quakers believe that they are nearer to God and that that is the best way to evince God's intentions.

This version of consensus was adapted to secular groups in the '60s and '70s, with the Movement for a New Society leading the way in the context of anti-nuclear protest groups making decisions at action sites. From there it blossomed into the most commonly used decision-making process among intentional communities—a position it's held for at least the last half century.

The link between Native American cultures (think Iroquois Confederacy in particular) and secular consensus is less direct yet nonetheless helps to establish that the roots of alternative forms of democracy (by which I mean something different than majority vote) are much more deep-rooted than Frands knows. While I am not aware of any instances where consensus in intentional communities has inspired municipalities to adopt it as their form of government, there are plenty of examples of schools, neighborhood associations, congregations, and nonprofits that have been moved to work with consensus. So there is a growing body of work along the lines for which Frands has advocated.

As a long-time consensus advocate and instructor (I've been at this for more than four decades) the main factor limiting the expansion of consensus is that it requires a commitment to culture change and personal work to consistently achieve stellar results. Without it, you're essentially importing competitive conditioning into attempts at cooperative culture, and it's a train wreck. Culture shift takes time and investment, and it's way more sophisticated than memorizing a new instructional manual and organizational chart.

That does not mean I'm giving up on the potential of consensus to be a viable alternative to majority voting, but I'm not sanguine about seeing consensus take over as a popular form of large-scale democracy. It just takes too long to hear from everyone, and requires that too many participants become self-aware about appropriate ways to participate.

Sociocracy as a Strain of Consensus
This particular form of consensus has be around since Gerard Endenburg adapted consensus to apply to his Dutch engineering firm in the '70s and was then imported into the US by John Buck in his book We the People, published in 2007.

While I appreciate that Frands is excited about sociocracy's potential as a robust form of consensus, I've looked at this fairly closely and believe it's substantially oversold. For a more thorough treatment of my reservations, see Critique of Sociocracy Revisited. 

While there is nothing peculiar to sociocracy that I consider a best practice (and thus, I don't see it as a panacea in response the failings of democracy), I think it's a mistake to get hung up on which form of consensus is best. It is huge when a group makes a commitment to functioning cooperatively and attempts direct democracy.

That represents radical change, and, like Frands, I'm behind it.

The Fog of Consensus

Back in 2003, there was a powerful documentary released called The Fog of War, in which Robert McNamara (Kennedy's Secretary of Defense) offered a mea culpa about his role in perpetuating and expanding the Vietnam War. He painfully explained how hard it was to know what was actually happening in the chaos of war. In hindsight, he regretted his role in that American tragedy.

As a long-time observer of cooperative groups that struggle with inclusive decision-making, it has occurred to me that may groups suffer from an analogous malady: the fog of consensus, where they get bogged down in disagreements and don't see the way through.

I was recently sent the following explanation of how a group makes decisions. Notably, this is was the output of a carefully considered process to learn about consensus:

The group makes decisions by consensus as defined by the following:

A. After discussion, the presider of such meeting will first ask who is for and then who is opposed to the action being voted upon.
 
B. If there is one or more persons present opposed to the proposed action, further discussion will be held to ensure that all points of view have been heard.
 
C. After completion of such additional discussion, the presider will again ask who is for and who is opposed to the proposed action and shall then call the vote on the action for recording in the minutes of the corporation.
 
D. Any member may request that the proposed action under discussion be held over to the next meeting, in which case, the members present will decide whether or not to so hold-over according to steps A, B and C of the above process.

Oh boy. Here was a group that genuinely wanted to be inclusive yet never got off to the right start. I have a number of concerns with labeling this group's process "consensus." As you read my comments, please keep in mind that this process is meant to be a thoughtful, respectful adaptation of consensus. (I shudder to think what we'd get if the group intended mischief.)

1. Notice how decision-making is described in terms of voting. While this is a natural extension of what we learned from student council meetings growing up and by observing the US Congress, it is not how consensus works.

What's laid out above is a form of majority voting in which serious effort is made to resolve differences such that proposals are passed without dissent, if it can be accomplished in a reasonable amount of time—where “reasonable” is defined by a majority of those present at any given time. It is, if you will, a nicer form of majority rule—but the power still resides in the majority, rather than in the whole.

To embrace consensus, participants need to understand that it necessarily entails culture change, purposefully moving from a competitive culture to a cooperative one. You have to view meetings as an opportunity to have your mind changed, rather than as an occasion to convince others of the superiority of your viewpoint. It is, to be sure, not easy to effect this change, but it is possible and can lead to wondrous results if you make the investment. To be fair to the group that drafted this process, many groups stumble over this foundational point.

2. I am hopeful that it was an inadvertent mistake to imply in Step B that ensuring "that all points have been heard" only happens if there is dissent regarding the proposal. Wouldn't you want to start with that? Wouldn't you want to start with that every time?

3. In my experience, a good facilitator does not test for consensus unless they feel it is in the room. While anyone can make a mistake in discernment, I find it counterproductive to ask for consensus when you know it isn't there. It just puts pressure on the minority to acquiesce (while simultaneously sending a signal to the majority that they can ease off because they'll win the vote if it comes down to one). Instead of encouraging groups to redouble efforts to find a middle way (where bridging prevails), testing prematurely for consensus tends to frustrate groups and draw participants back into a competitive mind set (where advocacy prevails).

4. Under Step D, a request to table a proposal (because there was dissent at the last vote) has to be supported by a majority of the members. Think about that. It means that people who voted for a proposal must now agree to set that decision aside in the interest of members who don't feel good about the proposal. While that might happen, it's a high bar.

Taken as a whole the majority is under no obligation to work to find an alternative solution to the proposal that they support. In consensus, everyone has a good faith obligation to work toward a solution that everyone can agree with. In turn, individuals have a responsibility to make sure that their concerns are rooted in group values (as distinct from personal preferences). The individual's right to stop a proposal single-handedly, is paired with the responsibility to not abuse it. Under the system outlined above, the group has protected itself from the possibility of an individual monkey-wrenching the process (enabling tyranny of the minority) by allowing individuals to be outvoted (enabling tyranny of the majority). 

Haven't we had enough of that? Isn't it time to try something else?

5. Notably, there is no mention here of how the group develops proposals; how it intends to delegate; how it will protect the rights of members who miss a meeting to have a say in proposals brought up in that meeting; how it works through differences; how it responds to emotional input; or how it trains new members in its process. Nor does it attempt to describe the culture it is striving to create. That's a lot of missing parts.

6. Although subtle, notice that meetings are being run by a "presider" rather than a facilitator. While it is not spelled out what a presider is, I am concerned that it may be the president or a committee chair—people who are not necessarily neutral on the topic at hand (when you think about the power that resides in committee chairpersons in the US government you'll get a better sense of how the person who runs the meting has the potential to steer things in a direction they favor). In consensus you want a disinterested facilitator. but nowhere is that spelled out in this document.

Bored with Consensus

I was recently selected to join a nonprofit board and attended my first meeting via teleconference. Although the bylaws stiplated that decisions would be made by consensus (I'd done my reading), the meeting was full of calls for votes, motions, and seconds. Uh oh. Had I wandered into the wrong meeting? Unfortunately, I hadn't.

I tolerated the ghost of Roberts Rules for about 30 minutes until I couldn't stand it any more and spoke up. There was a certain amount of awkwardness and mea culpas until I realized that none of the 10 or so people on the call had a clue how consensus worked.

In fact, one board member grew impatient with my digression, because "how we function" wasn't on the agenda. Oh boy. Of course it wasn't on the agenda: no one else was aware that there was a problem. I wondered briefly if that was that why I had been asked to be on the board, but then I realized that they wouldn't have been looking for something that they didn't know was missing. In any event, now they have me, and it looks like board training in consensus is in our future (or it better be).

It's interesting to me that this board has been around for decades and the decision to operate by consensus goes back to the beginning. Even though the people who put that in place are long gone, how did practice drift so far from intent? There must have been a lot of meetings where people who knew better simply let consensus slide. How else could the board arrive at the state where no one understood what it meant (it's not as if all the board member were band new)? 

Who knows, maybe they were bored with explaining it. Or perhaps they relied on that old broken-down standby: passing along group culture by osmosis. ("Just watch; you'll figure it out.")

While there are other choices in decision-making and group process that could be made—including majority rule and Roberts Rules of Order—I like that the bylaws stipulate consensus. However, as someone who has been using it for 40 years and teaching it for 28, I think that consensus will not be a happy choice unless it's accompanied by some basic commitments, all of which appear to be absent in the leaky boat I just boarded.

1.  Train people in its use
In addition to the obvious—training new people—it's likely not a bad idea for the veterans as well (think of it as continuing education). Among the key points to be covered is making sure that everyone groks the fundamental concept that you need to be making a shift from competitive culture to cooperative culture (if you want consensus to thrive), and that culture change is not easy. People need to be drilled in this at the outset, not in mid-struggle.

2.  Define the process
As there is not a single definition of consensus, you will need to make clear how you'll practice it. This includes what constitutes the legitimate grounds for a block and the process by which you'll test for legitimacy. Does one block stop a proposal, or will there be provisions for a super-majority override? How will delegation work? How will meetings be run (do you default to the board president or the executive director doing double duty as convener—bad idea—or do you choose a neutral facilitator)?

3.  Set standards for minutes
I was appalled that the board minutes were nothing more than a list of topics and decisions. There was no sense of the discussion., which meant that they were practically worthless for two of the main reasons that minutes exist:

a) To provide a collective memory of how the decisions were reached. This is important when someone comes along later and wants to revisit a topic. In my book, that should only be allowed if something significant has changed (otherwise why re-plow old ground?) But you can't make that assessment if there's no record of what was taken into account.

b) Good minutes allow the people who missed the meeting to catch up. That includes current members who were sick, on vacation, or had a schedule conflict, as well as future board members trying to inform themselves on the background of issues. It's trivial knowing that the topic was last discussed in July, 2011, if the minutes don't tell you what was said.

4. Work with energy as well as content
In a previous call with the executive director and board president to orient new board members, I had suggested that the board spend time sorting out its mission and priorities (before making decisions on budget proposals). When this was supported it led to the idea of a board retreat which would include strategic planning. When someone (not me) suggested that we hire an outside facilitator for that, I was all in favor. However, when I made a point of selecting a facilitator who has skill in working with energy, not just content, there was a long pause. I'm not sure anyone had a clue what I was talking about.

When cooperative groups make the commitment to work at a deep level (which many do not) and embrace the heart of consensus, this absolutely brings you into the territory of energy. Thus, it's not enough to know someone's position or viewpoints on an issue; you need to know what it means to them and why it matters. You need to know how it touches their heart or soul—because that's where the magic happens. 

If you are simply trying to find the middle ground between positions, you're looking for compromise (kissing your sister). If, however, you're trying to find a solution that honors the core interests of everyone, that weaves together their central values and enthusiasm, then we're talking about a family reunion where everyone is out on the dance floor.

There are professional facilitators who are quite adept at working content, yet essentially tone deaf when it comes to hearing energy. I know because I've met a number of them, and it's painful to watch them struggle in community groups where their mainstream expertise is not enough.

It will be interesting to see what skills our outside facilitator brings to our board retreat. I don't expect to be bored.

The Upper Limits of Consensus

A reader posted this comment in response to On Being a Fundamentalist, my blog of June 17:

What about larger groups and communities? I think of consensus as working well in smaller, focused groups. Could a group of a hundred or more use consensus to make decisions?

That's a good question. I don't have much experience with groups larger than about 60-75, but I know consensus can work at that size. Beyond that you're pushing against certain limits that are worth exploring:

A. Sensory Limits
In particular, there are questions about how well participants can hear and see each other. You obviously have to be able to receive information in order to be able to work with it.

As the group gets larger it gets harder to hear across the circle. Of course the acoustics of the room are also a factor, but even under ideal architectural conditions you need to account for the possibility of compromised hearing, the incidence of which increases greatly once you have members north of 50. And it's more than just getting the words right; it's also getting the tone and inflection right, as those have meaning as well and are part of the richness of live communication.

While the Occupy Movement did some notable work three-four years ago, where they used human amplification to have the speaker's words repeated to people outside of hearing distance, that's a stretch to sustain on a regular basis. The most common solution, by far, is using a PA system to amplify voices. The technology of this is sufficiently sophisticated these days that you can even get a system where the sound gets directly transmitted to people's hearing aids. Pretty nifty.

As a professional facilitator, I encounter an increasing number of groups of 40+ members that regularly rely on an amplifier and microphone to help members hear. While I think this is mostly good, there are some complications to take into account:

—You tend to need at least two microphones and maybe three to make this work, otherwise there's a constant time lag to move the microphone around. 
—Multiple mics means runners, which means the facilitation support team needs to grow in size, taking more people out of the conversation.
—You have to be careful that the mics don't get too near the amp to avoid squealing feedback.
—It usually takes a while for participants to get the rhythm of turning the mics on and off, and holding them an appropriate distance from their mouth.
 —For those who struggle feeling safe or comfortable speaking in large groups at all, adding a microphone compounds the issue: it's too much like a performance—about which they have anxiety independent of any nervousness about what they have to say. 
—Depending on the quality and location of the amp, augmented sound can sometimes be more difficult to hear than unaided voices.

Switching over to sight, sometimes eyesight degrades with age, just as hearing does (and sometimes participants forget to bring their glasses). Some of this can be addressed by giving careful thought to chair alignment that supports good sight lines, avoiding back lighting, and securing decent illumination in the meeting space.

The key things to protect are the ability to see adequately any visual aids (such as power point projections or flip chart pages) and to see people faces and body language, as there is considerable nuance conveyed through non-verbal expressions.

B. Squeezed Air Time
With more people in the meeting, it's a mathematical surety that there will be less time for each participant to speak.

Thus, great care must be exercised in determining what topics come before the plenary, and how to structure the consideration so that they're handled efficiently, as well as inclusively. In general, larger numbers translates into fewer topics that can be covered in the same amount of time.

The other dial available to groups for adjustment is increasing the volume of delegation—pushing more work down to managers and committees, so that less needs to be handled in plenary. You might reasonably require subgroups to make decisions in open sessions by consensus, where the number of participants will be a good bit smaller than in plenaries.

C. Participant Discipline
Just as larger numbers put pressure on agenda planners to be on the ball, there will be pressure on participants to be that much better disciplined about when to speak. I advise that the Participant's Mantra be: What does the group need to hear from me on this topic at this time?

That sentence contains a wealth of checkpoints where a thoughtful participant might realize that it's prudent to refrain from speaking, because the thing they thought to say is not on topic or at the right place in the conversation. If group members get proficient at applying that set of screens I believe they can accomplish a lot even with high number turnouts. [For more on the mantra, see Consensus as an Unnatural Act.]

D. Representative Consensus
Last, it's worth considering what can be done with the concept of representational decision-making, where the final authority is no longer the group as a whole, but rather a special enclave comprised of representatives.

Some interesting work was done in this regard in the context of the anti-nuclear demonstrations of the '70s and '80s (such as the Clamshell Alliance). As I understand it, the fundamental political unit was the affinity group, which everyone at the demonstration had an affiliation with. I'm not sure what the size parameters were for affinity groups, but I'm guessing it was something in the 12-18 range: small enough that everyone could be heard, yet large enough to have a decent diversity of viewpoints. 

Each affinity group would select a representative to the decision-making council, and that person would be authorized to speak for the affinity group and make decisions that would be binding on it. In turn, the council of reps would make decisions by consensus.

While I don't know of an intentional community today that works with this form of government (there are not that many groups with 100+ members), there is an interesting variation underway now at Dancing Rabbit (Rutledge MO). That community made the switch two years ago to a Village Council in anticipation of getting too large for all-skate plenaries (the community, an ecovillage, aspires to a final size of 500-1000). 

In DR's configuration there are seven councilors with staggered two-year terms. There is a careful election process once a year where the whole community discusses slates of candidates to fill all the vacancies (councilors are permitted to succeed themselves once and then must step down), and then the slates that emerge from that consideration are voted on by all members in good standing, using instant run-off voting. The Village Council makes all of its decisions by consensus and all councilors are expected to represent the best interests of the entire community, not just to speak for a subgroup constituency within the village.

As Dancing Rabbit only has around 50 adult members now, they aren't yet pushing the triple digit ceiling that I was suggesting might be something of an upper limit for day-in-day-out consensus. Also, having lived there recently (November 2013-June 2015), I'm aware of some interest among members in tinkering with the Village Council set up. While it's too early to tell how well this concept will function for larger groups that want to maintain a spirit of consensus, this is a work in progress that's well worth tracking.

On Being a Fundamentalist

A couple weeks ago I was attending the National Cohousing Conference in Durham NC when someone came up to me on the last day and asked, "Are you the fundamentalist?" I double clutched.

No one had ever asked me that question before and I was at a loss to understand where they were going, and why they thought that I might be their destination. More amazing still, it turned out that I was the fundamentalist. Apparently someone had described me as a consensus fundamentalist, and I didn't have to think very long before I could see the aptness of that label.

Consensus is the most common form of decision-making among intentional communities, and interest in community living is on the rise. Thus, consensus is getting more attention these days—all the more so because many groups struggle to get good results with it. 

Most problems with consensus boil down to a small list:

—Too much power in the hands of each individual. It only takes one or two contrarians to gum up the works for the entire group.
—Too difficult to work through complex issues when you need everyone to agree.
—Too many things need to be decided by the plenary; plenaries are bogged down by too much minutia.
—It takes too long to hear everyone's viewpoints on everything.
—Participants are not good at staying on topic, or avoiding repetition. Thus, meetings are not efficient.—Committee work is often trashed by the plenary.
—Paralysis in the face of a threat to block.

In general, groups respond to this package of unpleasant results in one of four ways: 

1.  They get so frustrated that they abandon consensus and try something else, perhaps majority rule.
There is an increasing call for trying to hold onto the spirit of consensus (a collaborative attitude) while relying on a different decision rule (some form of voting being the most popular alternative) to sidestep susceptibility to logjams.

2.  They keep banging away, essentially accepting that results aren't any better than they are. 
For many groups, even so-so results with consensus are seen as superior to the power dynamics and factionalism characteristic of majority rule.

3.  They find a work around. The two most common are:

—modified consensus (which allows a super-majority vote to decide a matter if concerns are not resolved after x number of meetings)

 —sociocracy (which is a highly structured approcah aimed at keeping the momentum going once the plenary takes up a topic, and at emphasizing solutions that are good enough, rather than laboring to find something optimal)

4.  They get motivated to learn how to do consensus well.

While I strongly favor Door #4, I want to explain how I got there. 

I've lived in intentional communities using consensus since 1974, and have been integrally involved in community network organizations (which also use consensus) since 1980—the Federation of Egalitarian Communities, 1980-2001, and the Fellowship for Intentional Community, 1986-present. On top of that, I've been a process consultant and consensus trainer since 1987. 

All of which is to say I've been to a lot of meetings and have tons of experience with consensus in the field. I know what it is and how to consistently get good results with it. As a consultant I am regularly asked to help groups navigate tricky waters using consensus and I repeatedly get positive results. 

Overwhelmingly, my experience tells me that the main problem with consensus is that groups seldom prepare well to use it and are then disappointed with what they get. The problem is not with the process; it's with practitioners not understanding the personal work needed to function cooperatively instead of competitively.

In fairness to the detractors of consensus, it takes hard work and a personal investment to unlearn competitive conditioning. Not everyone understands that when they join a cooperative group, nor is everyone up for the challenge when they do. But it can be done. I've done it myself, and I teach it to others.

Fortunately, you don't need everyone to do that work, just enough of the group to set a tone and to consistently steer the group gently, but firmly back onto a constructive path if dynamics turn tense or combative.

If you are a group that wants to learn how to use consensus well, you have two main leverage points at your disposal:

A. Understanding and committing to culture change
This means taking in at a deep level that the group does its best work only when all input is welcome, which means creating a container in which disparate viewpoints are not just allowed; they're encouraged. The members of the group need to energetically (not just intellectually) embrace the advantages that different ideas bring to the consideration. When the expression of doubt or disagreement is quashed or punished (think eyeball rolling, withering looks, and tightened voices), the whole group loses. Think of it as hybrid vigor.

Creativity and collective magic do not thrive in a battlefield where a tug-of-war mentality obtains (every inch in the direction of someone else's idea is an inch away from yours). When you are a stakeholder on an issue, the challenge is shifting from a sense of combativeness (to promote your idea above those of others; let the best idea "win" in an environment of vigorous debate) to one of curiosity (hoping that others can enhance your idea, or advance your thinking)—because the prime objective is a good decision for the group; not that you look good. If you are not a stakeholder, then you are well poised to safeguard the process, helping bridge among factors to produce the most balanced proposal.

While it is not so hard to describe the theory of cooperation, it's serious business learning to act that way in the heat of the moment, especially when the issues cut close to the bone.

B. Investing in skilled facilitation
An alternative approach is to develop a cadre of facilitators who are able to remind the group of the way it meant to function whenever it strays, bringing all parties back from the rigidity of bunkered positions into the softer place where everyone is on the same side, trying to uncover the best plan forward in light of all that needs to be taken into account.

 Skilled management of the process can address many of the bugaboos about consensus that I mentioned above:

—Outliers are worked with by making sure that their right to be heard and taken into account is paired with the responsibility to extend that same respect and courtesy to others. It's not OK to insist on the right and neglect the responsibility.

—Good facilitators are able to break down complex topics into digestible smaller chunks. While the group may not be able to get the whole thing in its mouth in one bite, eating smaller portions usually does the trick.

—On the ball facilitators will make sure the group is deliberate about what work is attempted in plenary, insisting that topics be handed off to managers or committees once all the plenary-level considerations have been addressed. They will also encourage the group to delegate authority to subgroups so that minor, routine items need not require the plenary's rubber stamp.

—While everyone has the right to speak, that does not mean everyone has something to say. Further, if another member has already said what you intended to, it is enough to add, "So-and-so speaks my mind," which takes less than five seconds. Good facilitators will encourage people to speak on topic, to the point, and to add their input just once.

—Skilled facilitators will not allow work to be handed off to subgroups prematurely; they'll insist that the plenary provide clear guidance for what's wanted, so that the work that returns is more likely to be honored.

—Savvy facilitators will know how to handle blocking concerns. Instead of backing away from them, they'll lean into them—to make sure they understand the interests that underlie that reaction, to check to see that they're a reasonable interpretation of group held values, and to work with them as a key factor that a solution needs to take into account.

 • • •

If advocating for old-fashioned consensus as the best way for cooperative groups to make decisions makes me a fundamentalist, then bring on the long frock coat. I already have a beard and a steely visage.

Mismanaging My Impatience in Meetings

I recently attended the meeting of a cooperative at which I was representing a group that had an interest in the main topic. Because I didn't need to present anything and was not a decision-maker in that setting, I was there mostly to listen and provide background as needed.

Things got off to a solid start, and after 15 minutes it was reasonably clear where the concerns lay and what the most likely remedies were. However, it took another 60 minutes before everyone present was brought into alignment about those things. It was excruciating.

What happened? Well, a number of things, all of which are depressingly common:

o  Jumping aroundAlthough it quickly became apparent that there were only two main concerns, I'll be damned if some speakers didn't feel compelled to make statements about both subtopics in a single turn at the microphone, making it hard to follow the bouncing ball. 

People do this, I speculate, in a misguided effort to get out everything they have to say in one go, regardless of the diffusing effect it has on the group's focus. It's generally much better if the facilitator limits the conversation to one subtopic at a time.

o  Straying off topic
While it's not fair to blame participants for a lack of discipline about containing their comments to one thread at a time if the facilitator is not offering that structure; it is, however, fair to hold participants accountable for comments that wander beyond the scope of the agenda topic, and to ask them to eschew free associating.

o  Repetition
When the focus is soft, or the facilitator is casual about offering summaries, people often find it irresistible giving their views more than once. Even though this tends to be numbing for the group, speakers often feel insecure about whether they've been heard if they don't immediately see the group actively working with their input.

o  Lack of concision
Meeting behavior is different than casual conversation, but the way many people contribute in meetings is just the same is when they're yakking with friends over a beer. In plenary you want contributions to not just be on topic, you want them lean. And they'd be well advised to leave chewing the fat for storytelling around the campfire.

o  Not keeping the conversation at the plenary level 
At what point does it make sense to stop talking about a topic in plenary and turn it over to a subgroup to tease out details? Groups that have not discussed where this line stands will frequently drift across it and get mired in minutia instead of handing it off to committee with alacrity and a crisp mandate.

o  Inability to coalesce the sense of the meeting
One the more important facilitative skills is the ability to sort wheat from chaff, offering a tight summary of what the group is likely to be able to agree to, or where the conversation is headed, based on what's been said so far. Even when you get it wrong, just being close will often help the group get there with only minor adjustments.

Some groups—especially ones using consensus—labor under the false impression that you can't reach a conclusion until everyone has spoken. Not so! While it's important to protect everyone's opportunity to have a say, it frequently happens that after a number of people have spoken that there are no additional viewpoints to contribute, and the group can legitimately move on. To be sure, you need to test for that (rather than just assume it), but it only takes a moment to offer a summary with the caveat, "Does that work for everyone?"

It's amazing to me how often groups miss the agreement in the room until they've been bludgeoned with it.

• • •

Observing all this, it was painful sitting through the meeting. As time went on, I found myself stepping in more and more, without portfolio, to offer summaries, suggest agreements, and identify loose ends. (As a professional facilitator, it's virtually impossible for me to turn it off when I'm in a meeting—whether I'm up front with a baton or not.) While I meant for my contributions to be constructive, in the end-of-meeting evaluation I got my knuckles rapped by a participant who felt he was hearing too much from me, a mere observer.

Sigh. I reckon enlightenment and the patience of the Buddha still elude me.

50 Shades of Consensus, Part II

The first 25 shades of dysfunctional consensus were posted March 2. This is the conclusion.

26. Putting a 20-Pound Meeting in a 10-Pound Sack
If groups are not disciplined about matching the amount of time truly needed to work topics with the amount of meeting time available, there's a tendency to try to get it all done by shoehorning, which leads to blisters. If you have five topics ready to go and you expect each to take 40 minutes, don't try to do all five in a two-hour meeting. Better to handle well the most pressing three, and set the other two aside for another time. Pressuring people to swallow food that has been inadequately chewed leads to indigestion and is a poor bargain.

27. Always Having Plenaries at the Same Time
While there's something to be said for regularity (if it's 2 pm Sunday do you know where your meeting is?), there may be no time of the week that works well for everyone. If you're struggling with some people frequently missing meetings and you miss their voice, consider mixing up your meeting times. Some people work hard and long and can only attend evening sessions; others are exhausted after dinner and unable to contribute well then; others religiously protect Sunday afternoons for family (or football). Offer a choice.

28. Filling Positions with Volunteers
One of the challenges with many consensus groups is that they depend substantially on filling manager and committee slots based on which members puts their hand in the air first. While this may work fine for who oversees the Thursday Night Bowling Club, there are key positions where groups need high trust and discretion from the people in those slots, and a call for volunteers is a chancy proposition. Being more deliberate will pay dividends.

29. Not Specifying the Qualities Wanted from Positions of Responsibility
If you take to heart the previous point, the careful selection of people to fill positions will be much more satisfactory if you can take the additional step of specifying the qualities you want from managers or committee members before you select them—so that you've established some objective screens to use in the assessment of candidates. Otherwise it tends to be a popularity contest.

30. No Term Limits
Sometimes members settle into a certain niche in how they serve the group as a volunteer (it could be accounting; cooking the common meal every Sunday evening; being the in-house IT expert; serving on the Steering Committee). While this is invariably meant well and the person may be fairly good at what they do, without term limits it can become virtually impossible to get that person out of the role to make room for new blood. Better, I think, is the expectation that after so much time (five years?) that the priority be given to new folks to fill roles—which means no change if no one else wants the job, yet otherwise provides for hybrid vigor and deals even-handedly with any tendencies toward entrenchment (where others are reluctant to join a committee because old so-and-so, who's difficult to work with, is on it and has been there forever).

31. No Evaluation—of Managers & Committees
Another way to get traction on managers or committees that are not functioning well is to become diligent about periodically evaluating (every two years?) their performance. I'm talking about all managers and committees—not just those deemed problematic. The last thing you want is for a request to evaluate to be seen as an invitation to a hanging. Evaluations should be a time to celebrate what's working well, not just a chance to poke at the sore spots. For this to work you'll need to establish generic objectives for the process (for example, are they accomplishing their work in a timely manner?; are they playing nice with others?; are they meeting our expectations for reporting on what they're doing?; if it's a committee, is there good morale among members?) and assign someone (Process Committee?) to oversee its administration. Most groups are poor at this.

32. No Evaluation—of Plenaries
Parallel to the last point is developing a culture where the group regularly evaluates plenaries, so that there's a feedback loop on how you're doing your business. Plenary time is expensive (in a group of 30 you're burning an hour of people's time every two minutes) and you want to be mindful about using it well. The point of evaluations (maybe five minutes at the end) is to reflect on how well (or how poorly) the plenary functioned while the experience is still fresh and the data can come from the head and the heart. Then the facilitators (or whatever group is responsible for running the meetings) can take that in and adjust as needed. You don't want to settle for so-so plenaries (that you're able to survive); you want great plenaries—where you're able to thrive!

33. Sloppy Mandates
One the things that undermines (or at least complicates) attempts at evaluation (Point 31 above) is the lack of clarity about what managers and committees are supposed to do. In the interest of effective delegation it's imperative that plenaries craft crisp and comprehensive mandates that spell out such things as duties, authority to act on the plenary's behalf, what values are expected to be reflected in actions and decisions, resources available, and reporting expectations. When mandates are sloppy, the work of managers and committees is often reviewed and second-guessed by the plenary. Not only is this inefficient (contributing mightily to the phenomenon of agenda overload), but it seriously degrades morale.

34. Undefined Leadership
All groups need leadership. While cooperative groups understandably are allergic to autocratic leadership, we still need people who are inspiring, who are wise, who can think strategically, who can organize, who are sensitive to relationships, who are able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, etc. In most cases, cooperative groups (which groups using consensus strive to be) are looking for members who can be leaders in certain roles (such as the person in charge of organizing the winter solstice celebration; or the honcho for constructing a new cistern); they are not looking for someone to be "the leader." It can help enormously if the group actually takes the time to define what it wants from people taking on leadership functions, both so that people putting themselves forward will know what's expected, and so that you have some objective criteria with which to measure people against if there is tension.

35. Hot Potato of Accountability
A lot of cooperative groups struggle with the issue of accountability—holding people's feet to the fire when perceived to be coloring outside the lines. This comes in two flavors: a) behavior that does not align with group agreements (say, being aggressive and belligerent when advocating for their viewpoint); and b) failure to complete a task in a satisfactory way (you're late, went over budget, were disrespectful to co-workers, did the work poorly, etc). As it's inevitable that this dynamic will occur, you need to create an understanding and culture that addresses it, rather than one that allows it to fester and become anaerobic. You need, I believe, a known channel by which any member of the group can approach another about critical feedback they have about how they're functioning as a member of the group—all with an overarching goal of being constructive, rather than punitive or shaming.

36. Failing to Pair Rights with Responsibilities
When someone is upset it's relatively common for them to insist on their right be heard—which is a real thing—while forgetting that this is paired with the responsibility to listen and take into account the viewpoints of others. This dynamic can be further complicated by the person stating their upset in a provocative way (featuring "you" statements instead of "I" statements). On the one hand, listeners may be inspired in the moment to comment on the provocative way that the upset person is expressing themselves. This, however, does not land well for the upset person, who is trying desperately to be heard. Untangling this rats nest often requires that someone be able to set aside their distaste with the upset person's delivery to focus instead on their point and why it matters, with the intention of later—after the upset person reports feeling heard, which invariably leads to deescalation—getting around to giving that person feedback about their delivery and asking them now to extend to others the same respect and attention they demanded for themselves.

37. Defusing the Stalemate of Who Gets Heard First
Often, when someone feels outraged, they'll have a story about how they have been denied a right that has not been addressed (they were disrespected, their input was blown off, someone was allowed to dump on them in public with no consequences, the group responds in a condescending manner when the person reports uneasy feelings or discordant intuition). Because this slight may be unknown to others, it may appear that the upset person is the aggressor, and others will want to start to unpack the dynamic by focusing on how they have been dissed by the upset person. However, to the upset person, the roots of the dynamic start with how they have been dissed, and they naturally prefer that the unpacking begin with a focus on them. Even though, in the end, it doesn't make a whit of difference where you start so long as both sides get air time, it can be the very devil breaking the initial logjam.

38. Learning How to Have Hard Conversations
The trickiest conversations are those where there's non-trivial disagreement and the stakes are high. However, within that class, there is a subset that's even dicier: topics that are known to also touch the third rail of personal integrity or the possibility that you (or a love one) will be voted off the island. Examples include: a) power dynamics (the perception that someone has misused their influence for the benefit of some at the expense of others; b) the limits of diversity (defining when the group is being asked to stretch too far); and c) involuntary loss of rights (the conditions under which a member may have their rights curtailed, perhaps by virtue of persistent non-compliance with group agreements, or an egregious act that endangers life or property). These are thermonuclear topics, about which groups are well advised to think ahead about how they want to handle them pre-need. Hint: ducking doesn't work.

39. Navigating the Boundary Between Public and Private
Consensus groups, almost by definition, are attempts to create a culture where the balance point between public (group business) and private (individual or household business) is intentionally shifted more toward the public end, by which I mean that some level of things that are considered wholly private in the mainstream are seen as group business in cooperative culture. The trick is knowing where the line is. Most delicate of all are those dynamics that are some of both. Take for example the case where two couples split up because the partner in one couple wants to get together with a partner in the other couple, and all of this proceeds against the wishes of the ex-partners. While there is nothing original (or even rare) about this script, it illuminates the issue. On the one hand, everyone will agree that the choice about intimate partners is a private matter, yet the outcome of a switcheroo like this has obvious impact on group dynamics and it can be paralyzing to witness this and have no sense about whether or in what circumstances it's OK to explore the feelings that come up. To be clear, the individuals do not need the group's blessing to proceed, yet the group needs a way to collectively process the shake-up or it undercuts the relationships that are the lifeblood of the group.

40. Failing to Define Emergency Powers… Until There's an Emergency
Groups can go a long time—even decades—without facing an emergency that requires a streamlined response. The problem is that you don't know if and when an emergency will occur and it's too late to establish a process once you're in one. (If the house is on fire you don't call a meeting, you call the fire department.) Thus, it behooves groups using consensus to define the circumstances in which it's prudent to have a small group make decisions on behalf of the whole for the duration of the emergency. This includes: a) the conditions under which emergency powers can be invoked; b) the specific powers granted to the emergency group; c) who will comprise the emergency group; d) the process by which invoking happens; e) the reporting standards by which the whole group is informed what is happening; and f) the assessment afterwards about how well that went. Don't wait for the common house to catch fire!

41. Email from Hell
In this electronic age, a great deal of communication happens via email. While some of that is excellent (making announcements, posting minutes and reports, sending background materials ahead of major discussions) it is not well suited to all forms of communication. In particular, it is an incendiary way to express upset. In the worst cases people will say provocative things in email they would not say face-to-face, which is toxic to relationships. Worse, there is almost unlimited opportunity to misinterpret tone, emphasis, hyperbole, and sarcasm in email—all things that are much more easily corrected when people are communicating in the same room. Thus, groups are well served by developing protocols for the healthy use of email. Leaving it all up to individual discretion is naive.

42. Falling in Love with One Format
While the spirit of consensus is that the input of all members is welcome, meetings are never a level playing field and wise groups take that into account. The default format for most groups is open discussion, where people speak on a topic roughly in the order in which they indicate that they are ready. While that approach is meant to be evenly accessible to all, not everyone is equally comfortable speaking in front of the whole group, nor does everyone digest information and know their own mind at the same pace. Thus, some people wind up talking a lot more than others, and some may rarely speak. To address this, some groups embrace Go Rounds, where everyone has a protected chance to speak, and air space is much more evenly distributed. Unfortunately, Go Rounds are slow and there's a fair amount of repetition. The point is that there is no single format that works best all the time and groups are well served by facilitation that mixes things up. Do your facilitators have the latitude to do this? Do they have a sufficiently large toolkit and understanding of the tools to pair formats with what's needed?

43. Creating Constructive Containers
One of the most important skills of the consensus facilitator is setting things up to succeed by establishing the right stage (narrowing the focus of the conversation to something small enough to be digestible, yet large enough to be interesting); establishing the right tone (constructive, creative, and compassionate; rather than critical, combative, or compromising); and then getting out of the way, letting the wisdom of the group bubble up in that favorable environment.

44. Bloodless Facilitators
For some reason, a lot of people think that being a neutral facilitator means a neutered facilitator. No! You can be passionate without having a dog in the fight, or letting your ego get in the way of progress. You can care deeply that we're getting to the heart of the matter and that no one is being run over, without taking sides or trying to peddle a solution. You can empathize when people are contributing heartfelt feelings, and cheer when a bridge is discovered between seemingly intractable positions. To paraphrase Emma Goldman, I believe the facilitator's mantra should be: If I can't dance it isn't my meeting.

45. Everyone Has a Role
I figure that for all topics that the plenary tackles, every member will have one of two relationships to each: either they'll give a damn, or they won't. If they do it's relatively obvious why that should be engaged—they care about the outcome and would like to influence it. More subtle is why to be engaged if the outcome matters little. The way I see it, you are perfectly positioned to safeguard the process, to help people bridge to each other and not get bogged down in the trenches of their positions. You can help people hear each other and remember to think about what's best for the group—not with judgment, but with compassion. It's not just the facilitator's responsibility to safeguard process; it's everyone's responsibility.

46. Failure to Invoke Common Values
The lode star for plenary agreements is how to sensitively balance the applicable group values to the issue at hand. Obviously, the first step is knowing what your common values are. The second, more nuanced step, is inviting them into the conversation at the earliest opportunity so that they can be on the table as active elements when crafting a response. It is not enough that your values exist etched on a stone tablet that rests in a trophy case gathering dust in the living of the common house (next to the portraits of dead founders). They need to be alive and in the room guiding your work and being adapted to emerging shifts in who the group is and intends to be. Lacking a rudder, there is a lot of drift and decisions influenced by force of personality.

47. Welcoming Emotions
Many groups are uncertain what to do with emotional input. Mostly they hope it goes away and doesn't cause too much damage on the way through town. There's a lot of holding one's breath and hoping for the best. We can do better. Emotions can be volatile, sure, and people can undoubtedly be hurt by their raw expression. Yet emotions are also a source of information (people can know things more deeply through their heart than their mind) and a source of energy. (Who says meetings have to be energetically flat?) If you think of emotions as the flow of water through a fire hose, I suggest preparing for those moments when the flow is high by learning to hold the hose, not by reaching for the valve to shut down the water.

48. Expecting New Members to Pick it Up By Osmosis
Consensus is an unnatural act—at least for those of us raised in the competitive, adversarial overculture, which is just about everyone. Thus, it's not particularly smart to assume that new members are going to take to consensus like ducks to water. They need help. Having new people watch plenaries and absorb it through observation is a start but you need more. Have an experienced member sit with the new folks afterwards and walk through what happened. Take the time to train new members in the culture shift needed for consensus to thrive; it will be time well spent.

49. Disinviting Don Rickles
One of the trickier aspects of cooperative group dynamics is knowing how to work with the two-edged sword of humor. While it can provide a much-needed leavening and ease, it can also be overdone (pulling people prematurely out of a tender moment), strained (forced humor tends to be worse than none), or even divisive (think sarcasm and put-down humor, a la Don Rickles, where someone is isolated as the the butt of the joke). At its nastiest, humor can be used to zing poisoned darts across the room, where criticism is voiced without attribution ("Oh, I was only making a joke; I didn't mean anything."). You want your facilitators to root this out, rather than unwittingly enabling it by letting it slide.

50. Faithless Consensus
Finally, a word about the power of expectations. Mostly people recreationally bash meetings like they complain about the weather, perhaps not understanding how outcomes are influenced by projections of dismal meetings (where the group will be inefficient, people will listen poorly, little will get accomplished, you'll get a headache, etc). For the most part your reality will be profoundly guided by your expectations. If you expect a poor meeting, you are already 90% of the way toward having one—even before the meeting has started! The good news is that this can be turned around. Fifty years ago the Lovin' Spoonful released their pop hit, Do You Believe in Magic? That question is completely contemporary when applied to consensus. There will be no magic unless you believe.