Showing posts with label Communication. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Communication. Show all posts

Monday, November 9, 2020

The radical act of choosing common ground

by Nisha Anand, TEDxBerkeley:  https://www.ted.com/talks/nisha_anand_the_radical_act_of_choosing_common_ground_nov_2020

To achieve lasting change sometimes requires the hard, even radical, choice of partnering with people you'd least expect. Justice reform advocate Nisha Anand shares her story of working with her ideological opposite to make history and save lives -- and urges us all to widen our circles in order to make progress with purpose.


Thursday, July 2, 2020

VIDEO: The beauty and complexity of finding common ground

by Matt Trombley, Ted Talks: https://www.ted.com/talks/matt_trombley_the_beauty_and_complexity_of_finding_common_ground

How can we disagree with one another, respectfully and productively? In this thoughtful talk, team builder Matt Trombley reflects on "agonism" -- the tendency to take a rigid stance on issues -- and shares why finding aspects of agreement can be the first step in resolving conflict. "When you can find even the smallest bit of common ground with somebody, it allows you to understand the beautiful wonder and complexity and majesty of the other person," he says.

This talk was presented at a TED Institute event given in partnership with Wells Fargo. TED editors featured it among our selections on the home page. Read more about the TED Institute.

Tuesday, September 25, 2018

Against Civility: Why Habermas Recommends a Wild Public Sphere

Demonstrators in Madrid, Spain, in 2014. Photo by Sergio Perez/Reuters
Have we become unreasonable? In democracies around the world, anxious commentators exhort their fellow citizens to be more open-minded, more willing to engage in good-faith debate. In our era of hyperpolarisation, social-media echo chambers and populist demagogues, many have turned to civility as the missing ingredient in our public life.
So, how important is civility for democracy? According to one of the greatest theorists of the democratic public sphere, the German philosopher Jürgen Habermas, not very. Habermas is deeply concerned with protecting our ability to solve problems through the use of reason. Yet he believes that democracy is best served when the public sphere is left open, anarchic and conflictual.
For Habermas, the function of public debate is not to find a reasonable common ground. Rather, the public sphere ‘is a warning system’, a set of ‘sensors’ that detect the new needs floating underneath the surface of a supposed political consensus. And if we worry too much about civility and the reasonable middle, we risk limiting the ability of the public sphere to detect new political claims. To get those claims on the agenda in the first place often requires uncivil and confrontational political tactics. 
Habermas’s vision of politics focuses on the power of a wild public sphere. His great fear, one he expresses already in his habilitation thesis in 1962, published in English as The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere, is that large-scale, formal political and economic institutions are increasingly shutting themselves off from public criticism. Habermas traces the development of the idea of the critical public in 18th-century Europe, one that would hold state power accountable through the use of reason, and then its decline in an era of public-relations management focused on minimising the role of the public in political decision-making. While Habermas has been accused of romanticising the European Enlightenment, his goal was to draw attention to the stark gap between the ideals of the critical public and the reality of political and social domination.
Like other individuals associated with the Institute for Social Research in Frankfurt, Habermas has always been guided by the hope of creating an emancipated society – one where the use of political, social and economic power can be fully justified to those potentially affected. To this Frankfurt School ideal, Habermas adds an insight that goes back to Aristotle – that the central human capacity is language. The fact that we can understand one another, Habermas argues, means that we are committed to using reason to resolve disputes. In our day-to-day life, we have to continuously use language to organise our lives and make plans – instances of what Habermas in 1981 called ‘communicative action’.
Habermas thinks this has radical consequences. In all these instances, we accept, just by entering into the continuous flow of communication, that the only thing that should count are reasons that everyone accepts. Habermas’s critics point out that, in the real world, social differences in power affect whose voices are heard and whose ideas are recognised in all deliberation. But this point is not incompatible with Habermas’s insights. From his early work, he has seen reasoning as a fundamentally social practice, one that must always include moral and political questions. Bringing to light these subtle forms of power and exclusion helps to realise the ideal of rational enquiry.
What follows politically from Habermas’s theory of communication? Again, one possibility is to find some way to make people live up to an ideal of disinterested, civil deliberation. In the face of increasing polarisation and the potential breakdown of the rules of the game, we should search for some way to restore the underlying norms of mutual forbearance that ensure politics does not descend into civil war. But this is hardly the direction in which Habermas goes. It’s not that he then prizes incivility in and of itself. Rather, Habermas worries that a public sphere shackled by excessive regard for the norms of deliberation and rational debate loses its essential function. And that function is to bring to light questions, issues, concerns and needs that are currently invisible to political leaders and the larger public. 
In Between Facts and Norms (1992), he argues that ‘liberal misgivings about opening up an unrestricted spectrum of public issues and topics are not justified’. Rather, because of its ‘anarchic structure’, contestation in the public sphere can enable the perception of ‘new problems’ and help to overcome ‘the millennia-old shackles of social stratification and exploitation’.
Confrontation, protest and incivility are all components of deliberative politics as Habermas understands it. These forms of conflict, of refusing existing norms and institutions, are what bring to light whether those institutions and norms can survive rational scrutiny. Habermas goes so far as to call the ability to withstand and even celebrate civil disobedience the ‘litmus test’ for the maturity of a constitutional democracy. 
Even as Habermas has a famously ambitious understanding of our capacity for the collaborative search for truth, his is an activist’s view of politics. Consensus is not the highest good. Rather, the possibility of a society based on rational consensus becomes visible only in moments of dissensus, when the failure of existing norms is unmasked. Enlightenment comes about when social groups show that the dominant social organisation fails to take into consideration their legitimate claims and concerns. This is why Habermas is clear that he is interested, not in rational political communication as such, but ‘the history of its repression and re-establishment’.
Habermas’s recent work has focused on the fate of European integration, of which he is a prominent defender. This activist current in his thought has receded as he has worried more and more about the lack of long-term political vision on the part of Europe’s leaders. Yet he has also more recently come to recognise the dangerous failures of those institutions to produce their own legitimacy. The more those institutions, such as the European Union, insulate themselves from the unruly forces of the public sphere, the more they provide ammunition for whoever can claim to speak on behalf of a suppressed public opinion. Large-scale political institutions, from the European Union to the modern administrative state, approach politics as a set of management problems, best solved without extensive input from a potentially recalcitrant public.
Democracy, according to Habermas, requires a vibrant political sphere and political institutions that are able to respond to and incorporate the energy that arises from debate, protest, confrontation and politics. Perhaps it’s not citizens who have become unreasonable. Rather, their leaders have too long refused to listen, instead treating the public as nothing more than a periodic reservoir of votes, an obstacle to be managed on the path to smooth, technocratic governance.

Monday, July 23, 2018

The Value of Conversation

by Dave Pollard, How to Save the World: http://howtosavetheworld.ca/2010/03/23/the-value-of-conversation/

mindful wandering
photo by Maren Yumi
A couple of years ago, riffing off Nancy White, I wrote that
Life’s meaning, and an understanding of what needs to be done, emerges, most often, from conversation in community with people you love. It is the key to changing anything, whether it be the political or economic system, or yourself, or whether you want to save the whales, stop global warming, reform education, spark innovation or change anything else.
Now (thanks to Tree and my colleagues at Art of Hosting for the link) a new study suggests that when we have deep, meaningful conversations with others, we are happierpeople. The authors of the study say the result was counter-intuitive (“don’t worry, be happy” and “I don’t want to know”) but it really doesn’t surprise me. We are programmed to look for explanations and solutions for things we don’t understand and don’t like. Initially we may want to try to control the situation, rush to conclusions and solutions, but when those prove elusive, and the knowledge, ideas, perspectives and insights we have acquired don’t help us cope, we quickly turn to conversation. Why? I think there are ten reasons that conversations are so valuable they drive almost everything we believe, understand, and do:
  1. It’s better to know. Maybe we say and feel that we don’t want to know how bad it is, but when we say that we’re already imagining the worst. The truth is usually not that bad, and that truth often emerges from conversation.
  2. We like reassurance that what we feel and think makes sense. The fastest way to get that reassurance is to converse, to share, because from conversation come the nods of understanding, the appreciation, the sympathetic ideas, and the empathy that make what we feel and think more bearable, more sensible.
  3. It’s how we learn. We learn best by doing, by watching others, and by asking questions, and all three processes are improved through intelligent conversation. Tell me, how/why did you do that? Show me again and this time talk me through it. Now let me try, and tell me how I’m doing at each step.
  4. It’s how we decide. The best decisions are informed by ‘the wisdom of crowds’, by consultation, by talking through the options, by consensus.
  5. It’s how we resolve conflict. Conversation is how we ‘talk out’ our differences. When we discuss our respective viewpoints respectfully and openly, an appreciation of the other person’s feelings, beliefs and rationale can emerge, and the misunderstanding that usually underlies the conflict can be dissipated.
  6. It leads to intention, and hence to action. Often an event or learning will lead us to a sense of urgency to act, but not give us wisdom of what action to take. Conversation, once it has reassured us that our instinct to act is valid, can help us surface and learn some of the options to act, and hence propel us into action. And when we converse, we often state our commitment, our intention to act, and having a witness to that intention can also push us to act on it.
  7. It clarifies, in our own minds, what we care about and hence who we are. What we care about defines who we are, so when we have a conversation that helps us understand whether and to what degree we care about an issue, and why, we come to understand and know ourselves better. That makes us more useful in many ways, and in the process, probably makes us happier.
  8. With practice, it improves our social fluency, and other critical capacities and competencies. The chart below is one I co-developed with Chris Lott, and the blue circle which, in concert with our knowledge and thinking competencies enables us to be usefully expressive (artistic and improvisational, and hence socially fluent) is all about the capacity for and practice of conversation.
  9. With practice, it teaches us the critical appreciative skills of listening and attention. Every conversation is a dance, and you have to be pretty insensitive not to realize that if you always lead and dominate the conversation, soon people won’t want to dance with you any more. And of course we learn more when we pay attention, really listen to what others are saying.
  10. It opens us to new possibilities. Although often in conversation we are seeking reassurance, attention and appreciation, sometimes we will be surprised, bowled over, astonished, to hear something, or to realize something, that changes us radically, opens us to new ideas and worldviews, breaks our heart. That is the key to innovation and resilience, and good conversation can expose us and keep us open to these mind-altering, heart-breaking new possibilities.
social fluency
model based on the social fluency model by Chris Lott, described in this earlier post
Yes, I know, lately I’ve been down on language because while it’s a passable tool for intellectual understanding it’s a poor one for communicating emotion. But I’m not sure you even need language to have a deep and meaningful conversation. Watch lovers converse with the ‘illiterate’ sounds and tones of their voices, watch the body language in meetings and casual encounters, watch wild animals collaborate on a project they couldn’t do alone — each is a wordless conversation. Even the conversation we have with ourselves (and imagine ourselves having with the author) when we read something stimulating is a substantially illiterate conversation — it’s more about acknowledging what we feel, and tapping into our instincts, than it is an intellectual word-conversation.
These ten ‘values’ of conversation make us more competent, more human, more appreciative, more collaborative.
No wonder conversation makes us happy.

Wednesday, January 31, 2018

Concordia University's Discussion Series Brings Montreal Residents Together for Shared Learning





















No exams, no endless lectures, no ivory towers, and certainly no tuition fees — the University of the Streets Café discussion series is far from your typical university experience. Montreal's Concordia University has been bringing the city's biggest debates into the city's neighborhoods for more than a decade.
University of the Streets Café is a series of free and open public discussions, held regularly during the academic year. Discussion topics cover a sweeping range of political, ethical, and practical issues.
Alex Megelas, programs and communications coordinator at Concordia's Office of Community Engagement, organizes the discussions. "Every semester has a thematic anchor," he says. "This semester, it's 'Public Choices, Private Impact.' To what extent are we beholden to policies and regulations; to what extent do they inform our capacity to express ourselves?" In this light, the coming semester's talks will address community health care, creating accessible cities for the elderly, and dismantling stereotypes, among a long list of open-ended themes.
"We don't have a mandate to showcase Concordia or Concordia's research," Megelas says. "We're there to start conversations that can lead to deeper discussions between people who are on the ground, active in their communities, and institutions. We believe in city-based learning."
The discussions, organized in community centers and public spaces around Montreal, normally draw a few dozen people. Sometimes the audiences skew younger, sometimes older. Discussions are held in French and English, to make them accessible to as many Montrealers as possible. The panelists are often academics and community activists — they are seated in the crowd, not at lecterns. They give brief opening remarks and then the moderator opens the floor — not for questions from the audience, but for an open discussion — a conversation, as Megelas calls it. "We want to take a step back from the kind of education that values expertise and existing cultural capital, where the same people are repeatedly given a platform," he says. "There's value in shaky voices saying their peace imperfectly. There's value in life experiences and half-formed thoughts. You don't often find that in lectures. Our spaces are chaotic, messy, and sometimes conflicted."
Attendees and moderators never quite know what to expect. "At the beginning, I would develop a set of expectations for the conversations and then walk away hugely disappointed because the guests hadn’t talked about what I wanted to talk about," says Megelas. "But the most important conversations have been the ones where I let go and the room defined what it wanted to talk about." Moderators are encouraged to look for other perspectives in the crowd.
The program was established 15 years ago by the university's now-defunct Institute for Community Development. Megelas, who was working in community organizing at the time, became a regular attendee and occasional moderator. "It was exciting to me that the university was allocating resources to highlight community-based voices and perspective," he says. "They're not necessarily people whose views are informed by degrees or by research — they're informed by their own lived experiences."
He has been running the program for the past two years. "My partner makes fun of me. She says that my job is getting together with people in coffeeshops to have conversations about having conversations in coffee shops. It's really meta."
Discussions are held in public spaces throughout Montreal — the coming semester programs will be centered in the Parc-Extension and Little Burgundy neighborhoods, where gentrification and immigration  are specially pressing topics. "The three conversations we're having in Little Burgundy are at the Imani Community Centre [an English-language mosque] and they stem from some conversations that I had with the imam, who's acutely aware of the effects that social narratives have on his community."
"I love it when people come in and they're in their bubbles, looking at their devices… and then they come away having lived something that is communal, walking up to strangers and saying, 'I really appreciated what you said,'" says Megelas. "There's value to just talking."
The University of the Streets Café Spring 2018 season begins Feb. 21 with a conversation titled “Environmental Responsibilities: What is our relationship to the natural world?” The event will be held at Montréal Arts Interculturels (3680 Jeanne-Mance) from 7-9 p.m. All are welcome.
All photos courtesy of the University of the Streets Café

Monday, October 23, 2017

Authentic Conversations: Moving from Manipulation to Truth and Commitment

The following is an excerpt from Authentic Conversations: Moving from Manipulation to Truth an Commitment, Berret-Koehler Publishers, 2008
We were consulting with a large East Coast newspaper grappling with a multimillion-dollar shortfall and the plagues of the industry in general: declining circulation, shrinking advertising revenue, and increasing newsprint prices. The problems of this newspaper were compounded by changes in the region’s demographics, which raised questions about whether the paper’s content was relevant to the readers in their market. Layoffs seemed inevitable. Hundreds were likely to lose their jobs.
In preparation for a large group meeting about the crisis, we followed the publisher for an entire day as he met with small groups of employees from advertising, circulation, production, and the newsroom. Everyone asked similar questions: “What are you going to do about this crisis, Joe? How are you going to fix it?” They complained about being unable to be productive because they were so stressed about the possibility of losing their jobs. They angrily told Joe they blamed him and other senior managers for “getting us into this mess” and demanded to know what he was going to do about it.
Joe encouraged the employees to focus on the long term. “We will get reestablished,” he assured them. “We will develop new strategies to build circulation and advertising. We will find ways to make our stories more relevant to readers. We are negotiating with corporate for leniency regarding the profit demands.” All day long, we heard him give one reassuring message after another: “Don’t worry, I’m going to make you safe. Don’t worry, senior leaders will take care of it.”
Joe was a bright, capable, and caring man. He was passionate about his job and committed to his employees. He wanted to do the right things. But in our estimation, he was saying all the wrong things. His conversations were making the situation worse. By making promises he couldn’t possibly keep and sending a message to employees that they were off the hook for resolving a difficult situation, he was exacerbating the problems the company faced.
We gave him our frank assessment of the damage he had been doing. Joe, obviously taken aback, was thoughtful and silent as he contemplated our feedback.
We’ll get back to Joe’s story, but first let’s look at why we paid such close attention to the conversations he was having with the newspaper’s employees.

Conversations Create Culture

James A. Autry, businessman, author, and poet, says, “We do make things true by what we say.… Things and people are what we call them, because in the simplest terms, we are what we say, and others are what we say about them.”
Simply put, a conversation is an exchange between two or more individuals, but that simple definition obscures a conversation’s complexity. Words and language are powerful tools, and conversations are so commonplace in our daily lives that we don’t pause to contemplate their inherent power.
First, conversations reveal what we see in the world and what meaning we attach to what we see. Second, as Autry says, we name things and create reality. Third, we invite others to see what we see, the way we see it. And fourth, through conversations we either sustain or change the meaning of what we see. All these things play a commanding role in creating and defining an organization’s culture.
The term “culture” refers to the universal capacity that human beings have to classify, codify, and communicate their experiences symbolically. In other words, culture dictates our beliefs, behavior, language, and social interaction. Nonverbal communication and unwritten rules play a large role here.
Edgar Schein, a professor at the MIT Sloan School for management and the man credited with coining the term “corporate culture,” talks about culture as being a pattern of shared basic assumptions. Schein defined organizational culture as “the specific collection of values and norms that are shared by people and groups in an organization and that control the way they interact with each other and with stakeholders outside the organization.” He wrote that these norms “prescribe appropriate behavior by employees and control the behavior of organizational members towards one another.”
Culture tells us what is acceptable and unacceptable. It alerts us to whether it is okay to show up a little late for a meeting, how we should be dressed when we arrive, and whether bringing up difficult issues in the room will be viewed favorably. It influences how we treat each other, talk to each other, and is a factor in the way we view and interact with our coworkers and customers.
Culture shows up as a similarity in the way people behave at work, regardless of their rank, title, or serial number. As Margaret J. Wheatley writes in Leadership and the New Science, “I am often struck by eerily similar behaviors exhibited by people in an organization, whether I’m meeting with a factory floor employee or a senior executive. I might detect a recurring penchant for secrecy or for openness, for name-calling or for thoughtfulness. These recurring patterns of behavior are what many call the culture of an organization.”

Changing the Culture Requires New Conversations

The overarching creators and carriers of an organization’s culture are the conversations in which the members of that organization engage. The ways people see and talk about things such as cynicism, hope, helplessness, and resourcefulness, their customers, and the work itself reflect organizational culture. Statements about the culture are seen in what we say as well as through our behavior. Culture influences decisions such as whether to share or withhold information, whether it’s more important to defer to a person’s position instead of authentically stating a point of view, and whether we see our coworkers as collaborators or competitors.
In an organization where power is concentrated at the top, compliance is highly valued, and parent–child roles are established, the cultural norm looks like this: “When my boss tells me to do something, even if it doesn’t make sense to me, I don’t push back. Dissent marks me as uncooperative and threatens my future.” Or “When my morale is low, it is management’s job to figure out what’s wrong, find the solution, and implement changes. People’s unhappiness is a statement of faulty leadership.”
In an organization where business literacy, choice, and accountability are distributed widely and deeply, where flexibility and innovation are highly valued and the dominant roles are adult–adult, the culture norm is “When I see something is wrong, I want to attend to it. I am expected to attend to it and I am accountable for doing so. My boss and coworkers expect me to push back and challenge their thinking. Dissent and accountability are the lubricants of this organization.”
Conversation is the primary way of learning and sharing cultural norms, especially those ways that are informal and implicit. Messages are transmitted both in the words we use and in the relationship dynamics that drive how we talk to each other.
For this reason, common workplace conversations can sabotage any attempt at significant organizational change. How we talk to each other in business settings and the way we deliberate decisions are revealing. In addition, some of the most powerful conversations take place outside the boardrooms, the auditoriums, and the meeting rooms. They happen in restrooms, coffee rooms, during smoke breaks, in people’s offices, on the assembly line, and during chance encounters in the hall. They continue in bars and cafés after work. Those ordinary conversations that people have thousands of times a day ultimately define the culture.
Establishing new conversations is the most effective way—and the most underutilized—to create ongoing, long-lasting change in our lives, our organizations, and society. New conversations require us to see each other in a different way, and create an awareness of our role in perpetuating habits and behaviors that don’t serve us well.
To illustrate, let’s return to our story about Joe and the conversations he had been having with employees. This is the feedback we gave him before his big meeting with employees: “In all the meetings you had with people today, you were reassuring them that things would turn around and that you were going to make it okay. Joe, how are you going to do that?” In the type of culture we advocate, it is likely that one or more people would have already asked this question directly in the small group meetings. But the existing culture did not support asking this difficult question of senior management. Nor did the culture encourage introspection about individual accountability.
Joe was silent for a while, and then he finally said, “Well, I want to make it okay. Everyone is expecting me to make it okay. If I tell people the truth, that I don’t know what the solution is yet, this paper might fall apart today, right now. It is my responsibility to figure things out and to reassure people.”
We asked, “Who are these people you’re talking about? Are they children or are they adults?” From our perspective, he was stuck in a traditional way of looking at things and choosing the same old conversations to talk about a difficult situation. He was reinforcing the parent–child relationship embedded in the culture. By choosing words of reassurance, by promising to define and solve the problems and telling employees they shouldn’t worry about the company’s future, he was treating employees as children who needed caretaking and protecting. However, what he needed in these circumstances were capable adults who would participate in creating a successful organization and own their accountability for finding solutions. We suggested he try a new conversation by changing his view of the people who show up to work every day and the words he chose when he talked to them.
First, we advised him to stop sugarcoating the situation and tell employees the truth about the difficult circumstances the newspaper faced.
Second, we asked him to stop promising them a safe and secure future that he knew was impossible to deliver.
And finally, we advised that he help employees realize that their issues of safety and security were something they were going to have to manage for themselves. In fact, they were the only ones who could.
Joe found our suggestions daunting. He wrestled with the ramifications. But at the end of the day, he stood up in front of a large group of disappointed, scared, and angry employees who were looking for reassurance, and he had a new conversation with them.
He began, “I have been doing a lot of thinking since our departmental meetings today, and I have some tough things to say to you that I didn’t say when we met earlier.” He then explained clearly and directly the full gravity of the situation they all faced in making the newspaper profitable in the current market. He admitted that he had made the situation worse by implying he had answers to those difficult issues when he didn’t and by reassuring employees that things would be all right when he couldn’t be sure. He was clear with them about the costs of failure and said he needed them to begin taking responsibility for finding the answers. Joe was emphatic about the necessity of everyone working together to turn the situation around.
He finished by saying this: “The final thing I have to say is the most difficult. I can do nothing about your happiness. I can do nothing to make you feel safe, and I can do nothing to make you feel secure. Those things are in your hands. You will have to choose what you are going to do to account for your own future here and the future of this newspaper. I will do everything I can, and I hope you will too, but stop tap-dancing on my head about your happiness as if I were accountable for it. I am not.”
There was a moment of tense and bewildered silence. Then the employees spontaneously stood up and applauded—for a long time. It was a crazy moment of relief. They had been told the truth for the first time in years. Joe had acknowledged that they were adults, and he had talked to them as adults. He made it clear that he could not resolve the paper’s problems by himself. In effect, he was saying, “I am going to stop the empty, reassuring message. Nobody believes it anyway. Let’s start getting straight about what is going on here.”
It was a wonderful moment for the organization. Joe stopped the old conversation and created a new, authentic way of talking to the employees. He changed the culture in the room.

Organizational Culture and the Business

When we begin working with a client organization, we assess the culture and other things by interviewing people throughout the company. One of the first questions we ask is “What is it like to work here?”
When enough people say, “This is a difficult place to work. The pace is hectic and demanding, they don’t really care what I think. Nothing ever changes and I feel like all they want me to do is show up and do what they say,” we can draw some solid conclusions about the culture. We can deduce that the work is fast-paced and people work long hours, but they don’t understand why and they don’t like it. We hear that they are afraid to speak out or feel unheard if they do. They feel their ability to contribute is limited and attempts to overcome dissatisfaction have failed. They feel like victims and justify those feelings. We can conclude that the culture is riddled with parent–child conversations.
The ways in which people view change are also signals of organizational culture. People say things like this: “When someone suggests a change, someone else says, ‘We tried that before, and it didn’t work.’ Pretty soon everyone is talking about what happened in the past and how change never works rather than the proposal on the table.”
Statements such as these tell us a lot. They tell us that people in the organization have been disappointed by change efforts, and the culture is marked by a lack of hope and optimism. People see themselves as victims of an inept organization, and the culture accepts and supports their helplessness. And because their conversations are centered on disappointment, injustice, and not being taken seriously, rather than the demands of the business, we can conclude that serious issues that affect success aren’t being addressed in the way they should be.
In one large health care company where we consulted, for example, employees who worked in billing were being hammered by a series of difficult business problems that threatened to shut the department down. Outsourcing was a possibility. During our interviews with employees, most of their comments centered on issues such as how unfriendly some of the supervisors were, whose turn it was to clean the coffee station, and whether the window blinds should be open or closed. They said very little that led us to believe they were concerned about, much less actively trying to solve, serious business problems that threatened their employment.
The first, most critical step to creating a healthier, more productive culture is to change the conversations. Changing a conversation in the moment can change the culture in the room, the way Joe did when he told the truth about a difficult situation. Changing the culture in the room in any given moment is the best any of us can do. If new conversations change the culture in the room enough times and in enough rooms—the organization’s culture will change.
We can learn to talk about cynicism, for example, as the choice that it is rather than as a predetermined outcome of disappointment. By having that conversation, we can reveal what we see and what we make of the choice for cynicism. We can invite others to see it in the same way, and by doing so, we seize an opportunity to confront cynicism and change the point of view in the room.
Changing the culture with new conversations can create a more mature, resilient organization with a capacity for creativity, innovation, and transformation in the face of unyielding marketplace demands. Through new conversations, we can establish organizations that people believe in, where they take accountability for the success of the whole, where people find meaning in the work they do and achieve the necessary results to succeed.

A New Conversation

Joe’s new conversation with the newspaper employees had four powerful elements that are not typically heard at traditional organizations:
First, he honestly acknowledged the problems and named the difficult issues. The newspaper was in deep trouble; he didn’t have all the answers and did not expect the answers to come fast or easily.
Second, he owned his contribution to the difficulty. He admitted he had clouded issues by understating the crisis and offering empty reassurances to those who should have been engaged in finding solutions. He acknowledged he had wanted to make people feel safe and secure, even when he knew he couldn’t.
Third, he stated the risks and acknowledged the possibility of things not working out. He was telling it to them straight when he said, “I don’t know how we are going to solve these problems.”
Fourth, he presented them with a choice. He confronted the fact that everyone had a choice to make about what they were going to do and how they were going to face the future.

Business Implications of Telling the Truth

For Joe, the business implications of telling the truth were enormous. Everyone in the room that day was looking for leadership from the boss—and he had a choice to make. On the one hand, he could continue caretaking and encourage employees to look to him and senior management for answers and reassurance. But if he did that, people in the organization would remain stuck, unable to act for themselves. They would get the message that they were off the hook for finding solutions. In the end, he was likely to have a room full of people who were deeply disappointed, raging against the injustice of having to bear the outcome of inadequate leadership.
On the other hand, he could tell them the truth and acknowledge their betrayal. He could communicate the expectation that they work as adults who could, and should, contribute to the success of the organization. This speaks to the adult nature of everyone’s existence and the fact that we alone choose what we make of our future.
At least in the moment of Joe’s speech, employees at this newspaper heard the message that the survival of the paper was as much in their hands as it was in senior management’s. They recognized that their contributions to resolving the difficult marketplace issues in circulation, advertising, editorial, and production while managing costs would have a bearing on their futures. Rather than demanding, like children, that Joe solve the problems for them, they could choose to grow up, have hope and optimism for the future, and put their energies toward making a difference.

Learning to Grow Up

Organizations have been built on the notion that people must be held accountable and that someone else is in charge of doing that. This kind of thinking, more than anything else, creates and maintains parent–child conversations in the workplace that foster cultures relying on compliance rather than commitment.
The idea that we are all responsible for our own commitment is radical. It requires people to acknowledge each other as adults who are ultimately responsible for the choices they make. We must abandon the thought that others can be the source of our motivation and morale. Then new conversations must begin to engage and support that new worldview. This shift is profoundly difficult, and it is absolutely essential.
If you don’t believe it, ask yourself this basic question: “What is best for this enterprise—people who are treated and behave like children, or adults who are resilient and capable of responding to difficult circumstances?” The answer is so obvious that it makes the question seem ridiculous. Yet organizations are still deeply entrenched in workplace philosophies, policies, and procedures that reinforce parent–child conversations and cultures without realizing the cost to the business.
Anyone who has worked in an organization has stories to tell about changes that were introduced in the workplace and how they failed. Even when everyone seems to be aligned and committed to a change, it only takes a few months before people start realizing, and maybe even complaining, that everything is back to “normal.” The desired organizational transformation has failed to take root.
People ask what went wrong. They diagnose the situation and scratch their heads, puzzled by what caused the failure. Some blame upper management, others blame the rank and file. People point a blaming finger at the training staff or consultants. Others assert that the thinking, methods, processes, or technology were flawed or that the proper resources weren’t brought to bear.
What almost always gets overlooked, however, is one of the most powerful forces in the organization. It is a force so common and so taken for granted that it is almost too obvious to see. No one thought to change the ways people see each other and the ways they talk to each other.
Change will not survive or thrive if we continue having the same conversations. Parent–child conversations and cultures are undermining our organizations’ best chances for success in the marketplace. In this book, we explore the myths and traditions that have created and maintained parent–child cultures. We provide information and tools to help transform the harmful parent–child dynamic into authentic adult–adult conversations. We take a look at the importance of intentions, language, and confronting difficult issues while maintaining goodwill.
Changing the conversations has many personal and organizational ramifications. It’s critical because it acknowledges the essence of individual human experience—choice. Authentic conversations honor this, and people truly become instrumental in creating a place where their work has meaning. It is also good for business. Disaffected, disengaged employees who are treated like children are not likely to be committed to customer satisfaction, use company resources wisely, or work with other departments in partnership to further business goals.
Three distinct parent–child relationship dynamics are supported and perpetuated by conversations, and we’ll examine the outcomes they generate, their effect on people and culture, and the price the organization pays for their continuance.
How is language used for manipulation and effect? By focusing on our intentions and choosing different language, we explore how to create conversations that center on disclosure and engagement. We will show you ways to identify harmful conversations and the subtleties of manipulative intent, and provide outlines for generating honest, productive conversations.
While the new conversations themselves are relatively simple and straightforward, they are not for the fainthearted. Continued use of these conversations creates a world where there is no place to hide. It creates a world where we each see our responsibility and are required to take accountability for ourselves, our organizations, and the world in which we live.
Leadership implications for using conversations to change the culture are enormous and have nothing to do with the size of your office or the importance of your title. Leadership is no longer viewed as the responsibility of those with the largest offices and the best parking spots. It becomes an act of living and interacting in a way that personifies the culture you want to create while engaging others in this creation—and doing it now, in this moment. It no longer serves you to find better ways of manipulating so that you can get “them” to do something.
True leadership also means building knowledge and literacy instead of managing people, and anyone can do this by being as generous and distributive as possible. Today’s business environment is marked by an abundance of data. We are rich in information, yet information is often hoarded in organizations as if holding it close will keep people from starving when the business fails to thrive.
Choosing authentic conversations to create an adult culture focused on personal accountability is a challenge for every single person in an organization. Were it not for risk, there would be no need for courage. The absence of courage is sleep. It is time to wake up.
The secret for sustaining successful change in organizations lies in consciously changing the nature of workplace conversations.



Excerpted from Authentic Conversations: Moving from Manipulation to Truth an Commitment, Berrett-Koehler Publishers, 2008Maren Showkeir and James Showkeir are the principals of Henning-Showkeir and Associates, a consulting firm whose work centers on harmonizing the demand for business results with creating a culture where individuals can find meaning and purpose at work. 

Tuesday, June 30, 2015

The Lonely American

(Photo: Seth Wenig / AP Photo)
by Chris Hedges, Common Dreams: http://www.commondreams.org/views/2015/06/29/lonely-american

Michael P. Printup, president of Watkins Glen International, one of the country’s largest racetracks, stood with a group of about a dozen race fans at 8:30 a.m. Saturday. Next to him were boxes of free doughnuts and coffee.

A line of men with towels, who had spent the night in nearby RV campers, pop-up campers and tents, stood patiently outside the door to a shower room. A light drizzle, one that would turn into a torrential downpour and lead to the races being canceled in the afternoon, coated the group, all middle-aged or older white men.

They were discussing, amid the high-pitched whine of cars practicing on the 3.4-mile, 11-turn circuit racetrack, the aging demographic of race fans and the inability to lure a new generation to the sport. “Maybe if you installed chargers for phones around the track they would come,” suggested one gray-haired man.

But it is not just sporting events. Public lectures, church services, labor unions, Veterans of Foreign Wars halls, Masonic halls, Rotary clubs, the Knights of Columbus, the Lions Club, Grange Hall meetings, the League of Women Voters, Daughters of the American Revolution, local historical societies, town halls, bowling leagues, bridge clubs, movie theater attendance (at a 20-year low), advocacy groups such as the NAACP and professional and amateur theatrical and musical performances cater to a dwindling and graying population.

No-one is coming through the door to take the place of the old members. A generation has fallen down the rabbit hole of electronic hallucinations - with images often dominated by violence and pornography. They have become, in the words of the philosopher Hannah Arendt, “atomized,” sucked alone into systems of information and entertainment that cater to America’s prurient fascination with the tawdry, the cruel and the deadening cult of the self.

The entrapment in a world of nonstop electronic sounds and images, begun with the phonograph and radio, advanced by cinema and television and perfected by video games, the Internet and hand-held devices, is making it impossible to build relationships and structures that are vital for civic engagement and resistance to corporate power. We have been transformed into commodities.

The steady decline of the white male heaven that is NASCAR - which has stopped publishing the falling attendance at its tracks and at some speedways has begun to tear down bleachers - is ominous. It is the symbol of a captive society.

“We don’t see the youth coming in,” Printup said. “The millennial, the younger adults 18 to 35, is our target. We spend millions of dollars a year to target that group. But it’s hard. Look around. Who’s the youngest person here? That’s our problem. Every sport from the NFL to NHL is struggling with the 18 to 35 demographic. They call them weird. They call them difficult. They only want to look at their computers.”

Printup’s parent company, the International Speedway Corp. (ISC), has invested significant sums to reach this demographic with little to show for it. “We have a digital firm that represents nearly all our tracks in the ISC,” he went on, noting that Watkins Glen, which drew about 16,000 fans this past weekend, is one of the few exceptions to the decline in numbers. “The digital platform is about the only way you can get to them. We target them. We buy lists. We hire an agency that tracks their Web and Internet interactions. If they bring up racing, we want to be there. When a kid Googles ‘Ferrari - racing - sports car’ we are one of the top 10 lists. We pay for that. It is not cheap. That’s how you have got to get these kids. But it’s not working the way it should.”

Robert D. Putnam pointed out the decline of independent civic engagement, or what he called our “social capital,” in his book “Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community.” He noted that our severance from local communal and civic groups brought with it not only loneliness and alienation, but also a dangerous and passive reliance on the state.

Totalitarian societies, including our own, inundate the public with a steady stream of propaganda accompanied by mindless entertainment. They seek to destroy independent organizations. In Nazi Germany the state provided millions of cheap, state-subsidized radios and then dominated the airwaves with its propaganda. Radio receivers were mounted in public locations in Stalin’s Soviet Union; and citizens, especially illiterate peasants, were required to gather to listen to the state-controlled news and the dictator’s speeches. These totalitarian states also banned civic organizations that were not under the iron control of the party.

The corporate state is no different, although unlike past totalitarian systems it permits dissent in the form of print and does not ban fading civic and community groups. It has won the battle against literacy. The seductiveness of the image lures most Americans away from the print-based world of ideas. The fascination with the image swallows the time and energy required to attend and maintain communal organizations. If no one reads, why censor books? Let Noam Chomsky publish as much as he wants. Just keep his voice off the airwaves. If no one attends community meetings, group events or organizations, why prohibit them? Let them be held in near-empty rooms and left uncovered by the press until they are shuttered.

The object of a totalitarian state is to keep its citizens locked within the parameters of official propaganda and permanently isolated. Propaganda and isolation make it difficult for an individual to express or carry out dissent. Official opinions, little more than digestible slogans and clichés, are crafted and disseminated by public relations specialists on behalf of the power elite. They are repeated endlessly over the airwaves until the public unconsciously ingests them.

And the isolated public in a totalitarian society is unable to connect its personal experience of despair, anxiety, fear, frustration and economic insecurity to the structures that create these conditions. The isolated citizen is left feeling that his or her personal misfortune is an exception. The portrayal of society by systems of state propaganda - content, respectful of authority, just, economically secure and free - is mistaken for reality.

Totalitarian propaganda, accompanied by isolation, or what Arendt called “atomization,” makes it possible for a population not to “believe in anything visible, in the reality of their own experience; they do not trust their eyes and ears but only their imaginations, which may be caught by anything that is at once universal and consistent in itself.” This propaganda, Arendt went on, “gave the masses of atomized, undefinable, unstable and futile individuals a means of self-definition and identification.”

Corporate propaganda saturates the public, especially a generation wedded to new technology, with these lies. Its power, however, comes from the meticulous study of the moods, prejudices, whims and desires of the public, to manipulate the masses in their own language and emotions. Konrad Heiden made this point when he examined fascist propaganda in Nazi Germany, noting that propaganda must detect the murmur of the public “and translate it into intelligible utterance and convincing action.”

“The true aim of political propaganda is not to influence, but to study, the masses,” Heiden wrote. “The speaker is in constant communication with the masses; he hears an echo, and senses the inner vibration.”

Heiden, forced to flee Nazi Germany, went on: “When a resonance issues from the depths of the substance, the masses have given him the pitch; he knows in what terms he must finally address them. Rather than a means of directing the mass mind, propaganda is a technique for riding with the masses. It is not a machine to make wind but a sail to catch the wind.”

Dissent will only be possible when we break the dark spell of corporate propaganda and the isolation that accompanies it. We must free ourselves from corporate tyranny, which means refusing to invest our emotional and intellectual energy in electronic images. We must build what the Russian anarchist Peter Kropotkin  called “voluntary associations for study and teaching, for industry, commerce, science, art, literature, exploitation, resistance to exploitation, amusement, serious work, gratification and self-denial.”

“We know well the means by which this association of the lord, priest, merchant, judge, soldier, and king founded its domination,” Kropotkin wrote. “It was by the annihilation of all free unions: of village communities, guilds, trades unions, fraternities, and medieval cities. It was by confiscating the land of the communes and the riches of the guilds; it was by the absolute and ferocious prohibition of all kinds of free agreement between men; it was by massacre, the wheel, the gibbet, the sword, and the fire that Church and State established their domination, and that they succeeded henceforth to reign over an incoherent agglomeration of subjects, who had no direct union more among themselves.”

Corporate propaganda has become so potent that many Americans are addicted. We must leave our isolated rooms. We must shut out these images. We must connect with those around us. It is only the communal that will save us. It is only the communal that will allow us to build a movement to resist. And it is only the communal that will sustain us through mutual aid as climate change and economic collapse increasingly dominate our future.

Chris Hedges writes a regular column for Truthdig.com. Hedges graduated from Harvard Divinity School and was for nearly two decades a foreign correspondent for The New York Times. He is the author of many books, including: War Is A Force That Gives Us Meaning, What Every Person Should Know About War, and American Fascists: The Christian Right and the War on America. His most recent book is Empire of Illusion: The End of Literacy and the Triumph of Spectacle.

Monday, December 29, 2014

"Remember when we...?"; Why Sharing Memories is Soul Food

Christmas Memories
Christmas Memories (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
by Amanda Barnier and Penny Van Bergen, The Conversation: http://theconversation.com/remember-when-we-why-sharing-memories-is-soul-food-35542

Families and friends share memories all the time; “You’ll never guess …”, “How was your day?”, and “Do you remember when …” are rich daily fodder.

Sharing memories is not only a good way to debrief and reminisce, we’re beginning to realise the process plays an important role in children’s psychological development and protects our memories as we advance in age.

Telling stories draws us together

We share memories of the past for many reasons. By telling a sad or difficult story - perhaps a fond memory of someone we have lost since last Christmas - we strengthen shared connections, offer sympathy and elicit support.

By telling a funny or embarrassing story - perhaps the time the dog stole the Christmas ham - we share feelings of joy or recognition of difficulties overcome, large or small. By sharing similar or not-so-similar experiences, we empathise with and understand one another better.

Talking about the past also helps create and maintain our individual and shared identities. We know who we are - whether as individuals, groups or communities - because our memories provide a database of evidence for events we have experienced and what they mean to us.

Even when some people missed out on an event, sharing a memory of it can shape their identity. Developmental psychologist Robyn Fivush and her team demonstrated this when they asked American adolescents to recount “intergenerational” stories: events from their parents’ lives they learnt via memories shared within the family, often around the dinner table.

Fivush found that the adolescents she tested could easily retell many of their parents’ memory stories. Most importantly, they made strong connections between these second-hand family memories and their own developing sense of identity: “my dad played soccer when he was young, so that got me started”.

Children who showed these kinds of family memory-self identity connections reported higher levels of well-being.

Teaching children how to remember

For young children, telling memory stories teaches them how to remember. From as young as two years of age children begin to show signs of autobiographical memory: memories of themselves and their lives.

Although these earliest memories often are fleeting (it is not until our third or fourth birthday that we start forming memories that last into adulthood), they are important because they show that children are learning how to be a rememberer.

Research by developmental psychologists consistently shows that the way parents and others talk to young children about the past is crucial for their memory development.

One of the best ways is to use what we call a “high elaborative” style. This involves prompting the child’s own contributions with open-ended questions (who, what, why, how) and extending on and adding structure to the child’s sometimes limited responses. Together, the parent and child can then jointly tell a memory story that is rich, full and comprehensible.

Children whose parents use this elaborative reminiscing style subsequently show stronger and more detailed memories. sean dreilinger/Flickr, CC BY-NC-SA

Consider this example from one of our studies where a mother and her four-year-old son reminisce about a favourite Christmas ritual:
Mother: … and you and Daddy put the Christmas tree up together, and then you put on decorations! What decorations did you put on?
Child: Um … the Christmas balls!
Mother: That’s right! Daddy bought Christmas balls and stars to hang on the tree. What colours were they?
Child: Red and gold.
Mother: Red and gold. Pretty red balls, and gold stars.
Child: And there was the paper circles too.
Notice how the mother guides the progress of her son’s recollections. She is mindful too of letting him contribute as much as he is able, scaffolding his memories with appropriate, open-ended and informative cues. She also reinforces and praises his contributions.

Not surprisingly, children whose parents use this elaborative reminiscing style subsequently show stronger and more detailed memories of their own past experiences.

Preschool children who are exposed to this style of reminiscing also develop stronger comprehension, vocabulary and literacy skills. And because we tend to remember and talk about emotionally meaningful events - events that make us happy, sad, scared - elaborative reminiscing helps children understand and learn to navigate difficult emotions and emotional memories.

These early practices have long-term consequences. Older children whose families narrate and discuss emotion-rich stories around the dinner table report higher levels of self-esteem and show greater resilience when faced with adversity.

It’s fine to disagree

Conversations about the past often require some degree of negotiation. Many studies highlight the value of collaborating in recall. That is, giving everyone a voice rather than letting one narrator dominate; particularly one voice that narrates other people’s memories as well as their own.

But what if someone seems to be telling the memory wrong? You’ve probably experienced the frustration of a brother, sister or cousin down the other end of the Christmas table mixing up the details of an event you both experienced. Or worse yet, claiming and recalling a childhood experience that you know happened to you and not to them.

It’s fine to disagree so long as everyone gets a voice. Evgeni Zotov/Flickr, CC BY-NC-ND

With young children still learning to remember, contradicting or ignoring their memory contributions - even if they contain source errors or inaccuracies - can shut the conversation down and discourage joint remembering.

But as we get older, we realise that others may have a different perspective on events. We realise that 100% accuracy is not the only or even the most important goal of remembering. As adults, disagreements about the past may in fact be a sign of a robust remembering system.

Scaffolding memory as we age

Sharing memories may also “scaffold” or support memory as we age. In a study just published, we first asked older adult couples (aged 60 to 88 years old) to individually remember various events experienced with their spouse over the past five years. All had been married for over 50 years, making them long-term, intimate life and memory partners.

One week later, we asked half of the couples to talk in detail with their spouse about their events and half to talk in detail with just the experimenter.

Compared with young adults, older adults working alone typically find it difficult to recall autobiographical memories in great detail. But when our older couples remembered with their spouse their memory stories were more detailed than the stories of couples who remembered alone.

Although collaboration did not lead young couples (aged 26 to 42 years old) to remember more, those who reported closer relationships with their spouse tended to recall more details of events shared with that spouse, even when they remembered alone. In other words, at this earlier stage of life, shared experiences and memories might primarily be serving intimacy and identity goals.

For older couples who have invested in strong, intimate relationships, they increasingly might need and look for external memory scaffolding as their internal memory abilities decline. These older couples may then start to reap the cognitive benefits of what they sowed with their partner, families and friends in a long life of living and remembering together.

If you have no immediate kin close by or close, do not despair. This research shows that it is how we talk about the past with loved ones that counts, not simply the biology of who we talk to. So this Christmas, come together with your “families”, whoever they are, and share one of the greatest, uniquely human, gifts of all: the gift of memory stories.
The Conversation

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.