Less heat, more light

    

                                                                            Photo credit: Shutterstock

Even if the word itself doesn’t feature in the blurb, conflict is the underlying theme of many stories, the narrative following characters as they respond to the threat. Good versus evil is one of the earliest plot lines ever written. Eve versus a snake. God versus man. James Bond versus Dr No. Little Red Riding Hood versus the big bad wolf. No matter how peaceable we may be by nature, conflict hunts us all down and forces us into a reaction. No one is unmoved in the face of conflict. Visibly or invisibly, we always respond.

Some days of the week, you will find me wearing my workplace mediator hat. I wish I’d known about managing this type of conflict earlier in my life. It would certainly have improved my people management skills and might have saved me from some stress along the way. Having conducted hundreds of mediations between opposing parties, I know being in conflict creates emotional and physical reactions in people that can seem out of their ability to control.

Typically, I’m asked to work with two people whose working relationship is out of kilter. Tethers have reached their end. I’m quite used to being described as ‘the last resort’, all other avenues to resolution having failed. By the time a mediator gets involved, participants can be in a state of severe distress, anxiety, and ill health, disrupting every aspect of their lives. On arrival, I am eyed with deep suspicion and palpable scepticism. Mediating with that ignorant narcissist is the most ridiculous idea they’ve ever heard. Hurt and wounded, they are not about to be lured into a trap by the smooth patter of a snake oil salesman. I can’t do this, they say. And then the story telling starts.

I acknowledge their feelings and encourage them to outline their story. We start with some scene setting. I am a pantster in my writing, but not in my mediations. Preparation is everything. I spend the morning with them in turns individually, listening as they share their perspective. Sometimes we sit in silence as they struggle to even speak. I hold that silence; it is their time, not mine. By resisting the temptation to fill the void, their voices slowly emerge, faltering and raw. There is anger, fear, and desperation, but talking out loud drills a small hole into the dam of pent-up emotion. Pressure gets released. Tears are common. A messy first draft takes shape. It doesn’t read very well. Plot holes abound, but it’s a start.

Being heard is a powerful experience, but it’s rare. How often has someone just listened to you without interruption, advice, or judgement? Being heard creates a spark of hope. Someone is listening. Maybe I can do this.

People often start by telling me facts. This happened, and that happened. On this date, they shouted at me. In this meeting, they intimidated me. In their story, they cast themselves as a victim and their colleague as a bully. But the problem with facts is they aren’t in fact, facts. When I meet the other person, they present the ‘facts’ differently. ‘They never listen. I sometimes need to be assertive and raise my voice’ and ‘they’re not performing very well, but whenever I give feedback they don’t like, I get accused of bullying.’ A successful mediation is based on empathy, not facts. Time for a second draft.

On top of the ‘facts’, I ask them to add detail about the impact of the situation. Some people find this excruciating, but without impact or feelings, their stories are cold. If the (disputed) events have had no impact, why are we here? Why do the events matter? Reluctantly, their story inches forward. ‘It devastated me when they accused me of being a bully. They’ve misrepresented me to everyone. I was only doing my job. I’ve had sleepless nights about it ever since and I don’t want to come to work now. My confidence has gone. I’ve been so worried about it I had to see my doctor for help.’ Now we have a story with depth. Second drafts are coming together. Time to move the story on again.

When people have been through a torrid time, it’s easy to get stuck in the ugly past. Hurt people can speak about it forever. Wallowing in mud soothes open wounds, but there’s a time to get out of the pit. In the next iteration, I urge people to imagine how they want things to be, even if it sounds like fantasy. Let’s think about those horrible meetings. ‘I want more respect. I have great ideas. I need the chance to contribute so you can hear them.’ Describing how you want things to be creates the possibility of change, even if it seems a long way off. A glimmer of hope.

Next, we might need a little reframing. Take a typical blunt statement from the messy first draft. ‘You’re a nasty, ignorant little dictator who can’t chair simple meetings properly. You’re out of your depth since you inexplicably got promoted. Everyone thinks you’re an idiot.’ Now, I’m always keen for people to use mediation to get things off their chest, but if they put it like that, where will this conversation go? When under attack, the human instinct is to respond in one of three fundamental ways: fight, flight, or freeze, none of which bode well for discussion and resolution. I want to steer this away from a destructive row (fight), someone leaving (flight) or stony silence (freeze). So, I suggest a reframe. ‘I know you’re new to the role, but I find the way you chair meetings hard. I feel ignored and disrespected. I have lots to contribute, but you need to give me time to speak.’ Less heat, more light.

The last stage of the preparation is a full read through, a final edit, before I bring the parties together to share their stories. Broken people who could barely speak now have a coherent script that expresses their feelings and describes what they want. Angry people now have softer words that won’t scare the horses. Without them noticing, writing their story for the first time has changed their perspective. They have become empowered. We can do this.

Once the stories are written, the listening can start.