Please Stop With the Fighting

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What a difference a week makes.  How are you feeling?  I can only describe my own experience as ‘off.’  Things feel heavy, fraught, tense, uncertain, and anxious.  All the talking and writing I do about tolerating uncertainty and holding space for tension feels almost comically hypocritical right now, as I grapple with my own practices.  But more than that, I feel accelerated degradation of relationships all around me.  Armed men march and yell at the Michigan capitol building (where a woman governor serves).  More armed men gather in front of state public health director Dr. Amy Acton’s house in Ohio (not the capitol, where a man governor serves), saying there will be no violence, “for now.”

People on the ‘side’ of public health deride decisions to reopen state economies as willfully ignorant, even malicious.  People on the ‘side’ of reopening economies derail stay at home orders as fascist.  Perhaps these are the minority voices of each ‘side’, but they are loud, and they dominate public discourse and social media (I know, I know, moderate my intake, yada yada).  Yet another false dichotomy escalates with increasing vehemence on both sides.  I have mulled it for weeks and not found a good way to write about it.

Late yesterday, I found two pieces that help, written by conservatives I respect.

In the first, “What Republicans’ Kool Aid Moment Means for the Rest of Us”, Chris Ladd outlines our fatal flaw as humans, and then asks some profoundly important questions about how to resist the ultimate pitfalls of that flaw:

“Confronted with displays of cult loyalty we commonly resort to some mistaken conclusions, dismissing these people as crazy or stupid. These assumptions are born of the same logic that leads people to blame the sick for their illness, a desire to manufacture some difference between them and us, something that would leave us immune to their condition. We want to believe that there’s something uniquely broken, inferior, or even subhuman about the people in those pathetically sad images of self-destruction. Those dismissive characterizations of cultists aren’t just false, they are dangerous.

“We are not inherently rational creatures. By nature, our model of reality is not a product of careful individual inquiry, formed through a critical review of all available data, but a social construct heavily influenced by our preferences, hopes, and the collective will of our tribe. Human beings are capable of independent, rational thought premised on a body of constantly moving data, just like we are capable of juggling or riding a bike. Absent special training, critical, data-centered reasoning is so effortful, difficult and unnatural that any political order premised on the rationality of the average man will be consistently unstable.

“Even with careful training over years, a life of critical thought remains a challenging endeavor, costly to maintain and not suited to every circumstance. Riding a bike sounds easy once you’ve learned to do it but try dialing your phone or eating a sandwich while peddling and you’ll see the challenge. Careful, critical reasoning is resource-expensive. None of us engage in it as much as we think we do.

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In the second essay, “What If We Loved Them Both?”  David French invites us to exercise that resource-expensive skill of critical, rational, nuanced and complex analysis:

“Once again, our nation is faced with the painful process of sorting through grave sexual assault allegations against a powerful man. Once again, the public assessment of the veracity of those claims is lining up all-too-neatly with the partisan needs of the moment. Those who object to the rush to judgment against the accused will often ask if how we’d respond if, say, Joe Biden or Brett Kavanaugh was someone you loved. What if he was your father or grandfather. Would you feel like they’d been treated fairly?

“The counter is quick. What if Tara Reade or Christine Blasey Ford was someone you loved? Can you imagine how you’d feel as they mustered up the courage to tell a dreadful story and then you watched them endure the inevitable slings and arrows of scorn, hatred, and mockery?

“But there’s a different, better construct. What would the world look like if an imperfect population that possessed imperfect knowledge loved them both?  

“Due process is just, and it’s indispensable to the pursuit of justice. It is the answer to the question at the start of this newsletter—in the most fraught of claims and the most vicious of crimes—What if we loved them both? What if both accused and accuser were of equal worth? When we consider the right to bring a claim, the requirements of evidence, and even the time limits imposed on cases (given the difficulty of both defending against and proving very old allegations), we not only humbly acknowledge our inability to peer into a person’s soul to discern truth, we also acknowledge that even the mightiest man can and should be brought low when the evidence dictates. 

“But protecting due process (like protecting free speech) is hard. Just as permitting bad speech is a necessity for maintaining the larger, just legal structure of free speech—individual injustices can also protect the larger, necessary structure of due process.

“Each person involved in the controversy is of equal worth, a human being created in God’s image. That means the accusers have a right to bring their claim and be heard, respectfully and fully. That means the accused have their own rights to defend themselves, and a presumption of innocence is wise. Our own extreme fallibility and inability to peer into a human soul means that we should diligently seek external evidence that corroborates or rebuts any allegation or defense. 

“It is true that our culture has frequently failed women. It has failed in the obligation to treat them with respect or to fully hear or fairly consider their claims of terrible crimes. It is also true that our culture has also failed men, especially black men. There are simply too many terribly tragic tales of men dying at the hands of a mob in the face of an unsubstantiated claim of sexual misconduct. Even today, there are echoes of that awful injustice in the way in which black men are treated in campus courts. 

“But the answer to historical injustice isn’t another, equal and opposite injustice. That’s the score-settling that leads to endless ideological and partisan conflict. Instead, the answer is to discern the correct standard, and hew to it as closely as we can. Conservatives should not seek ‘revenge’ for Brett Kavanaugh. Progressives should not give in to the temptation of believing a Democrat through highly-subjective judgments of ‘demeanor’ or ‘temperament.’ That’s the God’s-eye view. And human beings are terrible at playing God.” 

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The essays above, while encouraging, also ring abstract and esoteric.  How do we take these lofty ideals and apply them today, in our daily lives, so as not to feel so disconnected, so disparate?  Because what good are ideals if we cannot live them out?  We really are all in this together.  What’s helping you remember that, really feel it, right now?

In our lifetime, there may be no more important moment than right now to recognize and truly honor, in our minds, hearts, and bodies, our shared humanity.  I took a stab at an action plan with the list below.  What would you add?

  1. Stop thinking ‘we’ are better than ‘them’; really try hard to see everybody as equally worthy to engage.
  2. Marshal our best skills at patience and generosity when ‘they’ say they’re better than ‘us.’
  3. Focus on shared goals and humanity— how are we all ‘us’?
  4. Lead by example resisting the urge to oversimplify and over generalize; look for and point out complexity and nuance.  See this as a strength rather than a weakness.
  5. Do not fall for baiting and inciting statements meant to trigger defensiveness.
  6. Acknowledge and concede the flaws and faults of ‘our side’; encourage others to do the same.
  7. Disengage, for the moment, when ‘opponents’ as well as ‘allies’ show themselves, or we find ourselves, to be uninterested in following or unable to follow these rules of engagement. Even when our intentions are earnest, this stuff is hard. And it takes grit and perseverance to train. And almost all of us are total novices at it. So we have a LONG way to go. Try again later. And again, and again, and again.

 

How Do We Get Better?

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It is Week 5 of sheltering in place for many of us.  How are you feeling?  What emotions occur most often?  To where and on whom are they directed?  How do you see the future, and what does that feel like?

Who do we want to be on the other side if this crisis?

For all our sakes, I hope we can be more patient, kind, empathic, open-minded, thoughtful, intentional, and connected.  The COVID-19 pandemic shows us what ultimate paradox really means—trauma and grief on a scale not seen in generations, as well as an opportunity for unprecedented growth, both as individuals and as a society.

I think about the risks and possibilities as both a clinician and citizen.  The experiences overlap, as do the strategies to mitigate suffering.  I am so grateful that physician burnout and well-being has already been addressed in so many institutions, and at so many levels, before this crisis hit.  Programs like physician peer support and Balint Groups show us that our leadership cares for our well-being, or at least recognizes the need for organizational support of it.  Employee Assistance Programs and the like are much more visible now, and hopefully barriers to access are also down.  Everywhere I see offers for formal organizational support and ‘wellness.’

But what will really make the difference in the end?  How will we really grow into our best selves through this, the greatest global challenge of most of our lives so far?

I think it will be in our small, day to day, apparently mundane interactions.

Too often we underestimate the impact of our milieu on our attitudes, thoughts, words, and actions—how we are impacted by our environment, and how we impact it in return.

A wise friend observed two groups of people responding to COVID-19.  One sees the pandemic in terms of ‘what’s happening to me.’  The other experiences it as ‘what’s happening to all of us.’  This is a falsely dichotomous oversimplification, obviously.  But it may be instructive to notice one day this week, if we were to categorize our own thinking/feeling/speaking/acting with regard to COVID, where would we land more of the time?

I’m reminded of the stages of tribal culture described by David Logan and colleagues in their book, Tribal Leadership, and presented eloquently in his TED talk.  I have discussed this idea in previous posts.

The visual above encapsulates Logan et al’s theory of tribal culture.  Their work aims to advance groups from lower to higher levels of culture and performance.  In this framework, the currency of cultural economy is language.  Each tribe member’s dominant cultural stage mindset emanates in their words, and is represented/encapsulated in each stage’s mantra above.

Those who experience COVID-19 as ‘what’s happening to me’ likely live in the lower three stages most of the time—self-absorbed, competing, uninterested in personal or societal connection and growth.  Those able to see how ‘this is happening to us all’ have made the shift toward an Outward Mindset, seeing their node selves as inextricable members of a larger, interconnected system.  For a system to function well, grow, and sustain itself best through crisis after crisis, it must achieve a collective “We’re great” or “Life is Great” mindset.

Whom do you know on your team, among your friends, or in your family, who lives these words (most of the time)?  How do you feel when you’re around them?  What do you hear them saying right now? What energy do they exude?  When I meet people like this in my life, I feel calm, soothed.  They remind me to be humble, and to remember what I can do to help, both myself and others.  I feel connected in their presence; I recall my strengths and potential for contribution, and I’m motivated to act accordingly.  They give me hope.

So what do I hear them saying, what language do they speak that elevates our communal culture?

First, they avoid ad hominem.  They refrain not just from political rhetoric and attacks; they don’t make generalizations about groups based on race, gender, geography, social class, etc.  They also withhold judgment—they entertain various stories about people’s motivation, circumstances, and values, rather than jumping to oversimplified conclusions based on their own biases.

Second, they empathize.  They strive to relate to each person they’re with, as well ‘the others’.  And if they can’t do that, they validate the others’ feelings.  “That’s so hard,” can be the most soothing words a person can hear when they’re struggling and suffering. And “Well, we don’t know what they’re living,” reminds me to be humble.

Third, they offer hope.  But it’s not false hope or superficial, Pollyannish positivity.  They honestly believe in and see the light at the end of the tunnel, and they point to it for our benefit.  They do this by asking, “What do you need?”  “How can I help?” and saying simply, “I’m here.”

When I come across people like this, I want to be around them more.  I want to emulate them.  I point out their words and actions to others, and show the positive movement they inspire in me and others.  Stage 4 and 5 tribal leaders lead by example.  And make no mistake, they are everywhere.  They often don’t have a title or any designated authority.  But the team/organization/family is always better for their presence.

If you have people like this on your team, consider:  how can you be more like them?  What do they inspire in you?  If you are this person, how can you bring people along in this mindset?  This is how we get better through our current crisis:  We find the leaders who speak the language of We, Together, Growth, and Hope.  We find and follow those who set the example, and we strive to set it ourselves.  We take advantage of the programs and support systems around us.  We get help, get better, and then turn around and help others.

Yes, there is much trauma and grief.  There is also boundless love and connection.  We find the latter easily when we look, and it sustains us.  We can absorb that energy, join that movement, and make a difference in every encounter with our fellow humans.  We can absolutely be better.

 

What Emerges from Crisis:  Connection, Learning, and Contribution

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“What observations/discoveries/learnings have you noticed in these weeks?”

In phone calls, emails, and snail mail to friends, I find myself asking this question repeatedly.  This exercise yields two wins:  1) I’m connecting to my people all across the country; 2) I get to answer for myself, and new insights emerge each time.

How are you connecting with your people in these weeks of physical separation?

What have you had to reframe, create, and experiment with to make life work in our sudden new reality?  How does it feel?  What are you learning?

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 Inconvenient Emotions

Very early in the pandemic, when I realized my clinical volume would drop to practically nothing, I started to feel something akin to survivor’s guilt.  I still feel it—I am not on the front lines; I myself am not in harm’s way, as so many of my colleagues are.  I feel relief for not having to be there (yet).  Then I feel guilty for feeling relieved.  So I try to make myself useful, giving Zoom presentations on wellness to colleagues and firesides on Instagram for the public.  Life has settled into something of a routine.  I do video calls, helping with operations management and team organization from an armchair (standing desk).  Turns out I enjoy working from home!  And I feel guilty for enjoying anything about this time of unprecedented global disruption.  Hello, mental and emotional whiplash, my inescapable human companion.  Thankfully, self-compassion practice keeps me sane.

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Acceptance with Agency

“The first step to changing your circumstances is to accept them.”  Wut?  I have grappled for years to understand this concept; today I think I finally got it (thank you, Donna!).

Today I choose to define acceptance as a state of possibility, rather than of resignation or victimhood.  Sometimes it helps to describe something by pointing to its opposite:  What happens when we refuse to accept what is?  Often we cling to what we think should be.  What should be is a narrow set of unmet expectations that keeps us anchored to the past, or at least to an unreality that simply does not exist.

What happens when we finally accept what is?  We are liberated to ask some important questions:  How do I feel about what is?  What are the best and worst potential outcomes from here?  What do I want to be different?  How can I effect that change?  What is my work here?

Accepting what is brings us over the threshold from the narrowness of what should be to the wide possibility of what could be, where our agency is what we make of it.

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Optimism + Cynicism = Peace

Some days I get so excited, reveling in human ingenuity and resilience!  Look at the transitions we all made, practically on a dime, moving healthcare and education online, organizing COVID testing and creating treatment protocols, constructing hospital wards in convention centers, initiating clinical trials, and sharing experience and data internationally at breakneck speed!  All this learning and application, holy cow, how could we not be smarter, more connected, and better after all of this?

By being human, that’s how.  Despite our great capacity for survival and adaptation, we are creatures of habit and products of our environments and relationships.  We revert more easily than we convert.  On cynical days I think, “Nothing will change.  We will stay the same stupid species we have become, just a couple hundred thousand deaths closer to our own stupid, eventual extinction.  And we will deserve it.”

Here’s the fascinating thing, though:  I vacillate in this false dichotomy lightly, even though the emotions on both sides can get intense.  We humans are such a complex enigma, capable of profound love and selflessness, and also unfathomable hatred and destruction.  That’s simply what is—we are all of these things, intricately complicated in our nature.  Each one of us possesses an infinite set of potential vectors for connection and/or destruction.  But I still get to choose what to do with my time, energy, and resources in this lifetime.  It’s my call.  So I’m okay; I’ got this.

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Co-Creation:  The New Normal

The last two years I have had the privilege to work with colleagues around our vision, mission, and values.  I have studied various work cultures, observed and interviewed associates and teammates.  LOH taught me the language and framework to synthesize my own, evolving style of relational leadership.  During this downtime—this unearned vacation—I have time and space to consider a bigger picture.  What about our culture best manifests our mission and values?  How did this facilitate our successes in reorganization and mobilization?  What held us back?  What needs to happen (change?) in order for us to emerge from this crisis in learning and growth, rather than in fear and trauma?  These questions apply professionally, personally, and societally.

My strengths lie in relationship and connection.   Throughout this long journey to flatten the curve (and it will be months), I can contribute my insight, observations, and talents at synthesis, creativity and vision, to make our new normal as mindful, intentional, collaborative, and functional as possible.  I can paint a vivid picture of where we could go.  I can embrace dissenting voices and find alignment in apparently divergent interests.  I can help us be better.  This is the contribution I can make.

What will your contribution be?

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