Category Archives: politics

Holding Strengths

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What’s already good? How can we protect and strengthen that?
What could be better? How will we make it so?

I centered NaBloPoMo 2023 on these questions and set all 30 prompts/topics in advance. The idea was to take an Appreciative Inquiry approach to habit change at both the personal and collective levels. I wanted to shift focus from threats, failures, deficiencies, and shadow to people, places, and practices that thrive, uplift, and inspire. How could this mindset help us all in our current state?

From the Center for Appreciative Inquiry:

WHAT IS APPRECIATIVE INQUIRY?
Appreciative Inquiry (AI) is an energizing and inclusive process that fosters creativity through the art of positive inquiry. It builds new skills in individuals and groups, develops new leaders, encourages a culture of inquiry, and helps create shared vision and purpose by building on an organization’s core values and strengths. Perhaps, most importantly, are the outcomes that emerge during the process which provoke action, inspire commitment, and lead to results.

WHY APPRECIATIVE INQUIRY WORKS
Building upon the framework of positive psychology and human sciences, Appreciative Inquiry builds self-awareness and emotional intelligence to shift our focus, attention, and energy into exploration into opportunities and possibilities. AI does not focus on changing people, rather it invites individuals to engage in building a future they want to live in.

Appreciative Inquiry’s assumption is simple: Every human system has something that works right–things that give it life when it is vital, effective, and successful.

What I like about this approach to problem solving is the concreteness. Asking what already works, what’s not wrong or broken, requires practical, operational answers. It forces us to think and talk objectively about what is, rather than cogitate, theorize, and catastrophize about what could be. It starts from a place of strength and looks to build; it’s about what we’re for more than and before what we are against, so we can dream and design what could be instead.

At first I imagine applying this method to policy and systems collaboration. That would be great, but I don’t see it happening; people are still too negative, polarized, and adversarial for that, at least on large scales. I bet there are small organizations and groups where this strengths based approach to change actually already happens. I’d love to see more of them highlighted in the media.

For now, I think some of us may be ready and willing to apply appreciative inquiry to our existing relationships. I imagine a Blue friend and a Red friend, both wishing to connect across their differences and get closer. Both harbor curiosity about the other, even if it’s repressed. Each senses an intuitive possibility for deeper connection, and also feels stymied at how to achieve it. What if they started by considering the strengths of their relationship? Maybe those include honesty, non-judgment, good humor, and shared experiences. What if they imagined and envisioned together what an even stronger friendship would look, sound, and feel like? I get goosebumps envisioning those conversations.

What other domains of relationship would benefit from this approach to disagreement, challenge, conflict, and growth? I can think of at least a few in my life–she writes sheepishly–hello, walk the talk much? How fascinating! And here I thought this post would be boring and bland–HA!

I Hold Strengths for Us tonight, my friends: Strengths in relationship, in connection, in bond and union. Our relationships save us. I am convicted to this assertion, and I firmly believe it’s our strong relationships, especially across difference and disagreement, that will save our republic.

Holding Courage

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“There is no courage without vulnerability. Vulnerability is not weakness. It’s the ability to show up and be seen. It’s the ability to be brave when you cannot control the outcome.”
–Brené Brown

What was the last thing you did that really required courage? What was at stake? What risk were you taking? What was the outcome? Would you do it again? What would you do differently, if anything? What did you learn?

How does that experience inform your future?

At this moment in history, it is up to us citizens to model courage in connection for our elected leaders. Are we up to the task?

Maybe we don’t see it as courageous to engage with people who voted the other way. Maybe we see it as futile, a waste of time, even beneath us.

I submit that we are afraid. We are afraid to be wrong, even a little. And now I’m thinking about more than just election debate. I think about any cause I champion that provokes resistance or opposition. What if that opposition is valid, even a little? What if my ardent zealousness masks a flaw in my reasoning, a potential unintended consequence of harm in my focused crusade for an intended benefit? When fear blinds us to the nuances of a problem, when we deny the inherent and inevitable complexities of modern human systems, we get rigid. We oversimplify and dig in, and our thinking narrows. Openness, curiosity, and creativity evaporate; flexibility and collaboration soon follow. Overcoming this fear takes courage.

It takes courage to recognize that we may not have the whole story, that we may not see or understand all relevant perspectives of an issue. The fear of being wrong, the shame of it keeps our minds closed. Then when all we do is yell at and dehumanize one another in ad hominem soundbites, we reciprocally destroy any incentive for anyone to admit they have anything to gain or learn from us–we burn bridges from both ends.

“Everybody’s right, and only partially.” What if we hold this mantra at least sometimes? When I remember it, my shoulders relax. I loosen my grip on ideological swords; I lift the visor on my suit of armor and look around, my view extending from the tip of my nose as far as the horizon. Acknowledging the partial validity of an opposing position does not negate mine, though it may feel that way. That expanse of unknown perspective threatens my certainty. What if my position does not actually uphold my values? What if I learn something ugly about myself? What will I do then?

If there is no courage without vulnerability, then how can we foster vulnerability?
Defined by Oxford Languages, vulnerability means “the quality or state of being exposed to the possibility of being attacked or harmed, either physically or emotionally.” Intentionally seeking opposing views, opening our own views to challenge and criticism, is vulnerable. It feels deeply uncomfortable and goes against all our natural instincts of survival in the face of threat. But when else do we choose this state freely and willingly? When do we put ourselves out in the world without hesitation?

We do it when it’s safe. Or, safe enough. It’s that simple. We need to make our interactions safe for us all to put down the weapons, take off the armor, and see one another’s soft parts. Simple does not mean easy–not by a long shot. And it can be done. We can question and challenge our least generous assumptions, then modify them. We can look for shared values and goals and start our conversations there. We can ask open and honest questions at least three to five times more than we make statements.

Presence, openness, curiosity, humility, kindness, non-judgment, generosity–showing up with these qualities in front makes us vulnerable to attack. Ironically, when we come ‘armed’ like this, we make it safe for others to be vulnerable with us. This is when true healing connection occurs; this is how we heal our world.

Who will go first?
Who do you see doing this already?
They are the leaders we need to follow.

I Hold Courage for Us, my friends. We all have it within us–in spades. Let us all uncover and bring it out in one another, shall we?

Holding Understanding

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Friends, when we can muster it, I have an invitation:

The next time we have a thought that starts with, “I don’t understand…” let us take a deep breath, get quiet, and actually try to understand. I think most of us stop well short of this effort, especially in conflict. If we all did it just a little more, though, some of our most severe divisions could lessen by a lot.

In 2021 I wrote in The Intention-Impact Gap:

“Years ago I had a hard conversation with a Black classmate.  He explained to me the experience of being Black in America—what it was like to worry about his own safety and that of his loved ones every day, of seeing innocent Black men killed at the hands of police, the history and ongoing oppression of racism, both overt and implicit…  It was overwhelming.  I said, ‘I can’t imagine what that must be like…’  At the time I honestly meant it as an expression of humility.  In retrospect, I could (should?) have said, ‘I know I will never experience what you experience, AND as I think about what you have shared with me, I AM imagining what that must be like, and it’s overwhelming.’

“Though I had intended my words to be connecting, he told me in no uncertain terms that they had the opposite impact.  Really, he asked?  You really can’t imagine what it would be like to send your son out every morning knowing he could be profiled by police?  You can’t imagine your family being captured and sold into slavery, separated mercilessly on an auction block, or hunted, mutilated and murdered for simply being different?  How can you not imagine it?  Where was my sense of shared humanity, he demanded? My declaration of ‘I can’t imagine,’ far from showing caring or understanding, signaled to him my unwillingness to relate.”

“I don’t understand how whole swaths of people could vote against their own interests.”
“I don’t understand how half the country voted for hate.”
“I don’t understand why ____ people get so offended at _____ words.”
“I don’t understand why (they/you) get so emotional about _____ .”

I can’t imagine, I don’t understand–both expressions signal a separation, a disconnect. They come across as insensitive, unempathetic to those who seek to be understood (“I did not vote for hate–that is your projection on me.”) At worst, they convey condescension and disdain. Expressed among those who similarly cannot imagine and do not understand, these phrases further solidify our us-them tribalist sentiments. Dissenting in this context, suggesting how we might imagine or understand, can feel extremely unsafe.

Here’s what we know about humans: We are emotional first, especially under stress. We reason and rationalize second. We all do it. Not that the rationalizations don’t make sense or are not valid. Disconnect arises when we assume ourselves to be totally rational (delusion #1) and others to be totally irrational (delusion #2). We think our own beliefs, positions, and behaviors ‘make total sense’ and others’ do not because they are inconsistent or, well, rationalized. We fail to recognize the inconsistencies in our own ‘reasoning’. The truth is, all of our beliefs and conclusions make sense to ourselves.

If you think you do understand someone else’s distress, check and see if it’s only in your thinking brain. If you can imagine in cognitive and practical terms but cannot imagine how it feels when somebody describes their fear, hopelessness or other emotions in a specific context, then there’s likely more work to do.

More from 2021:

“At first I felt defensive and misunderstood.  Why was he rejecting me when I honestly thought I was being supportive?  I had to think about it a while, and really listen for what he was saying.  It was painful and humbling to realize that he was right, at least partially.  I could imagine all of those things, but maybe I didn’t want to.  Maybe it was too uncomfortable, and I exercised my privilege of not having to think about it, because it didn’t affect me personally?  Maybe it made me feel helpless?  Maybe I knew on some level that I harbor racist and prejudiced biases and ideas?  My classmate was teaching me the difference between empathy and sympathy.  Brené Brown makes the distinction thusly:  “Empathy fuels connection, while sympathy drives disconnection.”  I had intended the former; my impact was the latter.”

My point about imagining and understanding is empathy–the ability to understand and share the feelings of another. Sympathy is feeling for someone in distress–it keeps a distance that is palpable. We have to look into one another’s emotional minds with our own to find a deeper level of understanding and connection. It’s incredibly vulnerable and uncomfortable, hence the avoidance.

I Hold Understanding for Us. It’s a lot of work. It requires us to get both humble and vulnerable, which our culture shuns. If we are ever to heal our political divisions and reclaim a high-functioning democracy, however, we must practice.