 ‘If you torture the data long enough, it will confess to anything.’ (Ronald Coase) I ran a sense-checking workshop for academic researchers from a variety of different countries and cultures this week. The intention was to double-check the findings from 3 researcher focus groups I ran recently. My purpose was to validate, clarify and refine insights and ideas I had heard and distilled from those original groups. Why is this step important? Firstly, it helps to reduce the risk of my own biases and misinterpretations influencing the results. Secondly, it helps to resolve any unclear points, anything I hadn’t quite understood. Thirdly, it helps ensure that the voices of all are represented in the results, not just those who were perhaps most vocal. Fourthly, it adds credibility and power to the final report. In advance of the workshop, I and a university colleague provided sense-checking workshop participants with a copy of the draft outputs from the focus groups, along with a list of the questions we aimed to explore. The colleague and I opened the workshop with introductions and a brief background and purpose for the meeting, then worked through the questions: To what extent do the summary notes reflect your own experience? Are there any key issues you expected to see, but didn't? Do you think anything has been overstated? Are the terms used clear, accurate and meaningful to you? Are there any differences in how the issues play out across roles or departments? Which follow-up actions would you prioritise, and why?
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 ‘Conflict is inevitable, but combat is optional.’ (Max Lucado) Dealing with unresolved conflict when the other party is uninterested in reaching a resolution can be incredibly painful and frustrating. Occupational psychologist Michael West refers to it the greatest source of stress at work. The same can be true in our personal lives too. If you find yourself in that situation, here are some grounded and constructive steps you can take: 1. Accept what you can’t control The first and hardest step is often recognising that you cannot force someone to resolve a conflict if they’re unwilling. This sometimes means letting go of an ideal that all conflicts can be resolved. Acceptance doesn't mean you're okay with it; it just means you’re no longer fighting reality. The other party may come around in the future and they may not. That’s their call. 2. Reflect and own your part Without over-assuming blame, honestly examine your role in the conflict, for example: Is there anything you need to make peace with yourself over? Would you do anything differently now if you could? Occupational psychologist Richard Marshall puts it this way: it’s about you – but it’s not only about you. This isn't about shame or guilt. It’s about clarity, learning and growth. 3. Set boundaries If the conflict is ongoing (e.g. in family or work settings), create your own boundaries to protect your emotional energy and mental and physical health. This isn’t about avoidance. It’s about safeguarding your wellbeing. It may mean limiting contact with the other party as far as is possible; not discussing certain topics; and not expecting emotional reciprocity from them. 4. Express yourself (even if privately) If the other person won’t hear you out, pray and write a letter or email that you don’t send. Say everything you wish you could – totally uncensored. This can be a powerful way to externalise, process and release unresolved emotions and is much healthier than bottling everything up, like a smouldering volcano waiting to erupt. Catharsis of feeling can enable clarity of thought. 5. Seek closure without their participation Closure doesn’t require mutual agreement. You can, for instance, ritualise a goodbye (e.g. burn a letter, enact something symbolic to forgive yourself and-or the other party); reframe the conflict as a chapter, not your whole story; talk to God (the Psalms in the Bible are a great illustration of this approach), a coach, therapist or trusted person to help you process it. 6. Reclaim your power Letting go isn’t passive. It’s a courageous act of reclaiming your agency. Allowing another person’s behaviour to control our own is both passive and draining. Ask yourself: what does holding onto this conflict cost me? What would I gain if I released my grip on needing resolution? Act according to your own beliefs and values – and leave their behaviour to them. 7. Practice compassion (not co-dependence) Try to understand why the other person might avoid resolution with you, for example through fear, shame, pride or immaturity. This doesn’t excuse their behaviour, but it can help to free you from bitterness. (Co-dependence is an unhealthy sacrifice of your own needs, doing whatever the other party wants, to make them like you or keep the peace). Compassion helps you heal.  ‘If you don’t know where you are going, you might wind up someplace else.’ (Yogi Berra) I was reminded this week of theories of change and strategy maps. They are, in essence, visual representations of what we do and why. If you were to imagine writing or depicting a desired outcome (vision, or goal) at the top of a sheet of paper then under that, say, 2-3 key objectives (critical conditions, or success factors needed to fulfil that outcome) then, under each objective, say, 3-5 key activities that would achieve them, there you have it – in simplest form. If you read upwards, it will answer the question, ‘We do this so that…’ and, downwards, ‘We achieve this by…’. It enables a conversation around, e.g. ‘What assumptions are we making?’ or ‘Have we properly understood the critical conditions for success?’ It also enables prioritising of activities by asking, e.g. ‘Which of these activities are we already doing well?’ or ‘Which do we need to stop, start or do differently?’ Make it creative and it’s a great communication tool.  ‘Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.’ (Neale Donald Walsch) A coaching session is like a scene in a movie, a chapter in a book. It’s part of a story but not the whole story. Sometimes, it turns out to be pivotal in the plot. Sometimes it’s more like a bridge, building on what went before and creating a signpost or springboard for what follows next. The session itself has a starting place, yet not in a vacuum. The past is the beginning of the present and often acts as a filter of it. A session has an ending too, not a hard stop but a preparation for what will unfold in the next part. What takes place between is often a process of critical reflection and sense-making. It starts with exploration and moves towards consolidation. We could think of this as something like finding our place on a map. For example, Where am I now? Perhaps, How did I get here? Where am I trying to get to? What obstacles can I see on route? Who or what can I draw on to help me overcome or navigate them? What can I do now to prepare myself for unforeseen challenges? How will I celebrate when I get there? In this sense, coaching is often more than the simple (yet, sometimes, not easy) solving of an immediate problem. It’s concerned with building qualities such as awareness, agency, agility, capacity, resourcefulness and resilience in the midst of complex scenarios. It can help someone to rediscover themselves and a way forward, where they may have lost or not-yet-found or created their own plot. We could think of it as moving a person – or a team – beyond the transactional to the transformational. Curious to discover how I can help you? Get in touch!  ‘People perform a behaviour because they intend to do so, they have the requisite skills and abilities and there are no environmental constraints to prevent them from carrying out their intentions.’ (Martin Fishbein) Every once in a while we encounter an idea that sparks our interest. One such for me was Icek Ajzen and Martin Fishbein’s Theory of Reasoned Action (TRA). I remember when a psychologist shared Stephen Covey's insight that we often judge others by their behaviour but ourselves by our intentions. It was an idea from attribution theory that set me thinking about the relationship between intention and action more broadly. It seemed to resonate with various theories of motivation. It also reminded me of the proverb, ‘The road to hell is paved with good intentions.’ TRA looks at what influences whether (or not) we are likely to enact an intention. To ground this personally, consider the last time you made a New Year’s Resolution or similar commitment and whether you followed through on it (or not). (For any readers with interest in a spiritual dimension to this theme, see Jesus’ teaching, reflected in Paul’s). I know that my own life story is a mixed picture: sometimes making a commitment and sticking with it; sometimes sticking with it for a while before giving up; sometimes never even getting off the starting block. So, TRA in a nutshell. Key questions: How convinced am I the action will achieve the desired result? How far does achieving that result matter to me? How much do people that matter to me want me to do this? How far does their opinion matter to me? Is this something my peers are also doing? How difficult do I believe any obstacles on route are likely to be? How confident am I that I can overcome them? According to TRA, a high score against any or all of these questions is likely to increase my motivation and determination to complete. What do you think?  ‘The primary purpose of reading the Bible is not to know the Bible but to know God.’ (James Merritt) I receive interesting messages from time-to-time from people who’ve read blogs or articles I’ve written or attended training I’ve delivered. They are often curious about my Christian faith and how this informs or influences my thinking and practice. Some ask, more specifically, what I believe about the Bible, especially if they come from a secular background where faith and spirituality are viewed with some degree of scepticism. Perhaps a subtext is a question of whether I might be tempted to preach at them or attempt to convert them. That’s a fair question. I did in fact study the Bible – well, not only the Bible – for 3 years for a degree in theology. That was some time ago now. I found the course frustrating because it approached the Bible through a cold academic lens whereas it is, for me, a window through which I’m able to glimpse and experience something amazing of God; and a mirror in which I’m able to glimpse something more clearly of myself, others and the world. Instead of fixating purely on the print on the page, it’s as if the Bible acts as a doorway – a bit like the wardrobe in C.S. Lewis’ Narnia stories. Now if that all sounds a bit magical and mythical, it may be something do to with my Myers Briggs intuitive preference. I see patterns where others around me seem to see pieces. It’s not something I can make happen and I struggle for language to describe it. It’s a discernment that feels like a realisation. A Spanish nun friend explained, ‘The only way to study the Bible on your knees.’ I’ve found that to be true too. The Bible isn’t a moral textbook akin to a car repair manual. It’s something far more precious and more powerful. I pray and God’s Spirit brings it alive.  ‘Rhetoric is the art of ruling people’s minds.’ (Plato) Following the pattern of previous UK governments, the current Prime Minister and government often talk about putting the priorities of 'working people' first. It has a clear rhetorical ring to it. It’s less clear, however, who exactly they mean by working people. It’s unclear, too, what that means for everyone else who falls outside of their definition. When the BBC challenged him on this question, Keir Starmer responded enigmatically that the UK’s working people, ‘know exactly who they are.’ His Chancellor of the Exchequer tried to elaborate: working people are ‘strivers who graft.’ Later, Sir Keir made another attempt at clarifying who he was talking about: someone who ‘goes out and earns their living, usually paid in a sort of monthly cheque’ and who can't ‘write a cheque to get out of difficulties.’ Things got more muddled still when he said that wouldn’t include earnings from savings – a claim contradicted afterwards by his own spokesperson. The Treasury Minister told the BBC that ‘working people are people who go out to work for their income’, then refused to comment on whether that would also include landlords and people with shares. It gets politically-sensitive when we consider that a significant proportion of the total UK population is too young, too old, too sick, has serious disabilities, is studying or is fulfilling caring responsibilities that prevent them from earning. Do we really want to say that such people shouldn’t be considered a priority too? That would be a hard utilitarian view of society in which people’s value and usefulness are measured solely in terms of economic productivity and output. So, when faced with political and media rhetoric, we do well to ask: Who’s saying it? Who to? What's their goal?  ‘The subtle art of not giving a f***.’ (Mark Manson) It was Jane’s first week at her social work training college. The course leader, Paul, walked in and said, ‘At the start of every lesson, I will walk into this room and say, ‘Good morning, class’, to which I want you to respond with, ‘F*** you, Paul!’ The students looked at each other, astonished. Paul invited them to practice it. Jane remembers how it felt strange, awkward and inappropriate. However, the tutor insisted. ‘Good morning, class.’ ‘F*** you, Paul!’ This routine went on week after week until the end of year when, finally, he explained his rationale: ‘You are social workers. Get f****** used to it.’ It was a novel approach to desensitisation, helping the students get ready for what they were likely to encounter in their work, albeit on the receiving rather than giving end. I felt intrigued when Jane shared this story this week. Paul wasn’t advocating that social workers should accept abuse from clients or become insensitive to needs. He was aiming to develop their resilience in the face of hard challenges they would almost certainly experience. It’s a form of preparation via exposure that’s very different to protecting people by wrapping in cotton wool.  ‘What have you set in motion? You are meant to be. Others you do not know depend on the fruit of your actions.’ (Christopher Chapman) I find that quite breathtaking. Like the butterfly effect, ‘the idea that small, seemingly trivial events may ultimately result in something with much larger consequences’ (Nathan Chandler), it suggests that our everyday actions – or our inactions – can have ripple effects that lay far beyond anything we ourselves could have imagined, known or understood: geographically and generationally. I like Christopher Chapman’s framing of this in his book, Doorways to Hope. He proposes that, in God’s mysterious eternal plan, we each play a significant role – whether we can see it or not. The question it points back to us is, ‘How are you willing to live your life?’ I want my being and my every doing to make a positive difference for the poor and most vulnerable people in the world. This makes my every decision an act of faith, imbued with a spiritual-existential dimension. It provides a sense of meaning, of purpose, that counters despair.  ‘No one really knows how to navigate their way through these times of change and challenge.’ (Daphna Horowitz) I co-facilitated a workshop for a County Council senior leadership team this week that is facing significant, complex change. The focus was on ‘Leadership in transition’. We could equally have framed it, leaders in transition. Every person in the room was wondering what the future will hold. Some were clearly anxious, some were philosophically phlegmatic and some were curious about what fresh opportunities may emerge. For many, their default concern was for their wider teams in their Local Authority and the important services the Council provides. We approached the event with a starting assumption that, in such circumstances, leaders do well to put on their own oxygen masks first before helping others. We advocated: viewing themselves and each other first and foremost as human beings; recognising that the changes will mean different things for different people; and, given that, paying careful attention to what each person – and the team – will need at each stage as they navigate their way through this. Bottom line, this is about grounding and stance: enabling responsiveness, resourcefulness and resilience. |
Nick WrightI'm a psychological coach, trainer and OD consultant. Curious to discover how can I help you? Get in touch! 
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