 ‘In a fully developed bureaucracy there is nobody left with whom one can argue, to whom one can represent grievances, or on whom the pressures of power can be exerted. We have a tyranny without a tyrant.’ (Hannah Arendt) I’ve been astonished in recent months by numerous accounts from friends, colleagues and clients of feeling mangled in the machines of bureaucracy. Some have been in commercial business contexts and others, more depressingly in many respects, in the explicitly values-orientated not-for-profit sector. A recurring theme has been being passed from pillar to post, being subjected to impersonal policies, processes and procedures, with no account taken of the human costs. Against this background, I have been remarkably impressed by these same individuals’ resilience. I’ve been amazed at their ability to survive and persevere on the edges of systems that care on paper but demonstrate no empathy in practice. Some have attributed their endurability to trust in God, some to support from family and friends, some to techniques like mindfulness, others to a pragmatic approach in life. They are a testimony to the human spirit in the face of adversity. Ironically, when I speak with people who operate the machinery in such organisations, I don’t often encounter faceless, unfeeling bureaucrats. I do often find people trying hard to do what they or their management considers to be the right thing, or cold technology requires them to do, often against a backdrop of competing pressures and demands and far-from-adequate resources to address them. Losing the human becomes an inadvertent cultural pattern and consequence. Do you need help to rediscover the human in your organisation? Get in touch!
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 ‘To learn through listening, practice it naively and actively. Naively means that you listen openly, ready to learn something, as opposed to listening defensively, ready to rebut. Listening actively means you acknowledge what you heard and act accordingly.’ (Betsy Sanders) I ran a Leading and Influencing Change workshop today for health and social care professionals, focused on introducing and embedding trauma-informed practice in the mental health arena. Ironically, the event took place in an old, abandoned fortress, with the training room in which we met surrounded by symbols of attack and defence: tanks, artillery, torpedoes, tunnels and protective walls. There was also a disused military hut with 007 on the door, a symbol of secretive actors and actions behind the scenes made famous by fictitious spy James Bond. Serving as metaphors, we considered how to shift team and organisational culture away from, at times, a default and subconscious fight-flight, attack-and-defence response in incredibly busy, pressured and complex work environments. We did this by thinking through approaches and behaviours that may look and feel counter-cultural – in practice, if not in principle – in those contexts. It entails role-modelling five key qualities in attitude and action in communications, conversations and relationships: i.e. safety, trust, choice, collaboration and empowerment. What could this look like practice? One participant illustrated it beautifully. When I asked for volunteers, she commented that she felt nervous to take part in an activity in front of the group. Two simple questions can make all the difference here: ‘If you were to do X, what would that mean for you?’ (e.g. ‘I would feel anxious and exposed in front of my peers’) and, ‘Given that, what would you need?’ (e.g. ‘If I could have more information about what the activity will entail, I could make a considered decision’; or ‘If I could sit behind a table, I would feel less exposed.’) This is, at heart, about adopting and modelling a human, invitational and coactive leadership style and approach that takes the voices, hopes and concerns of others seriously. I don’t believe the oft-quoted maxim that people are necessarily and fundamentally resistant to change. In my experience, people may resist a change, even if they agree with it, if they don’t feel heard and understood. Conversely, people may support a change, even if they don’t agree with it, if they do feel heard and understood. Attack-and-defence is a sign that something has gone awry. [See also: Trauma-informed coaching; A safe-enough space]  ‘Wealth and individualism are positively correlated at both the individual and the national level.’ (Yuji Ogihara) I met with a group of young students in Germany this week to compare and contrast social trends with the UK. We focused initially on the ways in which our respective households have changed, for example, in terms of size and structure. In the 1950s, for instance, households in Germany and the UK were typically larger and multigenerational. Today, in these and other European countries, households are smaller with a significant rise in the proportion of people who live alone. I invited the students to reflect on what might lay behind these changes and I was astonished by the sophistication of the conversation that flowed between them – a testimony to the Montessori school’s teachers and distinctive pedagogical approach. I suggested that, based on what I have learned in Asia and Africa, household size is often influenced by relative poverty and wealth. It’s as if the more money we have, the less we need to depend on each other: at least financially. Rudo Kwaramba explains: ‘In wealthy countries, if you can’t earn an income or if you lose your job, your government provides you with financial support; if you become injured or unwell, your health system or insurance covers you. In poorer countries, people can only look to each other for this support.’ This interdependency phenomenon is a deep cultural driver behind building and sustaining close relationships within extended families, and between families and wider communities. Broader cultural considerations apart, as the wealthy get richer, not only do we tend to become more individual-orientated but our quality-of life-expectations grow too. Many people in affluent societies now believe they can’t afford to have children because they have to work so hard to earn enough money to gain or sustain the lifestyle they aspire to. As a consequence, we face a ticking time bomb of rapidly-ageing populations with fewer young people to support and replace them. It's time for a rethink.  ‘For every complex problem there is an answer that is clear, simple and wrong.’ (H.L. Mencken) Steve walked along a dry mud path between two fields in rural Uganda. To his left, the field was dry and sun-baked with a few wizened banana plants dotted around. To his right, the field was filled with lush, green banana crops. His Ugandan colleague invited Steve to reflect on: ‘Why is there a difference between the two fields, and what’s the solution for the field on the left?’ Steve wondered, ‘Perhaps the farmer who owns the field on the left isn’t thinking about or seeing his neighbour’s field, or perhaps he's too poor to make a sufficient investment to improve it.’ As I listened to Steve, I found myself wondering if the difference could have been, perhaps, a consequence of different irrigation systems, fertilisation methods or seed quality. A proposed solution: what if the farmer on the left could learn from and replicate whatever the farmer on the right is doing? In effect, I was seeing the issue as primarily technological. Without realising it, I was looking at the question through my own cultural lens and considering solutions that emerge naturally from my own cultural paradigm. And I was missing the point completely. Steve’s Ugandan colleague explained. ‘The farmer on the right lives far away in Kampala. The farmer on the left lives here, on his own land. In this context, if the farmer on the left were to copy the farmer on the right, and if his crop were suddenly to improve, the first thing that could happen is that he would be accused of witchcraft. After all, according to local belief systems, what else could explain such a seemingly miraculous change in his fortunes? This would be both devastating and dangerous for the farmer and his family and could, potentially, put their lives at risk. Assuming that didn’t happen, what certainly would happen is that his extended family, friends and community would see his betterment and expect or demand that he share his new-found prosperity with them. If he refused to do so, he and his family would be accused of being selfish, and ostracized. If he did share his new-found wealth with them all, he would be back to square one again – meaning all the extra hard work he would have to put in to improve his own lot wouldn’t be worth it. The farmer on the right, living in a city, is not subject to those pressures.’ This was a powerful illustration of the complex relationship between culture and development and helps to explain why, alongside other factors such as conflict, corruption, climate change (and sometimes sheer craziness), well-intentioned efforts and investments may be rejected, ineffective or fall apart over time. The key lays in relationship – to work alongside local people in a spirit of humility, curiosity and collaboration to understand: why are things as they are, what their hopes and aspirations are; and what would need to happen if they were to be fulfilled.  ‘The will to win, the desire to succeed, the urge to reach your full potential... these are the keys that will unlock the door to personal excellence.’ (Confucius) We may, at times, find ourselves stuck, unable to see a way forward, confined by the walls of the ways in which we are construing a situation – and very often completely unaware that that’s what’s happening. This is where various reflective disciplines such as coaching, action learning, spiritual direction and supervision can help. They can enable us to find or create a key that releases us to explore new perspectives, ideas, options and actions for change. Gareth Morgan observed astutely that ‘People have a knack for getting trapped in webs of their own creation.’ It’s a paradox. The mental models we hold of reality and truth can provide us with a subjective and cultural sense of clarity and coherence – things that enable us to function in our day-to-day lives without getting overwhelmed by the complexities of life in this world and at work – yet often they hide as much as they reveal. The map is not the territory. A first step can be, therefore, to enable critical reflexivity – to notice that we’re applying filters and, furthermore, what may lay behind that for us. It’s a bit like looking in a mirror: ‘What does the way in which I’m thinking, feeling about and responding to this person, relationship or situation say about me?’ This could be broadened to ‘…and about my cultural background and context?’ Then, as a consequence, ‘What’s (therefore) my own part in what I’m experiencing?’ A next step can be to shift towards vision and options, thinking the unthinkable and snapping mental chains. It inspires and draws on the power of imagination, for instance: ‘What would be a great outcome for me (or, by extension, my team, organisation, beneficiaries or clients)?’ ‘What would it take to get there?’ ‘What would I be willing to do to achieve this?’ This is where we may encounter resistance, a push-back that surfaces and exposes what lays beneath. A third step could be, therefore, to explore the foundations and edges – to touch and feel the walls, if you like. Questions at this stage could include, for instance: ‘What assumptions am I making?’ ‘Where am I drawing the lines on what I believe is possible?’ ‘What are my greatest hopes and fears in this?’ ‘What values is this triggering for me’ ‘It can feel like stretching the boundaries of our current realities, testing the limits, opening cracks wider to let light in. A final stage is to move towards solutions and actions. It enables a sense of agency, of traction, and taps deeply into motivation and determination. It’s where the focus shifts from reflection on a situation to a choice to do something to address it. Questions here could be, for instance: ‘What would make the cost-investment worthwhile?’ ‘Who and what resources can I draw on to help me achieve this?’ ‘How will I follow through on this?’ ‘What’s my next step?’   ‘It is the obligation of every person born in a safer room to open the door when someone in danger knocks.’ (Dina Nayeri) Reading Gill Martin’s insightful book, ‘Borders and Boundaries – Community Mental Health Work with Refugees and Asylum-Seekers’ has been an illuminating experience. It resonates well with some of the issues and dynamics I have witnessed too, albeit outside of the therapeutic arena. I remember when, after a long and agonising wait, a Kurdish-Iranian friend in the UK was granted refugee status. It meant that, finally, he could bring his wife over to join him and he could get a job to fulfil his passion and potential as a gifted architect. His pent-up talents had opportunity for release and he’s now making an outstanding contribution at an architects’ firm. Gill comments on the need, at times, to cross (not violate) what may be regarded as fixed professional boundaries, to meet refugees and asylum seekers at their point of need. She draws attention to the therapeutic meaning, significance and value of being-with, of being-alongside, in authentic human relationship. Much of our sense of identity is founded on e.g. our country and culture of origin; the groups and communities of which we are a part; our shared experiences; the work and roles we fulfil. When forced to leave all we associate with home to flee to a starkly different culture and environment, it can feel isolating relationally and dislocating existentially. Gill observes that talking therapies have their place but aren’t always what refugees and asylum seekers want or need. Sometimes, it’s because they come from cultural backgrounds that hold very different beliefs about health and wellbeing, including what influences, nurtures, sustains or harms it; or, perhaps, cultural taboos that would deem seeking and receiving help of this kind to be shameful. Sometimes, interventions akin to social prescribing, involving people in activities that they experience as worthwhile and life-giving, can be beneficial. Health and healing often emerge through enabling powerless people to regain a sense of agency over their own lives. (Further reading: Working with Asylum Seekers and Refugees: What to Do, What Not to Do, and How to Help; Counselling and Psychotherapy with Refugees; A Practical Guide to Therapeutic Work with Asylum Seekers and Refugees; Refuge: Transforming a Broken Refugee System; Strangers in our Midst: The Political Philosophy of Integration)  ‘We're fascinated by the words – but where we meet is in the silence behind them.’ (Ram Dass) I remember my first experience of haggling over the price of a leather belt in a Palestinian marketplace. I was a teenager at the time and I found this approach to buying and selling novel and entertaining. The smiling street vendor played the game skilfully. I asked, ‘How much?’ to which he responded, '$6.’ ’$6?’ I replied, ‘I could get the same belt at another stall for $1. How about $2?’ ‘$2?’ He replied, ‘Please don’t insult me. It cost me more than that to make it. As a special deal, however, I’ll give it to you for $5.’ ‘$5?’ I replied, ‘The most I would pay for it is $4.’ ‘$4?’ He replied. ‘Don’t you realise I have a family and children to feed?!’ He grinned. We closed at $3. To a Westerner, where buying and selling is typically more transactional than relational, this toing and froing can feel like a manipulative game; frustrating, time-wasting and bordering on dishonest. That’s mostly because we tend to miss the underlying cultural meaning and purpose to this type of engagement. I met recently with an international team from USA, Netherlands, Jordan and South Africa. They are part of a Christian organisation and were keen to identify and work through some cross-cultural and relational challenges. I decided to share a short passage from the Bible with them, then to invite them to discuss what sense they made of it: “Jesus withdrew to the region of Tyre and Sidon. A Canaanite woman from that vicinity came to him, crying out, ‘Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me! My daughter is demon-possessed and suffering terribly.’ Jesus did not answer a word. So, his disciples came to him and urged him, ‘Send her away, for she keeps crying out after us.’ He answered, ‘I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.’ The woman came and knelt before him. ‘Lord, help me!’ she said. He replied, ‘It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.’ ‘Yes it is, Lord,’ she said. ‘Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.” And now to the critical closing: “Then Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.’ And her daughter was healed at that moment.” (Matthew 15:21-28) To the Westerner who views language and transactions in literal, linear, straight lines, Jesus’ initial responses to the woman are shocking. We take his opening action as his definitive stance. We don’t see the smile on his face or the glint in his eye, or understand the movement as the interaction progresses. We may assume the story is written to affirm the woman’s perseverance. We may think she has changed his mind. We are likely to miss the Semitic ritual of building or navigating a relationship. The Jordanian participant saw this immediately. The others looked surprised. (I must confess I didn’t understand this, too, until a Kurdish-Iranian friend explained this dynamic to me). The cross-cultural implications are clear. If I judge your actions by unknowingly mis-inferring your intentions (being influenced subconsciously by my own cultural assumptions), all kinds of misunderstandings and tensions can arise. It cautions me-us to approach people and groups from different cultures with an open mind, a spirit of curiosity and a great deal of humility. Bottom line: We’re not only negotiating a price; we’re also negotiating a relationship.  ‘Well-behaved women rarely make history.’ (Laurel Thatcher Ulrich) International Women’s Day. A day to recognise and celebrate the extraordinary contribution of women all over this world and throughout all history. There are so many amazing women who have inspired, stretched and enriched my life: those I’ve known, those I’ve heard or read about and those I’ve only encountered indirectly through the personal-cultural legacy they’ve left behind. This is a shout-out, a thank you, to all women – especially to those who are and feel invisible and unseen; those who live on the frayed and torn edges of societies; those who persevere in the face of poverty, vulnerability and other threats; those who live and love in a way that goes unnoticed and unknown. You humble and challenge me. The world is a better place because you're here.  ‘Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.’ (Margaret Mead) ‘520,000,000,000’. I wrote the number slowly…and…deliberately across the whiteboard at the front of the class. The students looked on, intrigued. I asked, ‘Who can guess what this number means?’ The playful ones quickly put their hands up: ‘The population of the world?’ ‘The distance to the moon?’ I responded, ‘The number of Pesos (= US $8 billion) that people across the world spend on skin-whitening products in one year.’ The room was filled with looks and sounds of astonishment now. The students had considered this as a private personal-relational issue rather than a global economic one. This was part of a 3-day workshop for student teachers and social workers – that is, key influencers for the future – in the Philippines. The first time I had arrived in the country, I had been naively taken aback when one of the people who greeted me apologised for their skin colour. My Filipina co-facilitator explained that this is a common phenomenon, where people evaluate themselves and are evaluated by others for how dark or light their skin is. The students went on to share heart-breaking personal testimonies of how far this has impacted their lives, prospects and sense of worth. They were very surprised to hear how much money, by contrast, people in wealthy countries spend on products, treatments and trips abroad to darken their skin. I took some skin-tanning lotion with me from the UK to show them – and they could hardly believe their eyes. We went on to consider the deep cultural drivers and diverse vested interests that lay behind the skin-whitening industry. The lively debate that ensued generated novel campaign ideas to address stakeholders (e.g. manufacturers; marketers; retailers; consumers), and its damaging spiritual, psychosocial and financial effects.  ‘Our reality is narrow, confined, and fleeting. Whatever we think is important right now, in our mundane lives, will no longer be important against a grander sense of time and place.’ (Liu Cixin) I think you could say we’re a family with an international outlook. My parents travelled extensively around the world and have touched most continents. My older brother lived in Brunei, married a Malaysian woman and has visited almost every country in Asia. My sister lived in Germany, mixes with friends from different countries and travels frequently to Spain to do salsa dancing. My younger brother ran a charity for and in Romania, did a medical mission in remote areas of the Amazon jungle and works in Dubai. I’ve been interested in different languages and cultures from childhood, have worked in 15 countries and have visited, have friends in and have worked with people from a lot more. I watch almost exclusively international news, pay special attention to South-East Asia and my home is adorned with globes and colourful maps. Much of my life has been preoccupied with the Nazis and how to use my own life to help avoid anything like such horrific atrocities ever happening again. Against this backdrop, my own coach, Sue, posed two interesting challenges recently: ‘What’s it like to spend so much of your life – mentally, emotionally and spiritually – overseas with the poor and vulnerable in far-flung places yet to be, physically, here in the UK?’ and, ‘What’s it like to spend so much of your life – mentally, emotionally and spiritually – in World War 2 yet to be, physically, here and now?’ What great questions. They resonate profoundly, for me, with what it is to be a follower of Jesus – a deep dissonance that arises from being in this world, yet in some mysterious way being not of this world. Existentially, it’s a kind of dislocation that, a bit like for Third Culture Kids (TCK), creates a sense of being a child of everywhere yet, somehow, not a child of anywhere – at least in this lifetime. I often feel more at home when I’m away from home, a paradoxical dynamic that both draws and propels me into different times and places and to seek out God, diversity and change. It means being a traveller, not a settler, and has influenced every facet of my entire life, work and relationships. |
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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