 ‘Every border I crossed blurred another line inside me, between who I was and who I was becoming.’ (Yoon Jeong Kim) When I trained to be an English teacher for speakers of other languages, one of the things we discussed was to look out for was false friends, also called false cognates. These are words from different languages that appear similar yet have very different meanings. An example is the word ‘sensible’ which means something like ‘reasonable’ in English, but ‘sensitive’ in Spanish. A risk for language learners is that they assume that familiar, similar-sounding words, phrases or even gestures used by others carry the same meanings as their own, and that can lead to all kinds of misunderstandings. Language and culture are closely-linked, and similar risks can occur when we meet or work with people from different cultural backgrounds. We may assume that others’ similar behaviours carry the same meaning as ours, or assume that different behaviours of others mean the same as they would in our own culture. An example is nodding or saying ‘Yes’ which in many Western cultures would signal ‘I agree’ or ‘I consent’, whereas in many Eastern cultures it could mean ‘I hear you’ or ‘I understand what you are saying’. In some Eastern and African cultures it could simply be a sign of respect. Given the potential for confusion, consternation, embarrassment or frustration, I try to approach cross-cultural conversations and relationships in a spirit of curiosity. If a person or group from another culture says or does something (especially if this is a recurring pattern) that confuses, surprises or jars me, I try to pause, breathe, suspend my own judgement (based on my own cultural values) and inquire tentatively what it could mean for them. I encourage them to do the same with me. This isn’t always easy and often calls for prayer, humility and patience, yet the benefits can be immeasurable.
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 ‘I know you think you understand what you thought I said but I'm not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant.’ ‘I guess I should warn you, if I turn out to be particularly clear, you’ve probably misunderstood what I said.’ (Alan Greenspan) You may have had that experience of communicating something you thought was perfectly clear, only to discover that the other person got the completely wrong end of the proverbial stick. How is that possible? Was it something in what you said or, perhaps, how you said it that influenced how the message was received, distorted or misunderstood? Whatever the cause, when it does happen, you can both feel bemused, confused or frustrated – and the consequences can be difficult, damaging or dangerous. I want to suggest this occurs mainly as a result of mismatched beliefs, values, assumptions and emotions in four critical areas: language, culture, context and relationship. There are, of course, situations in which a person may wilfully misinterpret what you said or simply choose to ignore you. However, I’m thinking more here about when it happens inadvertently and out of awareness. It’s something about what influences (a) what we infer and (b) how we interpret, when we communicate – so that we can improve it. The language question means the same words can mean different things to different people, even in the same language group. The culture question means the assumptions I make appear obvious or self-evident in the groups or teams I belong to. The context question means I interpret what you say based on my own perspective and understanding of the situation. The relationship question means I filter what you say based on what I perceive and feel about the nature, dynamics and quality of our relationship. So – this where a spirit of inquiry can help: Check what the other has heard and understood. Notice the language they use. Be curious about their cultural and contextual perspectives. Sense and explore how they are feeling. Build trust.  ‘Learn your theories as well as you can, but put them aside when you touch the miracle of the living soul.’ (Carl Jung) It’s not every day that one has opportunity to lead a coach training workshop for participants from Asia, Africa, the Middle East and Europe all in the same online room at the same time. I’m greatly indebted to insightful contributions from group members as we looked at how to navigate cross-cultural dynamics in coaching conversations. We spent some time exploring, critiquing and adapting a conventional Western coaching model, with all its embedded cultural assumptions, to people and relationships in very different global contexts. I noticed that finding a way to navigate a group conversation about such complex issues was, in itself, a cross-cultural experience in real time. I was particularly interested, for my own development too, in how to offer challenge in collectivistic cultures where group harmony, cohesion and interdependence are valued highly and indirect communication is the norm. A direct challenge could be perceived as disruptive to relationship and, therefore, experienced as blunt, threatening or rude. The wisdom that emerged from today’s participants began to take shape in something like the following form (below) – although I’m aware that I’m imposing a structure on a conversation and ideas that felt more fluid and emergent at the time. It offers a window of insight, shared by people with far greater cultural-lived experience than my own:
 ‘As coaches, the greatest tool we need to cultivate is our self.’ (Pamela McLean) Many years ago now, during a masters’ degree core module on psychological dynamics in organisations, I said to a colleague in a spirit of curiosity, ‘I keep feeling an impulse to hug you.’ They looked amazed and said, ‘I’m feeling really vulnerable today.’ I had no idea from their demeanour. They always presented as very calm, relaxed and confident. We discussed this in light of the programme focus that day and concluded that, intuitively and subconsciously, I had picked up on something of their anxiety and need for reassurance. A number of factors were at play here: it was unusual in our relationship and, mysteriously, it somehow felt like it was something about me, but not only about me. In later years, whist doing a postgraduate course in coaching psychology, I discovered this kind of noticing can be used powerfully in coaching conversations. Psychological practitioners call this use-of-self, the idea that what we observe in and between ourselves during an interaction can be used tentatively as an instrument for awareness-raising in another person. I use the word tentatively here because it’s about exploring a possibility and not superimposing our own feelings or interpretations onto the other. I saw this opportunity arise in an intense conversation recently where a manager was working very hard to cajole a team member into demonstrating greater proactivity and initiative. The team member was nodding in passive agreement rather than playing a more active role in their own development. Imagine if the manager had paused, reflected, and fed this back as an observation instead: ‘I’m feeling (intra-personally) a strong desire to see you being more proactive…and I’m wondering (inter-personally) if I’m taking too much initiative in this conversation.’ It's as if the manager imagines herself momentarily stepping out of the relationship to stand in an observing place; then looks back at herself, the team member and the interaction between them and shares what she notices from that place. This would bring here-and-now experience into focus and invite the team member to reflect critically on their own agency too.  ‘Trust that what needs to be said will come up naturally, either from you or the other person.’ (Liz Dunphy) A commonly-held belief is that the power and potential of coaching resides in asking great questions. It is after all true that a well-worded, placed and timed question can shift our entire perspective, open up fresh possibilities and create a seismic shift in our sense of agency. I’ve experienced that personally and have seen and felt its impact. What else makes the difference? ‘We learn from an early age what the ‘correct’ answers are – those that will win us approval.’ (Rudi Weinzierl) For coaching questions to land well and to do their work without being deflected by defences, there’s something about being in a receptive state of curiosity, of invitation, of a desire and willingness to learn. Yet, deeper still, I notice the mysterious power of presence. Here I am grappling with a complex issue and struggling to find or create a way forward. Somebody I trust comes alongside me, is really present to me, listens actively and intently without even saying a word…and something shifts inside me. It’s like the presence of God – transformational. A new insight surfaces into awareness as if it were released, catalysed by the quality of contact between us. It was already there, perhaps, but hidden from sight or out of reach. In the moment, it can feel like a realisation, a revelation. Questions stimulate and crystallise our thoughts and galvanise our responses. Emergence arises through presence. (See also: Emergence in action learning; Test and learn; Plan vs prepare)  ‘Open-ended questions can help clients reflect and generate knowledge of which they may have previously been unaware.’ (Jeremy Sutton) You may have noticed when you order or buy something that, before asking you for payment, the salesperson may ask, ‘Anything else?’ It’s a simple prompt that, when posed, may cause you to remember something, or to make a choice vis a vis something over which you had been wavering. This same approach can be useful in coaching. A coach could ask during the contracting stage: ‘Is there anything else we should be talking about?’ It can sometimes reveal a very significant issue that, until invited, feels unclear to the client, lays out of conscious awareness or has not yet been aired. In action learning, similarly when a facilitator invites a presenter to say something more about the issue they would like to think through, insights that come to mind or actions they plan to take, they can ask, ‘Anything else?’ A presenter, when prompted, will often respond with: ‘Oh yes, and…X’ So, now for a brief moment of reflection. What ideas come to mind for you now as you read this blog? Jot down those that surface immediately… then pause for a moment before moving on to something else in your busy schedule. Ask yourself: ‘Anything else?’ and see what may emerge.  ‘You can never really know someone completely. That’s why it’s the most terrifying thing in the world, really – taking someone on faith, hoping they’ll take you on faith too. It’s such a precarious balance. It’s a wonder we do it at all.’ (Libba Bray) There’s an idea in Gestalt psychology that we’re predisposed, hard-wired, to ‘fill in the gaps’. Here’s a real and practical example. I was once invited to facilitate a conference of around 50 people from diverse professional backgrounds in the housing sector. I had never met anyone in the group and they had never met me. I stood up on the podium, introduced myself simply as ‘Nick Wright, an organisation development consultant from England’, then invited everyone to take a pen and paper. I explained that I would ask them a series of questions about myself, to which they were to guess the answers. ‘Which newspaper do I read?’ ‘What political party will I vote for at the next General Election?’ ‘Am I married, or single?’ ‘What is my professional background?’ ‘What’s my favourite hobby outside of work?’ I then asked who had been able to answer every question. Everyone raised their hands. I now invited them to draw a simple face against each of their answers – which they wouldn’t be expected to share in the group. A happy face meant their answer drew them towards me; an unhappy face that it pushed me away. A neutral face meant, well, neutral. Again, everyone managed to do it. I paused and invited them to reflect at their tables on what had just happened. Person after person said how astonished they felt at how quickly and easily they had created a profile of me in their minds, and how that had influenced how they felt about – and were now likely to respond and relate to – me. They had filled in the gaps of not-knowing by drawing on hopes and fears, past experiences, personal projections, cultural assumptions etc. Filling in the gaps enables us to relate quickly to others rather than starting every relationship as if from scratch. It also risks unhelpful stereotyping and bias. This raised important questions for participants at the conference so I offered 3 principles: compassion, curiosity and challenge. Compassion: ‘What do I need to feel safe to contribute in this group? ‘How can I demonstrate a compassionate stance towards others?’ Curiosity: ‘What assumptions am I making about those around me, e.g. based on their looks, accent or job title?’ ‘Who or what is influencing the ways in which I’m thinking about, feeling about and responding to others?’ Challenge: ‘What am I not-noticing about those around me?’ ‘How open am I to have my beliefs about others tested?’  'Listen with curiosity. Speak with honesty. Act with integrity.' (Roy T. Bennett) Action Learning facilitators sometimes feel concerned about what might happen in a set (a small group of peer-coaches) and how they might handle it if it does. When we discuss these kind of troubleshooting scenarios in training, I often notice that facilitators feel a sense of personal responsibility to manage anything and everything that might happen. Apart from placing a lot of pressure on the facilitator which could, in the moment, inhibit psychologically their ability to handle any challenges that may arise anyway, it also misses the self-resourcing potential of a group. The key often lays in shifting the facilitator’s stance from control to curiosity. This doesn’t mean abandoning the governance role of the facilitator altogether, for example to ensure that agreed ground rules and process are followed appropriately. It does, however, mean approaching any challenges that emerge in an invitational tone. For instance, if the group is very quiet, or conversely very talkative, and this leaves the presenter perhaps with little stimulus or space for reflection, the facilitator can offer this as a judgement-free observation, like holding up a mirror to the set. ‘I’m noticing the group seems very quiet. I’m wondering what that might mean?’ Or, ‘I’m wondering what we might need?’ It could be that participants don’t know and trust each other well enough yet. It could be that they don’t believe they have understood the presenter’s challenge and feel nervous to admit it. It could be that they feel insecure about posing a ‘wrong’ question in front of peers. It could be they have an introverted preference and simply need time to reflect before framing a question. A spirit of curiosity can open things up, release stuck-ness and move things forward.  ‘The art of teaching is the art of assisting discovery.’ (Mark Van Doren) This looks and feels so very different to my own school days. It has been fascinating to explore the spirit and approach to working with students at a Montessori school in Germany over the past few weeks. Laura, an English language teacher from Romania, sets out a creative range of different activities in a classroom. The children look around and choose whichever activity appeals most to them. Every activity involves doing something physical, not just thinking. I’m struck by how the teacher chooses to offer only minimal explanation. Each student works at their own level and pace and problem-solves for themselves, or with others, if they get stuck. The teacher is available – if needed. Kathrin, a maths teacher, invites the students to sit in a circle and introduces me, briefly. She invites the students to practise English by asking me questions directly, questions to which the answer must be a number. They ask, ‘How tall are you?’, ‘How much do you weigh?’, ‘What’s your shoe size?’, ‘What did your trainers cost?’ etc. We notice that the measures I use in the UK are different to those they use in Germany. This sparks curiosity and the students work out how to convert the numbers I give them into those that are meaningful for them. The teacher writes each number on a large sheet of paper, then uses those numbers as the basis for introducing a maths method for that day. Melina, also an English language teacher, from Mexico, works with those students who find learning difficult. She uses a creative range of short, energetic, and fast-paced techniques that capture and hold their attention. Again, I’m struck by the use of physicality in the activities she facilitates. She adopts an evocative elicitation-based stance, stimulating the students to lead the activities, to play an active role and to work out the answers for themselves. (I noticed my own temptation to step in if they got stuck and, paradoxically, how often they didn’t need my help – if I simply allowed them time and space to resolve their own challenges). I'm a student among students and I feel inspired. 'To err is human. To blame it on someone else shows great management potential.' That made me laugh! It’s a fun variation of Hubert H. Humprey’s, ‘To err is human. To blame someone else is politics.’ But wow – how easy it is to deflect and project our own faults and failures outwards onto others. We see it happen all over the place, from interpersonal relationships to international relations. It’s a way of defending ourselves; of trying to avoid or escape the costs of responsibility; of promoting ourselves; of appearing innocent or superior. It’s about helping us to feel good about ourselves and-or wanting someone else to feel good about us. It's quite tricky if we don’t know we’re doing it – and it can lead to potential high-risk consequences. ‘Self-deception is like this. It blinds us to the true causes of problems, and once we’re blind, all the solutions we can think of will actually make matters worse.’ (Arbinger Institute: Leadership and Self-Deception, 2000). This poses a difficult question: how to deal with our blindness if we don’t know we’re blind? And what if, if we’re honest – for whatever reason – we don’t want to know? An old adage goes: ‘There are none so blind as those that won’t see.’ Ignorance is bliss? I’ll start with the last question first. If I’m working with a person in coaching or a group in action learning and I sense resistance in this area, I won’t push too hard. It could, for instance, trigger repressed trauma or suppressed anxiety. Instead, I may pose an invitation, e.g. ‘Is this something you would find useful to explore further? What, for you, would be the potential benefits of exploring this, or the potential costs of not exploring it? If you were to explore this, what support or challenge would you need from yourself, me and-or others?’ It’s their call, their choice. Next to the first question. This touches on a field known as critical reflexivity. It’s like holding up a mirror to ourselves rather than fixing our gaze elsewhere or onto others. We can think of it as something like this: ‘What within me – e.g. in my own past, culture or world – is influencing what I’m thinking, feeling and doing now?’ This could include, for instance, our beliefs, values, hopes, fears and expectations. It could also include hidden vested interests; that is, things we want to protect or preserve and-or to acquire or achieve. Such influences act as subconscious filters. In coaching and action learning, I work with people and groups to help them learn to pose searching questions to themselves in a spirit of open curiosity and discovery, e.g. ‘Who or what is holding my attention in this relationship or situation? How am I feeling? Who or what am I not-noticing? What assumptions am I making? How is my past influencing my present? Who or what matters most to me now? How might I be evoking this response in the other party? What am I willing to take responsibility for? What do I want or need? What am I willing to stop, start, change or compromise?’ The outcomes and benefits of this approach can be truly transformational. It calls for humility, courage, authenticity and a willingness to exercise personal leadership and agency, yet can open up all kinds of fresh possibilities – and hope. Imagine, for instance, to approach an adversary, prayerfully, in the midst of conflict: 'We are in such a mess. I'm sorry...and, as I look at how we got here, I could have handled my part in this better...' It’s a stark contrast to avoidance, accusation and finger-pointing. What a possibility to co-create a different relationship – and a different future. (See also: Spots; Art of Deception; Stealth) |
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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