 ‘What feels polite in one language can sound evasive in another – misunderstanding is often our first shared culture.’ (Yoon Jeong Kim) I had a funny and embarrassing experience in a German supermarket this weekend. I had gone to buy some milk and fruit and, when I arrived at the checkout, the young assistant picked up the loose bananas, looked at me quizzically and said, ‘Wiegen?’ (pronounced in the same way as the English word ‘vegan’). I was puzzled. ‘Is she asking me if I’m vegan?’, ‘Is she asking if the bananas are vegan?’, ‘Aren’t all bananas vegan?’ After an awkward moment – and with a visibly restless queue forming behind me – she pointed to a weigh scale. ‘Aaah.’ Now I understood. It felt to me like a classic illustration of what can happen in communication more broadly. It’s a particular risk when speaking in a different language, or when trying to understand what another has said in a different language. We can wonder, ‘Have they understood me correctly?’, ‘Have I understood them correctly?’ It’s even more complex when communicating cross-culturally where the same words, expressions or gestures may carry and convey very different underlying meanings. Misunderstandings occur when we think we've understood, and we haven’t. Peter Cotterell explained this phenomenon well when, as Principal and lecturer at a theological school where I studied, he introduced the idea of a presuppositional pool. This is a concept used in linguistics to describe a set of shared, background assumptions that speakers, authors or presenters from a specific culture and context take for granted in communication. It’s a bit like a subconscious underlying framework that enables their communications to make sense to others. Problems arise when we find ourselves swimming in different pools without realising it. Do want to enhance your communication skills? Get in touch!
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 ‘Rather than give instructions as declarations, we can offer invitations that increase agency.’ (David A. Treleaven) Leading today’s workshop with 15 trauma-informed practice (TIP) professionals in the UK was an inspiring experience. Focusing on leading and influencing change, we looked at how to role model TIP principles when seeking to embed it in organisational practice. The 5 core TIP principles we focused on are: safety, choice, collaboration, empowerment and trust. In my experience, if we try to superimpose TIP onto staff, teams or users of services in a way that lacks congruence with these principles, it can lead to scepticism, cynicism or resistance. This may be a particular and inadvertent risk if we are fired up with the TIP vision and, in our enthusiasm, forget that others may be in a very different starting place to our own. A more effective approach can be to engage, where possible, in authentic dialogue with key stakeholders. For instance, ‘If we were to introduce TIP in this service… (a) what would that mean for you and, in light of that (b) what would you need?’ It invites participation, helps ensure others feel heard and understood and offers the potential to co-create optimal solutions. Do you need help with leading and influencing change? Get in touch!  ‘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.  ‘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 idea was to double-check the findings from 3 researcher focus groups I ran recently. My intention was to validate, clarify and refine insights and ideas I had heard and distilled from those original groups. So – 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?  ‘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.  ‘We don’t see things as they are – we see them as we are.’ (Anaïs Nin) Social constructionism is a way looking at how we construe reality to help us make sense of it. The ‘we’ is important here because it’s not just what I do but what we do, what others around us do and what others before us have done. If I haven’t lost you already, imagine seeing a person hand someone else a bunch of flowers. Neuroscience can shed little or no light on understanding this event. That’s because the meaning of giving someone flowers is socially-constructed – that is, it’s something we attribute to the act within a specific culture and context, rather than something that is inherent to the act per se. In my own UK culture, giving a person flowers could mean, for instance: a gesture of romantic love; or of thanks and appreciation; or to celebrate a special occasion; or a token of apology; or a wish for someone who is sick that they’ll get well soon; or a sign of empathy if someone has died. In some cultures or contexts, it could signify wealth (e.g. ‘I have enough money to buy you to a gift’) or imply a request for a response (e.g. ‘Will you marry me?’). Types, colours and numbers of flowers convey different meanings in different cultures too. So, social constructionism: a way of making sense of human sense-making.  ‘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]  ‘All the things one has forgotten scream for help in dreams.’ (Elias Canetti) The first dream. I was back at the university where I studied. In reality, I left there almost 35 years ago but it felt vivid, as if now. I stood alone in a long, empty corridor. I became suddenly aware of a whole array of research assignments that I was supposed to have done yet hadn’t. I felt confused and perturbed. And then I woke up. After a few minutes, I fell back to sleep again. The second dream. I was back with a previous employer. In reality, I left there 7 years ago yet it too was vivid, as if now. I was on the top floor of the building and suddenly aware that I had never visited any of the other floors or met any of the people who worked there. As Head of OD, I felt confused and embarrassed. Then I woke up. After a few minutes, I fell back to sleep again. The third dream. It was Christmas Day at my parents’ house. We were preparing for extended family visitors to arrive when I became suddenly aware that, for some reason, I hadn’t bought any Christmas presents for my daughters. I felt confused and disconcerted that something so important had slipped my mind. Then I woke up. This time, I turned on the light and got up. Freudian analysts would have a field day trying to interpret the meaning of these dreams, as if each dimension holds symbolic representational value. I’m drawn to a more recent, alternative approach that pays attention to the underlying emotion in the dream state; in this case, an overwhelming daunted feeling, and what I was saying to myself: ‘How could I have missed this?’ It moves me on to consider: What are my dreams trying to wake me up to notice? Where am I carrying this same feeling in my day-to-day life and relationships now? What (or who) in my here-and-now life am I not-noticing, avoiding or suppressing, yet is calling for attention and expression? What actions do I need to take now, to avoid a ‘How could I have missed this?’ in the future?  ‘A riot is the language of the unheard.’ (Martin Luther King) The recent street protests in the UK, some of which were accompanied by violent disorder, raise urgent and important questions about what lies beneath. A convenient political and media narrative is to blame the ‘far right’; a fairly nebulous and elusive phenomenon since, unlike in some other European countries, the UK doesn’t have anything like France’s National Rally or Germany’s Alternative für Deutschland. There are, however, individual and group influencers with populist, nationalist and, at times, racist agendas. They contributed significantly to fanning the flames of unrest via social media; offering a rationale and focus for anger, resentment and frustration. Yet, I don’t imagine that everyone that took part in protests, whether demonstrators or counter-demonstrators, had a unified or conscious agenda. People and groups can become swept away by intense waves of emotion – a craziness, of sorts, fuelled by excitement, anxiety or other powerful feelings. Some might have sobered-up the next day with a guilty hangover. A key question is what the far right tapped into: what already lay simmering below the surface that they ignited so explosively on our cities’ streets. It’s a question about the conditions in which any extremist ideology and narrative will appear convincing and compelling to those who buy into them. I see a dynamic, concerning interplay of at least three factors at work. Firstly, when people feel alienated and marginalised in a society, extremist groups may offer a sense of identity and belonging: ‘They don’t understand you, but we do.’ Secondly, when people feel confused or anxious in the world, extremist ideas may appear to provide simplicity and certainty: ‘We have the answer to your hopes and fears.’ Thirdly, when people’s lives feel meaningless and, furthermore, they feel powerless to influence or control things that matter to them, extremist stances may provide a sense of purpose and agency: ‘We will change things.’ These three combined: a powder keg.  ‘Stop imagining. Experience the real. Taste and see.’ (Claudio Naranjo) Early predictions that electronic reading technologies would supersede the need for physical paper books proved unfounded. There’s something about holding a book, turning the pages, feeling the paper and smelling the ink that feels tangibly different to viewing text on screen. It’s something about reading as an experiential phenomenon that goes further and deeper than passively absorbing visual input. We’re physical beings and physical touch, movement and feeling still matter to us. I’ve noticed something similar in coaching conversations, stimulated by studies and experiments in the field of Gestalt. Against that backdrop, using physical props that invite physical interaction with those props can create shifts at psychological levels too. I have 4 different packs of cards available*, alongside other resources, and I notice that holding, sifting through and laying out cards can sometimes feel more engaging and stimulating for a client than thinking and talking alone. Each pack has a different purpose and focus. All involve inviting a client to flick through the cards to see which images, words, phrases or questions resonate for them here-and-now. It’s as if, at times, we’re able to recognise someone or something that matters to us, is meaningful for us, by touching and viewing it ‘out there’, rather than ‘in here’. The cards also enable a client, team or group to move or configure them in experimental combinations to see what insights, themes or ideas emerge. (*The Real Deal; Empowering Questions; Gallery of Emotions; Coaching Cards for Managers) |
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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