 ‘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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 ‘Steep your life in God-reality.’ (Jesus Christ) ‘First God’: these are the opening words of The Message. They resonate with the opening line of North American Rick Warren’s book, The Purpose Driven Life: ‘It’s not about you.’ This feels very pertinent to me at the start of this New Year as we mark a symbolic transition. Some use it as an opportunity to make resolutions for the year ahead – that is, to choose this or that change in lifestyle. Others use it as a chance for a life reset – to leave the past behind and move on in the direction of a future that’s more aligned with what they hope for. For me, there’s something deeper, more existential, at stake here. We’re living in at a time where quite a lot of people are starting to have doubts about their doubts about God. What if God-reality turns out to be real and true after all? This begs important questions. Danish Søren Kierkegaard in his reflections on Christian psychology distinguished between an authentic self, rooted in relationship with God, and an inauthentic self, trying to make its own way in the world. According to this view, the opposite of ‘sin’ isn’t virtue, but faith and trust. This critical insight reminds me of German Thomas à Kempis’ paraphrase of Jesus’ teaching in his now-classic text, the Imitation of Christ: ‘If you seek me with all your heart, I will be found by you, says God, and if you seek yourself you will find yourself – but to your own undoing.’ In fact, this seeking theme runs throughout the entire Bible. It’s as if God relentlessly seeks authentic relationship with us, and we are free to choose to look for it – or not – and whether to accept it – or not. This New Year, it looks to me like the ball’s firmly in our court.  ‘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:
 ‘The providence of God is like Hebrew words - it can only be read backwards.’ (John Flavel) I had expected to be flying to Georgia this weekend then suddenly, at the end of this week, the trip was cancelled. The client’s circumstances have changed unexpectedly so we’ll need to reschedule. These things happen. The client has conducted themselves honourably in the midst of a difficult situation, with clear communication and a respectful stance at every stage, and I really appreciate that. It has given me a moment to think about an international coaching training workshop I facilitated last week with participants from Africa and the Middle East. Those participants emphasised the importance of relationship in coaching, not simply a transactional process of posing questions, reflecting back and hoping for change. It reflected well their cultural contexts and my own belief system too. The Georgia team has impressed me by its commitment to the relationship. I discovered there was another relationship at play too, which I didn’t realise until a friend sent me a report from Tbilisi last night. I would have arrived in the midst of vociferous street protests and riot police. God knew that before I did. This Harvest Sunday it feels, to me, like a sign of God’s relational providence.  ‘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.  ‘Our children need our presence more than our presents.’ (Jesse Jackson) The pilot’s announcement came as a surprise as we sat on the runway at Amsterdam airport, waiting to take off. ‘Apologies for the delay. There’s a technical problem.’ 15 minutes later, ‘We need to refuel the plane.’ Bemused faces among the passengers – didn’t it occur to anyone to refuel the plane? 30 minutes later, the captain again over the tannoy: ‘I have good news and bad news. The good news is the plane is now refuelled. The bad news is that, while refuelling, the ground crew noticed evidence of a bird strike on the plane’s engines. We can’t take off safely until the damage has been checked and repaired.’ Looks of stunned disbelief all around now. A 13 year-old girl sitting next to me looked up and spoke to me, a total stranger. ‘Where are you travelling from?’ she asked. ‘I’m on my way back from Germany,’ I replied, ‘How about you?’ ‘I’ve been here for a hockey competition with my school,’ she said, pointing to the 49 or so other children sitting around us and the teacher sitting beside me across the aisle. ‘How did you get on?’ I asked. ‘Well,’ she replied, ‘they were 17 year-olds, and we still won.’ She went on to tell me about her life, all the astonishing things she had achieved in so many fields. ‘Your parents must be very proud of you.’ I said. She looked down, sadly, and sighed ‘I don’t think they feel proud of me.’ I didn’t know what to say. ‘You remind me of my youngest daughter when she was your age.’ I said, and I showed her a photo on my phone. ‘Yes, I can see the likeness.’ she smiled. I shared a story of how I used to take my daughter to her primary school and hold her hand all the way to the door. One day, in a deeply sensitive and diplomatic tone (well beyond her years), she said, ‘Dad, I know you love holding my hand and taking me to the door. I love it too. But have you noticed the other parents wave goodbye to their children at the school gate?’ I knew what she was trying to tell me. I learned to let go and wave from the gate. It was a parental rite of passage. My neighbour looked deeply thoughtful. ‘I would love to have had my parents walk me to school and to hold my hand like that.’ ‘Didn’t they?’, I asked. ‘No,’ she said, ‘They made me walk to school alone because they wanted me to be independent.’ I felt her sadness. Here was this young person, so very talented, with wealthy and high-achieving parents who clearly support her in so many ways (including her determined ambition to become an Olympic athlete in 2028). Yet, nonetheless, at a simple human level, she felt so alone. The pilot interrupted our chat, ‘The repairs are done and we’re ready to take off now’. We were both very quiet during the flight back.  ‘What others say and do is a projection of their own reality. When you are immune to opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.’ (Don Miguel Ruiz) It is, perhaps, one of the most limiting influences on personal growth and damaging influences on interpersonal relationships. A friend once described it graphically as being like carrying a data projector on one’s shoulder, then projecting images of the things we most dislike about ourselves – without being aware that we’re doing it – onto another person. The resulting impact is that we may well see and criticise those things in another, as if they are attributes of that person, rather than face, acknowledge and address them in ourselves. On the receiving end of projection, it can feel bizarre, like someone is superimposing intentions, attitudes or behaviour onto us that just don’t fit, resonate or ring true. If we challenge or push back, the projecting person is likely to become defensive. Projection is, after all, a way of denying, avoiding or suppressing things that could cause pain or anxiety. I had this experience recently in a disagreement on social media when I asked, genuinely: ‘Are you aware of doing the same thing – here and now – that you say I’m doing?’ They blocked me. Was my question a defended response? It’s a tricky question. How can we know, in the moment, whether we are projecting onto another person or, perhaps, in denial when we reject another’s feedback as projection? It is possible, for instance, that a person is projecting onto us, and yet there is a grain of truth and justification in what they are seeing and saying. It’s also possible that a person could, conversely, idealise us, projecting admirable qualities that they find difficult personally or culturally to acknowledge in themselves. It’s complex. Here are some tips I find useful. Firstly, if I find myself critical of a person, group, issue or action, I try to imagine myself standing in front of a mirror. What could my criticisms reveal about me – e.g. my values, attitudes or instinctive behaviours? Could the other party equally and justifiably level the same criticisms at me? Secondly, if I find another expressing criticism of me, I try to ask myself honestly: how far does this reflect what I know about myself and feedback I’ve received from others? Could there be truth in this from which I can learn?  ‘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)  ‘Leadership is influence.’ (John C. Maxwell) It’s one thing to have insight. It’s another thing to exert influence on the basis of that insight. This is often a dilemma for leaders and professionals when seeking to influence change across dynamic, complex systems and relationships. After all, what if I can see something important, something that could make a significant difference, yet I can’t gain access to key decision-makers? Or what if, even if I can get access, they’re not willing to listen? What if people are so preoccupied by other issues that my message is drowned out by louder voices and I can’t achieve cut-through? Early in my career, I worked as OD lead in an international non-governmental organisation that was about to embark on radical change. I’d studied OD at university on a masters’ degree course and, based on that experience, could foresee critical risks in what the leadership was planning to do. I tried hard to get access to raise the red flags but, by the time I met with the leaders, it was too late. They had already fired the starting gun on their chosen programme. My concerns turned out to be well-founded, and the changes almost wrecked the organisation. I agonised for some time over why I’d been so ineffective at influencing their decisions. I learned some valuable lessons. Firstly, the view I held of my role – the contribution I could bring – was different to that of the leaders. I viewed myself as consultant whereas they viewed me as service provider. Secondly, the leaders had become so emotionally-invested in the change they had designed that they reacted defensively if challenged. They saw my well-meaning red flags as resistance rather than as a genuine desire to help. I would need to change my approach. Since then, I have practised building human-professional relationships with leaders and other stakeholders from the earliest opportunity. These relationships are built on two critical factors: firstly, respect for e.g. the studies, training, expertise and lived experience they bring to the table; and, secondly, empathy for e.g. the responsibilities, hopes, demands and expectations they face – both inside and outside of work. Against this backdrop, I’m able to pray, share my own insights and, where needed, advocate a change from an intention and base of support. |
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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