A Button in My Pocket

Several weeks ago I added a wooden button to the contents of my pocket.  I threw it in along with my pocketknife, Chap Stick, and Kleenex.  It’s an odd thing to add to a pocket inventory, but you see, I have something I’d like to remember.  Some time ago I was asked to prepare a short lesson about peace for a multigenerational group.  The day the lesson was given happened to be only a few days following the school shooting in Newtown, Connecticut.  Given the expanse of the subject of peace and the violence of the previous week, I found it difficult to come up with something specific, without seeming trite.  I finally found myself pondering; what are actions that any person, regardless of age, can do to further peace?

            I presented the group and myself with a two-part challenge:

·      First: become aware of your own reactions to difficult situations. Then choose responses that will protect relationships instead of reacting to your feelings in ways that harm others. 

·      Second: look for the spark of humanity and the sacredness of life in those around you whether they are family, friends, or strangers.

            This is, indeed, a challenge for everyone.  These are not skills to learn in a week but rather a lifestyle to foster.  To be conscious of our reactions and how they affect others takes self-awareness and patience.  To search for the common thread of humanity even in those who do us harm involves vulnerability. To recognize the sacredness of life in all people we come into contact with requires a willingness to interact beyond the social norms. It may seem strange, to engage a culture inclined toward violence with self-awareness, patience, vulnerability, and a willingness to be affected by another.  But perhaps if we spread the habit of seeing those around us as people instead of faceless, nameless shadows more of us will see that any kind of violence comes at much too high a cost.

I encourage you to join me in my simple-until-you-try-it challenge. Put a button in your pocket and every time your fingers run into it remember: First, protect those around you by choosing your own responses; and second, notice how wonderful life is in everyone you meet.

Just a reminder - I write this blog for Common Ground Conciliation Service based out of Boise, Idaho.  If you're interested in learning more about this organization check out the website at http://commongroundcs.org. 

Enough

This Thanksgiving I ate a wonderful meal with family and friends.  Platters of food kept coming around the table, wafting up delicious smells.  With such abundance at my fingertips it was hard for me to say I’d had enough.  In a similar way, when I mediate I notice some people struggling to say a certain solution gives them enough when they see the possibility for getting more.  How best to divide physical resources contributes to many conflicts and being content with enough proves to be difficult. 

There are many theories about what causes conflict, two of which address the division of resources.  1. Needs Theory suggests that conflict stems from unmet need be it physical, psychological, or social.  Therefore, one thing that can stimulate conflict is lack of resources to fill physical need.  2. Conflict Transformation Theory proposes that conflict stems from social, cultural, or economic structures that create inequality or injustice. There are many forms of inequality and injustice, but one conflict around unjust division of resources could be an outcome of an unequal structure rather than an isolated incident.

So what about when we’ve gotten enough to fill our needs, but if we pushed a little we’d get more?  It seems difficult to let that bit of excess slip through our fingers when it’s right in front of us.  Especially since no one else can really tell us when we’ve had enough.  It would be convenient if this idea of being content with what we really need just applied to negotiations when we’re trying to decide about money, but I think it also applies to our everyday decisions about resources.  Often resources are finite, and while we may or may not see direct effects right in front of us, it hardly seems possible that excess does not affect someone. 

If unjust or unequal distribution of resources can cause conflict, whether large or small, choosing to be content with less can be a conscious choice to build peace.   This seems especially relevant during the holiday season in which the predominant North American culture tells us that it takes a great many things to celebrate. 

Perhaps learning to live with less could even make the holidays seem more celebratory. Doris Longacre writes in the introduction to the More with Less Cookbook, “Undoubtedly… celebrations bring enjoyment in proportion to how much they vary from the daily routine… the fact that in North America we tend to feast nonstop can dull our festive joy.”

In a world where resources are limited, and conflict around the distribution of those resources thrives, what are ways that you can celebrate this holiday season using less?

Sources:

More With Less Cookbook by Doris Longacre

Working with Conflict: Skills and Strategies for Action by Fisher et al

"You won, why are you crying?"

Several times a month I do small claims court mediation.  Not long ago I was riding down the elevator after a morning of mediation when two women joined me.  Tears streaked one woman’s face.  I knew nothing of their situation or why they were in the courthouse that day.  However, I did hear one say to the other, “You WON, why are you crying?!”

I notice that in our stories we normally have a “good guy” and a “bad guy;” an obvious protagonist and an antagonist.  The innocent protagonist often wins all and the flawed antagonist loses all. In court cases, conflicts have polarized the parties, leaving each one's perspective placing them as protagonist.  In a world of competition where one wins and one loses it seems hard for anyone to imagine himself or herself as the antagonist.

So why was this woman crying when she had gotten what she asked for and had been proclaimed the winner, the protagonist? 

Perhaps she cried merely from relief.

Perhaps she cried from fear of retribution.  Was she scared that the other person was discontent with the outcome and that the conflict was not over?

Perhaps she cried because she recognized the loss, sadness, and disappointment in the person she had conflict with.

Perhaps she cried because winning the case did not give her the closure she imagined.  Maybe winning, at another person’s loss, had not offered the healing she dreamed of, wished for, and maybe even expected.

Of course only the woman knows why she was crying; I merely speculate.  I notice several things though, as I hear people tell me about the conflicts that bring them to the courthouse.  I notice people look for reasons why they should win; why the judge should side with them; why the other party should lose.  I notice that people resist taking responsibility, and they often dish out blame.  I notice that they come with a fighter’s stance, to prove the other wrong. I have a hard time imagining how decisions can be satisfying when they are influenced by persuasive ability and facts shifted to favor one person.

By contrast, I notice a distinct shift when agreement is reached by mediation; they’ve worked it out, the problem is solved, and they can move beyond the issues that dominated their relationship.  Some people shake hands, some people let it slip that they weren’t as sure of winning in court as they let on, and pretty much everyone seems relieved.  Hearing how another person has been affected and sharing our own perspective makes for a hard conversation.  In the long run though, it is worth a difficult conversation in order to come to a place of closure together, without the divide between "winner" and "loser".  

Why use a recipe?

Ever since I can remember my Mom worked with my Dad on the farm.  Because of the busy farm schedule it was difficult for her to find time to make meals.  When I was quite young Mom would leave out the recipe of what she wished me to make for lunch. Since I was just learning to read I’d decipher it at my leisure.  One memorable day Mom left out the baked bean recipe.  It goes like this:

1 pound hamburger

1 onion

1 ½ pound can Pork and Beans

1 scant teaspoon dry mustard

3 tablespoons brown sugar

2 tablespoons molasses

1 teaspoon vinegar

½ cup ketchup

wieners

Soon I had the hamburger and wieners browning in a skillet with a little onion.  I’d found the can of pork and beans and the other ingredients on the list.  It wasn’t until I started looking them over that I got into trouble.  Dry mustard mixed with brown sugar?! Molasses and ketchup? Gross! I knew I didn’t like mustard.  Brown sugar?  Everybody knows that sugar belongs in desserts.  Molasses? It makes such a mess! And vinegar?  Yuck; besides, the jug was heavy for me to lift and 1 teaspoon wasn’t worth it.  Well, I was cooking so I could take matters into my own hands. As you may imagine, the result with half the ingredients missing tasted less than desirable.  I still hear about it when I make baked beans even though I now like mustard, know that brown sugar, molasses and meat go quite well together, and can easily manage the vinegar jug.

Just as cooks use recipes, mediators and facilitators use processes.  A process, kind of like a recipe, is a specific way of doing something.  It can be a way of discussing a topic, or certain steps to go though to find resolution for an issue.  Sometimes when it comes to working with people, especially through conflict, it seems easy to take a short cut and leave out the parts of the process that we don’t particularly like.  For example, why bother with talking pieces to show whose turn it is, or brightly colored stickers to show preference?  Why retell the painful pieces of what’s going on, or clarify things so many times? Is all of this really necessary?

Of course, relationships between people are not as simple as putting ingredients together and the outcome of a process is not as predictable as that of a recipe.  However, process does several things. 

Process slows us down when we begin to make decisions too quickly.  When we start to feel anxious about a situation, either individually or corporately, deciding the process toward resolution decreases our anxiety and keeps us from making rash decisions.

Process gives us a different pattern to follow. If we follow the usual patterns of conversation we will probably hear the same things from the same people.  If we assume that everyone is on the same page about incidents that affect conflict situations we miss hearing each other’s perspectives. If we aren’t pushed to think of ideas beyond our own first preference we may miss a creative solution.

Process provides a place where more voices can be heard. Informal conversation is harder for some people than for others, especially in situations of tension. Important discussions that have no structure can inadvertently exclude a large part of a group. Respect and space for each person can be built into the guidelines of processes making discussions seem safer for people to engage and therefore more equitable for people with different personality types.

I have heard it said that communication is not a by-product of trust; rather trust is a by-product of communication.  Trust can be broken in situations of conflict.  However, processes aimed at working together to solve a problem can protect trust between people or help rebuild it when it has been broken.  We may be more comfortable with informal and casual interaction but being intentional about the process we use is like using a recipe when learning to cook; it’s a safety net.  Structure, just like informality, has it’s place and if we skip over steps just because they seem childish, slow, or unimportant, we may very well miss something valuable.   

Peacocks and Peacekeeping

             I watched a little drama unfold outside the kitchen window this morning.  We have some of the usual farmyard animals at Stoneybrook Farm: a watchdog, a bossy barn cat, calves, and chickens, but we also have peacocks.  Years ago two old cocks showed up and decided to make this their home, so we got some females to keep them company and the rest is history.  Peafowl, not unlike people, have distinct social rituals.  They also have a degree of family loyalty that depends on the time of year.  In the spring the cocks fight, it is part of their routine; it’s like gardeners digging out the seed catalogues come January.  They don’t fight to kill they fight to embarrass.  They go for the tail or the topknot and knock each other out of trees, but the rest of the year they’re friends.  When the hens fight though, it gets dirty. 

            This was the drama I witnessed this morning.  The seven chicks, offspring of the two hens in question, were lined up in a worried little arc.  The third hen was watching in a disinterested sort of way, and the alpha cock was trying to be the peacemaker.  The hens would jump at each other, feet first, knocking each other on their backs.  So the cock did it too, aiming at one hen or another, jumping right into the middle.  It didn’t “keep the peace” by the way; they just went somewhere else to “fight in peace.”  No amount of coercion makes the fighting stop; even a thorough dousing from a garden hose just moves the fight out of reach.  When the matter is settled they go their way; the two families together, scratching at their routine places at precisely the “right” time of day.

            This scene brought up a question for me; an involved question, and a hard one.  When is coercion “okay”?  Does the end really justify the means? Can violence quash violence?  Can coercion stop conflict – especially someone else’s conflict? 

            Just as we begin think that this question doesn’t apply to our daily lives I want to remind you that coercion covers a multitude of actions.  Coercion includes speech like “should,” “have to,” and “ought to.”  It also covers passive aggressive behavior or physical force that isn’t even violent.  Coercion is apparent whenever we inflict a punishment for not doing what we say or offer a reward for doing what we want.

            I’m not advocating bedlam and anarchy; in fact I notice that violence to stop violence only exacerbates the problem and coercion only moves the conflict to another time or place. Poor Shadow, the alpha peacock, can’t reason out a different way to deal with the conflict in his family, but we can.  Though it doesn’t have an easy answer, this hard question seems worth thinking about.  Does force really bring about the outcome we seek?