Nobel winner Wangarai Maathai died on Sunday, 25 September. She leaves a bountiful legacy. This week, I am thinking of the paths she chose, the adversity she faced, the courage she lived, the dedicated Hummingbird she was. 

She inspires me to nurture my passion to seek clarity of my values and live by them, to work hard, to wear bright colours, to smile, to laugh, to give and receive constantly, to share, to think and do.

I thank her.

"I will be a Hummingbird" - the video.

I got up this morning and on the news I was hearing that the Lib Dems want to diversify, meaning they don’t want to be – as I call it – so Vanilla or as the radio commentator was saying, ‘White, male and pale.” It seems that they are taking action by setting up an ethnic minority leaders programme. I share the cynicism people have about the idea that any political party should seek to get more ethnic minority voters by getting more ethnic minority candidates; at the same time, I can see the logic there – not that ethnic minority individuals better represent ethnic minority individuals, but that the absence of them/us in any Party suggests some sort of lacking when it comes to equality.  And as one interviewee rightly summarized, some ethnic minority individuals will welcome proposals for an ethnic minority leaders programme and some will be totally – and understandably - be put off by it. 

I laughed when I was listening to all this because I was thinking of my fleeting encounter with the Lib Dems. At the end of 2009, I decided I would like to work with them. This was after attending a Democrats-Abroad UK event where Nick Clegg spoke  - I liked what he said. I approached him afterwards and was quickly pointed to one of his special advisors – who, I’m guessing was about 26, blond, definitely middle class (if not higher). A young, bright thing – as the label goes, though I discourage anyone from calling anyone else ‘thing.’ He gave me his card and said to send in my CV with a few sentences about my interests.

I did just that and I mentioned two interests (1) localism and asset-based community development and (2) diversity in relation to public procurement and commissioning. I emphasised that my interests are in policy development. Eventually I got a meeting with someone whom I was led to believe worked in policy. I turned up at Lib Dem HQ in Westminster. We went somewhere else to have a coffee.

And then it became quickly apparent to me – they had me meeting a British Asian person (I’m of Indian descent) who was part of their ethnic minority outreach team – with a remit of trying to attract ethnic minorities to support the Lib Dems. He (I’m not worried about keeping this person anonymous, because he wanted me to tell this story back then - so if you work with the Lib Dems and his gender and ethnicity give him away, well....so be it, as long as this is not held against him in any way!) immediately realised what was going on, after hearing my introductory spiel. Maybe I was being sensitive, but here’s how it read to me: young, bright, White advisor sees the color of my skin and/or my name and blanks out everything I say/write. He never heard/understood that I was interested in policy – let alone my specific areas of interest.

This in mind, I felt very irritated with the Lib Dems and in that meeting.  The person I met with said this was pretty standard Lib Dem practice and asked me to write in a complaint to raise the issue more widely. At the time, I didn’t have the energy/inclination for doing that.  I regret this omission. Change happens through awareness-raising, which requires people speaking up.

My advice to the LibDems (and any Party) – if you want to outreach to ethnic minority individuals in different ways, e.g. as voters, as potential candidates, and potential staffers/advisors:

1. See us as individuals who, like everyone, have diverse interests and backgrounds, which means…
2. Make no assumptions about us based on color, name, religion, ethnicity etc.
3. Constantly ensure you are reflective – checking your assumptions and beliefs and how they influence your interactions with people who do not look and/or speak like you or have a non-Anglo name.
4. Recognise and act on the fact that ethnic minority individuals  - like everyone else – want political representatives who share their principles and policy positions, across a range of issues, and not all of us want to spend energy talking about ‘diversity’ (though I happen to be one that does, but only as one of many political and social interests I have)
5. Constantly keep thinking about diversity of experience and perspective generally – I imagine it would be a useful exercise, for example, to reflect on how diverse Lib Dems are as simply as a community of White people.

I’m sure there are more tips I could/should be giving you….but this feels like a good start.

And I’m glad I’m finally telling this story – because at the time of the incident,  I was really quite angry about it – as Party leaders were saying today: the Lib Dems claim to stand for fairness and equality, but their appearance says different. But let’s be clear here – appearance is merely one indicator and also is not the best performance measure.  Ultimately it is behaviors and choices in relation to public policy that tell the story -  not speeches, sound-bites and promises – and it is by their behaviors and choices in public policy that any political party should be measured on its performance in promoting equality.

In my last post, I documented a random encounter at Chicago O’Hare airport. This time, I’m thinking about an encounter I had when I landed in London Heathrow on Saturday morning. I got to the Heathrow Express ticket machines and saw a young woman whom I believed had been on my plane. She was staring at a large unfolded tube map and looking befuddled. So, I went up to her and said ‘I think you were on my flight and you look confused. Can I help?” “I need to get to Sheffield” she explained.  She then turned my attention to the map and followed the Picadilly line with her finger – “I think I take this, but where do I find it and what do I do from there?” “Ahh, of course” I replied after I had overcome my shock at her end destination being Sheffield, “You are wanting to take a train up to Sheffield and I’m not sure, but I think they leave from King’s Cross.” Sure enough on her map, King’s Cross was highlighted in pink.  “You know what, I need to save money and the tube is the best way to do that, I’ll go with you. But you do realize that you might have to be chatty along the way and we might encounter lots of stairs.” 

“Oh no problem, I love to talk and at each point where I’ve needed it, someone’s helped me with my bags.” Off we went.

Francis (not her real name) and I slowly navigated our way through to the tube. She bought an Oyster Card (which you can now get straight from the machine) and we found her a seat on the Picadilly line while I stood. For a bit we were silent, both tired after an overnight flight. I was actually happy to go either way – chatty or quiet. Eventually, though I can’t remember what prompted it, the conversation began and it did not stop until we parted ways at King’s Cross (I would normally get out at Holborn to change to the Central Line which would take me to Bethnal Green from where I would walk home – but I was enjoying the conversation so much and I was a bit concerned about Francis finding her way through the King’s Cross labyrinth, I changed my route).

And here’s the ground we covered:

Francis – I never found out her age, but I’m guessing she is about twenty four – is from the South Side of Chicago. This is generally the African-American side of Chicago, with parts of it being ghettos. In the same way that I didn’t venture to the South Side until I was about twenty-four (I went to go hear an Operation Push Saturday sermon with Jesse Jackson and was befriended by a preacher who gave me a tour of the ‘hood), Francis had only made it North for the first time in her early twenties.

I explained to Francis that I had the fear of death literally instilled in me as a teenager when it came to Chicago – turn down the wrong street and you’ll get shot. She confirmed that when she was growing up – which would be about fifteen years after I was – there were days where she went to school with her mom clinging on to her and shielding her from gunfire.  I remember my tour – my first live and in-person experience of the Southside: burnt-out highrise apartment blocks with elevated, busy freeway roads looming in the background. I remembered that there was an Irish neighborhood nearby and that a few years (mid-late nineties) after going there I read about how a Black kid had been playing hoops, accidentally stayed after dark, and had the crap beat out of him – was in hospital, paralyzed. 

We joked about how her sister moved to Lincoln Park. “Wow! That’s pretty vanilla!” was my observation. Sister is now in Wicker Park, which by Francis’ account is arty, more mixed  - has not gotten to that point where all the low-income folk (which is often code for ‘people of color’) can still afford to live there. Francis bemoaned the way that neighbourhoods get mixed up like that and they are funky and cool but then eventually they become too expensive for folks who originally lived there and, well, the coolness fades and so, too, does the color. I nodded my head, thinking that she was - in some ways - describing my East End neighbourhood here in London.

Francis was in England to take courses at Sheffield University. She is doing a degree in criminal law at a notoriously lefty, Midwestern University. Her White boyfriend just accepted a teaching job at a university in New York – so she eventually might move out East. She says her mom doesn’t care about the racial difference and observed that, frankly, with one out of every three Black men her age in prison (a stat I had thrown out at some point – which I’ve come across a few times in recent years), the odds are stacked against her meeting one.

Speaking of being a Black man in the US, the reason Francis had gone into criminal law was because her brother had done time – and I confirmed, rightly so. She reckoned the whole experience did him good, but acknowledged that isn’t often the case and people aren’t always in jail based on a fair trial and sentence and too often have inadequate support then they leave prison. She astutely (I thought) observed that prison knocks you down – take strip searches, for example – and then keeps your there. She didn’t have a problem with knocking people down – that’s what they sometimes need – but she went onto explain how people need to then be picked back up. Take the military, she suggested, for the most part, people are knocked down and then picked up – given confidence and self-value (we agreed, that it doesn’t always work to such good effect). Prison – she concluded – generally just drops people, drags them down and that’s how they are feeling when the come out: dropped and dragged.

Francis is the first person in her family to take a trip out of the country. She is hoping her sister, the one living in Wicker Park doing a Masters in Fine Arts, will come visit her. Francis is one of many children - she didn’t want to give an exact count – and reckons that by the time it came to her and her sister, her mom had learned a lot and it meant they’ve managed to rise up out of the ‘hood.  She also had the benefit of a decent education. Her neighbourhood borders an Irish ‘hood – and so there was a good school – I didn’t quite hear her, but I think it is a public magnet school, with an advanced curriculum, where even the Irish (Irish-Americans) sent their children. But, she says, that school now is more mixed ability and the standards have dropped, the Irish families don’t send their kids there and the opportunities just aren’t the same.

One strand of our chatter led to me mentioning a couple of White friends who adopted a Black baby boy from Alabama – to which Francis exclaimed ‘Oh, lucky boy!” Yes, we agreed, being a Black male in the U.S. ain’t easy, being a Black male in Alabama  - well, sub-ideal.  Francis insisted that she thinks that would be the worst thing ever; she would never want to come into this world as an African-American male. I explained to her that I had connected my friends with an African-American friend of my sister – to help them out with their son’s Afro-hair.  Francis has stunning hair and often gets asked about it by strangers - how does she do it, they want to know. I got the impression she doesn’t like that sort of random questioning so much. She doesn’t want to be thought of as some Afro-hair expert; she’s just worked out how to manage her own hair through trial and error over the years.

I observed that I did wonder if my friends would need more than hair-care advice as time goes by – because they are raising a Black boy in the US. Francis gave the example of a White couple she knew who had adopted an Ethiopian boy. She reckons they were letting him be a bit of a wild child and she told them (or wants to tell them) that they needed to reel him in, because his sense of freedom might be accepted in a White child, but in a Black boy, he’ll be seen as ‘out of control’.  “He needs tough boundaries” she sighed.

We meandered along in our chatter, as the tube passed through Earl’s Court and into central London. We also hit upon the subject of Asians in England. When people hear ‘Asian’ in the US, they think East Asian – Chinese, Japanese, Korean for example. Here, people think South Asian – Pakistani, Bangladeshi, Indian. I told her that it struck me how in some ways, South Asian migrants here are a bit like Latinos in the US. This is a new thought for me; it came about as I observed all the workers of South Asian descent (who knows who is a migrant and who is British-born) holding fort at the airport.

A big difference, though – she made me see – is language. The Spanish language is spreading like wildfire in the US. Everything is bilingual. I was astonished when I was in Manhattan and felt like I could go into almost any shop and speak Spanish and would be fine. Ditto for Chicago. It was not this way ten years ago. Here, in the UK, however, the numbers are incomparable – so, while we have some bilingual pockets and public service information in multiple languages, there isn’t a single second language that is being integrated into British culture more widely. Though let’s be clear – it isn’t that your average American is now going out of her/her way to learn Spanish – just that more children, at least in cities, might find themselves in a bilingual school and it isn’t uncommon to see billboards in Spanish or to have a Spanish option when calling about a service.

I don’t speak any South Asian languages, including that of my parents. For this reason (perhaps combined with my lack of Hindu religious practice), a lot of the South Asians I’ve met here consider me a Coconut.  We used to joke when I was working for a London-based Black (as in Asian, African, Caribbean) organisation, that I was their token White liberal. I told all this to Francis, only after explaining that a Coconut here is like an Oreo back home – Brown/Black on the outside, White on the inside. Francis said that she reckons it isn’t surprising – after all, most of the Indians she meets in the Mid-west all hang around White people.  Sometimes, she observed, it is because there just aren’t that many of their own kind. 

As we were getting close to King’s Cross, we started to stumble into talking about the Riots – she wanted to know more and though I wasn’t in-country when they happened, I have lived in Bow/Bethnal Green/Hackney areas for over fifteen years, have given much thought to the London Riots, and would love another time to have that chat with her.

Because just at the point where we might have chatted about the riots, we got to King’s Cross and our focus turned to navigation. I got Francis pointed in the right direction to hit King’s Cross rail station, while I headed for the Northern Line to take me to Old Street. As did Francis earlier in her trip, I also (thankfully) found myself assisted by people as and when needed – to carry my bag (which weighed as much as I do) up a long flight of stairs at Old Street and then up three flights of stairs to get to my flat! 

I was/am excited for Francis. I told her as much and said she must look me up when she comes to London – including if she needs a place to stay – and certainly if she needs help in any way to navigate this foreign country. She’s looking forward to traveling and exploring. I hope her sister manages to come out here for a visit. It is a long way from the South Side of Chicago to the North Side, never mind getting to Sheffield. It must have taken a lot of resilience to make the journey. I admire that.

I’ve since received an email from Francis and expect to keep in touch, if not see her in the coming months. I have no conclusions to draw from our random connection – though I found it interesting and she gave me much food for thought which I will digest over time.

And that’s the ground we covered and another random connection for which I am grateful.  

Thanks Francis!

I am in the line for security at the airport. It is a longer line than usual, but thankfully I arrived early enough to not care. Behind me stands a daughter and a mother. At one point, daughter says loudly: “I was so calm this morning. Now I’m totally stressed out. Mom, you’re stressful. Travelling with you is stressful. I hate this. When I’m alone, travelling is not stressful. This is awful.”  About thirty seconds after she finishes her last sentence, I turn and look at her, catching her eye. I say nothing. The line moves slowly. I badly want to speak to the daughter, but as she continues in angry mode, I assume it would not be well received. At one point, the mother is commenting on how she had been cold outside, but now inside is warm and so she will take off her sweater. As she takes off her sweater, I observe: ‘Of course, you know it will be cold in the airplane.’

I hadn’t done it consciously, but I quickly realize this was a tester – to see how they might react to me entering their verbal space. The mom, sweater off, simply says – ‘Well, yes’ and in a tone that doesn’t seem inviting to me. I’ve started enough random conversations with strangers to know when they aren’t interested. I look at the people in front of me. I look at the floor. 

Finally, I cannot bear it anymore – the bubbling inside me. We are at a standstill for a few minutes and the mom-daughter conversation gets loud again. When there is a pause, I look up and catch the daughter’s eye and I say it: “I’m sorry, totally none of my business, but when I hear you, I hear myself. I mean, before, when you were saying how stressful your mom is – that was me, before, maybe five years ago. Thing is, yeh, your mom is going to do stuff that annoys you, but how calm you are about it is up to you. How much you enjoy your trip is up to you.” Pause, while my heart quickens its pace as I wait to for her/their response.

“Yeh, I know. You are totally right” shrugs daughter.

And with that, we continue to talk. Turns out daughter is twenty-three and mom fifty-six.  The daughter is thin, perhaps five foot five with long straw blond hair. She looks quite soft. But then she talks and you can feel the anger she carries, the hardness inside her. She thinks her mom is the cause of it all. She explains how she is worried about this, how she wonders if she should talk to someone professionally about this (remember, I’m in the US). She thinks she should meditate. “After all”, she observes, “I’m never like this with my friends.”  

We behave with immediate family in ways that we do not behave with others – we have no boundaries. I say this and daughter gets excited: “Exactly – she has no boundaries!”  I don’t want to take sides, but I am feeling for mom here. Using an example of conflict they experienced before coming out to the airport, I observe - based on something she says  - that it seems if the daughter’s friends behaved the same way, she wouldn’t react with such levels of stress – and she nods her head. I’m thinking at this point: daughter has mom in a box labeled in capital letters, perhaps red: STRESS. She sees mom and she sees the box.

Most of the conversation is with the daughter. The mom is silent except when I ask her something directly. She is soft-spoken. She explains they are on their way to a brother’s/son’s fiance’s bridal shower, going first to LaGuardia and then Newark (daughter criticizes her for giving too much detail).  She is looking forward to the trip. Daughter is not. Mom confirms she would like for the daughter to have fun and that whenever they travel she enjoys it and wishes her daughter would also.

I learn a bit more about their family dynamic – the daughter has four brothers and no sisters, while the mom is one of five daughters, no brothers.  “Perhaps” observes daughter “this is the thing, I’m just so different from her. I can’t be the sisterly type. I’ve got a lot of boy energy.” The mom suggests that it might be a big load to be the only girl in a family.

We shift subjects when focus on taking off shoes and putting stuff in in security boxes. I think we will part ways after a few words about my being off to London, but then I find them next to me while I am on the bench putting on my shoes. I am about to say goodbye, when I have that bubbling again. “So, I know that your mom does things which annoy you – it is hard for a mom not to and it is easy for a daughter to get annoyed. But I sense that your mom loves you. And she doesn’t want to stress you out. It’s a gift – a mom who loves you and wants to spend time with you. Not everyone has that.””

 “I know” daughter says “I know and you know what, I don’t want be like this. I don’t like being like this. This isn’t me. It’s who I am in response to my mom”

“No, its not you” I venture. And then I add, “It’s who you are in this dynamic.”

“Exactly,” she says “It is who I am in response to my mom being so stressful.”

“Hmm. Yes, you are stressed out by a dynamic between you and your mom” I feed back, as I sense that our conversation is ready to close.

“Do give meditation a try. And it is great that at 23 you are aware that this is not you, and that you want to change it. It is an early start - I did not come to such awareness until I was a lot older.  I hope you enjoy your trip.” I offer up as a conclusion.

The mom leans over and gives me a hug with a quiet “Thank you.” The daughter says warmly “Thanks for saying something and sharing your experience.”

Sometimes I get it wrong – I stick my nose in it and people get annoyed and angry. I rarely do it to give advice. I usually do it just to be social and because I enjoy conversation and learning about/from other people. Nevertheless, it isn’t always welcomed.

But it is exchanges like this that make the risk of random connections worth it.

And it is exchanges like this that I look back on and wish I had expressed my gratitude, had said ‘thank you’ to mother and daughter. Not simply for interesting conversation – but for helping me reflect on and learn from/for my own relationships.

They won’t hear it, but I’ll say it anyway here (and now, as the plane starts it’s descent into London): “Thank you mom and daughter. Thank you.” 

On Monday, I attended a meeting of lawyers, doctors, community workers, government officials, people from umbrella organizations for service/support providers.  This group meets monthly to discuss and agree shared lobbying priorities in relation to mental health provisions in Illinois.  Not surprisingly, a dominant topic was the public spending cuts – very different healthcare systems between the UK and US, but we are grappling with similar issues/challenges.  Yet, what is on my mind now are the people dynamics I witnessed during this two-hour meeting. The meeting ended on a sour note, with a very long and tense exchange between a few people out of the approximately forty people in attendance. The group covered less than half of the agenda. Rather than thinking about healthcare policy, I reflect on the meeting and I am compelled to consider what makes for a constructive, time-well spent meeting?

I found out about this meeting the night before, from one of the participants whom I was scheduled to meet for the first time that day.  I came in and sat down – anticipating I would simply be an observer.  For a two hour meeting, they had eleven items on the agenda. We got through four. I later learned this happens regularly.  Reminder: keep agendas realistic, doing a few items well rather than a lot of items poorly or not at all. It is much more inspiring and motivating to go to meetings where you can experience the satisfaction of delivering on the purpose of the meeting.

The first agenda item was about whether or not to hold a public rally around spending cuts, and in particular closure of facilities. The Chair asked if anyone would volunteer to be the lead organizer. No one came forward initially, though as the discussion continued covering topics such as who might speak at it, the person next to me quietly (though within earshot of the Chair) offered himself up. The next key question was if people would go back to their organizations and use their networks to ensure attendance - a rally needs people. This question was put out to the group and ignored. People continued to talk about possible speakers and the need for a theme, and then went off in another direction on a different subject. After about twenty minutes, the Chair asked: ‘We’ve moved onto the second agenda item, but have we finished on the rally?”

I was so frustrated by the disarray I raised my hand in a request to speak. I observed what I had heard: The person next to me is willing to be lead organizer but a critical issue is getting people to the event. I suggested that they take a show of hands to see how many people were willing to commit to going back to their orgs to rally people if someone agreed to take a lead on organizing. This was done, and a date set for the Rally. Reminder: be clear on what decisions need to be made in a meeting and get decisive answers as needed. Know what must be/is best decided at the meeting and what can be decided outside.

On the next subject, a participant – via speaker phone (a great arrangement, where the speakers/microphones were built into the ceiling and the sound is extraordinary) spoke at length about critical aspects of the issue of facility closures, including the importance of having a concrete plan for patient care in the event of closures. The Chair responded by saying, I think we all agree with you.  The speaker had been responding to a formal motion for the group to send a letter to legislators (later extended to also include a briefing for the media).  For me, the exchange lacked constructive engagement. What would I have liked to see? I wanted an explanation of exactly what the Chair believed everyone was agreeing with, further to that one woman’s extensive comments – that is, in a few sentences, he could have summarized the speaker’s key points so she and others would be clear as to what he meant by saying ‘We agree’ – in order to gauge for themselves if he was fairly reflecting the group’s overall views. I also wanted a decision on how what the speaker said would impact on the motion made to write a letter – for example, did they need to change the initially proposed content of the letter, given they agreed with her comments?

It is really important to me that in meetings people feel heard and comments (particularly if they are well thought out and detailed) are not left hanging – you know, with ‘Thank you, that’s interesting or well said….next…’ In fact, I was agitated enough that I ventured – again – to speak up. I took the opportunity to repeat what I thought were the key points of what the speaker had said and asked how it impacts on the letter to legislators the group proposed to write. Reminder: it benefits a meeting to check that we are hearing each other correctly and to distill any concrete/practical implications of what we’ve heard.  

Discussion continued over the content of the letter and a media briefing (notably, with a couple of people newly beginning their sentences with ‘What I’m hearing is…’) and they agreed broad outlines. The meeting then moved slowly along with the agenda. However, it ended up being dominated in the last fifteen to twenty minutes by a back and forth exchange primarily between a small number of people, one of whom became visibly and increasingly frustrated. It got to the point where I felt I was watching someone throw a quiet tantrum; for example, when someone in a very tense voice responds with a question to ‘Fine. Do whatever you want.’ – which means, ‘Not-fine, you aren’t listening to me, you don’t care about what I’m saying, and I’m really angry.’  After later learning more about the substance to the exchange, it seems that the person who was frustrated has over the years been at odds with the others involved in the exchange – including the Chair  – which might explain why he did little to mediate the exchange and also, the extent of her frustration and anger. 

The exchange was tied to a formal motion that had been put forward to the group, though I lost track of how it all related. At one point, the woman who was frustrated kept talking at length and I wanted to know what her request was – what she was asking of the group and in particular in relation to the motion at hand. It struck me that it seemed like different people were saying their observations, and perhaps even disagreeing with each other – but little effort was being made by anyone to draw conclusions for the group on what it meant for their advocacy positioning.

When we are working on sensitive issues which we are passionate about, we can get wrapped up in our own words and in our desire/need to be seen and heard. We can also – when sparring with familiar colleagues – stop listening. We assume we already know what they are saying. After the meeting, I had the opportunity to talk to the woman who was very frustrated. I started to see that the layers to what she was saying did not come out clearly during the meeting and that some of the issues she raised went beyond the parameters of the discussion they were having at that moment.  I also got the sense she hadn’t been really listening to what people were saying in response to her comments. In fact, I sensed that in some aspects of the matter, they were not totally in disagreement.

What I did not get during the meeting was a sense that people had seen and connected with the different layers of the discussion. In fact, at some points, I think people were talking at cross-purposes because of the lack of clarity about the range of specific issues being packed into a rushed and emotionally fraught conversation. What’s more, underlying the discussion seemed to be very important differences in fundamental beliefs and assumptions - despite the fact that the people in the room were part of an advocacy alliance.

I tend to believe that when someone is repeating themselves in a meeting – as it seemed was happening, though perhaps it was also a matter of raising slightly different, but related issues – it is because they are not feeling heard. A useful response in such an instance is for someone to play back what they think is being said and why it is important to the discussion. Reminder: when people start doing the ‘I’m fine’ or ‘Whatever, I’m talking too much’ statements, it is usually a sign that they could do with some active listening. 

Actively listening not only is a tool to engage with people in a way that they feel understood and heard, but also can be used to re-frame points to help clarify content for others and it can be a bridge to managing the dialogue. That is, for example, if an exchange needs to be cut short and continued elsewhere, another participant or Chair can join up active listening with a re-routing which people are comfortable with, because they feel they’ve been heard and understood.  Reminder: People talk to be heard. If they are not sensing they are being heard, they’ll either try to keep talking or express frustration in some shape or form, often bringing a constraining energy into the room. Also, active listening can be a bridge to making connections – connections that help join up what is being said to the wider discussion in ways that assist people to consider (a) concrete ideas for action to be taken or agreements to be made and (b) identify significant points of contention that impact on consensus-building and group action.

What struck me most about this meeting is that one issue – the proposed closing of a particular facility – seems to be a recurring debate/battle with policymakers, perhaps taking place every few years. It made me wonder what this alliance could do to break the cycle. Specifically, as I type now, I’m wondering if part of their strategy should be to reform their habits of engagement. I suspect, for example, that different - perhaps more creative - policy and advocacy approaches would be generated if they had more connective and expansive ways of communicating with each other.

But I would say that, wouldn't I?

Here I am in the suburbs of Chicago. Today I was at the local bank with my father. We were talking with someone he knows well there (he's been going to the same bank for over forty years!). His contact is a White man in his early sixties who calls my dad Kris (his name is Krishnamurthy) and the last thing I'm expecting is an interesting political conversation. Much to my surprise, he asked me what I do in London and we got into a lively discussion about British politics and US politics (a lesson for me about stereotyping!). We covered the spectrum of the riots in England, Muslims in England (interestingly, he had it in his mind that all the rioters were Muslim), interest rates, unemployment, apathetic citizens, taxing the rich, and inequity. We concluded by talking about empathy, one of my favourite subjects. And this suburban banker gave me a copy of an article he had just printed out, 'The rich are really different - and not in a good way, studies suggest." He was wholeheartedly agreeing with the conclusions of the article, namely that wealthy people are disconnected from the rest of us - less empathic, more selfish. This all has got me thinking about a few different questions, including: How do we talk about difference without resorting to 'us' and 'them' mentalities? When are labels useful and when are they a hindrance? What types of actions support people to become more self-aware?

In the UK, we've started using the word 'feral' in social policy discussion. Feral means wild or untamed, and usually is used for animals. British Justice Secretary Kenneth Clarke suggested the August riots were caused by a 'feral underclass.'  Recent data shows that seventy-five per cent of the accused rioters have prior criminal records and London Mayor Boris Johnson is talking about the 'feral criminal underclass.'   At the same time (including before the riots), self-proclaimed progressive lefties were using the term 'feral elite' to describe a certain type of banker, politician, and media moghul. When I first heard this, I laughed and I thought 'heh, clever.' But now I'm not sure. 

I support the point - the idea that all the condemnations of 'underclass' people made by privileged people can be turned on their head - both a looter and a white collar profiteer share some characteristics: they seem, for example, to have a total disregard for the consequences of their actions on the well being of others. They seem - as the word 'feral' indicates- to have gone wild. A point being made is that people of privilege cannot continue to call others ‘feral' without looking in the mirror.  

As clever as it might have seemed to me initially, I'm now concerned that in using the term 'feral elite', progressive lefties are feeding their/our roots with poisoned soil. In an age of sound-bites and short attention spans, we want to use provocative and memorable language. Whether it is being hurled at very-privileged people or under-privileged people, to what extent do labels such as 'feral' open up or close thoughtful discussion? I'm inclined to think they reinforce Bullingdon tactics- for which the Prime Minister was recently criticized.

We all have the possibility to be selfish, greedy, out of control. Sometimes we are consciously so - actively seeking to be destructive and with an intent to harm others. Sometimes we have a desire to be destructive generally - usually an expression of anger, fear, or frustration - but not necessarily wanting to harm others. Sometimes, we have neither the desire to destroy nor the desire to harm - yet, trapped in mental anguish and disconnect from our inner compassion, we make choices that do both. Sometimes, we think we are doing good, when actually we are causing harm.

Back to my question "How do we talk about difference without resorting to 'us' and 'them' mentalities?" My answer: we talk about difference whilst remembering our potential to be that 'other' about whom we are talking. That profiteer could be me. That looter could be me. They - these people I do not know, have not met - are human beings who have made destructive, unethical choices. I, too, in my time have made destructive and/or unethical choices - in all three of categories set out above: knowingly and with the intent to harm, seeking to destroy something but not harm anyone, totally unconsious of the harm I was causing. Rich people have more money than I do and therefore have a different life experience from mine. What we share is the possibility to choose consciously to make an active commitment to ethical living. Or not. 

If we want more people to manifest this possibility - the possibility of ethical commitment - in the future, then name-calling surely is not going to help, is it? Well, it might, if it acts as a wake up call - if someone thinks 'Whoaa, is that me, behaving like an animal? I don't want to be like that!" But it might also be a hindrance. It might instead feed a negative self-image or it might fuel ego, arrogance and aggression.

This brings me to my final question, posed at the start of this post: "What types of actions support people to become more self-aware?"  In particular, we need people in power to become aware. Because another crucial difference between rich people and everyone else, is that the rich people have much more power - we only need to look at the levels of wealth represented in the British Cabinet to illustrate this. What seems interesting to me about the studies mentioned at the beginning of this post, is that usually it is people from the 'underclasses' who are researched, researched, and then researched some more. People in privileged classes, as far as I can tell, are much less researched.

In the studies where rich people have been researched, we’re learning of a lack of empathy and a disconnect from others. I'm not necessarily advocating more research - I tend to think we need less research and more communication. But I am thinking that in bandying about terms like 'feral elite' we are closing down opportunities to connect. What if, instead, we talked with people of the privileged classes and the economic elite and we set about to find out what makes these people tick, to understand (which isn't the same as agreeing with) their values, beliefs, assumptions, and choices? I imagine that if we segmented our elite, we'd find that  - as it is with all of us - a proportion are sleep-walking - unaware of their destructive behaviours; a proportion are afraid of losing power and privilege and consciously take steps to protect and grow their own opportunities while limiting those of others; a portion fall somewhere in between, perhaps having good intentions to be ethical, but making choices that undermine these intentions - sometimes consciously, sometimes unconsciously.  If this is the case, we need different tactics for engaging with these distinct types of individual, don't we?  And we also need to remember that these different ways of moving through the world are not unique to any one type of group or people.

I'm wondering what culture is shouting out 'feral elite' creating?  Yes, the label might stir up emotions in some 'non-elite' and motivate people to become more politically active. But in the long run, can we get where we want to go - a more equitable world - using such labels? I'm not sure we can.