I’m a practicing mediator (including as a volunteer with an East London mediation service, Common Ground – yes, I am making a flagrant pitch for the organisation!). Today I did some coaching. The objective of the coaching was to help a woman who had requested mediation, but the other party – who had initially said yes - pulled out before the scheduled meeting. The idea with coaching was to work through different options for moving forward. This case was unusual for me – the primary dispute and request for mediation was in relation to a husband and wife.  I suspect I will be thinking about this coaching session a lot over the next days – I was deeply touched by it. And I ended it thinking – and saying to the interpreter – “Wow. I bet there are so many women like this one. It’s heartbreaking.” And so it is, that I want to tell her story – making changes, so that her anonymity is guaranteed. I have no concrete purpose in telling it, except to bring visibility to women like her.  I say ‘women like her’ with a bit of reluctance – because I believe that ‘women like her’ aren’t all that different from ‘women like me’  - that the story I heard today unfolds in different forms everywhere – cutting across class, race, religion, ethnicity, educational background etc.

I also believe that the fact this woman is experiencing what she is experiencing is a damming statement about our society. Yes, our – not ‘society’, not ‘the society’ or ‘her community’ – our society.  I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again – we all have responsibility for the culture we live in and the destruction around us. Our contributions to and involvement in our society take many different forms including, silence and passive complicity, active encouragement, active challenge, and unconscious encouragement (by unwittingly behaving in ways that undermine ethical values).  But that’s enough of my soapboxing – here’s Sasha’s story (with a few bits and pieces about our exchange).

Sasha is thirty four year’s old. She’s been this country for sixteen years. When she came she spoke no English. She had come with her new husband who spoke English to a decent level. She was scared, but excited to go live in another country. Eventually her family would be coming, too. She soon realized that the man she married was not the kind, gentle individual she had seen when they met and got to know each other. When they arrived in this country, she started to see his need for control, his temper, his impatience and what she would call his ‘cleverness.’

Fast forward, she is thirty four years old and her husband has left her. She has three children who are nine, thirteen and fifteen .  She is taking classes and her English is slowly improving. She understands more than she speaks. Her children are bilingual though their English is better than their mother-tongue. This means, she has discovered, that they do not do a very good job at translating for her – for example, when she has to talk with their teachers.

Sasha has no friends.  Her family has been in this country for almost all of the sixteen years that she has been here. When she told them of her situation, they offered up advice on different people she should talk to – mainly, public agencies – but no one from her family would go with her to make inquiries, support her with language or emotionally.

Sasha feels totally alone.

She also feels angry, frustrated, sad, and powerless.  And tired. She’s very tired of going from place to place to sort out different issues. And often, she has to struggle with language and/or poor service. When she goes to the Job Centre to sign on, she cries the whole way there because she is afraid they will yell at her. Her experience has been that they like to yell and talk aggressively. She has bad knees and a bad shoulder (the shoulder problem, I once heard is a common female ailment – our rotator’s cuffs get worn away and I imagine by the time she is forty, she’ll need surgery). Physically she is tired. Emotionally she is tired.

And, I feel it is appropriate to add, that I imagine she is soulfully tired.

Her children aren’t much help.  The teenagers, likely many young people their age, like to talk back and feign aloofness. When she asks them to help with household chores they resist. They say they are tired or too busy. Same goes for when she asks them to help her on the computer.  She’s aware that learning English and using the computer could open up her world – but it is a very slow journey when she is getting no support at home. She fears her children cannot be changed. 

On that point, we had a lovely exchange where she remembered a time when they were very small and used to pull up chairs and stand on them and help her with the dishes. One day her husband said that she shouldn’t let them do that – it would be bad for their hands. He said he would help her. And sometimes he did. But more often than not he didn’t. One of his ‘clever’ approaches was to send the children upstairs and stay with them, only to go down and offer to help when she was pretty much finished with all the washing up.

As we talked about this I encouraged her to see that her children once –upon-a-time wanted to be very helpful. I suggested that that desire is still within them, only right now it’s hidden. It can, however, be uncovered again. They can change.

We also talked about how the children must be struggling. They are probably feeling all that she is feeling and must be very confused. She would like to talk with them about what is happening in their family – but when she asks them to talk (as is often the case with children and teenagers) they say ‘I’m fine.’ She gave examples of how the children have expressed their frustration with their father and how they do not like having to ask him for things on her behalf.  The children, at times, just seem fed up with both parents. She thinks that they go back and forth between blaming each parent – if they are having an argument with her, for example, they will blame her for the family breakdown. If they are having an argument with their father, they will blame him.  We agreed that they must be very confused.

And we talked about her. ‘What are you good at?” I asked. “I’m not good at anything” was the reply. “Everybody’s good at something.” was my response. Eventually, she told me that at holiday times, when people from her ethnic community would get together, she would often have ideas on what food to make and how to arrange the table. The other women usually loved her ideas and wanted to use them. There we had it, something she’s good at. I suggested to her that she is also good at being organized – after all she runs a house with three children on her own. She keeps it clean, she looks after her children (cooking, cleaning etc), she’s studying English three days a week. 

And how about making friends – I asked if she was interested in doing that. Well, it turns out that she is worried about what people will think when they find out her husband has left her. She feels ashamed.

Shame. Wow. Tough stuff. We talked about how she isn’t unique in having a bad marriage. About how having a bad marriage doesn’t make her a bad person. Eventually we talked about the importance of her connecting with her own strength, with her power  - even though right now it feels like she doesn’t have either.

We talked about going on strike. Could she, I wondered, send a message to her children by going on strike – not cooking or cleaning. She figures that wouldn’t work – they would just happily be messy and go live on junk food. Maybe. It was only an idea – an idea for someone who felt like she had no options – like she had done all she could. 

Throughout this conversation, Sasha cried periodically. Nothing dramatic. I would first see the water fill up her eyes. And then a few tears would trickle. Early on she had left the room to get a stack of tissues. When it was all over, I asked Sasha what she felt she had got – if anything – out of our conversation. She said she felt more confident that ‘social workers’ – though she knows I am not a social worker ‘ could come over and hear her story and listen without judging her.  She felt more confident that they wouldn’t simply take her children away from her. That was a light bulb moment – she’s scared that in seeking assistance, her children might be taken away.

We came up with a few steps she could take immediately. One included going to her GP and explaining that her language skills are not good enough to respond to the letter she received about a psychological consultation (for her depression). The letter was asking her to call for an initial consultation on the phone and had a form to fill out with a number of questions about her mental health. It has a two-week response deadline on it. Thankfully, this had come up in our conversation and we could point out to her that she needs to take action by the last day of October. 

She clearly needs an advocate – someone to bat for her with all the public agencies. Often, when she goes to talk with people they are not very nice and/or they are rushed. Her language constraints become even more constraining in this kind of environment.   She needs emotional support. We agreed that there are organisations that might be able to help her with all these things.

It wasn’t said out loud, but it was clear. Sasha also needs love, tenderness, caring, and affirmations of her worth as a human being.

When I asked her what she was looking forward to over the next couple of weeks, she started to cry. Nothing. She isn’t looking forward to anything. She cannot imagine anything that was going to happen in the next two weeks that would make her smile.

She asked us if we wanted a drink. Previously we had said ‘no, thank you.’ But I asked the interpreter if she had time to stay. When she yes, I said we would very much like to stay for a drink. And so Sasha brought out a tray of biscuits, candy bars, two glasses of soda. She was smiling when she did that.

So much more I can/want to say. But it seems best to end there…thinking about our society how alone, tired, frustrated and scared so many people feel within it.

I am leaving my half-drafted post about collaboration, which I started last week, aside for the moment. Still want to write about collaboration, but from a different angle than originally intended. Yesterday, I was on a countryside walk (yup, I like me walks!) courtesy of a meetup group - a connection made through a new friend. There I was on a walk with nine people, eight of whom I had never met before and one whom I had only met briefly a week before (at a movement workshop). One of these walkers is called Taylor and in a very unexpected way we ended up talking about collaboration. My conversation with Taylor particularly drew my attention to three ideas: (1) we are constantly in processes of collaboration - life is comprised of a series of collaborations (2) what might help us enrich our collaborations is to have greater awareness of of what we are bringing to them, e.g. our assumptions, prejudices, narratives (3) each of our collaborations goes through stages/cycles and so in times of challenge we might benefit from asking ourselves "Where are we at this collaboration?" rather than simply concluding "This isn't working and can't work" or "You are just impossible to work with!"  

Before lunch, Taylor had asked me that age-old question: "What do you do?" Though it is a pretty open question, people ask it wanting to know "What do you do for a living?' My answer: I support people involved in social change to work with conflict, engage with greater self-awareness, connect more deeply with their values and what's important to them. I do all of this wanting to help people strengthen their efforts to drive social change - helping people not only to get out of their own way, but to unleash their inner assets. After lunch, she walked up to me and said "I think there is something you can help me with" and then told me she recently committed herself to a project called 'Photography and Social Change'. As happens, I knew about this project - it had caught my eye in an email from GlobalNet21.  In any event, she started to say that she was interested in working with stills and video. That was the starting point from which we took a journey that went in all sorts of directions before explicitly finding its way to talk of collaboration.

Our dialogue pretty much involved me asking Taylor questions, e.g., What does the think of when she thinks social change? What does she think of when she thinks about working with photography? When she puts the two together? That's how we began and then my questions responded to what seemed to be alive in Taylor in any given moment. I also did a lot of reflecting - saying to her what I thought I was hearing from her in terms of what's important to her, what questions she's grappling with, her assumptions, her passions, and so on. One milestone in the journey was the discovery that Taylor sees herself and others as storytellers and she wants to capture people's stories. Another milestone was Taylor revealing that one idea which is really alive for her at the moment is that human beings are constantly on movement - that 'elusive moment' photographers sometimes say they want to capture is totally non-existent. That is, people are constantly in movement and having to adapt to the constant change around us. At the moment, when Taylor thinks social change, she thinks about this constant movement, adaptation, and flexibility. For her 'social change' is not something you do - it simply is how we are. And she also thinks about the stories of a particular group of people, when she thinks about social change. This includes this surprisingly varied relationships these people have with their identity – people’s stories can take us beneath what you see on (and often assume from) the surface.  

And so it is, that Taylor wants to get involved in this Photography and Social change project. She imagines that these two distinct ideas and topics will come together, though at this stage she doesn't know how. Realising this was also a milestone in our journey. Turns out, Taylor was wanting clarity on how to proceed with being involved in this project. Our dialogue helped her see more clearly what's important to her. Which brings me to yet another milestone - Taylor was in some ways reluctant to move forward on her involvement in this project because she had a fear of failing to be different. She figured this kind of work has been and redone before - that there was little point in doing something unless she could be original, unique, add something. She felt she had to try to come up with a new concept.

Well, we talked about this for a bit - really focusing on the idea that the best way for anyone to come out with something valuable is to connect with their own truth. Her valuable and unique contribution to the project will be the result of her sharing what is true for her - we each have our distinct, unique voice (rooted in our life experience, perspectives, and connections) and this is our gift. We talked about how artists whose work resonates widely have connected with their truth, and in doing so, connected also to a bigger, universal truth. Hugely successful movies and stories (I'm thinking Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter and a whole host of fairy tales) draw upon archetypes. I doubt the artists are doing this consciously - it is more of a channeling that happens, a channeling of the universal that tends to arise when we connect deeply with our selves, our inner knowings. But I won't delve to deeply into this subject right now (maybe a future post!). The point is, another milestone for Taylor was to let go of this idea that she had to try and come up with something new. Instead - and it is likely to involve a lot less try - she could focus on expressing herself and what is truly alive within her. She liked this idea - it got her thinking of the journey ahead as a process of emergence and discovery. 

It was on this note we sort of wrapped up this dialogue. We both had enjoyed the exchange; I very much enjoy helping someone with their opening up/expansion  process and she felt relaxed and was pleased to have gained some clarity on what matters to her. At this point, Taylor mentioned that she was kind of surprised by our exchange, because she doesn't normally collaborate so easily. Yes, she really did use the word 'collaborate'  - not a word I would have chosen to describe what we had been doing. I just thought we were having a conversation. Mutual gratitude shared, we moved on to engaging with others. But when the opportunity arose, I re-connected with Taylor on this subject. I latched onto this idea - did she really see our dialogue as a form of collaboration? And what does she normally find are inhibitors to collaboration? She is, she explained, afraid of getting things wrong, only wanting to present ideas when she feels they are full developed, if not perfect. And she finds it difficult to trust people easily. 

And so from there we talked at length about the fear of getting things wrong, about trust, about silliness (sometimes, Taylor gets frustrated by the ways people connect with each other on-line only to be silly and jokey. She sees this as a waste of time. I suggested it might be part of their getting to know each other and trust-building process). We talked about collaboration. Eventually, we stumbled upon what felt like a big milestone for both of us. Taylor had said she isn't very good at collaborating. But is that true? We ended up weaving a different story/ painting another picture. Taylor is slow to trust people and sometimes quick to be dismissive of them.  She can't openly engage with people unless she trusts them, respects them. We took this information and created the following narrative: Taylor can collaborate and often does so - but usually it takes her a long time to feel free to open herself up with others. So, in some situations the collaboration process gets off to a very slow start. And sometimes, it never gets off the ground because she closes down, and decides she couldn't possibly open herself up with a certain person or group of people. As we talked, the idea came to me: life is a series of collaborations. And we agreed: Taylor is constantly collaborating with people; she's just at different stages in different contexts. 

And what followed is that a key stage for Taylor, in collaboration, is the building trust stage. But even that takes a certain amount of open-ness - a willingness to connect and engage, despite doubts and reservations. This led to her own admission - she likes to make assumptions and can be quick to do so - a big collaboration inhibitor. So, in the future, she might help the situation by asking 'Do I trust this person/these people? If not, why not and how can I come to trust them - what would it take on my part? On their part?' In doing so, she keeps the possibility of collaboration open.

And as for the perfectionist in her - well, we revisited that, too. If, as she now understands, we are in a state of constant flux and movement then it becomes hard to capture anything fully - including a concept or an idea. So, striving perfection is futile - everything is a work in progress. 

And so it is, that these three ideas about collaboration are very alive within me right now: (1) we are constantly in processes of collaboration - life is comprised of a series of collaborations (2) what might help us enrich our collaborations is to have greater awareness of what we are bringing to them, e.g. our assumptions, prejudices, narratives (3) each of our collaborations goes through stages/cycles and so in times of challenge we might benefit from asking ourselves "Where are we at this collaboration?" rather than simply concluding "This isn't working and can't work" or "You are just impossible to work with!"  

Thanks, Taylor (not her real name) - for collaborating with me on exploring the art of collaboration. We didn't plan it or force it - we just let it unfold as we walked a long. It was fun, light, thought-provoking and I thoroughly enjoyed it! 

Last weekend, I went on a four day, fifty mile walk along the Cotswold Way. My friend Olivia Sprinkel and I use these walks for exercise, connection with nature and connection with our selves through focused dialogue, awareness, and meditation. We also, social types that we are, tend to end up connecting with other people - people we meet randomly along the way. This trip seemed more social than other ones - we had quite a few lengthy conversations. We talked with farmers, a publican, B&B owners and the owner of a Cheltenham tea shop (the oldest one in town, I believe). The learning that stands out the most to me is not to assume and to be open - people are full of surprises and different perspectives . And so here I am, eager to report on a dinner conversation along the Cotswold Way.

Our first night we stayed in North Farmcote at a B&B run by David (we highly recommend it!). To our surprise, when he gave us a lift to a nearby pub for dinner, he intended for it to be a group event. So it is, that Olivia and I had dinner with David, Rowan and Michael, and Annie. David runs his B&B while also being a farmer - sheep, I believe (somehow, we didn't find out, only know that in the afternoon he has been baling - though what I'm not sure - could be hay, straw, silage....). Rowan and Michael are a retired farming couple from South Devon. Their farm was dairy. Rowan also runs a B&B (yes a shameless plug, though we have not stayed there!) on their property. Annie, well, Annie is a former professional singer-turned-voice coach. She grew up in the area and is a friend of David. 

That evening we were told that smallhold dairy farming - at least in Devon - is in a state of demise. Where Rowan and Michael come from, the number of smallhold (I think, but am not sure, this is the correct term to use) dairy farms have gone from 23 to 1. I've heard it said that dairy farming is bad for the environment - an argument usually made by vegetarians and vegans. If we use this as our springboard, we might think it a good thing - this demise of the dairy farmer in south England. However, the reality is that this is a country full of meat and dairy consumers. As independent dairy farms disappear, they are being replaced by factory/insdustrial farms: mass production for mass consumption. And as I understand it, factory farming is not good for the consumer, the animal or the environment. Where domestic factory farming is inadequate either David or Michael explained - and this was very much news to me - England imports its milk from Poland. Now, I'm neither expert environmentalist nor economist, but that just seems daft on both fronts. In fact, Olivia revealed that possibly my favourite yogurt producer - Yeo Valley, which I always assumed was end-to-end a domestic product (because of the claims it makes) - actually uses milk from Poland! Pah! Rather deceptive advertising if it is true...

We heard about how farming is hard work. A lot of farms disappear because the children of farmers grow up and think 'I'm not going to do this - slog it out day after day only to be in a precarious financial situation." A smallhold farm requires labour, but sometimes it is too small to be able to employ labour - so without family commitment, a farm goes down.Some people might argue this is 'progress' - industrialisation and no need for such hard, menial labour - it frees people up to pursue other, more enriching activities.  That's the subject of another conversation/post. What struck me most about our dinner chat was that these folks were very cross with Government.  

Our dinner companions shared the view that Government is ignoring the interests of small farmers. Government isn't actively doing anything to harm them, but also isn't doing anything to help them. Everyone around the table agreed that when it comes to food production in England, the large supermarkets are in control - not Government. Olivia and I  were surprised - and later discussed this- because we figured the Coalition is the type of government that would be out there supporting small farmholds and we assumed that the Cotswolds was diehard Tory territory. On the latter point, I'm still sure it is, but I am now curious to know how many of the folks out in the countryside are disenchanted with the Coaltion - and not just because of any Lib-Dem influence upon it...  And, of course, I enjoyed the idea that we lefty urbanites who are frustrated by chain supermarket domination of the high streets have common ground with large sections of rural folk who otherwise are likely to be Tory supporters.

There was one mention of governmental engagement with smallhold farmers: regulations requiring that farmers don't mess too much with surrounding environment. I think we're talking here about government wanting to ensure farmers are encouraging bio-diversity on their smallholds. Which, of course, a lot of lefties I know would be keen to support. I didn't get a clear sense of how much these regulations do or don't bug farmers... but, of course, it reminded me that there are Tory environmentalists - that perhaps the Green movement readily transcends other forms of political ideology. Again, subject of another post (one that I will never write, because I don't know huge amounts about the Green movement, though the Cotswold conversation has got me thinking more than I ever have about food production...). 

We moved on from the subject of farming to immigration. Yup, that old chestnut. Now, you might think, being the only non-White person at the table and possibly in the pub, I'd stay away from that topic. But for starters, when these folks think of immigration, they firstly think of Polish people. And, truth be told, they think of how wonderful they are. Michael told a story of how he went into a shop to get parts for some mechanical equipment. When he realised the person behind the counter was Polish, he was instinctively annoyed - assumed their English wouldn't be good and he wouldn't get the help he needed. He came in not sure about exactly what part he needed to fix what he wanted to fix. So, he didn't just want to buy a part, he wanted advice. Well, he described to the best of this ability what he thought he needed and what types of parts he might be looking for. After a little while, the woman - yes, I do believe it was a woman - behind the counter did that gesture of 'hang on, I know just the thing', grabbed the ladder, climbed up the shelves to a set of boxes and came down with a part. Lo and behold, when she showed him what she had brought down and why she chose that particular part, he knew he had exactly what he needed. 

Now Michael's conclusion to this story was that if an English person - probably in their late teens, early twenties - had been behind the counter, they would have just said, 'Nope, sorry, we can't help you.' In the run up to this story there had been a lot of head-nodding about the proposition that 'immigrants take the jobs nobody here seems to be willing to do.' And Michael's story seemed to be adding to that assumption: 'And they do a helluvabetter job than our people would.' Now, you are thinking that I'm dissing 'British Youth' and/or that the thing is these Polish people are undercutting wages - they work for less. And when I hear that I'm not going to say who is right or wrong. Rather, I start thinking: 'Yeh, this is a complex picture - which is why it is important to look at it from many different angles and perspectives, to explore deeply the different types of information and insight it gives us.'

We did talk a little bit about immigrants from elsewhere - courtesy of Annie who has been doing a lot of work lately up in Birmingham. Of course, the people we were probably calling immigrants were probably not 'immigrants' at all. Some were no doubt born and raised in this country. This is a bugbear of  mine - when do people stop becoming immigrants here? I mean, there is no such thing as a '2nd-generation immigrant' - you are either an immigrant or you aren't - and I wish we'd toss that phrase and others like it out of existence.  But that is by the by. Annie - like Michael - tended to associate immigrants with people who work hard. 

Now, this is potentially working up what is called a 'positive stereotype' - well, for the immigrants at least. And we have to be careful here - stereotypes (negative and positive) have a tendency to constrain dialogue as we put people in boxes, and take positions based on overly-simplified assumptions.That said, I was pleased to be in rural England, talking with farmers and locals about immigrants and hearing nothing but nice words said. And I told them this - I said, back in London one gets the idea that everyone outside of London is an immigrant-hating fiend, and I was glad we could be having a conversation where that wasn't the case. 

In response,  Michael added the point that immigrants were bringing new ideas to this country, including in farming. He had heard that in farmers in other parts of the country were growing all sorts of new types of vegetables in order to meet different food preferences. Am I now going to assume that the xenophobia we hear about and see signs of is exagerrated?  Well, a little bit. I do wonder sometimes if some politicians and media voices are stoking fires, trying to pit people against one another so they can come out as the heroes who save the day from the undesirable 'invaders.' At the same time, I know racism and prejudice exists in significant enough levels and forms (in and out of rural England) that we can't be complacent about. And I'm clear that one friendly dinner conversation in a rural pub isn't necessarily at all representative of what's out there.

Nevertheless, as a result of this conversation, I think I'm going to soften my armour a bit - soften that guard I put up, as a Brown-skinned person, outside of London or sometimes in London among certains groups of White people....I'll move through the world with greater attention to making no assumptions about people and instead being open when I engage with them. And even when something comes up where I think 'uh-oh, here we go....', I'll do my best to continue open and expansive conversation - because getting aggressive and defensive is unlikely to open up the other person to new perspectives. 

And that's my reporting on Olivia and Veena's dinner in North Farmcote....more reportage from the Cotswold Way coming soon!

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 leafy Chicago suburb of Glenview. Here I am, while London's streets have literally been burning. London is where I live. East London - Bethnal Green, to be exact. I've lived in the East End for fifteen years, a marked contrast to Glenview where I grew up. I love London. Like many, I'm sure, I am experiencing a mixed range of emotions as I follow the happenings.  My initial reaction to what happened in Tottenham was outrage - outrage at the individuals who turned peaceful protesting into random acts of violence. I was sad – sad to hear that someone had been fatally shot by the police. I was also sad to see that certain groups of people are so disconnected from where they live and the lives around them that they enthusiastically participate in random violence. And now I'm a feeling a combination of frustration, cynicism, and hope. I am hopeful because I see in the riots an opportunity to shift, to start moving in a different direction in order that we might create a new story for our selves. I am frustrated and cynical because I can see the situation playing out as it always has, though cyber social networking has admittedly radically changed the community organizing dynamic.  Conflict is always an opportunity, provided we can engage with it constructively and creatively. 

Where are we now? Where can we go?

I’m sitting here some three thousand miles away from London and here are the highlights of what I’m observing:

•  Ken Livingstone is talking up the need to be more caring of young people and blaming the cuts. He is making comparisons with the London riots during the recession in the 80s. He sees jobs as being a major part of the solution, applying the formula social programme cuts + unemployment = riots. He is being criticized for political opportunism.
• David Lammy, Tottenham MP, is focusing on condemning the violence in his constituency and emphasizing the destructive forces a small group of ‘mindless’ people have unleashed on the vast majority.
•  Stella Creasy, Walthamstow MP, (where there has also been rioting) is focusing on how her constituency is rallying together to condemn the violence and also to support each other in the aftermath, e.g. creating a respite centre with homemade cakes etc.
•  A Turkish professional from the East End highlights on Facebook that Turkish shopkeepers in Dalston, North London have been doing their best to protect their shops and writes: “if anyone had a reason to riot these people have...but they are protecting the neighbourhood according to Tweeter reports...in the meantime a rioter/looter will be on the front pages of tomorrow's papers, face covered, holding a can of beer in his hand...”
• In Tottenham, according to media coverage, some residents will tell you the riots in their locale are the result of   continuous mistreatment of Black people by the police. Some suggest the riots were stoked not by racial tensions but by more general tensions between young people and the police. Some say the public spending cuts are the cause. Some say the violence was the result of criminals and thugs from all backgrounds simply taking advantage of the situation.   
• The responses in Tottenham are typical: leaders, e.g. the Member of Parliament for Tottenham, in no uncertain terms condemning the rioting; some people saying ‘this has been a long time coming’; the police highlighting progress made over the years in community relations and standing by their policies and practices; a large number of people nodding in agreement that there are tensions, yet are also being confused, bewildered and saddened by the violence and damage done in their struggling community. An investigation into the shooting will take place to handle the matter of whether or not the police shooting was justified. To handle the wider issues such as distrust of the police I wouldn’t be surprised if a working group or commission might be set up – adding the existing groups/partnerships establish to strengthen police and community relations.
•  In the rest of London and other British cities, the rioting is in the form arson and looting on high streets. Some commentators are saying this rioting is simply part of raw opportunism by a small group of criminals, facilitated by technology and social networking; it has no political motive.
•  People seem to fall into two camps in terms of their response to the rioting generally: we need to understand why these young people are doing this and be sympathetic to their plight – they are jobless and frustrated (thoughtless cuts by the current government are of course part the cause) vs. these people are criminals and need to be held responsible for their actions (empathy-schmemapthy – how can you make excuses for criminal behaviour?)

When it comes to this last observation, I observe that The Prime Minister’s formal response to London riots 9 August 11 falls into the latter camp. He said:

I am determined, the government is determined that justice will be done and these people will see the consequences of their actions. And I have this very clear message to those people who are responsible for this wrongdoing and criminality: you will feel the full force of the law, and if you are old enough to commit these crimes you are old enough to face the punishment.  And to these people I would say this: you are not only wrecking the lives of others, you're not only wrecking your own communities – you are potentially wrecking your own life, too.

Here’s what I thought when I read the PM’s statement:

Are you kidding me? ‘Potentially wrecking your own life, too’ he is saying to the looters. Surely, if a young person is compelled to go smash a store window, steal and commit arson their life is already pretty wrecked, no? A strong message of tough punishment -  Okay, you can show the British people (and the world) that you are tough on crime, will not tolerate such behavior, that you won’t let the delinquency of a few destroy the peace and harmony of the many. Then what are you going to do? And finally, I couldn’t help but take the PM’s words and apply them to another set of people who wrecked the lives of others – high fliers in the financial services sector. Not because I want them blamed and punished, but because I want to point out that people from all walks of life can and do wreak havoc on those around them - can and do have a total disregard for the impact of their actions on others. Are the attitudes of the looters really that different from those who took high-risks with other people’s money for personal financial gain?  

I want to ask the PM: What role do we all play in creating a culture that gives rise to such groups – looters and white collar profiteers - in the first place?  What kind of responses to the riots will start to dismantle that culture - and what kind of responses will feed it?

We’ve seen this story before. We know it all well. And I’m sure I’m not alone in  wondering: How can the outcomes be different, how can we move on to tell another story? How can we avoid going through the motions of having dialogues where people generally continue to feel that that they have not been heard, seen or recognized for their experiences and their views? How can we avoid reaching the point – again - where people explode in order to release the pent up energy, anger, frustration, and confusion?

Britain has a golden opportunity to shift its national and local conversations, to take what's happening now and use it as a progressive transformative moment - but will it? Or will leaders and residents (wherever we sit on the political spectrum) simply do what we often do and are doing right now: blame, judge, score points, accuse, condemn rather than understand, collaborate, rise above the 'Us vs Them' and 'Right vs Wrong' mentalities? Riots - even if only done by a small few - are a symptom of a deep illness within our social body. How can we heal the body and not just temper the symptom?

We can already see how discussions are shaping in ways that steer us away from compassion, collaboration and creativity. We are locking people into specific camps – for or against, us vs them, right vs wrong.  We are, or at least those people who have power and voice, usually starting dialogue with solutions and entrenched positions. Ken Livingstone, for example, will say ‘We need to create jobs.’ Does that kind of response really give us something concrete to work with? Are, for example, people prepared to loot going to undergo an inner transformation upon learning that they have an opportunity to work? The Prime Minster wants to focus on making arrests and showing his iron fist. But what happens afterwards generally and what eventually happens to the people arrested? Do they leave prison interested and equipped to make a valuable contribution to the community they once violated?

Of course, where people have committed crimes, arrests ought to take place. But what about the bigger picture? What approach can help us construct a different story for the future? I suggest we endeavor to create a different story by stepping out of our entrenched roles, positions and perspectives – by holding spaces where people can take risks, be able to move beyond our fear and anger, and enter the messy, complicated ‘grey’ areas that take us into deliberations beyond ‘right vs. wrong’ and ‘us vs. them.’ 

How do we do this? We could start by asking questions instead of giving pre-fabricated solutions. Most of the solutions we will be hearing in the coming days are likely to be nothing new. We are, after all, approaching the future with the same mindset that has brought us to the present. One obvious question to ask is ‘Why the violence? ‘ And I’d like to put this question to the rioters. Policies do not cause riots – people’s emotions, beliefs, attitudes and values do. Why have the people involved made such destructive choices? And let’s do it properly here – ‘I don’t have a job’ is not an answer; let’s find out what is truly alive in people.  

What other questions can we ask, and what stories do people need to tell? And by people, I mean everyone - the shopkeepers, the rioters, the police, the politicians, your average person minding their own business and waking up to find their neighborhood in tatters. It isn’t just the rioters who are frustrated. We, the majority of people, are in a time of massive discontent (fear, anger, frustration, cynicism). Everyone has a story that lays out what's alive in them and why.

We also need to stop making observations about everyone else – unless we can back them up. We need to have more people speaking for themselves, and doing so reflectively (as opposed to reflexively)– to dig deep into their emotions, beliefs, behaviors, values, attitudes and assumptions. We need some honest conversation where people can speak without being boxed in and judged. Some might argue that a focus on conversation, honesty, openness is an inappropriately soft, fluffy response to what has been a time of harsh, violent behaviors. Let’s be realistic here - where have hard-lines and overly moderated exchanges gotten us? In many dialogues and deliberations tied to equity and justice, people come to the table (and it is very few who actually are ever at the table) with anger, frustration, distrust, sadness, and hurt. Yet, the dialogues at the table tend to give little scope for people to be heard and understood. You say what you say and are either disparaged, refuted or simply given a nod and a thank you and then it is on to the next person.  

Conflict is always an opportunity, provided we can engage with constructively. This means, creating spaces where we:

• Practice empathic dialogue, listening to and understanding all parties without judgments – putting aside momentarily our disbelief and our frustration or anger over someone else’s choices/behaviors
• Start dialogue without pre-conceived solutions and answers
• Openly engage with our emotions, values, beliefs, attitudes and assumptions
• Deliberate and question what we mean by justice, freedom, responsibility and the ‘greater good.’
• Strive to find common ground, e.g. shared ethical values
• Be prepare to see the situation from multiple perspectives.

Conflict resolution can also include work with restorative justice. What is after all, our goal? Many political leaders will say ‘Jobs, economic growth and prosperity.’ I say it is to sow seeds and lay a stronger foundation for compassionate, caring, thriving and creative communities.  A judgment and punishment-oriented approach will not do that. Demonizing people will not do that. Focusing on guilt and blame will not do that. 

As long as people feel unheard, undervalued, overlooked, excluded, disconnected and invisible, we will be living in a society that is ‘us vs them’ and we will certainly not ‘all be in this together’. Or more accurately, we won’t be acting as if we are – you see, the truth is – we are all in this together. It is a question of whether or not we behave this way. Currently, we often do not. It is also a question of whether or not we take on individual responsibility to scrutinize and challenge our beliefs, attitudes, choices and behaviours. Only by doing so can we collectively change the cultures, systems, and structures that feed the destructive behavior we are experiencing.

Who is responsible for these riots? One way or another, we all are.  Who is responsible for change: one way or another, we all are.

"If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die?" Shylock, a Jewish Moneylender, Merchant of Venice

In certain circles, empathy is trendy at the moment. For example, Matthew Taylor (RSA Chief Executive) seems fairly certain that only through greater empathy will we achieve the sense of universalism necessary to address collective challenges such as climate change. Autism expert Simon Baron Cohen, who spoke at the RSA in June 2011, suggests that empathy is one of the most valuable of human resources. In the last couple of years,  I've come across numerous organisations in the UK dedicated to training people - particularly young people - in the art of empathy. Empathy is being promoted as a critical tool for delivering enlightened social change. Yet, today I was reminded that empathy is one of those words we might use easily, but not really understand. What is empathy? Why is an increasingly diverse array of people wanting to step up our commitment to the practice of it?  

I'm currently working on an article about the relationship between individual personal transformation and systemic/structural change. In this article, I am giving a lot of attention to empathy and empathic dialogue. Today I sent a draft to a colleague for feedback and was surprised when I looked at his tracked comments related to empathy: first he wrote 'is this the right word – I can’t empathise with a woman who has been raped – I can sympathise though??' and then he added 'Doesn’t empathy demand shared experience?"

Here is the response I gave to those questions: 

My explanation to my colleague is supported by Simon Baron Cohen's two definitions for empathy: 

• (Intellectual) Cognitive: the drive to identify another person’s thoughts and feelings.
• (Emotional reaction) Affective: The drive to respond appropriately to another person’s thoughts and feelings.

I am passionate about expanding our capacity to practice empathy because through empathy people begin to see, hear and connect with each other.  Lack of empathy is a key cause of many people feeling invisible, disconnected and isolated - the vast majority of us will have had our moments (and some much more so than others) of: 'Nobody is listening to me' or 'Nobody understands me.'

Why is an increasingly diverse array of people wanting to step up our commitment to the practice of empathy? I'll venture to guess it is because more and more of us increasingly want to help ourselves and others become visible, feel understood and connected. We are also increasingly sensing that too much disconnect has created a world full of fear, loss, pain and sadness - a world which is is a poor reflection of who we can be as human beings. 

When it comes to driving social change, I see empathic dialogue - conversations focused on people actively listening to and trying to understand one another - as essential to the foundation for laying common ground and building connections. We are only able to understand each other because we connect through the values, human needs and emotions we have in common. Through empathy we not only see another person, but we also see them in us and us and them. In this way the 'Us' vs 'Them' binary - so common on politics and civic engagement - begins to break down. In this way, we open ourselves up to shift from the intellectual to the emotional and from the emotional into action.

It seems that more and more social changemakers are recognising - though we might not put it in quite this way -  that the heart has as a hugely important role to play in the pursuit of our 'Good Society.'  As long-time community organiser Marshall Ganz reminds us, policies don't engage people, values and emotions do. This is why we must consciously engage with values and emotions in our pursuit of social change. Yet, we often make little room in our dialogues for people to reflect in order to gain clarity, to take the time to present what is truly alive within them. And we hardly have any time to show that we are actively listening to each other. Our meetings and exchanges are often done in a hurry, filled with sound-bites, and allow for people to say what they want to say but without giving others time to demonstrate they have heard and genuinely understood what is being said. And so it is that from one meeting to the next we repeat our selves – tell the same stories, say the same slogans, have the same reactions - and carry the same anger/rage/sadness/fear and along with it a sense that no one is listening to or understanding us.

Empathy matters because it connects us and opens us up to each other as sentient human beings. Empathy matters because it sows the seeds for unity and common purpose. Empathy matters because it stirs us to want to support and assist - rather than destroy and harm - one another. Yes, empathy matters. I'd like to build on  Simon Baron Cohen's conclusion:  empathy is one of our most vital human resources - provided it acts as a springboard for concrete action rooted in a desire to grow more compassionate, caring, consciously connected, and responsible communities.

It's all about communication! How successful we are likely to be in achieving what we want to achieve is all about communication. Well, maybe not ALL, but a fair portion of our success lies in how and what we communicate with others. Here's the story that has me focusing on this today:

I live on an estate managed on a day to day basis by us residents - we have a resident run company. En route to my stairwell this evening, I passed a fellow resident and said "Good Evening!' He asked if I had seen Ed. I hadn't and asked him what was up, as he was frowning. He - le'ts call him Jack - explained that he was having plumbing problems and was looking for Ed to help him out. Jack's kitchen sink had not only been blocked but had been spewing out awful, smelly stuff. For the time being the problem had been solved - Jack had used really strong chemicals to clear it out after plunging didn't work. After explaining this all to me, Jack then said:  "If it happens again I am going to call the police and say someone is doing drugs on the estate!" I did not quite get the connection, so asked him to elaborate. His rationale was that it can only be drugs that would be blocking up the drains like that.  

Hmmm.

My response: 'Well you don't know that drugs have anything to do with your sink problem and I'm not sure calling the police would help anything. Have you told Pete?" Pete is the resident Director of Building Maintenance. "Yes, and he told me to find Ed', Jack replied with a slightly raised voice and added "Typical, always passing the buck on to others." Knowing that Pete takes his Director role very seriously, I suggested it wasn't the case and that we go knock on Pete's door and have a chat.  

As we walked up the stairwell, Jack asked me: "So you think he'll listen to you more than he did me?" I said I thought that two residents are more powerful than one and that it is a matter of how the issue is communicated. So, we knocked on Pete's door, and I explained that I had bumped into Jack and that Ed was not home. Pete explained that a plumber needs to determine the cause of the overflow - whether or not it is the external drain pipe or something in someone's flat - and that Ed is a plumber. Pete also talked about a previous problem there had been on the estate and how it had long costly process of getting it fixed, how old the plumbing was and so forth. Jack responded to this by focusing on the fact that it clearly wasn't his fault and told his story of all that he had to go through to deplug the train, emphasizing that he had heard someone wandering up the landing the day before with a similar problem. 

What was I doing while all this was going on? I reframed the dialogue. For example, I clarified for Jack (because I could tell that Jack wasn't hearing this from Pete's explanation) how the process works here - that internal plumbing matters are the resident's responsibility. We are obliged to call in a plumber and if they conclude the source of the problem is external than the Management company gets involved. But the first step is identifying the source of the problem. I stressed that Pete was offering up Ed as person who would have a look for free, when Jack said that calling in a plumber would cost a fortune. I empathised. For example, I said to Ed that I could see he was frustrated and fearful - what if this happened again and was something he couldn't fix?  I also reminded him it was frustrating for all us residents that this is how the process works - with the aim of helping him feel connected with others in his experience.

By the end of the conversation, Jack suggested to Pete that he thought the cause might be someone's dishwasher and the food waste going through it. I assumed - that being the case - he no longer thought a call to the police would be appropriate should he have plumbing problems in the future. Pete gave Jack Ed's mobile number and told him to give Ed a ring and say that they had spoken. He assured Jack that he would get to the bottom of this matter.

Why did I get involved? I'm a qualified and practicing mediator. I suspected that a a conversation at the end of a workday between an angry, frustrated, sceptical and worried resident and the Maintenance Director (who I knew had the spent the past week grappling with the tough and costly issue of window repairs) would not go well if they were left to their own devices. With this suspicion in mind, I made the suggestion to Jack that we go talk to Pete together. I wanted to facilitate expansive and constructive communication. I wanted Jack to feel satisfied that his concerns had been heard and taken seriously. Jack shook my hand as we parted and I said if he bumped into me again he must let me now how it all unfolds. As I was walking away for him, he paused to ask another resident who was just coming home if he was having plumbing problems. In fact, he was - and I found myself thinking that perhaps now Jack will feel less isolated in all this and that will be a source of comfort. As for Pete, I didn't want him to be shouted at and/or bullied for what Jack had felt was a dismissive response when he first raised the issue. I don't think it was dismissive to tell Jack to find Ed. Rather, it lacked a necessary full explanation and an exchange that would have given Jack the sense of being heard and taken seriously. 

Generally, I wanted success, peace, and satisfaction for both of my fellow residents - and I knew that the key to getting that would be how they communicated with each other. And that a little help with that could go a long way.

“You ache with the need to convince yourself that you do exist in the real world…and you strike out with your fists, you curse and you swear to make them recognize you. And, Alas, it’s seldom successful.” The Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison 

I have so much I can say on this topic. Firstly, it always takes me back to the United States. I cannot hear the word ‘Invisible’ without thinking of Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man – a seminal book describing the ways in which a Black man in the U.S. moves through his life invisible – seen through, rather than seen. Notwithstanding our Black President, this narrative line is still relevant. In my coaching work, I have been reminded repeatedly these past few months of how the status of invisibility is widespread, e.g. women in the workplace.

I suspect that the vast majority of us have at one point or another in our lives felt invisible. We all have this in common. Of course, invisibility plays out it different ways, is context-dependent in terms of impact, and is invariably tied in with the politics of power. Clearly, some forms of invisibility have more serious life implications than others.  

As said, I can say a lot on this subject. I believe it to be a very important one when it comes to social transformation. Where to focus? Today (I’m sure I’ll come back to this), I will focus on the ways in which we render each other invisible: 

·      Labels, boxes and roles – we are pushed or pulled into (e.g. through a desire for power) narrow labels, boxes, roles that others use to define us and we sometimes use to define ourselves and our relationships.

·      Constraining beliefs –we consciously and unconsciously are guided by beliefs (including assumptions and attitudes) often rooted in fear, judgement and focusing on limits, lack, and disconnect.

·      Silencing and lack of understanding – sometimes, due to lack of confidence, we keep quiet and other times we are silenced because others talk over us, bully and disparage us, tell us to keep silent, or effectively make us silent by making little effort to understand us.

·      Lack of self-awareness - We allow ourselves to move about without questioning our beliefs, motives and behaviours. We fail to observe the impact our thoughts, words, deeds and decisions have on our own self-perceptions and on our relationships with others; we forget to ask ‘In what ways could what I’m thinking, saying and doing, contribute more to my own visibility? To the visibility of others?  

The other day a friend described to me an incident at a UK Uncut protest in Hackney. Two young men from the neighborhood wanted to access the bank which was closed as a result of the protest. They shouted at the protestors – their language was decidedly vulgar and aggressive. At the heart of the conflict, according to one of these young men, was that he wanted to go into the bank to get money for food. He was questioning the protestors’ right to limit his access to the bank. In response, the protestors tried to explain why they were protesting and how, for example, his local NHS would be cut , e.g. maternity wards, while bankers were taking a fortune in bonuses and not paying their fair share of taxes. The young man's response to this was – by the account I heard – vitriolic and to many ears shocking and offensive. In rather more vivid language, he suggested that in Hackney, people should value how good they have it -  say, compared to a woman in an African country giving birth.

As I listened to this story, I could easily picture the situation. Two sets of people talking at cross purposes – neither demonstrating that they understand each other. Later, at the scene, my friend offered one of the young men five pounds he had found on his way to the protest. He saw, in doing so, that the young man’s demeanor changed. He wasn’t so bold and brave anymore; rather, he responded to my friend with his eyes looking down and a polite ‘No thank you. I don’t take money from nobody.’ My friend tried to insist by saying ‘It isn’t mine, I found it – take it and go get some food.’

The young man declined again. He waited around until the bank re-opened, and my friend observed when he came out that he was clutching five-pound note. Presumably all he had wanted was five pounds – which you can’t withdraw from a cash machine – and some dignity to go with it.

My friend and I agreed it was a shame the opportunity was not more effectively taken for communication and connection. I imagine, from what I heard, a condensed summary of the story goes something like this:  The young men yelled and hurled invectives at the protestors. In response, finding it hard to be sympathetic to their verbal violence and vulgarity, the protestors did not engage with the issue raised by the young men. Instead, they focused on explaining the protest rationale. Because it gathered no sympathy from the young men, the protesters gave up trying to communicate. And the young men continued to be angry.

If someone is yelling and shouting at strangers, I immediately assume that there is a part of them wanting to be seen and heard – they are trying to give themselves visibility. Ironically, perhaps, everyone in this interaction was trying to do the same thing, albeit through different methods: be visible - protestors and local bank users alike.  Unfortunately, what seems to have happened is that they were unable to see each other. They talked at cross purposes and they looked right through one another, so focused were they on their own respective need to be seen.  

And I can't help but think that a valuable 'connective' opportunity - for all involved - was lost.