This week, I'm going to let Researcher Brene Brown do the talking.....via a TED talk "The power of vulnerability"

I've got a lot of reflections moving around in my head about the riots and looting, about community relations, about empathy, about stops and searches, about restorative justice, about moral reasoning and ethical values.  I'll bring them out onto the page in the coming weeks. But in the meantime, I want to re-post something I wrote in June 2011 - it feels particularly relevant right now, along with the following question: "What can we do to see our selves and each other more clearly?"

"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.

I do a lot of work with movement/dance. Last weekend, I participated in a workshop where I was very conscious of this idea of (in)visibility. One woman stands out in particular. She is stunning looking in a host of ways – including a number of tattoos. I have seen her at other movement events and sense that she likes to be visible. The tattoos alone – in very readily seen places on her body – create a loud invitation to look at her. But also, the few times I’ve seen her, she has been always conspicuous in terms of being in the centre of the room or standing while everyone else is sitting. Again, I hear ‘ Look at me.’ This has me thinking about the ways we encourage others to look at us and the extent which we are limiting or expanding  what people see. The question that comes to mind is: How can we use our power to appear and disappear most effectively to bring about the change we desire?

I make a huge assumption with this question. I assume we have control over our visibility. At one level, this is fundamentally untrue. Try as we might, sometimes people simply refuse to see us. What then? What do we do? Well, I will come back to that particular issue in a future post. For now, I’m going to roll with the assumption: I/you/we can control and direct when and how we are seen – at least to some degree.

Our power is rooted in self-awareness. What do we see in ourselves that we want to make visible to those around us? What do we want to hide from others?

Social changemakers – whether in small or large ways – often are wanting to make our anger visible. We are driven to pursue change because of an injustice and wrong, a sense that ‘things should be different’ and we are angry that they are not.  What happens if we focus on putting our anger out there – on being seen as ANGRY?

Anger, depending on its form, will receive a variety of responses. And that’s the key – what form does our anger take? When a group of protestors burns down a bunch of shops, they are seen as angry – but also as reckless, disrespectful, dangerous, and perhaps stupid, i.e. if those shops are in their own neighbourhood. In such a situation, I imagine witnesses – those for whom the anger is meant – become less inclined to pause and ask ‘Why such anger?” or “What responsibility do I have to try and engage with this person’s sense of injustice?’ Rather than become curious, witnesses to such anger are more likely to become confused, dismissive and silent.

This is by no means a suggestion that we encourage violent anger by responding to it – by sending the message ‘be violent, it is the way to get seen and heard.’  Again, that raises a related but different topic. Nor is it to suggest that we avoid expressing anger. The pressing question is: What are the most effective ways of bringing our angry selves into visibility – the ways which encourage others to engage with it and us and the others aspects of our selves we want them to see, e.g., the creative problem-solver, courage, compassion?

I like to answer this question by focusing attention firstly on the source(s) of the anger. Why are we angry and what request(s) do we want to make of others to change what it is that draws us to anger? What aspects of our requests are fixed and what actually are fluid, i.e., we want a more fair decision, but we aren't locked on one route to achieve that sense of fairness. Then I focus on the direction of the anger - to whom is it towards? In my actions, am I being truthful or misdirected, e.g., am I wrongly shooting a messenger for a message created by someone else?  Next, I wonder 'What does escalation look like?' That is, what does a request look like and if that meets resistance, what does my demand look like? When does it make most sense to request? To demand? What is the most effective way to express either?

I also am aware of a set of questions I think can get easily lost: How can I connect with the people who have the power to meet my request/demand? How can I connect with others who may be sympathetic to my request/demand - and support me in the asking? 

When people look at us, what they see is inevitably determined both by what we make visible and what's alive in them and shapes the lens through which they are viewing us. The final set of questions coming to mind on this topic, for right now: What do I want people to see in me? How do I know if they are seeing it - and if not, what are they seeing in its place? If I'm hiding something - rendering a part of myself invisible - why am I doing that and what is the consequence?

“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.