Thank you for sharing….

Posted on September 17, 2011 by seeandconnect

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.” 

 

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Chicago brief: A two hour meeting which proved very instructive…

Posted on September 14, 2011 by seeandconnect

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?

 

 

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Feral elite, feral underclass – surely we have more constructive ways of communicating?

Posted on September 8, 2011 by seeandconnect

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

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Moral Courage, Divisions Between People, and Self-Awareness

Posted on August 31, 2011 by seeandconnect

Since 22 August, which kicked off the DC part of my US travels, I’ve been having a lot of comparative discussions about the UK and the US. They began with a brown bag talk I gave at The Praxis Project and carried on into coffees with researchers and conversations with Londoners who are now living Stateside. In fact, they carried on in Staunton, Virginia where I stayed with a couple who just moved here from London. They included a lunch with the Executive Director of the Institute for Policy Studies. A lot of these conversations keep bringing me back to the topics of moral courage, divisions between people, and self-awareness.

I was not in London – in my Bethnal Green neighborhood (in the US, and doing US spelling) – when the riots happened. Thus, I write what follows fully aware that many people will think I am on very shaky ground and want to respond with ‘You weren’t here – that’s all easy for you to say, but you weren’t here.’ And, in fact, people I said this to over here did say that. Yet, those same people also suggested that my observation wasn’t without merit. With all this in mind, here’s what I’m thinking…

The Turkish and Kurdish shop owners in Dalston, Hackney are now famous for their collective stand against the looters. They stood in front of their shops, some with brooms and rocks in hands, ready to defend their livelihoods. I read that in Whitechapel and Bethnal Green damages were limited because the local Muslim communities (of Bengali and Somali backgrounds)  – like their Dalston counterparts – also stood ground.  Immigrant communities (I won’t get into the problems with articles like that of Cristina Odone’s Telegraph piece, Immigrants love this country more than we do) have been hailed for their sense of responsible community not just in relation to self-preservation, but as a demonstration of commitment to Great Britain. 

Putting aside discussion on patriotism, I thought/think “Well, good on ya” when it comes to people who stood up against the violence (let’s also put aside that some people perhaps were ready to fight violence with violence). But I’ve been wondering (as I guess Odone was, too, but coming from a different angle): Where was everyone else?

I did see in the media that occasionally a brave passer-by to the riots stopped to try and persuade looters of their madness. Again, good on ya – especially since as a lone individual that was a risky act. And, yes, I know that in places like Hackney pro-social tweeting, e.g., #riotscleanup, led to hundreds of people coming out with their brooms. They also organized a street party one Saturday to show solidary and support local businesses. Initially, I was really excited by that – and I still think it is great. 

But I’m wondering: what if all the people who turned up to clean up and to celebrate their neighborhood, had turned up on the same street (heavily hit by the riots) in hundreds in defiance of the violence? What if hundreds had stood in solidarity with the Dalston shop owners? One person suggested to me that the ‘immigrant’ communities had the advantage of having the community infrastructure to mobilize and support each other. He suggested that other people, e.g. progressive middle class types, lacked this. To which my response was – that’s not true, people got it together to do clean up the next day and to organize a street party.

And here’s what I haven’t mentioned yet – my sense is that those involved in East End cleanup were predominantly the educated, middle class folks – people like myself and many of my friends (see, for example, Matthew Brown’s article).  

People were breaking shop windows and setting cars alight – people did die during the riots (sympathies to their families). So it is right to say to me ‘You weren’t there and it was dangerous.’ Yet, wouldn’t it have been less dangerous if the number of people standing in defiance were significantly higher? And also, isn’t that – at the end of the day – what moral courage entails: risk-taking? 

It is no light decision to put one’s self in harms way. If I look in the mirror and wonder what would have I done in that situation, I know what I would like to think I would do – but I cannot honestly say for certain that my ideal would have translated into practice.  Yet, I do not think this moots my query: Why didn’t we see more moral courage during the riots – more people putting up a non-violent stance against the violence and destruction?

To note: I do remember reading somewhere that some people wanting to take a stand felt it was hard to know what to do in terms of relating to the police. I guess the police were probably trying to clear areas and encouraging people to stay away. Thus, it might have felt as though the police were a barrier to creating any counter-demonstration to the rioting. This raises questions about the relationship between civil society and the police – and the challenges of managing that relationship during civil unrest, particularly when peaceful demonstrations against the State transform into violence. Under such circumstances, peaceful demonstrators might feel uncomfortable allying themselves with the police, and vis-versa. 

But I want to go back to this idea of moral courage. Because thinking about who did what during the rioting, has got me thinking about what we all do on a day-to-day basis when it comes to standing up for others. And, in fact, I wonder how many of us really believe that standing up for others is really the same as standing up for our selves – a harm to another person, is a harm done to me. I wonder this, because I feel that we – progressive people wanting greater equality and justice – can often be complicit in our movement. And, yes, I include myself in this – what beliefs do I have and choices do I make that reinforce inequitable and destructive cultures, systems and structures? How is my passivity contributing to the injustices that surround me? How can I be more morally courageous? When does it make the most sense? How do I balance that fine line between courage and foolishness that I suspect exists?

And all this brings me back to the US. Because our President is getting a lot of criticism – including from his own party. In the conversations I’ve been having about the riots in Britain, we’ve also talked about this. And a few of us are thinking the same thing: the progessive left in the US has let the President down. After he was elected we did not sustain the momentum to do on the ground what we wanted him to do in office – change and strengthen our democratic culture. I’ve been wondering, for example, why more people weren’t out on the streets in protest of the inane Congressional deliberations over the national budget/deficit. Instead, many Americans watched coverage on the television and became hugely frustrated about it all – but we did not really do much, did we? I’m not even talking about having moral courage here – I’m talking about switching from passive to active. What could we have done? Well, that’s another subject to consider.

I’m in Chicago now, and in one of the last discussions I had on these topics, I was told about how activists here have become really interested in UK Uncut. They want to create a similar movement here and have been in contact with UK Uncut to learn more about how the US can create a movement to challenge the banking industry.  I think that’s great – I’m all for a bridging of activist communities across the Atlantic and love what UK Uncut has been doing.

But when I think of UK Uncut, I think of a story I wrote about previously – which feels like it brings me full circle with this post. Kurdish and Turkish shop owners in a mixed-income area stood with their brooms ready to defend their livelihoods. Thinking particularly about the East End, it feels like we need to do more to build bridges between people like the local shop owners and the types of people who came out with brooms post-rioting and/or who are likely to be connected into the UK Uncut world (I suspect they are one and the same).  I think growing these connections, building these bridges involves greater reflection and self-awareness about our movement. How do we relate to one another? What does our ethical commitment to each other look like on a day-to-day basis? What are we doing to see each our selves and one another more clearly? How do we support one another? 

Maybe my friend was/is right – maybe our (middle class progressives) social networking is very limited – our bonds and social capital are weak, particularly when it comes to extending our ethical commitment beyond our social and economic circles.  Which is why, maybe, moving forward we might want to do some inward focusing to strengthen our outward activities. As one friend back in London once asked at a dinner party I hosted: “Why is it that we only ever talk about poor people having to grow community?” 

 

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Empathy: how empathic are we – you and me – really?

Posted on August 20, 2011 by seeandconnect

The other week, I wrote about empathy.  I was eager to define it, because I realised that we have many misconceptions about what it means to be empathic. Last week, I suggested empathic dialogue is a critical component of post-riots recovery process – and I want to come back to that in the future. Meanwhile, I’ve been playing around with what the riots tell us about our current empathy status and what our understanding of empathy tell us about the riots.  I’m left thinking the following: It’s one thing to talk about the need for greater empathy – but is another to take active steps to that end. How do we become more empathic? And what are we doing in our culture(s) that is reducing our empathic capacity? What do we need to stop doing and what do we need to start doing to increase our individual and collective empathy levels?  I think one of the first steps we need to take is greater individual reflection: let us assess our empathy levels and how they influence the day to day choices we make, the politics we support, and the extent to which we actively seek to ensure the well-being of others.

In June 2011, Simon Baron-Cohen gave an RSA talk: Zero Degrees of Empathy, where he talks about what he means by empathic erosion. His research shows that our human capacity to be empathic operates on a bell curve. That is, a minority of people have little or no capacity for empathy, the vast majority have balanced levels of empathy and a minority are highly empathic.  He defines empathy as having two components:

·      (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.

For Baron-Cohen both components are critical. He gives the example of how a psychopath might be able to understand that what s/he is doing is harmful to another person, but then will not act accordingly – will not stop what s/he is doing. In contrast, Baron-Cohen explains how people with autism might have low cognitive empathy levels, as they are unable to read the social cues to understand people’s emotions. Yet, they also will not cause other people harm. Low empathy levels alone do not result in a person doing harm, but they do seem to be an integral component of anti-social behavior.

With Baron-Cohen in the back of my mind, I started thinking about all the people involved in the riots.  Nick Smith’s account in OpenDemocracy and other accounts illustrate the spectrum of participants: those who broke windows and lit fires, those who did no violence but then entered the buildings to steal; those who saw goods on the street and picked them up; those who were on the scene only watching but not actively participating; those who were indoors and watched on the telly, those who ignored it all, those who tried to stop the rooters from destroying the property of others, those who sought to protect their own property by standing up peacefully, those who seemed ready – if provoked – to retaliate against the looters with violence.

Where do these different types of people fit onto the empathy bell curve? I’m guessing that the people who committed the most serious violence will be low/no empathy end of the spectrum. Some of these people might have a serious psychiatric disorder and need help to function constructively in society. But I’m also guessing that not all of those who committed acts of violence fall into this category. Instead, they are people born with an average capacity to be empathic. Either in that moment – caught up in the contagion –they became disconnected from their empathic capacity or more generally (as a consequence of life experience combined with genetic pre-disposition) they have lost the connection and choose to engage in violence/destructive behaviour.  

I’ve been in meetings where people – including myself – ask how can we grow more empathy in society. But the converse question is important, too: what leads people to disconnect from empathy? And with this question goes a fundamental assumption –which I think the Baron-Cohen research supports – the vast majority of us innately have pro-social empathy levels. Yet, it seems something in our cultures(s) is diminishing those levels – and diminishing our capacity to be pro-social, or perhaps pro-social beyond certain familiar perimeters, e.g., people who belong to our tribe (however that is defined- socially, economically, religious etc). On this point, of empathy perimeters, see also The Empathic Civilisation (RSA Animate).

I think many people tend to associate anti-social behaviour with low-income communities and certainly that was the initial knee-jerk reaction to the riots. This view seems lopsided to me. Last week I was wondering what links a high street shop looter to a cavalier, high risk-taking white collar profiteer.  I’m starting to think what they share is a disconnect from empathy – from a desire to ask repeatedly: “Why am I making the choices I am making? What are the impacts of my choices on others?” and to make choices based on not only their own welfare, but also based on the welfare of others. A looter and a profiteer are both anti-social, no?

For me, this is a really important dimension to how we move forward post-riots. The aspect of empathy post-riots analysis tends to spotlight is a desire (when people can get beyond the ‘they are all criminals’ mentality) to understand why the rioters made the choices they did. This is an important line of inquiry. However, we need to balance this with reflections upon our own choices. Specifically, we can reflect upon the extent to which our choices and behaviors reflect pro-social empathy levels beyond our narrow ‘tribal’ perimeters. We all participated in the riots in one way or another – actively or passively. Equally, we will all participate in what follows – actively or passively. I suspect our levels of empathy play a significant role in determining how active or passive we choose to be, and the nature (constructive/destructive) of our contributions.

Of course, empathy is not going to provide us with answers – just because someone has reasonable levels of empathy, does not guarantee they are able to create effective solutions. In fact, RSA Chief Executive, Matthew Taylor (in response to the Baron-Cohen lecture) raised the point that in some situations too much empathy can destructively lead to indecisiveness. Yet, I think reasonable levels of empathy are a pre-requisite to robust deliberative decision-making. Empathy forces us to want to pause periodically and ask ourselves questions that begin with ‘What if…’ and ‘Why…’ – to be reflective rather than reflexive.

And at this point, I’m inclined to go back to the previous point: we can easily slip into a wearing a lens that keeps asking ‘why, why, why’ of the looters – which is a necessary line of inquiry – but we also need to ask ‘why, why, why’ and ‘what if, what if, what if’ of our selves – politicians, media professionals, civil servants, residents of communities where there were riots, residents of communities where there were no riots.  I do see this happening – with blog posts on consumerism and greed-based culture. And I hope this goes further. No matter what our social and economic background or political and religious affiliation we each have an opportunity and – I would argue – a responsibility to ask: How did I participate in the riots? How have I contributed/do I contribute to the culture that fed the riots? What can I do differently?  

 

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(In)visibility

Posted on August 17, 2011 by seeandconnect

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?”

“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 work with activists, 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 Liam Barrington-Bush 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. 

 

 

 

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London Riots – let us seize the opportunity…

Posted on August 9, 2011 by seeandconnect

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.

 

 

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Empathy – what about it?

Posted on August 3, 2011 by seeandconnect

“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: 

Empathy – a long misunderstood word. In the last couple of years, I’ve come to realise that empathy doesn’t actually refer to understanding what someone is feeling because you’ve experienced exactly what they have experienced – which is what I always thought it meant. It actually refers to acknowledging that you understand what someone is feeling, e.g. understanding that a woman who has been raped feels violated, vulnerable, angry, scared etc.

When we say ‘I empathise’ we are actually not doing that at all – it is an empty statement without something to back it up – without being able to demonstrate that we actually recognise what a person is feeling – not necessarily because we’ve been in the same situation, but because we are human and would likely feel the same in a similar situation.

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.

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Too much empathy?

Posted on August 3, 2011 by seeandconnect

At the Baron Cohen talk, Matthew Taylor observed that potentially too much empathy can get in the way of decisiveness. A leader, fully aware of how a decision might impact on vast range of individuals and communities might face decision-paralysis

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Untitled

Posted on August 3, 2011 by seeandconnect

We live as we breathe – contracting and expanding, contracting and expanding. Both states are neither good nor bad. Sometimes being contracted allows us to rest and recuperate; it can be in many different ways a form of self-protection. Problems arise, however, when we become contracted for prolonged periods without venturing to expand. When we expand, we open ourselves up and engage actively with the world around us. Expansion is a process of shining our light, connecting with others, wanting to be seen, having presence. 

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