If you knew...

Jane and I do a Spelling Bee most days. Towards the end of the day, we often compare notes, and to spur each other on to greater success, we might ask How many words have you got starting with the letter N? And whoever has the fewer, knows that there are more to be had - and (and this is the point of this otherwise mundane domestic scene) often quickly finds a few more. 

It reminds me of an exercise I used to do many years ago, when I ran workshops on creativity for tech companies. Instead of asking 'How might we {very difficult challenge}?" I'd get them to frame the challenge as: 'Our competitors have just {very difficult challenge} - how do you think they have done it?' And again, it seemed that the knowledge that a solution is out there makes it easier (or makes us more determined?) to find one.

In both cases, it's almost as if asking the question (implied in both my examples) 'If you knew that ... how would you...?' prompts the brain to do some exceptional work.

And that, of course, is precisely the structure of an Incisive Question, in a Thinking Environment. 

Coincidence? I think not...

Therefore, if you need to clear a blockage, in your own or someone else's thinking, it's a great structure to use. As an Incisive Question, its formal job is to remove an untrue assumption and replace it with a true one.  I think that is also what happens implicitly in the other examples I cite. It removes the assumption that there are no more words beginning with N, or that there is no solution to this difficult challenge, and replaces them with an assumption of possibility, that enables the brain to break through.

So if you knew that this was a powerful structure, how would you use it?

Langgarth

I am feeling strangely upset by the news that Langgarth House, the house built in Stirling by my great grandfather, has been devastated by a large fire. This is the house that my grandfather sold to fund his acquisition of Aston Martin (a story I have told previously).

The story of the fire is told in The Daily Record, here. It would appear to be casual arson by a couple of teenagers.

It makes me particularly glad that my son Mike and I went up to Stirling to look around it a few years ago. It was on the market then, but would have required a couple of million to restore it, which strangely I didn't have in my back pocket at the time. We met some property developers from Edinburgh who had been round it, and they said it would be hard for the Council to find a buyer for it, unless it was someone like me with a particular interest.  I joked: So you you reckon I could get it for a fiver?'  'Yes,' they replied, 'but you'd be over-paying!' 

Over a pint in the pub, Mike and I briefly fantasised about the project. We both agreed a Billiard Room would be a great feature; and I imagined welcoming people there for coaching, or workshops. But it was a fantasy, and I think it was only Jane who thought (feared) that I might come home having bought the place.

What's the (implicit) contract?

I have  blogged before about the importance of contracting for coaching; and the fact that as a supervisor of coaches, whenever I hear a disaster unfolding, my first thought (and often my first question) is What was the contract?.

Occasionally, however, one comes across something that sits outside the normal contract, and that is causing the coach some retrospective anxiety: 'This happened, so I said/did this, and now I'm wondering if I should have...' Often, I hear, 'It felt ok at the time, but now I'm not so sure...'

Naturally, I find such cases interesting. One can't contract for everything, and often we can't talk in terms of absolutes, either. The Confidentiality aspect of the contract is a classic example: coaching is confidential except... {safeguarding, supervision, invoicing...} 

So for example, if a coachee decides to withdraw from a coaching relationship halfway through, one probably has an obligation to tell the client organisation, for reasons connected with invoicing.  Is that a breach of confidentiality?  Might it be perceived as such but the individual?  What if the client organisation asks for the reasons? After all, they have a right to know about the quality of the coaching being delivered...

It is here that I think that the concept of the implicit contract is valuable. You may not have contracted for the specific eventuality that has arisen, but it is worth asking two questions of yourself:

If I had contracted for this specific eventuality, what would I have been discussing with my coachee?

Given the contracting that we did in fact engage in, what would my coachee reasonably expect of me in this specific eventuality?

I find (so far) that asking these two questions helps coachees to evaluate their retrospective anxiety, and to decide whether it is well-founded - and if so what to do differently in the future. If not, of course, they can lay it to rest.

And one of the actions that often becomes clear as desirable, is more explicit contracting...

Casablanca

 I recently asked someone about the pictures behind her in a Zoom call, and heard a fascinating backstory.

As nobody has ever asked me why I have a Casablanca poster on my wall behind me, I thought I'd tell you anyway.

In the first place, it is, of course, because it is a fantastic film, and I find the actors, the look, and the moral of the story all very appealing.

However, there is a deeper reason. When I left the Pru in 1987, it was my ambition to write for a living. I thought I'd do some freelance training to support myself while I got established. I wrote several radio plays, all rejected by the BBC, and then a TV script which I submitted for the Radio Times drama awards.  I gotr a very warm letter back, saying I had been a near finalist, and that the BBC would be very interested to see any future work. And for some reason, that was the last script I submitted to the BBC.  In the meantime, the freelance work took off, and I have been doing that successfully ever since. 

Somewhere in that time I attended Bob McKee's Screenwriting Workshop.

It was excellent and I learned a great deal. And the final day of it was a screening of Casablanca, broken down scene-by-scene with a commentary by Bob.

So the poster is in part honouring that aspect of my identity as a writer.  You will of course be familiar with my Shifting Stories, and are currently reading my blog post, which is a major outlet of my writing talent; and I have written a number of things for clients, including a Teambuilding Manual and copious training materials and handouts, as well as a few articles for professional journals, such as Personnel Management.  I am even cited as a co-author of an academic paper (though in truth that is more a courtesy than an accurate designation). I believe I write well.

But beyond that, I still have an aspiration to write creatively, and it is that aspiration that my poster serves to remind me about.

Recruiting for EDI roles

Here's an idea.  I suggest that anyone interviewing someone for an EDI role should ask these questions:

What is a cause, issue or injustice that you feel particularly strongly about?

Tell us about it and why you feel so strongly...

Now, I'd like you to put yourself in the shoes of someone who takes the opposite position; someone intelligent and well-intentioned.  What would he or she say?

And anyone who is unable to answer that last question, in a way that would satisfy someone who did indeed take the opposite stance, would be a poor appointment. 

My thinking here is that people who lead on Diversity and Inclusion, should be able to understand and empathise with diverse views, and include people who differ from them in a respectful way. Otherwise, it is not diversity and inclusion, at all; merely the imposition of the current preferred views and beliefs. 

I have blogged previously about some of my reservations about the EDI agenda, so I won't repeat myself here. But I think the principle (and indeed the practice) that I suggest above would be very valuable for organisations wishing to avoid putting ideologues into influential roles.

And as I write this, it occurs to me that this could also apply to teaching roles, whether in Schools or Universities: activist teachers are all well and good (perhaps) but not if their activism means that they can only see - and teach - a simplistic view of complex issues.

I am reminded of the time when a friend and I signed up, at Fresher's Fair, to go out with the Hunt Saboteurs. We successfully disrupted a local hunt, and one of the huntsmen took the time, despite his understandable annoyance, to come and speak to us in an intelligent way. Most of the Sabs weren't prepared to listen to him, but my friend was wise enough to do so. I stayed with him and listened, too.

As we were going home afterwards, I expected him to be dismissive of the huntsman's arguments. But he was not. He was smart enough to realise that he hadn't done his homework. He had assumed he knew what the issues were and where he stood, but in fact had never engaged with the counter-arguments. 

That was a real lesson to me: if one wants to take a stand, one has, I think, an intellectual and a moral obligation to engage sincerely with those who disagree, to understand their arguments and perspectives. Then by all means, take a stand; but to do so without that preliminary step strikes me as rash, to put it mildly.

It is, of course, much easier to assume that those who disagree with me are either mad or bad, and probably both (and that may, of course, be the case...) but the rapid leap to that assumption is one of the things that fuels so much of the division and toxicity that seems to be on the increase - and not least in our Universities.

--

With thanks to  Tim Gouw for sharing his photos on Unsplash

Interruption 9/10

One of the joys of teaching without notes is that I sometimes surprises myself by what I say.  

It happened yesterday evening, when I was running a CPD session for the ICF Wales and Shropshire Coaches Group: an Introduction to the Thinking Environment. (For one participant's insightful reflections, see here).

I had given a brief overview of Attention, Equality and Ease, as the first three of the ten components that I wanted them to practice, and heard myself say: 'And interruptions, of course, violate all three of these.'   I had never stated it quite that way before, but recognised that it was absolutely accurate.

Which led me to think further (and this is, in part why I love a Thinking Environment) after the session.  Is there any of the components that Interruptions do not violate?

Clearly they assault appreciation, encouragement, and the full expression of feelings.  But the others are less obvious and deserve unpacking.

I think interruptions also undermine the component of Difference; for often they take the form of agreement (yes, that happened to me!) which minimises difference in the search for comfortable commonality) or disagreement (no, what I think is...) which often fails to honour difference, but rather 'correct' the other.

Place is interesting: and my thinking here is that interruptions do attack place, as they shift the focus, or even locus (which means place) of attention from the thinker to the interrupter.

The component of Incisive question is perhaps less obviously attacked; but one way we understand generative listening is that it implicitly (and silently) asks the incisive question: if you knew that I believe you have more good thinking to do on this, what would you say? In that context, it is clear that interruptions violate that.

And that's the 9/10 of my title.  Which leaves the component of Information. And frequently that is the content of the interruption: something the interrupter knows (or thinks) that he or she feels an urgent need to share with the thinker. But even in that instance, an interruption also impedes information: what would the thinker have said next if not interrupted.  So perhaps it's nine and a half out of ten that interruptions sabotage. But that would have been a less snappy title!

What do you think?

Experiment or commit?

One of the roles of a coach is sometimes to be an accountability buddy - to help people to stick to their good intentions. Many of us find it easier to honour commitments we make to others than those we make to ourselves (although one of the goals of my coaching is often to help people to develop consistency in honouring their commitments to themselves). 

Moreover, many are trained with models, such as Whitmore's famous GROW model, that teach that a good coach elicits client commitment at the end of each session.

So it is understandable that coaches often close a session by asking their clients what they are going to commit to doing, prior to the next coaching session. However, I often prefer to ask: What experiments might you run, as a result of this conversation?

There are several reasons I like to ask that question. One is that framing intentions as experiments means that there is no question of failing. The point of an experiment is to see if something works; and to learn from the result, whatever the result is. That ensures that the focus remains on learning, rather than on clients judging themselves.

Another reason is that it removes the risk of the coach turning into the expert: 'Do this, and things will be better...'  Likewise, it removes the risk of the coach turning into the judge. 'Well done!' or conversely 'Why didn't you...?'  So, for example, if a client leaves a session with a clear intention of having a difficult conversation with a colleague, and arrives at the next session not having done so, that result is the output of an experiment. And rather than condemn or collude, the coach can treat it as an object of enquiry, from which both will learn.

In this way, it helps to maintain that learning alliance that is so valuable: the coach and the client as co-explorers and co-learners. 

It also does a couple of other things. Many of my organisational clients are Universities, which means that many of those I coach are academics, or steeped in that system. A consequence of that is that if I propose anything to them ('You could try not interrupting your staff...') there is sometimes an automatic and (I suspect) subconsciously defensive response: 'What's the evidence-base for that suggestion?'  Whereas, if I suggest that they run an experiment - well, it's almost irresistible...

And finally (or at least this is my final thought at the moment - more may follow) it keeps it light; and I believe that the human mind often works at its best with a degree of light.

But don't take my word for it: run the experiment!

That bloody pendulum...

My late father was both wise and acerbic. He used the phrase 'that bloody pendulum' to describe the tendency in society, in cultures, in organisations, and in individuals (and on reflection I think within himself) to swing from one extreme to another.

Until relatively recently, the pendulum in educated British circles was swung rather too far to the side of self-adulation: the Empire, the White Man's Burden, all that kind of stuff. It was certainly in need of a corrective. But now, it seems to me, that bloody pendulum is swinging rather a long way in the other direction. The mere fact of being white is seen as problematic, in some circles.

Likewise, I think that conformity to social norms was over-emphasised, to the extent of ostracising anyone who deviated (or was perceived to deviate) from them. But again, that bloody pendulum... the very idea of normal, which is in the first place a statistical fact exemplified by the bell curve of standard deviation, is seen as problematic. Whilst I am all in favour of Diversity, Inclusion and Equality (and also of motherhood and apple pie, of course) they are not absolute values as I have written previously; and I think there are risks to normalising the abnormal and abhorring the normal. 

And I find it interesting that those who denigrate whiteness and extol the virtues of indigenous cultures where skin colour is a bit darker, seem somewhat selective in which virtues they extol. For it is very common, in such cultures, to venerate ancestors; whilst the modern trend in our culture is to denigrate them and apologise for them. 

Of course they weren't perfect; but if we think either that we are better than them, or that all of their wisdom is disposable because they weren't wise in all things, then we risk throwing out several babies with the admittedly dirty bathwater. 

I'm thinking of things like: innocent until proven guilty, or even just war theory. It's not that these are perfect solutions to human problems, but they are the best we have found so far. Consider the alternatives that seem to be rearing their heads. In the first case, we seem to have innocent until someone has decided that you are offensive, at one extreme, and innocent despite courts having found you guilty (if you are powerful enough...), at the other; and in the second case, passivity when the innocent are attacked, on one hand; or unlimited use of deadly force on the other.

--

Image from Mark Ross Studios via Scientific American

Thinking Partnership Programme

So this Thinking Environment… It springs from the work of Nancy Kline and is founded on a profound belief in the capacity of the human mind to think outstandingly well - given the right conditions.

This seems to me to be a core skill for a coach: to enable the person we are working with to think independently at his or her very best. Thinking independently is thinking as ourselves and for ourselves.

Kline's thesis is that we do this primarily by paying the person being coached a level of attention that is rare in daily life; and that such attention is generative of good thinking. The idea is, the quality of the individual’s thinking,  is (at least in part) a product of the quality of attention that we give them.

In Time to Think, and its successor, More Time to Think, Kline describes ten components of a Thinking Environment. 

The first, and the most important, of the components is attention. Attention of the quality we mean here is simple, but difficult - and rare. It consists of giving your whole attention to the person that you are listening to.

That means, amongst other things:

• removing all distractions (eg electronic devices with alerts…),
• refraining from taking notes whilst the individual is thinking,
• keeping a 'soft gaze' (of interest and encouragement) on the person’s face (though the person thinking may, of course, look wherever he or she chooses), 
• not thinking about how you will respond or what wise question you will ask next, 
• and above all, not interrupting.

In fact, even when someone stops talking, we refrain from interrupting the silence, as he or she may still be thinking. Thinking comes in waves, and the freshest thinking often arises after a pause. Such attention is so rare that it may feel like a luxury, or even feel uncomfortable; but it does seem to support really good thinking. 

The other nine components are equally rich, but I will not describe them all here, as it would make this a very long post. 

Coaching in this way is very different from many approaches. It takes seriously the assumption that the individual is more likely to come up with good solutions than the coach; the coach's role is to provide the environment - the Thinking Environment - in which that is most likely to happen.  I have blogged before about a specific example of this.

If you want to explore this further, I have a few places left on my next Thinking Partnership Programme (5/6 Sept and 11 Oct) here in the glorious Lake District.  Don't hesitate to get in touch if you want to know more, or have a look at my website, here.

Disclosure Remorse (again)

I have blogged previously about disclosure remorse, and  I mentioned my supervisor's excellent advice about discussing this explicitly with the client, in a pre-emptive way.

It came up again in conversation with a colleague the other day, and as we are both Thinking Environment practitioners, we were naturally considering it in the light of the ten components.

Which raised the interesting question of Equality. One of the reasons, we suspect, for disclosure remorse may well be inequality. The client may have shared so much with the coach, and yet the coach has disclosed nothing in return - which may leave the client feeling vulnerable.

That might imply that it is appropriate, in terms of establishing the relationship on a basis of equality, for us to share some vulnerability in our turn (always being mindful, perhaps, of the other cautionary advice, about scars, not wounds...)

So, how do we share a bit of vulnerability with the client at that stage, without making the conversation about us, rather than the client? 

That was the question that we arrived at, and then time ran out.  If we, (or indeed I alone) find an answer to it, I'l certainly blog about that, too.  And if you know an answer, please tell me.

Learning from my grandson

One of the things people often say to me when learning new skills (you know, the really difficult things, like listening without interrupting...) is that it doesn't feel natural. The implication underlying this, I think, is that it therefore isn't very authentic.  And we all know that being authentic is (rightly) seen as an important trait for effective leadership and good interpersonal relations. (Though I think that needs a little unpacking, as I have written previously). 

However, I think that the description that new behaviour (such as refraining from interrupting) doesn't feel natural is, in fact, inaccurate. And that brings me to the title of this post: Learning from my grandson. 

Nate is not quite one year old, and has been learning to walk. At first, he was, understandably, not very good at it - he fell over a lot, and waddled in a rather unbalanced way. It didn't look (or, I dare guess feel) 'natural' in the sense used above.  But over the last few weeks he has got a lot better and charges around after his big brother quite easily, and only falls over occasionally.

And I dare guess that most of my readers regard walking as quite natural to them - you may well stroll from one side of the room to the other without falling over, or even hike over the fells, or wander down to the pub...

The point being, of course, that it is a learned behaviour; as indeed are almost all those behaviours which feel natural to us. For natural here is really a mis-label for habitual (or at least familiar). So when people tell me that it doesn't feel natural for them to refrain from interrupting (or whatever the new behaviour is) I refer to Nate and his learning to walk.  It takes practice, but with time they will get good at it, incorporate it into their repertoire of familiar (or even habitual) behaviours, and then it will indeed feel natural.

--

With thanks to DICSON for sharing this photo on Unsplash (Nate's parents prefer that we don't share his photo online).

A Sounding Board?

One of the things that people (particularly people in senior roles) often say, when reflecting on their experience of coaching, is that they have valued me as a sounding board.

I find that interesting, as I don't often pass judgement on what they are thinking. When they ask what I think, my first reaction is normally to treat that as a courtesy: they think they've been going on too long, and it's my turn to speak.  So I reassure them that I am still interested in what they think and encourage them to continue thinking. They nearly always do (and it is nearly always fruitful).

However, occasionally someone persists and asks for my view. Even then I don't act as a sounding board, according to the dictionary definition: a person or group whose reactions to suggested ideas are used as a test of their validity or likely success before they are made public. I am more likely to share some further way of thinking about the issue at hand: some theoretical model, or questions it raises in my mind, or some such. 

And reflecting on this, it made me wonder what a sounding board actually is.  Insofar as I had given it any thought, I was conflating it with the soundboard of a piano: which amplifies the resonance of the strings.

Which is not far wrong, but a sounding board (as opposed to a sound board) is apparently 'a structure placed above and sometimes also behind a pulpit or other speaking platform that helps to project the sound of the speaker. It is usually made of wood.'

Passing swiftly over the fact that this excuses me from seeming somewhat wooden at times (though I hope that I am never sounding bored...), this gave me pause for thought. I am not sure that the metaphor quite works; and I am sure that the other meaning, concerning testing the validity of ideas, is the one the people have in mind when they use the term.

But there is something there, I think, and perhaps it is to do with the notions of projection and resonance. I have blogged before about why it is particularly helpful to think out loud in someone else's presence, rather than merely on one's own (valuable though that is). 

And pondering the sounding board metaphor makes me want to add to that: there is something about thinking out loud that helps us to project our thinking into the world in a way that enables us to check how well it resonates with us. That is, when we hear ourselves say it out loud, it sounds different and clearer, and that allows us to evaluate how well it is attuned to what we really think, believe, and value.  

So perhaps it is not I who am the sounding board, but rather the thinker.  I am merely the reason (I nearly wrote excuse) for their saying out loud what otherwise might go round and round in their head.

I would be interested to know if this resonates with you...

--

Piano Diagram from Blackham, 1965 (apparently) via  Antoine Chaigne on ResearchGate; Sounding Board photo from The Accidental Atheist blog though where he got it from, I don't know...

Attitudes and Behaviour

Something that often arises in my discussions with leaders and managers is how to address a team member who has a bad or negative attitude.

And whilst I generally take a fairly low-intervention approach to my coaching (see my posts about the Thinking Environment, passim), I do tend to intervene at that point. 

And the point that I make is that we generally have far more success if we focus on behaviour rather than attitude.  There are several reasons for that.

One is that we can't see an attitude: it is always our interpretation of behaviours that we can see (whether that is shouting, or simply a curled lip...). 

Allied to that is the fact that if we start to talk about someone's negative attitude, we risk provoking a very defensive response. On the one hand, our interpretation may be inaccurate, so they feel unjustly criticised; and on the other hand, even if we are accurate, people may feel that what they think is not our business.

Moreover,  people often believe that they can't directly affect their attitude, anyway.

Whereas if we focus on behaviours, there are several advantages.

One is that it is tangible and observable: we can see the curled lip, or hear the shouting. That means we are also able to evaluate and give feedback on any improvement - or the lack thereof.

Secondly, it is much clearer to the individual precisely what we are talking about and also what they need to do to change it.

And further, if someone does consistently change their behaviour in a more positive direction (staying calm when upset, or asking curious questions rather than curling a lip when unsure of another's proposition...) then that also has an impact on their attitude.

And yet, and yet, and yet... what if it really is his attitude I want to change?  That question almost always recurs.  And I refer you to the above answer...

Doing and Being

Reflecting on my post last week, about Listening, Difference and Psychological Safety, I think that - whilst I stand by every word of if - it may be a bit misleading.  It reads as though, if one does all the things I mention, that will necessarily create psychological safety.  And I do not believe that to be the case. 

In fact, if one approaches the activity with that attitude, I think it probably won't work.One of the things that Nancy Kline is fond of saying to teachers of the Thinking Environment is 'What you are teaching is you!' 

That is to say, the Thinking Environment is about the Environment we create for others when they are thinking in our presence. So whilst understanding and striving to create the 10 Components is essential, even more essential is trying to be and live the 10 Components: to embody them in the way we are, and the way we relate to people.

That is one of the reasons that a condition of accreditation in this work is a commitment to have regular Thinking Partnership sessions with another skilled practitioner.  It is also the reason that one of the key aspects of training in this work is what I call 'total immersion.' That is why I choose not to run training online. The feedback I get from participants on my programmes in the Lake District is that they have a quality something like a retreat.  And that, I think, is something about being, not just doing.

Listening, Difference and Psychological Safety

This week I ran a session at the AHUA (Association of Heads of University Administration) conference in Leeds.  It was called Listening, Difference and Psychological Safety and was about facilitating conversations about topics where the discourse has become so toxic on campus that it seems people are determined not to listen to those with other views (the trans/GC issue, and the conflict in the Middle East are two current examples). 

I started, very deliberately, with a few processes and activities designed to generate and strengthen a sense of psychological safety in the room, including a series of Rounds at the small tables around which participants were gathered (See here for some reflections on why Rounds are so effective at creating Psychological Safety).

I then pointed out what I had done and why: how my introduction, use of rounds (and the questions I'd chosen to ask them) and use of humour were all designed to calm the amygdala, and invite them to engage their pro-social (rather than fight-or-flight) operating systems (if this is new to you, see here).

That led us onto why I was running the session: the problem I was seeking to address (and one which they all recognised: they had, after all, chosen to attend this session rather than the others on offer at the same time).  I shared some experiences of being told by academics and professional staff in universities of topics that were not safe to discuss, and my unease at that, and my belief that Nancy Kline's work had something to offer here.

Then I described the experiment we had run at the Thinking Environment Collegiate. of getting people with strongly-held opposing views to have a dialogue, with the brief to understand the other and seek to be understood (but not to persuade or seek to persuade). This had the effect of changing neither party's beliefs, but (and this was the interesting and valuable bit) each person felt more positively about the other after the discussion than before - not the usual result of such exchanges.  (I have written about this more extensively here).

We then discussed the components of a Thinking Environment in a little more detail, and in particular the dialogue process. In this, two people agree on the question to be addressed. Then Person 1 asks Person 2 the question, and listens, with complete attention, and above all without interrupting, while Person 2 thinks out loud about the question. Person 2 has the discipline only to talk for 2 or 3 minutes, and then ask Person 1: What do you think?  Person 2 then listens, with complete attention, and above all without interrupting, while Person 1 thinks out loud about the question (which may or may not include picking up themes from Person 2's thoughts). Person 1 has the discipline only to talk for 2 or 3 minutes, and then ask Person 2: What do you think?  and so on. 

This process is extraordinary.  Each person, knowing that he or she will not be interrupted, is free to think, without urgency, and knowing that he or she will have a further turn also releases pressure. Paying heed to the other, by not talking  too long, and by inviting the other to think in turn, also transforms the conversation; and above all, genuinely listening to the other, seeking to understand, changes the whole emotional dynamic. 

So having described that, I got them to do it. And they found the results as powerful as I had promised.

Finally I got them to appreciate the person with whom they had had the dialogue, and share a key learning in a final round in plenary.

The feedback was very powerful: not least as people felt they had some practical techniques they could go away and implement with a high level of confidence.

And many committed to coming to the AHUA Diversity of Viewpoints Workshop which I will be running in London in September, to explore these ideas, and this approach, in more depth.

The Foundation Programme; Facilitating Groups Brilliantly

Do you run team meetings, facilitate learning events, chair boards or executive groups, or in any other context,  get people together to think about important things?  Do you ever find that people don't contribute as well as you would hope, or that some dominate and others don't contribute?

If you wish to take your skills in running groups to the next level, and develop a set of approaches that increases participation, honest discussion and real engagement, then you will find it valuable to engage with the Thiniking Environment.

This is based on Nancy Kline's work, published as Time to Think, More Time to Think, and The Promise that Changes Everything.

At the heart of Nancy's approach, which she calls a Thinking Environment, is the belief that attention is generative; that is, the quality of someone's thinking, in my presence, is at least in part a product of the quality of attention that I give to them. (if you doubt this, consider the reverse: when you are trying to think about something and the person who is meant to be listening is clearly not attending... see what I mean?)

But in addition to a quality of attention that is in fact rare in most work contexts, there are nine other components of Thinking Environment; and there are various applications of these components that are suited to both group and one-to-one contexts.

The Foundation Programme is an introduction to this work in the context of working with groups: a precise but easeful approach to enabling all present to think outstandingly well.  I have blogged previously about this many times, ranging from my initial exploration of the process with Nancy, through to its practical application in a coaching session. (Other posts may be found by clicking here).

So I am delighted to be offering the Foundation Programme in the Lake District, this June (13/14). This Programme teaches you the ten components of the Thinking Environment, and a number of practical applications and findings that will transform your meetings.

If you choose to join us, you will be working as part of a small group of practitioners, jointly exploring the practice through practice!

This course is a prerequisite for the Thinking Environment Facilitator Qualifying Course, should you wish to take your practice to the next level.

More details are on my website, here; and of course if you wish to talk about the programme, or have any questions, I'd be delighted to hear from you.

Joe, Harry and Nancy

I have long liked the Johari Window (so named after its inventors, Joseph Luft and Harry Ingham).

The essential idea is that there is stuff about me that I am aware of, and that is known to others with whom I work, that constitutes my work persona: the open area, or arena, as it is sometimes called. 

Then there are things that I know that I choose not to reveal to others, for whatever reason; I maintain a façade; moreover, there are things that are clear to those who work with me, but of which I am ignorant - my blind spots; and finally, there are things that are unknown both to me and those I work with - the unknown area.

The assumption is that for effective work with colleagues and in teams, the larger the arena, the better. Thus if I am holding out on people, by hiding my true thoughts, feelings, intentions etc behind a façade, it will be harder for others to work with me effectively. Likewise, if my behaviour is having an impact of which I am unaware, due to my blind spots, we will not work as well together.

So Joe and Harry recommend that one reduces the Façade, through disclosure; and reduces the Blind Spot, by seeking feedback. The result of that will be a larger Arena, and the Unknown area will also reduce.

(Incidentally, analysis based on the Johari Window is thought to be the origin of Rumsfeld's famous 'unknown unkowns.')

Enter Nancy. Or rather, here's my freshest thinking, arising from having just run a Coaching Programme focussing on Nancy Kline's Thinking Environment. When we think, in the presence of a skilled Thinking Partner, using the Thinking Environment approach, and are encouraged to keep exploring our thinking, as happens in the Thinking Environment, we often hear ourselves say things about ourselves that surprise us. That is, we uncover and explore Blind Spots. Further, we do this in the presence of, and normally aloud to, our Thinking Partner or Coach. That also reduces our Façade.

That insight, that we can discover Blind Spots by ourselves, by a process of reflection, (rather than only by gaining feedback), also applies, of course, to other practices, such as Journalling, and (some types of) meditation. But the effect of having these discoveries witnessed by others is peculiar to discovering them out loud in the presence of someone else.

In discussing this with the ever-insightful Jane (my co-Director, Boss and Wife of some 40 years) she pointed out that disclosure, in confidence, to a coach is not the same as reducing one's façade at work. And of course she is quite correct. 

However something I have frequently observed is that people who have practiced (one might even say rehearsed) disclosure in a very safe environment, are more likely then to risk disclosure in the work place. In part, that is because they have removed a blind spot ("I'm not the kind of person who shares that kind of thing...") and in part because they have taken the risk and not experienced the rejection or judgment that they feared.

So if Joe and Harry's assumption (that an larger Arena makes for more effectiveness in teams etc) then I think that Nancy's process is one fast and effective route to that goal.

Generative Attention

I have always been struck by the phrase that Nancy Kline uses to describe the quality of attention that is at the heart of the Thinking Environment: Generative Attention.  The idea being that such attention is generative of good thinking in the person to whom we are giving it.

One of the ways in which we seek to demonstrate attention is by keeping our eyes on the eyes of the thinker.  This is not about staring the thinker down, of course; we talk of a 'soft gaze' and the thinker may look all over the place as she or he thinks, and often does so.  But if, whenever they glance at the listener, they see the listener looking at them, and looking interested, that is a non-verbal encouragement to keep thinking. 

And then, the other morning, Jane, my wise and wonderful wife, commented:

'I’ve been studying prayer; and it is clear that God always makes the first move - that when we turn to Him, He is already looking at us, waiting for us. It reminded me of your thing about attention: whenever the Thinker looks at you, she sees that you are already attending to her.’

That set me thinking, not least about the idea of Generative Attention. For in Christian (and I think, though I’m no expert, Islamic and Jewish) theology, God holds us in being momemt-by-moment; Creation is a continuing action, not a one-off event. I am, because He is thinking of me. 

All of which reminds me, of course, of this famous pair of limericks:

Ronald Knox

There once was a man who said "God
Must think it exceedingly odd
If he finds that this tree
Continues to be
When there's no one about in the Quad."

Dear Sir,
              Your astonishment's odd.
I am always about in the Quad.
And that's why the tree
Will continue to be
Since observed by
                          Yours faithfully,
                                                  God

I have seen the first limerick, and sometimes the second, attributed  to Ronald Knox (incidentally the last man, I believe, to translate the whole Bible, singe-handedly, into English - and a fine translation it is!)  But I digress.

My real point is that it is God's attention that is truly Generative Attention. As Tolkien pointed out, human creativity is always sub-creativity.  And so it is here: when we offer Generative Attention, we are imitating God, which (in my theology) is what we are called to do.  And that could explain why it is so powerful and (sub-)creative a process.

--

With thanks to Christina @ wocintechchat.com for sharing her photo on Unsplash

What do I think?

My late father, who died when I was only 17, had a keen wit and a sceptical turn of mind. One of his favourite sayings was: 'There are two reasons for everything: the good reason and the real reason.'

I thought of this as I was reflecting on the education programme in the 1970s (I think it was) called Helping Youth Decide. It was based on the then-trendy ideas of values clarification, stemming from the work of Carl Rogers.  Its good reason was to encourage young people to make decisions based on their values - with regard to tobacco usage and drugs, for example.  

Its real reason - well, according to Dr William Coulson, long-time friend and colleague of Carl Rogers, it was funded by Philip Morris, the tobacco giants whose best-selling product is Marlboro. In Coulson's view, the tobacco industry had realised that nobody with a fully mature brain was going to take up smoking, so they needed to get to people whose brains were not fully mature - teenagers. 

Helping Youth Decide (later re-branded as Helping Youth Say No and promoted by the Tobacco Institute) was a way of teaching them, and the adults who should be looking out for them, that adults' views and values are irrelevant to their decisions. Meanwhile, of course, Philip Morris continued to spend millions of dollars inviting them to 'Come to Marlboro country.'  So their commitment to a non-directive approach was, how can we say this, a little selective.

All this came back to me (from a talk I heard William Coulson give many years ago) when I was thinking about the trans issue.

Assiduous readers of my posts may have noticed that I keep circling around this: it troubles me.  In part, it troubles me because I see the toxicity with which the issue tends to be discussed (particularly on social media) and the polarisation (particularly in Higher Education, where most of my work is done) that surrounds it.  But deeper than that, it troubles me because I fear that serious harm is being done.

At this point, of course, it would be easy to dismiss me as a transphobe.

But that is precisely the problem, in my eyes: tactics designed to shut down any discussion, and the reduction of this complex set of issues to a simple goodies versus baddies narrative that loses all nuance.

Yet I think it is complex; and I have no generalised fear of, or hatred of, people who identify as trans (or non-binary or anything else). I only wish them well; but I believe that we must seek truth, as well as offer care, if we are to achieve good ends for them and for society more broadly. That is why I see 'No debate' as a very bad approach.  As the Cass Review's interim report makes clear, 'There is lack of consensus and open discussion about the nature of gender dysphoria and therefore about the appropriate clinical response.' 

So in this post (and others that may follow) I thought I'd throw caution to the wind, and think out loud about that complexity; and if a nuanced approach offends anyone... well it is of course their right to be offended; but again, I think that the instinct to be offended at ideas that differ from ours is not a helpful one.

One of my concerns, then, is that I think well-meaning teachers who used the Letting Youth Decide programme with teenagers may have done great harm, by withdrawing from their adult responsibilities and teaching teenagers that whether to smoke or take drugs was a choice they should make as autonomous individuals. The result for many: addiction to tobacco (or worse) and the long term likelihood of severe health outcomes.  

Likewise, I think that well-meaning teachers who teach children counter-factual ideas (such as 'sex is a spectrum') may also be doing great harm.

In the first case, they ignored the huge pressures (from Philip Morris' and others' relentless advertising campaigns, and the need to look cool in front of peers) that meant that teenagers (whose brains, remember, are not yet fully developed) were unlikely always to make wise choices.

I fear that in the second case, we may have something similar; distressed teenagers who are under huge pressures (from social media influencers, and a need to find acceptance among their - often online - peer group) may reach conclusions that are neither accurate, nor in their best interests. And the results may be unnecessary double mastectomies and lifelong dependency on a drug regime that may result in sterility, loss of sexual function and other unwanted consequences. How many Keira Bells does it take?...

And for teachers to undermine truth by taking a naive, ideologically-driven approach (albeit with the best of intentions) risks many other serious unintended consequences. One, of course, is to undermine trust, both from parents and children. Another, is to de-stabilise children's sense of their own identity. 

We know that the young brain develops fast, particularly in early years, and again in puberty and adolescence. (The Oxford Brain Story is very good on making the research on this accessible). We should pay serious heed to this well-established knowledge, and banish the notion that children are 'born trans' - a proposition for which there is no evidence whatsoever. Instead, we should offer children clarity about the basic reality that they are born male or female, and that is stable (for the vast majority). Seeking to normalise the abnormal is irresponsible and dangerous. Of course there are exceptions, and they should be dealt with on an exceptional basis.

I return, finally, to my father's dictum, about the good reason and the real reason.  Why is the trans agenda being pushed so hard?  The good reason is that there are genuinely a small number of people who, for reasons we don't know, but most probably springing from damaged psychosexual development at an early age (and again we know the research about Adverse Childhood Experiences...) have a profound sense of dysphoria with regard to the sex they were born - and we should do nothing to make their lives harder. And I am sure that for many, that is also the real reason.

But for others, particularly some of the activists and activist groups (and their financial backers), I do wonder, what is the real reason?  Is it the huge profitability of this market, as some suggest?  Is it the need for those who have gone down this track (for themselves or their children) to validate their choices?  Is it the need for progressives to be progressive, to show that they are at the cutting edge; and for others to try to keep up, so that they are not perceived as lacking in 'inclusion'?  Is it the need for transgressives to be transgressive, come to that? Or some other reason I can't discern? Or some combination of the above?  I don't know - but I think the questions should be asked.

Of course, I could be wrong about any or all of this, and if you think that I am, I would be very interested to hear why you think so.  As I say, one of my major concerns is that we should be able to discuss these contested issues with clarity and charity.

A Visit to the Doctor

The other day, I had to go to the doctor's: I had a lump, where previously I had not, so thought it wise to get an expert view.

Needless to say, I consulted the internet, too, and decided it was probably a inguinal hernia, and therefore benign (so I liked that idea...). But I didn't look to see what cancers might cause similar symptoms, though that was, of course, my fear (not least as both my parents died of cancer, my father at a younger age than I am now.)

The doctor was very good: he asked if I had any ideas about what it might be, so I told hem. Then he examined me, and said my diagnosis was in fact correct. Which was a relief.

But it was only a relief because I believe that he is telling the truth - that based on his training and experience, he is sure that the lump is indeed an inguinal hernia.  

However, if he was practicing the new 'patient affirming care' that seems to be the fashion, at least in some aspects of medicine, that would be a problem. It might feel kind to tell me it's only a hernia, and that I am clever to have diagnosed it correctly; but if it is in fact a cancer, that is not a true act of kindness.

It would be equally bad the other way about, of course: if I had decided it was a cancer when it was in fact a hernia, and had demanded chemo and an operation - and he had affirmed my diagnosis and decisions and put me on the road to full cancer treatment. 

Absurd! you may say.

And yet, this is what seems to have happened at the Tavistock; and this is what many lobbyists and activists are continuing to demand now, for people who self-diagnose as trans. And just as I didn't want to look at what other explanations there might be for my lump, there is always a risk that others undertaking self-diagnosis may prefer to avoid explanations that they are less happy with...

The Tavistock's reputation, historically, was built on its exploratory approach: really working with patients to reach a deep understanding of the complexity of their lives and experiences. But at some time that was abandoned, and (according to one clinician, quoted in Hannah Barnes' Time To Think) the gender unit there took on the characteristics of its clients (in a bizarre example of parallel process) becoming strident advocates for puberty blockers etc on demand.

Given the large proportion of the Tavistock's patients who presented with complex conditions, (often including autism), this unquestioning affirmative approach seems appallingly negligent.

Yet it is understandable: there was a real desire to be kind and supportive to these troubled children. But love without truth is as dangerous, in its way, as truth without love. And I think that all those who enter this polarised conversation would do well to remember both halves of that proposition!

And I really, really hope that my doctor was being truthful!

Obedience

Stop! Before you read any further, I invite you to notice your immediate response to the topic of this post: Obedience.

If you are like me, and many others I know, your instinctive response may be somewhat critical, and you may have immediately started to think of the many reasons why blind obedience is a bad idea.

And of course you are right.  But the title isn't blind obedience; it is obedience.  And I suspect many of us have been educated and culturally conditioned to conflate the two.

Allegory of Obedience, Giotto

Our educationalists and our culture place such a high premium on being an individual, true to yourself and so forth, that the idea of obedience as a Good seems somewhat alien.

Yet clearly it is, and I think we do ourselves and others a disservice by not recognising that fact and interrogating it with a little more rigour.

And if you think I am making a bold, or even rash, claim with 'clearly it is,' I invite you to consider a few practical examples.

In this country, we drive on the left. It is really, really good if people obey that convention. It has terrible consequences if people neglect to do so, even inadvertently.

The lifeguards on one of my favourite beaches in Cornwall tell you not to swim outside the flags, as there are riptides. Again, it is good if people obey that instruction.

But I want to make a more profound point, beyond drawing your attention to our cultural dislike of the notion of obedience (and its practical importance). And that is, I think we all obey, all of the time. The question is what, or whom, do we obey.

The word obey comes, originally, from the Latin: ob + audire; literally to listen to. So whom do you listen to? When you are considering whether to have one more drink, for example, do you listen to the part of you that counsels you to do so, or the other part that suggests that you have had enough already?

If you place all your obedience at the service of your own autonomy, how do you differ from a narcissist?

And as we are social beings, we need rules of some sort at least to coordinate potentially conflicting behaviours (such as which side of the road to drive on).

So the issue, as I see it, is deciding how to use our obedience: what rules, authorities, sources, people or institutions are worthy of obedience?

I think this is an important question for our times, not least as children and young adults in particular need boundaries, to keep them from harming themselves and others. And I fear we have created a culture in which any idea of obedience is so abhorrent to some that they are unable to follow evidence-based health advice, for example, and that the simple sharing of information about healthy life styles is seen as an oppressive practice.

--

As so often, this post is my thinking-out-loud rather than my final view; so I'll be interested in others' perspectives, particularly if I've got this wrong...