Coaching as a Confidence Trick

One of my more unhelpful stories about myself (read the excellent Shifting Stories  for more on this concept) is that I am really a bit of a fraud and my coaching is all smoke and mirrors. I don't really believe that, but if I want to depress myself, I can wallow around in it for a while, with some skill.

So I was surprised to hear myself say to another coach: 'Of course in a way, coaching is a confidence trick,' and more surprised to hear myself justify the assertion. 

I was struck by the explanation of the short con in David Mamet's House of Games: it's a confidence trick because the con artist gives his confidence to the mark, not the other way around.  (Though I still maintain that The Sting is the best con movie - I remember the first time I saw it when everyone in the cinema sat in silence for a minute or so at the end, catching up with what had just been played out...)

Anyway, the point I was making, albeit in a provocative and playful way, is that as coaches we often lend our confidence to our clients. In the Thinking Environment approach to coaching, for example, when we give our client that quality of attention that is at the heart of that approach, we are implicitly asking the Incisive Question 'If you knew that you had more great thinking available to you, what would you think?' By embodying our belief in the client's capability, we often help him or her to find it. Other coaching approaches also have the coach as an implicit cheer-leader for the client.

That, of course, raises a second-level issue for the coach. We can't lend people our confidence if we don't have any to lend; yet most coaches I know are rightly wary of being too confident. Big egos get in the way of building an effective learning alliance with the client - but the same is true of excessive self-doubt of course. 

As so often, we need to navigate a tension - on this occasion between arrogance and self-doubt. For me, this is about practicing humility (in the way C S Lewis described it: not thinking less of oneself, but rather thinking about oneself less often...) and simultaneously holding fast to my belief in the process: the value and efficacy of coaching. This enables me to talk with conviction about the probable success of the work that we are going to undertake together, whilst keeping my ego in its place. And that is a position from which I can lend the client a well-grounded confidence, along with that sense of hope that is one of the key aspirations I have for my clients.

What we can articulate...

I am continuing to listen to the excellent podcasts by Bishop Erik Varden that I have mentioned previously, on the Desert Fathers (and Mothers, in case you were wondering). And once more, it was a piece of his wisdom that was almost an aside that caught my attention the other day. 

He was talking about the importance of precision in language, and how words that the Fathers had used with a very particular meaning, such as compunction, have been watered down and sanitised, so that modern dictionary definitions are both anodyne and misleading if one wants to know what the Fathers were talking about. And this matters, he explained, because 'what we can articulate, we can learn to deal with. 

It seems to me that there is a lot of wisdom in that comment. And it is not new wisdom of course (the Fathers were in the early centuries of the Church); and it is evident in folk and popular culture: the idea of a nameless dread is particularly potent; as is the Thingy in the moat (in the Ahlberg's wonderful 'It was a dark and stormy night'); and this is precisely why Dumbledore encourages Harry to use Voldemort's name, rather than the euphemism (He who must not be named) that only increases his power.

It also helps me to articulate part of what I help my clients to do, that they find valuable. For example, in my Shifting Stories work, I get them to articulate and name the unhelpful stories that are holding them back. and also the more helpful stories that are available to them. This articulation and naming gives them more agency and helps them to choose the more helpful over the unhelpful in times of need.  

Likewise, the Thinking Environment work is precisely about giving people the time and attention to articulate their thinking in much more depth and breadth than they are normally allowed to do before they are interrupted (by someone else, life, or themselves...); and again, they find that very valuable.

It is not a panacea. Bishop Varden does not say, What we can articulate, we can deal with, but rather, we can learn to deal with. Which also explains something about the value of Gestalt approaches, which again focus on increasing the individual's awareness - including somatic and emotional awareness - of current reality as a necessary, and often sufficient, approach to change and growth. Heightened awareness enables us to articulate, whether through reason or metaphor, image or intuition, what really is; and then - I hope - we can learn to deal with it.

A Refreshing Approach to Conference Workshops

Every now and then, I get invited to do sessions at conferences (not keynotes - I am not a thought-leader, apparently - but breakout workshops). I always find this an entertaining process, from the initial request from the organisers to have my slide deck well in advance - and their bafflement when I tell them I won't be using slides - to the look of shock on participants'

faces when they turn up for my session to find that they will be sitting in a circle without a table to hide behind.

And then I get asked back; probably because the organisers get feedback like this: 

“Andrew Scott's session was a wonderful antidote to the information-heavy sessions through the rest of the conference. It slowed folks down and created space for deep, meaningful conversations. I'd suggest handing over some time in the programme for all delegates to have that 'Time to Think' together, deeply and meaningfully.”

So what do I do that is so different? The short answer is that I run my workshops as Thinking Environments (qv).

The longer answer follows, in case you are interested (if not, leave now: I won't be offended - my ego-needs are met in other ways - which might also be a clue about why people like my sessions...)

I always start with welcoming the participants, appreciating them for choosing to come to my workshop, and reminding them of the purpose of the session (which is always along the lines of 'to give you the time and opportunity to think with colleagues, about...')

We then do an opening round (at least one, sometimes more) so that everyone has the opportunity to be heard early in the session, and also to practice listening with complete attention, to everyone else in the room. I give the briefest of explanations about the why and the how of this, and we dive in. It always lands well, and signals that this is going to be different...

I then give them a brief overview, framework or perspective on whatever the session is about (the most recent one I did was on William Bridges' model of change and transition, which is excellent). My intention here is to give them something valuable that they will easily be able to recall, and also enough stimulation to have an engaged conversation with other participants about the topic.

Then I explain a little about how we will work throughout the session. This is a lightning introduction to the Thinking Environment and some of the key components: Attention, Equality, Ease and Appreciation. I try to get through all of that in less than 50% of the time available for my session; the rest is dedicated to their thinking together in small groups (using rounds and then open discussion, but always with exquisite attention and a complete ban on interrupting!). We conclude with a couple of rounds: one on their freshest thinking about the topic, and the final one on what they have appreciated about working together in this session.

And the feedback at that stage is often very similar to the comment quoted above. I was particularly amused recently when someone said how great it had been to have no input from the speaker, but rather the chance to think for themselves.  They certainly had that (and I was gratified that it was appreciated) but I had also given them a 15' mini-input on Bridges' model to seed that conversation. But what I was hearing, of course, was the impact of the session being run in such an unorthodox way. 

If you are interested in learning more about working with groups in ways that inspire great thinking together, I still have a couple of places left on my Thinking Environment Foundation Programme, here in the Lake District (19/20 June).  We've a really interesting group of people booked on so far, from a range of different organisational contexts - and we've room for just a couple more.  Full details are here. 

The Pursuit of Perfection

 

I was listening to a podcast on the Desert Fathers about the Pursuit of Perfection (as one does in Lent, of course) and one of the points made really struck me.

It was that 'perfect' is a tense of a verb, in language; and is contrasted with the imperfect tense. Both are past tenses, and what distinguishes them is the completeness (or otherwise) of the action.

Thus, I worked this morning is in the perfect tense; whereas I was working this morning is in the imperfect tense. The point being that I was working this morning seems typically to lead to when...  That is the work was interrupted and possibly not finished. 

So one very practical aspect of perfection is the completion of activity. This really resonated with me.  I have blogged before about Gestalt, and the idea of a cycle of attention; and how if the cycle is not brought to a satisfactory close, it results in 'unfinished business.' And that unfinished business is a drain on our energy.

I have also blogged before (many times in fact) about the importance of Attention as articulated by Nancy Kline in her Thinking Environment; and that the cardinal rule in that context is not to interrupt someone's thinking. By allowing (and indeed encouraging) someone to complete their wave of thinking, we are encouraging a perfected outcome for them (in this sense at least).

So there's an experiment to run: see how you can bring things to completion (even if that means acknowledging that you are never going to finish something, and ending the pretence that you will...) and see how that kind of perfection affects you.

Learn How to Facilitate Groups Brilliantly: the Thinking Environment Foundation Programme

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 once more to be offering the Foundation Programme in the Lake District, this June (19/20). 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!  Here's what a previous participant ha dot say about one of my programmes:

I really enjoyed the practice based approach you used throughout. Your role in the group was perfectly pitched - it felt like we were a group of equal thinkers, but you had more insight into the approach, which you shared generously with us. I really appreciated you sharing your experiences of using the approach in different contexts and also current knowledge of changes and  discussions with Nancy. This felt as if we were up to date with the latest thinking. 

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.

Making the Unthinkable Thinkable

Here's something I am struggling with at the moment. 

I am, by and large, in favour of people thinking, and indeed thinking for themselves (as my frequent posts about Nancy Kline's Thinking Environment testify).  Likewise, I am in favour of free speech, and deeply suspicious of those who try to stop others from saying things they do not wish to have said.

And yet... I think there are boundaries. Indeed, I am sure there are. The obvious ones about inciting to violence or criminal activity are easy. But that's not where my dilemma lies. I am thinking more about the erosion of public morals; or to put it another way, the undermining of values that underpin a civilised society. 

Until fairly recently, for example, there was a broad consensus that suicide is not good. It is not good for the individual, nor for his or her immediate family and friends,  nor for the wider society. But one of the results of the debate about Assisted Dying (and other cultural discourses about hyper-autonomy) is that that consensus is being eroded. 

The press have very strict guidelines about the reporting of suicides, because it is well-established that it can be socially contagious.  And such guidelines I believe to be a societal good. But the political debate about assisted suicide has been carried on vociferously and often intemperately.  And my point is this: that by making the unthinkable thinkable (in this case, suicide) we risk increasing the number of people who move from thought to action.

This is also (one of the reasons) why pornography is so harmful; and why we have a particular abhorrence of (and legal sanctions against) child pornography. For whilst it may be true that not all those who indulge in child pornography go on to act out their fantasies, it is certainly the case that nobody abused a child without fantasising about doing so first (I refer readers again to Gwen Adshead's excellent book The Devil You Know, about which I have blogged before).

And we have a new factor to make this problem considerably more complex: social media. Another book I have already blogged about is Jonathan Haidt's The Anxious Generation. It is worth reading his account of teenagers presenting as having Tourette Syndrome with a very particular tic: the word 'beans' - and how that came about: social contagion from a popular TikTok star, Evie Meg Field. For more on Tourette social contagion, see this piece in The Atlantic, by Helen Lewis. 

It turns out that young people (whose brains, of course, are not fully developed) are very susceptible; and that social media algorithms effectively bombard their developing brains with reinforcing content of whatever catches their imagination.

It seems self-evident that many of the teenage girls who suddenly discover that they are transgender are in fact suffering the same kind of social contagion; and that girls who have other psychological, emotional and cognitive comorbidities are particularly vulnerable. When trans was 'unthinkable' (ie hardly any teenagers had heard of it) this population reached other self-diagnoses, such as anorexia (which also became 'thinkable' - and then socially contagious - at a particular point in time).

So on the one hand, I believe that ideas are amongst the most precious - and worthy-to-be-safeguarded - things that we have; not least in Higher Education, which is my particular field of interest.  But clearly, ideas are also potentially harmful, not just at an individual level but also at a societal level. When we make what was unthinkable thinkable, the consequences can be catastrophic.

How do we square that circle?  I don't know; and what is worse, we don't know, as a society. Censorship is profoundly distasteful to me, except in extremis; and I have particular mistrust of anyone who thinks that he or she is the right person to do the censoring.  Yet the impact of harmful ideas (and I haven't even started to discuss toxic ideologies such as Andrew Tate's, or racism, which again seemed unthinkable for the vast majority of us until very recently etc...) is profound and vastly amplified by modern technology and the booming echo chambers that it creates. 

Perhaps we need some previously unthought ideas to address this...

The Devil You Know

I am continuing to think about issues and themes raised by Gwen Adshead's excellent book, The Devil You Know, about which I have blogged previously. One of the fascinating tensions that comes through from her autobiographical reflections on her work with people who have done evil, concerns judgement and being non-judgemental (another topic I have blogged about before).

On the one hand, it is clear that listening in a non-judgemental way is extremely valuable and important in helping people to tell their stories.  And that, in turn, is very important in terms of their learning, growth and healing as human beings. 

And yet, it is also important that they reach a judgement on their evil actions (for in the context of the cases Adshead considers, that is what we are dealing with - murder, child sexual abuse etc). It seems clear that when they can name their offence rather than use a euphemism (such as 'my index') and acknowledge the evil of it, they are on the path to recovery. So the judgement is important, and a practitioner's non-judgemental listening should not collude with any denial of that. 

Carl Rogers is interesting here: as a therapist he was renowned for his non-judgemental listening and his unconditional positive regard. Yet in raising his children - and in his own private life - he held to high moral standards. Yet the non-judgemental approach, and his stance of unconditional positive regard eventually caused him profound problems, probably contributing to his breakdown later in his life; in particular when he found that for some of the therapists he was training, being 'authentic' included sleeping with clients; and they would say 'it may be wrong for you Carl, but it's not for me...' - and from his position of being non-judgemental and striving to maintain unconditional positive regard, he found he had nowhere to stand to correct them (he also confided to Bill Coulson that he was no longer competent to edit the journals he was editor of, as he was so attuned to the effort and positive intentions of those who wrote papers that he was not able to evaluate which ones were of real value, and still less able to tell some authors that theirs weren't). 

So my (somewhat tentative) conclusion is that being non-judgemental is a useful listening stance (in some situations) but we need not to allow it to become our moral stance. It is stark in Adshead's world of high security psychiatric hospitals, where the evils are so clear, but is equally important in the world of work and our domestic lives, when perhaps it is more tempting to collude in the name of kindness, or to keep the peace.