For the Love of Conflict and Why I am not a Big Jerk
April 27, 2012 Leave a comment
It may sound strange—perhaps even alarming at first—but I love conflict. Let me explain by outlining what I do NOT mean by that statement: I do not love fighting, I do not love violence, and I do not love avoiding disagreement. It’s the rich creative fire that conflict brews that gets me so excited. Too often we regard conflict as a signal to calcify our position and refuse to acknowledge or hear the “opposition.” Is it too abstract? Eh, let me lay it all out with a personal experience. (Oh, the vulnerability!) First, some context.
R and I have just finished our second semester as facilitators for Soliya and our first semester working together as co-facilitators. We are friends—close friends—and we both anticipated that working together as co-facilitators would be a breeze and that the semester would move along swimmingly. We were wrong.
All facilitators are assigned a coach. The coach watches recorded sessions (these recordings are not made available to anyone else unless all participants give their permission) and provides facilitators with detailed feedback about dynamics he sees emerging in the group, what the facilitators are doing well, how they may be missing the mark, and so on. In short, if you want to facilitate for @Soliya you must be open to constant feedback, critical self-reflection, and global reflection (that is, regarding the larger process). Therefore, we are not only reflecting on our own behavior in each session but also the way in which we approach ALL interactions throughout the process, how our behavior is affecting others, recognizing their responses, making efforts to identify misunderstandings…oh and so on. It goes on. This is what it takes to really engage in the process.
Bear Traps and IEDs
Well, it’s not so bloody but indeed there are many “traps” that threaten to disrupt the process. (When I say process, I am referring to steps required to successfully facilitate the group’s process to achieve the Connect Program goals. You can read about those goals here.) Here, I’ll list a few traps I’ve recognized. Some, I’ve avoided stepping into, others, I’ve set off and was snapped nearly in half (figuratively, people) by its snarling grip. The final trap I’ll identify comes with the personal experience I promised to share!
Go through the motions by following the online curriculum to the ‘T,’ without integrating observations you’ve made in your group and their direct requests. This is usually how that works: A particular session is a terrific success and all or the majority of participants explicitly request to continue the discussion about a particular topic the following week. The planning session for the following week arrives and the co-facilitators (for whatever reason) simply overlook their participants request and plan to follow the suggested outline in the online curriculum. What happens when we fall into this trap? We send a strong message to our participants that their input does not matter, that we aren’t listening, and that the group is not theirs. These are obviously not the messages we want to send, nor is it the dynamic we seek to create.
Forget that everyone is involved in the process. Who is counted among “everyone”?! Facilitators, group members, tech support, paid Soliya staff members, coaches, and …who am I forgetting? Also, participants’ university professors, anyone who is in the room from which a participant signs in (such as the noisy cafe’s background noise, the peers that a participant is seeking to impress by performing for them rather than focusing on the group process, etc.). Any one else? Let me know. What happens when we forget that we are all in the process? Simply put, we each must remember that we are all in a constant state of “figuring it out.” That means, a lot of humility, patience, and trust that our colleagues mean well. Why is this so important? There are myriad opportunities for misunderstandings when working with others from various cultural and linguistic contexts, most of whom are communicating in a non-native language (English), a small number of whom are employed by Soliya, and the majority of whom are volunteers. When we forget that we are all engaged in the process, we miss out on invaluable opportunities for learning and growth. We also risk compromising our particular group’s process.
Forget, overlook, or “give up on” our co-facilitators. This is closely related to the forget that everyone is involved in the process trap but deserves special focus. How exactly do we overlook or “give up on” our co-facilitator? Well, I’ll tell you how I fell into this trap. R and I, as I mentioned, are very close friends. R is Egyptian, a non-native English speaker, and much younger than me (seventeen years younger than me!). She is also coming of age in the midst of national and regional revolutions, recently engaged to be married, and also working full-time, attending graduate school, and volunteering for Soliya. By week three into our semester…I pretty much forgot all of that.
I’m sorry…who are you?
This is how it started: During our first session I was worried that R would have a hard time creating an abbreviated transcript–as the session was unfolding–by typing main points of the conversation into the chat box. (Typically, while one facilitator is asking questions, making observations and so on by speaking, the other facilitator is typing main points into the chat box. Facilitators are meant to switch back and forth so that they have an equal presence and status in the room.) Indeed, she was having a difficult time and was able to catch much less of the conversation than I did. (Of course, she was listening to people speak English with ten different accents…there is no way I could EVER do this if the tables were turned and the group was communicating in Arabic.) So, out of concern for my friend, I began typing and talking at once. Essentially, I pushed her out altogether because I didn’t give her the space to fulfill her role in her own way. This pattern continued into the second session but was eclipsed by tech issues, one especially disruptive participant, and general awkwardness. As a result, when we reached out to our coach for the first time, we were so focused on seeking his advice for working with the disruptive participant that we didn’t even recognize the imbalance developing in our co-facilitation.
We focused on applying our coach’s advice during the third session and were really pleased to shift the dynamic in terms of our one participant who was making it difficult for others to participate. By session four a resentment began brewing between R and I because–I don’t think either of us really recognized what was happening on a conscious level–R felt pushed out of the process and I felt abandoned! (What a jerk I am! At first, I wanted to “help” and then I ended up taking over, which then led me to be mad that she wasn’t helping!) Around the same time, R and I both had packed schedules and were finding it difficult to meet–we both missed or arrived late for scheduled planning meetings, and well, we sort of lost our respective grips. At this point, I was starting to feel like I was doing all the work…but, yet again, I forgot many things and arrived at a place in my own mind in which I figured it would be “easier” to do this on my own than go through the hard work of communicating with R about our conflict. Arg! How did we both forget something so BIG!!
In comes our coach with an email notifying us that there is an imbalance in our facilitation and that we must all three meet to discuss how we can work it out. I wrote back almost immediately and shared my perspective, “You bet there is! I feel like I’m doing all the work!” (Oh, what a jerk I am!!!) I was hoping for our coach’s help and support but at the same time I was buckling under the pressure of my packed schedule and also wanted to avoid a long meeting (our last meeting with our coach was nearly three hours long). Needless to say, his insistence that we all have time as long as we’re committed really ruffled my feathers. Sorry for the cliche, but my emotional response was so pedestrian in its predictability it doesn’t merit colorful or original language.
Basically, I felt as if I was already contributing a tremendous amount of time and energy–as a volunteer–but was being told that I simply was not giving or doing enough. Oh, the humanity!
Finally, R and I talked–without our coach–and together we stepped back and reflected on the entire semester up to that point. We reiterated our love and respect for one another and brainstormed about how we could rectify the imbalance in our facilitation. We each shared our frustrations, admitted mistakes we each made up until that point, and clarified our goals and intentions. Since R had tech issues during sessions four and five (which made it difficult for her to hear much of anything and also added to the imbalance and my feeling that I was carrying the bulk of our shared responsibility) and I was absent during session six, we decided that she should be the “front” facilitator for all of session seven, during which I would type the main points of the conversation into the chat box and facilitate the closing round during the last ten minutes. This required R to be more assertive and I was made to step back and stay back while she did her thing. It worked well, the group noticed and we explained to them that since R had tech issues in weeks 4 and 5 and thus didn’t have the opportunity to participate that it was important for her voice to be more prominent in this session. The group seemed to appreciate it. We both feel that the session went well.
The planning meeting for our final session also felt much more balanced. Happily, in our final session, R and I achieved a nice balance–we haven’t perfected it yet but we’ve made great progress. Too, I have definitely traveled from a feeling of intense frustration leading me to think “I never want to facilitate again, especially with R!” to “hmm, I really wish I had time to facilitate next semester…R and I are finally starting to develop a nice partnership.” That, in my opinion, is a successful process and why I love conflict so very much.
The moral of the story is…the minute we step up to the challenge of recognizing our own weaknesses, exploring miscommunication, and bridging understanding is the moment we can cast off our jerkiness. So, I’m not such a big jerk after all. Alhumdulallah.
Note: This reflection is dedicated to RR, SS, and RG, who have each contributed so much to my personal and professional development through their unyielding and passionate commitment to the Soliya process in addition to their compassion and friendship. I love you all!




