Without strength, diplomacy is not much different than being a doormat. We end up placating people for the sake of placation, of a false peace that does not adequately address underlying problems. It’s the facile “I just want everyone to get along” instead of “I want there to be justice.”
Great leaders and reformers embrace displays of power to put their goals on the agenda and push them forward. Laborers engage in strikes to demonstrate their power and compel their employers to take their demands seriously. Civil Rights activists and anti-slavery abolitionists used every means at their disposal to protect the oppressed and demonstrate strength. Even Martin Luther King Jr., who is held up in mainstream culture for his nonviolent approach, said: “Power without love is reckless and abusive, and love without power is sentimental and anemic. Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice, and justice at its best is power correcting everything that stands against love.”
Image of a stag in a forest. Photo b Teddy Kelley.
We need a willingness to stand tall and face the issues clearly and with power. We need to know our strength. Nonviolent protestors in the Civil Rights Movement practiced direct action and emotional self-control, as in they literally subjected themselves to emotionally stressful practice drills so that they were prepared to face the violence of the State. Their actions confronted the State with its injustice and compelled appallingly violent responses that engendered outrage and coverage which supported their causes. There was nothing passive about this.
I have seen people and organizations in positions of leadership, or people of the majority population, respond to challenges with complaining, defensiveness, and attitudes of victimization. The examples are almost too many to mention, but generally any time someone uses the phrase, “PC culture run amok,” that is an excellent opportunity to question this dynamic. What established structures of power and dominance have been challenged? Who is challenging them? How do those structures hurt the marginalized culture, and how does challenging them hurt the dominant culture?
On a personal level, the complaining, defensiveness, and victimization make sense. Few of us experience ourselves as numb to criticism. Privileged folks in general do not understand what it’s like not to have their privilege. As an analogy, I worked as a barista for about four years. Sometimes during the course of a work day I spilled water upwards of 200 degrees Fahrenheit on my skin. Toward the end of my tenure, I was able to respond quickly, shake off the pain of it, and keep doing my job. My skin had toughened and my nerves dulled. My skin had become inured to the pain. Now that I have the privilege of working a job that’s not manual labor, in which I am not regularly subjected to these minor trauma, I would be more sensitive and reactive.
Privileged and powerful people feel sensitive, hurt, and outraged because we do not experience ourselves as powerful. Oddly enough, however, we project our hurt and outrage onto the challenging person and say they’re the one who’s being “too sensitive” since their criticism upsets us. On the most cynical level, it is an effort to co-opt the experienced of the oppressed to shore up one’s place. Either way, it is generally counterproductive and disrespectful to all involved.
We all have potential for strength and power, particularly when joined in community. It is worth taking stock of your assets, strengths, and allies. What are you good at? Speaking up, identifying problems, building relationships? What is something that you consider a weakness that you’d like to develop? What practices could strengthen that weakness? How is that weakness useful at times? Who’s in your corner? Who would provide you direct and trustworthy feedback? What practices do you have to care for yourself? What resources do you need?
To bolster our strength, we also need safe spaces to feel vulnerable and vent our frustrations. This will be the topic of the next post.
Treating people with curiosity, dignity, and respect
On the Internet, some folks behave as though acting tough, forceful, snarky, and condescending is an effective tactic for changing someone’s perspective. Like shame and alienation, these are tools with potent, toxic, and limited effects. Applied skillfully, they have some efficacy. Often they simply communicate disrespect and dismissiveness, which fosters bad will.
Here’s a big idea that I am not the first person to suggest: we respond well when others treat us with dignity and respect. This extends to being regarded as a person who is capable of making informed choices, who has a valid perspective arrived at thoughtfully, and who is capable of being held accountable. Each of these are double-sided: We have a valid perspective, in that we all perceive a piece of truth; that does not mean our understanding of the truth is absolutely correct. We are equal parts right as well as misguided, poorly informed, or outright wrong.
If you and I have radically different understandings of a subject, it is likely that each of our perspectives make sense from our unique positions and experiences of the world, but that does not mean one perspective is truth. It is as much capable of being wrong as being right. Being held accountable means no one is above criticism or scrutiny; you can question my words and behavior when they seem incongruous with my stated beliefs.
What challenges communication is when you attack my character for that incongruity, or condescend to me as though I’m too stupid to understand my incongruity. We all have blind spots. A loving community brings attention to those blind spots with concern, caring, and dignity. They make an effort to understand my unique position and experience of the world, where my choices and my behavior make sense. That doesn’t mean they agree with it or coddle it.
When my choices and behaviors are causing harm or running counter to what I say I want, a diplomatic step would be to approach me with an attitude of good faith. Speak to me as though I am doing my best to live according to my values. Point out the difference between my words and actions with curiosity. “You say you love women, but you are leaving misogynistic comments on that woman’s blog. How does that line up for you?”
https://unsplash.com/?photo=f37RWPdmon4Photo by Patrick Tomasso.
This approach takes people at their word and invites them to step into their best selves. What aids this is taking the “one-down” position, the willingness to express confusion and curiosity which is, again, a position of good faith. It suggests that I believe you are actually doing your best to live in line with your values and one of us is making a mistake. Even if I believe you’re the one making the mistake.
This empowers us to point out moments of incongruity, conflict, and confusion without heavily shaming or attacking the character of the other person. It comes from a willingness to be wrong. Perhaps if we understood their position better, we’d realize that it was our confusion. If their answers, however, fail to make sense; dismiss the incongruity; misdirect; respond defensively; or outright become aggressive and hostile toward us; then they are behaving in bad faith and we may respond appropriately.
I think of this as “inviting you to step into your best self” because at this stage it doesn’t matter what either of us think about your motivations. You might be behaving in a shady way, or I might think you are, but I am giving you an opportunity to either rectify that or prove to me how my perception is wrong. If you decide to act in your best self, that is a winning scenario for both us.
Some folks might have a problem with this, pointing out that people behaving well in the short-term due to pressure is not the same as getting them to align with a greater principle. We can’t “trust” them to be well behaved from now on. That’s not untrue. My older sister has taught me much about politics, though our values and political leanings differ these days. She came home from college and got me to read Machiavelli’s The Prince as well as his less well-known writings that are pro-democracy. She once told me that politics was about getting people to do “the right thing for the wrong reasons.”
I approach the world with what I think of as a cynical optimism, that we all have aspirational values of which we fall short. We need community to support us in staying consistent. This is why transparency and oversight matter. When what we believe and what we see don’t line up, we find ways to rectify, justify, or dismiss the difference. When held accountable, when seen, when scrutinized, we can no longer afford to repair the cognitive dissonance. We must alter our behavior to align with our beliefs, or our beliefs to align with our behavior. Either way, we become more congruent.
Taking the one-down position of curiosity is dangerous, as sometimes I can be so gentle or mild that the challenge is lost. The other person either thinks they can ignore me, or doesn’t see the confrontation. Even in a diplomatic position, I want to examine the situation with both eyes, both ears, both of whatever I have available: the part of me that sees the best in others, and the part of me that sees the worst. Diplomacy requires strength as much as curiosity, which is the subject of the next post.
Respecting differences, and identifying underlying shared values
One interesting way to examine polarization—people defining themselves as enemies to each other—is to look at the underlying similarities. Opposites exist in relationship to each other, and have some kind of connecting similarity. For example, what is the opposite of a dog? If I said “the sky,” you would likely disagree. It feels wrong. Several people might have their own opposites for a dog but I suspect most people’s opposite is also a pet, probably a mammal, and most likely a cat.
In a polarizing conversation, we tend to want to find ways to sharply differentiate our position or “side” from the other. Sometimes that means giving up territory that hurts our case in the long run, makes us vulnerable to critique and is actually inaccurate or incomplete. This is what happens when we get more caught up in what we’re against than what we’re for.
Image of a snow fox surrounded by snow. Photo by Jonatan Pie.
For example, if your side advocates for the imprisonment of puppies and the giving of free ice cream to children on Sundays, I might in my rage declare all puppies should be free and children shouldn’t get free ice cream. I actually don’t have a problem with the ice cream, I simply have a hard time agreeing with someone who would imprison puppies so wantonly. The problem is, the other side gets to point out how awful I am for denying ice cream to children, and how dare I put puppies ahead of human beings?
This tendency contributes to making excuses for bad behavior on the part of people on our “side,” which further weakens our position and harms personal integrity. We might point to the problematic teachings of one religion and make excuses for the problematic teachings of our own. Another facet of this is when people feel discouraged by being stereotyped and let themselves be seduced into acting out, thinking,“If you believe I’m that way, then I might as well be that way.”
Ceding values and strengths to define ourselves more sharply in opposition interferes with any ability to work together. Authentic differences in opinion and approach, however, are important and should not be erased. We grow from sharing a diversity of perspectives and finding workable agreements. To some extent, we need strong voices to move our communities in a particular direction. Where we go awry is when we lose patience with being in relationship to the other “side.”
An example: when discussing mass incarceration and policing, we have strong voices pushing for complete abolition of the prison system and police, as well as strong voices advocating for the consolidation and strengthening of those systems. When I am talking with someone on the other side of the issue, it feels important to recognize when we have underlying shared dreams: one possibility might be peaceful communities in which people can live and work without violence. From that perspective, I can explain why I think mass incarceration and “Broken Windows” policing undermines the goal of healthy communities, and why instead investing in the strengthening and autonomy of communities of color promotes that goal.
Even when we do not share values, it builds good faith to make an effort to understand why the other side thinks and feels as they do. This does not require agreeing with them, simply acknowledging that their choices make sense given their perspective and experience. It is about treating people with dignity and respect, which is the topic of the next post.
Diplomacy requires we know what we value, what I am trying to bring about in the world: deep values like Justice, Equality, Liberty, or Respect. In the larger sense, these values are always aspirational—they point in a direction but they are rarely a destination at which we’ve arrived. Having a clear sense of values helps guide my thinking and behaviors. I can name what’s not working for me and suggest a direction I think would work better.
What’s useful about knowing my values is that it keeps me in balanced relationship to my “side.” Knowing my values is also to some extent recognizing my “side,” my home team, my people. The traditional role of a diplomat is one who crosses boundaries to help a relationship between two larger groups, particularly to represent their home group’s interests in that relationship.
Image of a bird, white with black spots. Image by Giovanni Calia.
With that, however, the diplomat comes to know and understand everyone else’s perspective and appreciates the reality that no one can get everything they want. They also begin to see how the other “side’s” arguments and criticisms of the home group make sense from their position.
Nationalistic or tribalistic attitudes resist this kind of diplomacy. They want to split groups into all-good and all-bad, and the home group is “naturally” the all-good one. Warhawks on each side would rather push for conflict and dominance and not engage in the compromise and mutual understanding that is the diplomat’s turf.
I find that becoming defensive or overly protective of problematic behavior interferes with effective conversation. It becomes clear I’m less interested in a solution and more interested in promoting my “side”. None of us are free of problematic behavior or exempt from criticism, though some of us have more power and potential to cause damage with our problematic behavior.
Knowing what matters also helps me to focus. In any discussion there are so many issues that arise and opportunities for bad behavior that it’s easy for issues to become wholly derailed, or lost in a sea of problems. In any confrontation, we need to be focused yet flexible, able to honor the complexity while also staying centered around the particular value that matters most. It’s rare that I will change someone’s mind in one conversation, so I might consider the most important task to be stating my case effectively, listening to and addressing arguments, and then walking away so we can all think about it. Other times, I need a specific change to happen and I’m not going to leave until I’ve gained ground on it.
What I value about diplomacy is stepping out of the need for one side to be right and the other wrong and instead building workable connections. With this value, I am willing to listen to other “sides” and attempt to understand what’s valuable about their perspective. I do not have to wholly agree with their viewpoints, but if I can find something of value in their perspective then I have an opportunity for connection and transformative conversation. I will discuss the promises and pitfalls of this further in the next post.
Recognizing that we want to be seen as our best selves
Image of a boy surrounded by bubbles, either running or playing in front of a house. Photo by David Schap.
My approach to diplomacy draws upon the concept of self-evaluation motives, the premise of which is that people are motivated to have a positive self-concept and seek to have that self-concept validated in their relationships with others. In other words, we want to be seen as our best selves. And we are not always our best selves. In my observation, every person I’ve met has contained complex and contradictory, sometimes opposing, parts, impulses, or desires. We contain multitudes, to paraphrase Walt Whitman, and in those multitudes are a host of parts that are not always helpful.
Most of us are, at one time or another, hypocrites. We say or believe we want to be one way, but we are not always that way. We might let ourselves get away with behavior we would not tolerate in others. There are things we consider “wrong” that we insist we would never, ever do, completely blind to the fact that we’re doing them. Or, we’re hoping no one will notice that we’re doing them. This is a human problem, but it is not an excuse. It is the irritation that spurs us toward greater integrity. We can make our beliefs and our behavior more and more aligned, but it requires practice, patience, contemplation, and openness to feedback.
When another person notices that our words and actions don’t line up, we may respond defensively. When someone points out a quality that we don’t like about ourselves, we often respond defensively. It’s easy to experience shame and humiliation when someone sees and names these contradictions. Even the most gentle, loving call-in may stir Shame Dragon.
When the Shame Dragon stirs in me, I’m not very open to growth or positive feedback. I don’t sit in the moment, thoughtfully reflecting on the lesson you are offering—not without a lot of deep breathing and emotional self-care. (Also: writing and deleting several drafts of comments on Internet arguments.) Even if you are 100% correct and I recognize this, I need time to soothe my shame before I can fully take in what you’re saying and make effective changes.
Typical unproductive responses to the rousing of the Shame Dragon include:
Denying the contradiction or wrong
Emotional shut down
Responding with toxic insults
Walling off with excessive and fake politeness
Breaking down into excessive apologizing or self-abasement until the other person backs down or says it’s okay
The person who is lashing out because the Shame Dragon scours their inner landscape has work to do. In a confrontation, it’s not our job to soothe their feelings, but diplomacy offers tools to deal with contradictions and hypocrisy that help us reduce the intensity of these responses. It comes back to acting in good faith and inviting people to their best selves, addressing problematic behavior as though it was an unrecognized mistake or failing from someone who aspires to be better.
From this position, we can invite people to recognize their behavior and return to their best selves while allowing them to save face. We’ve already begun discussing these strategies by talking about the problem instead of the person. More will be the subject of future posts.
To be clear: when discussing political, group, or interpersonal problems, we are always talking about people. What helps is to discuss problems in ways that are not personal.
I’ve heard people savvy in mental health language claim they can identify people with personality disorders, and I am cautious about this. Many of us have personality features that at times resemble disorders, particularly in times of great and unusual distress.
Image of a beachfront town. There appear to be geometric patterns on the beach due to the arrangement of what may be tables and umbrellas. Image by Max Boettinger.
My preference is to focus on the impact of behavior, problematic patterns, and systemic issues; giving others the opportunity to stand in good faith and rise to their best selves. If they do not do so, or they do so and later prove they were acting in bad faith, then that is the end of my diplomatic dealings with them. I’m not going to spend my personal time trying to fix or coerce people into constructive behavior.
To break the focus down:
Impact of Behavior
Rather than accusing you of ill intent, I let you know how I or the community experience your behavior. “When you promise to be kind to me but then make fun of me in front of your friends, I feel hurt and unsafe. I have a harder time trusting your promises.”
One of the strengths of this position is that there’s nothing to argue with. I’m not saying you’re a liar. I’m saying if you want me to trust you, this behavior is getting in the way of your goal. It takes the judgment and accusation out while letting everyone involved take responsibility for their experience.
This position is necessarily vulnerable and requires some authenticity. The other person might take this opportunity to explode or gaslight. That is a good sign that they’re not acting in good faith. However, if I myself am not acting in good faith, the other person might be responding to that.
Problematic Patterns
In a systems approach, problems are not caused by one person but arise in relationships in which each participates.
Framing a problem in this way empowers all involved to consider how their behavior contributes to the problem, particularly one that keeps recurring. This is particularly useful in intimate relationships and groups.
In groups where there’s always one person causing trouble, it’s easy for people to think getting rid of that person is the solution, only to find that someone else takes that person’s place. If that happens, then the problem is systemic.
Systemic Issues
This takes us into larger contexts than the impersonal, and reminds us to look at dimensions of power, privilege, access, and environment.
When I have a problem with my boss, I am always aware that they have more power and influence than I do; whereas my boss might not be, and might think we are having a conversation between equals.
In some ways, we are equal because we’re human. In other ways, we are not equal because we have unequal influence. I find it helpful to name this.
None of these are meant to be excuses or replacements for holding people accountable; rather they are ways of bringing accountability while offering the person an opportunity to save face and rise to their best selves. Too often we attack people’s character and put them in verbal boxes, we offer our criticism as a prison. “You’re a jerk and you never care about my feelings” is a trap, it freezes that person in a role and there’s nothing they can do to get out of it. “I felt hurt when you said that in front of my mother” is feedback that gives the person options to make amends or avoid further problems.
My approach to diplomacy comes from the belief that most of us crave to be seen as our best selves, though we all struggle to be that. I’ve seen people respond well when I frame issues in non-personal ways and invite them to step into their best selves. This topic will be explored further in the next post.
A while back, I wrote a post about how much we need the art of civil discourse. Since then, I’ve heard more about the need for this kind of approach to dialogue and conflict in a world that feels increasingly fractious and polarized. We know we need to have hard conversations but struggle to do so with diplomacy and tact. No single blog is going to turn the tide, but for the next several weeks I am offering posts with the premises and practices that help me in navigating conflict.
According to Merriam Webster, diplomacy is “skill in dealing with others without causing bad feelings”. A synonym for this is “tact.” Diplomacy is not about conflict avoidance or being a doormat. Indeed, diplomats stand for something, rooted in loyalty to a core set of values or a community; they are simply willing to extend themselves in dialogue and effort across lines of conflict. Diplomacy enables us to meet hard truths and advocate for change in ways that include, that call people into the process. Diplomacy is a set of practices as much as it is a path. We are all capable of developing these capacities.
Image of a person from behind wearing a metal crown and a red cape with furry white fringe. The person is facing a backdrop of trees. Photo by Pawel Furman
What we seem to default to, however, are shame and alienation. When someone does something wrong, it’s too easy to pile on, call out, shame, and chase people out of our social circles. Everyone who’s left behind feels momentarily satisfied, having been an “us” against a different “them,” but then all live under the threat of being the next person to step out of line. There are times when people’s behavior is toxic, disruptive, and intractable and the community must be unflinching in its rejection or face dissolution. I do believe, however, that we can become so guarded and protective that we assume bad faith too quickly. I have also noticed that toxic and disruptive people become adept at using shame and alienation against others.
Diplomacy offers us a set of practices to invite in more good faith in our interactions. “Good faith” is the assumption of honesty and sincerity. Whether we think someone is coming to us in good faith or bad faith tremendously changes the way we experience another person’s behavior. If you behave in a way that feels disrespectful, but I believe you are acting in good faith, it is easier for me to manage my reactivity and let you know how your behavior affected me. I assume that you do not want to hurt me and did so on accident. Good faith elicits harmony, respect, and coöperation. If I believe you are acting in bad faith, I am going to wall off at the first sign of disrespect. Maybe I’ll explode at you with a barrage of insults and shame, or maybe I’ll behave in a completely friendly and civil way to your face but go around to all of our friends talking badly about you. Bad faith fosters division, discord, and distrust.
The next few weeks will feature posts on principles and practices that I find helpful in developing diplomacy. These include:
Where I come from: I am a cisgender White gay man who is able-bodied. I have a history of painful shyness and conflict avoidance, yet I’ve often been inspired by the great reformers. People who stand for justice and change in ways that pushed societies to transform, although there is always more work to do. I’ve worked hard to become more conscious of issues of power and injustice in my communities, and I continue to push myself to engage the hard conversations. I do not believe unfriending someone on Facebook is an act of courageous activism, though sometimes it’s what I need to do.
And I’ve messed up and embarrassed myself. I’m not being self-deprecating. I’ve said and done things for which I now feel regret, and I’ve been called out for it. I’ve responded to call-outs with defensiveness and self-justifications, making matters worse. I’ve confronted the limitations and consequences of my privilege. I am not “done.” I will say embarrassing things in the future. I will say things that are worthy of critique. I will likely respond at times with defensiveness, but hopefully less and less often, with less damage.
I was a fat kid for most of my childhood. When I look at old pictures now, I see that the range of my weight fluctuated throughout childhood, but when I was in it I just thought of myself as fat. I ate lots of food with high sugar and fat content and little nutrition. Coordination was a challenge, and often when I played sports I felt humiliated by how terrible I was at them. Until my dad and my Boy Scout Troop got me into hiking, I avoided most physical activities.
I remember in particular a music teacher in my elementary school, who for some reason always seemed to go out of her way to point out that I was fat. One time she was teaching us a particular line dance, and dancing was one of the few activities I’ve always enjoyed. She came up to me while I was practicing and said, with this syrupy sweet patronizing concern, “This is hard, isn’t it?” I wasn’t winded at all, I didn’t feel tired. I had no idea why she was saying this to me except to point out I was fat. I was probably about nine years old. Kids aren’t stupid.
These days, I am not as fat as I was. Others don’t believe I was ever that kid; part of me may never believe I’m not still that kid. I’ve been through lots of phases: wearing too-tight clothes as “motivation” to lose weight, shaming myself for what I ate, feeling guilty for eating “bad” things anyway, calorie restriction, and more. I’ve been recently reflecting on the great irony that some of the most thin, muscular people I know still fixate on their food choices and the specter of becoming fat; while some of the people who most fervently indulge in all their desires struggle with discomfort and dissatisfaction in their bodies. Doesn’t anyone just get to enjoy food and love their bodies?
Upon the urging of several peers and clients, I recently picked up Dr. Bacon’s Health at Every Size (HAES). The introduction alone inspired feelings of deep discomfort and tearfulness. Her approach suggested that the impossible was possible: we could learn to love and trust our bodies to regulate themselves while enjoying food and movement. We could become more deeply acquainted with the body’s instinctive weight-management system and worry less about external measures of what and when we’re supposed to eat. That sounds so wonderful, I thought. And then the fear: But will I be thin?
HAES takes its name from a larger movement of fat acceptance and body positivity, people who are challenging the shame and bad science around body weight and size. This movement questions the idea that being fat is intrinsically an awful, undesirable experience. They point toward the consequences of bariatric surgery and oppression against fat people as greater health risks. Dr. Bacon points to the increase in life expectancy that occurred during the same period as an increase in average body weight in the United States.
Dr. Bacon spends several chapters addressing commonly held beliefs about obesity, diet, and weight loss, and lays out for us the science that undermines and contradicts those beliefs. Instead, she lays out a convincing case that our efforts to manage weight are more harmful, such as: widely practiced dieting habits trigger the body’s instinctive mechanism of putting on more body fat to compensate for famine. One of the things I appreciated, too, was her exploration of all the different biological, social, economic, and genetic mechanisms that contribute to body size and body fat. If anything, this was my greatest challenge with the book: she spends so much time, necessarily, addressing and challenging all of our beliefs that I kept wanting to skip ahead to the part where she tells me what to do. Just tell me what to do!!!
A cursory reading of her approach may leave some thinking she’s saying not to have any concern about exercise and what we eat, but that isn’t what she’s doing with HAES. If anything, this movement is leading us toward a way to honor food and movement while also giving up the “war on obesity.” She provides structured practices and suggestions to follow, all of which help you become more deeply acquainted with your body and its unique needs and signals.
This is not about externally regulating ourselves by eating only these kinds of food, doing X amount of exercises per day, or only eating Y amount of calories. This is about learning your body’s signals for hunger and fullness, and more importantly, respecting them. This is about learning what kinds of movement you enjoy, things that are fun for you. Dr. Bacon argues, with scientific evidence, that taking pleasure in the foods we eat increases our body’s efficiency at absorbing and processing their nutrients. This is not simply about eating foods that taste good; it’s about slowing down and being fully present while eating, truly savoring the food.
When we tune into our bodies, Dr. Bacon suggests, we arrive at our “setpoints,” the body size and weight best for our own health. This means some of us may find ourselves in thinner bodies because we’ve eaten past our setpoints for years, while others may find themselves in fatter bodies because they’ve been under their setpoints. Our bodies have all these wonderful instinctive mechanisms to help us move toward wellness, but the overculture teaches us not to trust them. Instead marketing programs sells us ways to “hack” them, ignore them, overcome and subvert them. We devalue our emotions and then wonder why we’re empty inside. We don’t take naps when we’re sleepy, we drink more coffee and then can’t sleep at night. We deny ourselves when our bodies crave food and then we indulge past the point of fullness.
The approach promoted by HAES resonated deeply with me and my therapeutic approach to lasting change. Shame, in my opinion, is a terrible strategy for creating healthy long-term change. Shame at its worst keeps us stuck in unworkable patterns. As someone who has emotional eating patterns, feeling shame about my eating only leaves me feeling defeated and like “What’s the point? I might as well keep eating even though I feel gross.” Shame says, “I am worthless, so what I do doesn’t matter.” Even when Shame leads us to change a specific habit, often we end up in another unhealthy pattern, like people who exercise to the point of severely harming their bodies. Healthy pride says, “I am worthy, so I will do the things that help me to feel good, energized, attractive, and healthy.” HAES to me speaks to an inside-out relationship to my body: what matters is that I am happy in and with my body, not about how much fat my body has.
HAES has shown me that there’s conditioning that I still need to question and unpack, and yet it also connects with the practices that have helped me to feel good in my life. Years ago I decided it was unhealthy to wear clothes that made me feel unattractive, so I started buying pants that I liked and fit me comfortably. I also started doing the exercises that I enjoyed and changed my food habits away from chips and soda and toward carrot sticks and salads. I went out dancing and had fun. In the end, with all those healthy behaviors, does it matter what number was on the scale? If your answer is “Yes,” then the next question to wrestle with is “Why?”
“On ‘tough love’ and your fat friend’s health.” – by Your Fat Friend. An excellent article about living as a fat person subjected to constant unhelpful, oppressive shame and scrutiny.
In my communities, and it seems in my country, I have watched increasing polarization and the lines of demarcation run sometimes very close to home. When conversations become polarized, it becomes very easy to forget that you are talking to a human being like yourself and instead imagine yourself fighting a righteous battle against an insidious, cunning, super-human villainous horde. As the climate escalates, it becomes more tempting and “justifiable” to let go of emotional containment, reflection, and dialogue with the desire to understand. Parts of us get activated by the conflict, begin to feed it and feed upon it.
This guy’s laying low until the argument dies down. Photo by delfi de la Rua.
As an outside observer listening to a lot of arguments (like a therapist who works with couples, or someone who reads the comment sections on the Internet), and a person who has participated in several arguments (and later wondered “Why was I so mad about that?”), I’ve noticed a few things:
20% of conflict is about the thing you are discussing, and 80% is about the emotional experience of the relationship.*
If you are accusing another (person/group) of bad behavior, the likelihood is that (you/your group) have participated in behavior that the other (person/group) perceives as similar.**
When you are the person accusing the other of behavior you’re engaging in, it is very hard to stop and admit this.
At times both parties will make parallel arguments and accusations of each other, but each will focus on a different facet. To offer an oversimplified example: Republicans and Democrats both share Liberty as a value, because America. Democrats point toward socially liberal attitudes as pro-liberty, and accuse Republicans of being anti-liberty for socially conservative policies. Republicans focus on economic and financial liberty and point toward reduced taxes and free markets as pro-liberty, and criticize Democrats as anti-liberty for taxation and regulation.***
We need the art and discipline of civil discourse. It is worth reading and rereading about logical fallacies, as they characterize the worst habits of rhetoric. What I want to focus on is what to do when things get heated. My observation is that escalating emotional reactivity occurs when we feel misunderstood, disrespected, or dismissed.
Think about a time when you felt misunderstood, disrespected, or dismissed. How did you respond? Did you stay in the conversation? Did you stay civil and rational? Did you say something you later regretted?
Think about a conversation where you felt understood, heard, and treated with respect. What was different about the experience?
We’re social beings and we are constantly seeking to be understood. Unfortunately, at least in the United States, the dominant cultural norm is to treat other people’s emotional responses as manipulative, irritating, or a sign of weakness. (Whereas our own emotional responses are always completely correct and justified.) It is when we dismiss, ignore, or patronize other’s feelings that they tend to become more intense and reactive. We do it to ourselves, too. But when it happens in relationship, we can give ourselves the plausible deniability that the other person “lost it for no reason.”
Defensiveness is a great example. We understandably become defensive when we feel attacked, but from the outside it usually looks like we’re attacking, which makes the other participants become defensive. Defensiveness shuts down effective communication and leaves everyone feeling guarded and hurt.
This makes for bad communication. By which I mean, we actually make it harder on ourselves to be understood when we dismiss and belittle others’ feelings. Instead of listening, that person’s mental and emotional energy goes toward managing their reaction. I find this to be true even for those who seem calm and collected. They might have developed some effective skill and flexibility in coping with their reactions, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have them.
I want to offer some phrases to help you think of ways to try this out. When you read these, you might find these too simple, but I think we need simple, easy go-tos when we begin to get emotionally reactive:
“I see your point.” Or, better, try to accurately summarize their points. If they correct you, accept their correction.
“I can appreciate why you’d feel that way.” Here, you are not agreeing that the other person’s version of reality is completely accurate and yours is wrong. You are acknowledging that their response makes sense based on where they are coming from—their background, their beliefs, their position in the discussion.
“What do you mean by this?” In this moment, you have just caught yourself about to launch into a defensive counterattack and asked yourself, “Am I hearing them correctly?”
“I am feeling [a feeling] when you say that.” This is about sharing your subjective experience and helping them to understand the impact of their words and actions on you. It’s not about accusing the other person of making you feel that way.
“…” This phrase is the long pause you make when you are about to accuse someone of behaving poorly and stop to reflect on whether there has been a time in which they might have felt that you’ve acted this way toward them.
You may be so polarized that you feel reluctant to step back from the hard, accusing stance. There is vulnerability in seeking understanding, particularly if the other parties do not offer it in return. It is also true that making this effort will not always result in increased safety and respect, but I believe that a great way of finding out if someone is willing to act in good faith is to give them the opportunity to do so. If you earnestly try this and find that it is met with disrespect and hostility, then of course figure out what you need to do for self-protection.
I have seen tremendous changes occur when all parties in a dialogue commit to this kind of conversation, particularly when a neutral party supports the process by holding both sides accountable to it. I aspire to the wisdom of Sun Tzu, to whom is attributed the statement: “The greatest victory is that which requires no battle.” This quote speaks to me of conflicts avoided, relationships not destroyed, friendships sustained, all because of a willingness to address and resolve conflict before it escalates into war.
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*Source: I made this percentage up.
**I have mixed feelings about the way I’ve phrased this bullet point as it lacks nuance with regard to conversations between people in different states of privilege and oppression. For example, some people argue that the Ku Klux Klan and the Black Panthers are equivalent because they are nationalist groups based in racial identity. I fully disagree, as the Ku Klux Klan emerged to preserve white supremacy and the Black Panthers emerged to address the harms white supremacy does to Black people. The problem I am trying to speak to is that we get locked into defending ourselves and our groups at all costs, and unwillingness to acknowledge that the other party has ever been hurt or we have ever acted poorly interferes with finding resolution. For lack of certainty about how best to rewrite these statements, I want to emphasize that this is a perceived subjective equivalence.
**What’s interesting to think about with regard to the difference in where each group prizes Liberty is that they are also arguing about the shadow virtue of Restraint. Unfettered Liberty is not conducive to a group identity and somewhat implicitly at odds with any kind of centralized government, so Liberty must be balanced with Restraint (or, more negatively, Control). You could look at the argument as a difference in belief about where Liberty and Restraint should occur. Social conservatives say people should be free to spend their resources as they wish, but should also participate in monogamous sexual marriages and be financially responsible for their families. Social liberals say people should be free to live their lives as they wish, but should also be involved in an equitable distribution of resources so that all may be financially supported. Since Restraint is not a well-loved virtue, however, it is politically more effective to focus on where one is pro-Liberty. I think this is worth thinking about in any polarized argument. What virtues do the arguing parties share overtly and covertly, and where do they disagree about the implementation of these virtues?
do you think just like that you can divide this you as yours me as mine to before we were us? if the rain has to separate from itself does it say “pick out your cloud?”
– Tori Amos, “Your Cloud“
Identity is not who we are, though our English language around identity suggests it points to something essential. There are many identities to claim, as many as there are ways to complete the statement: “I am a/an …” Today I am a son, brother, husband, therapist, and mentor. I might be deeply invested in these identities, deriving significant meaning from them. Is identity who I am, though? There is a Vedic practice known as “Neti Neti” (or “Not this, Not that”) in which one asks one’s self, “Who am I?”, waits for the answer, and then rejects the answer. For example, “Who am I? I am a man… No, I am not a man, that is a gender role assigned to me. Who is the I that is gendered male?” This practice continues until arriving at the answer that feels correct, which for me corresponds with a sense of knowing, a sense of Yes, this is it. (And the answer that was right ten years ago is not the answer that is right today.)This and similar practices lead us toward the Self, greater and deeper than we can fathom, a creative center of each person’s existence that expresses itself in the world. Identities, in this way, are names for various expressions of this Self. Some identities are names for things the Self has experienced—like “survivor.” Others are names for systems of belief that resonate with the self—like “Stoic,” “socialist,” or “Christian.” Identity is how we put our understandings of Self into language, making it possible to analyze, explore, and understand ourselves and communicate with others.
Identity is also relational. Those words “son,” “mentor,” infer relationships that “I” have with others—one is not a son without claiming someone or something as a parent. To identify as a “Stoic” is to put one’s self in community with others who ascribe to Stoicism, or have a stoic personality. Here we reach the more complex and political dimensions of identity. To claim an identity is to claim membership in a community of those who share the identity. A lone person who has thoughts and feelings unlike anyone else around them must struggle with feelings of alienation, confusion, shame, or fear that something is deeply wrong with them. The choice seems to be either accepting this alienation or cutting off the parts of them that don’t fit the majority. If those thoughts and feelings have a name an identity, suddenly that person has an opportunity to experience dignity and pride as they are. Thus, the “alphabet soup” of the lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans, queer, asexual, questioning, intersex, and increasingly more identities that are sexually, romantically, or gender non-majority is so vital and continues to expand. Each letter of the LGBTQIA acronym is a declaration of existence and validity for each of those communities, and hope for those who realize their feelings match one of those identities.
Here, in the facet of relationship, is also an opportunity for deep wounding. If I say I am this thing and everyone around me denies it, undermines it, rejects it, or simply ignores it, then that part of me suffers and collapses. Perhaps I can maintain its health through personal work and sheer willpower, but that drains the energy I might spend on other things. I may become defensive, hostile, fearful, anxious, or overwhelmed when my identity is under attack. Though I am cisgender—I was assigned male at birth and continue to identify as male—there have been times when others have explicitly or implicitly questioned whether I am “a man” because I did not behave or look like what they thought “a man” should. This fostered injuries to my identity—a defensiveness and anxiety that arises when I hear a particular phrase, a particular tone, or someone insults me in a way that resembles earlier insults. Intellectually I may understand “being a man” as a complex, shifting cultural and historical set of norms—but I may find myself manipulated into doing something I don’t want to do, simply because someone implied I’m “not a man” if I don’t do it. (At the same time, there are ways my maleness is not questioned in the ways a transgender man’s might be—most people refer to me by male pronouns without my asking; I can use the men’s bathroom without fear; and peers and authorities accept my maleness without any effort on my part.)
Photo by Thomas Lefebvre
As social creatures there is, I believe, an instinctive part of us that needs belonging. We know that babies thrive when they experience touch and warmth from their caregivers. We know that solitary confinement fosters mental illness in prisoners. Threats of exile and abandonment are experienced by parts of us as threats to well-being and survival. I believe this belonging-needing part of us suffers a kind of trauma when it experiences bullying, exile, abandonment, or any experience of being made to feel it is unwelcome. This is one reason why real harm is done to trans and gender nonconforming folk when others refuse to use their names and pronouns.
As with many psychic wounds, when we get our first taste of exile or abandonment, we develop strategies to avoid ever having to experience this pain again. In some ways those strategies succeed at reducing the pain of exile or abandonment, but they may well become toxic to our selves and relationships. The strategies become problematic to our selves and communities when we:
Become deeply invested in identity, trying to be “the best [x] I can” so no one can judge or exclude us. This may get us some mileage, but the trauma is magnified when we lose that identity. Someone who has spent years being “a good son” suddenly becomes utterly lost when their parents die. This is also incredibly challenging in a society in which we may hold multiple identities with widely varying norms and expectations.
Minimize the need for community and connection altogether, disavowing any identity that requires others’ validation. A less intense version of this might look like cultivating a kind of critical distance, so one is a member of the community but thinks of themself as on the edges, or outside, or more of an observer.
Develop rigid expectations of what someone in “[x]” community should look like or act like; what values they should hold; what politics they should espouse; all of which centralizes one’s own values, attitudes, and behaviors. Doing so, we begin to limit our own growth and development.
Express defensive outrage or excessive victimization at signs of criticism or accountability from others within the community.
Police community boundaries—enacting rigid identity norms by marginalizing anyone who doesn’t fit through social control strategies such as gossiping, bullying, excluding from social events or positions of influence, or straight up denouncing the person as “not a true [x]”. Thus we become hostile to the natural and productive diversity within our communities.
Being a member of communities that are composed of socially marginalized people, I observe the above dynamics periodically. I think these come from the trauma many of us experienced growing up in communities where we felt alien or rejected. Once we find a place where we feel accepted, welcome, and seen, that taste of joy intensifies the resolve to never lose it again. (Of course, others feel unwelcome and rejected even in the communities that “should” accept them.) Unhealed, these underlying identity injuries fester, directing our actions more than we might acknowledge without reflection. Much is made of “body fascism” in gay male communities, and I suspect much of that is fed by the shame of childhood alienation, causing some men to grow up and push themselves to prove their worthiness through superlative physiques, careers, fashion, and then projecting their own insecurities onto the less-developed bodies of their peers, who experience that as reinforcing pressure to hold themselves to those standards as well. Then it begins to look like a cultural norm.
It’s important to note that it is normal and necessary for communities to maintain boundaries and shape definitions for identities. Think of boundaries being as natural and necessary as the shell of an egg, or the edges of a living cell. To foster life, there needs to be some limit that holds in the living organism and keeps out harmful toxins in the environment. That boundary needs to be firm, but porous enough to bring in nourishment and push out what is harmful. All communities develop mechanisms by which this occurs. When these structures are not developed consciously and purposely in a way that allows for flexibility and diversity, then they tend to be enacted in the rigid ways noted above by people who feel most urgently the need to do it, without an accountability structure in place. The loudest voices tend to be the ones of rigidity and exclusion, and the people who recognize and value inclusion and pluralism have to push hard to be heard. Communities with structure have the opportunity to make this polarity a conscious part of their community agreements, recognizing the need for pluralism and boundaries.
On a personal level, I think it is beneficial to continue developing ourselves as whole people. If one identity is taking up much of our time and attention, then it’s worthwhile to engage in other interests, connect with trusted family, or engage with friends outside of that community. This helps me to get perspective on what’s going on in my community, take it less personally, and re-engage with more of an open heart—partially because I remember that I am more than just this identity. The practice of “Neti Neti” or similar meditations of shedding layers of identity also helps to reconnect with the core Self. When I can validate my identity and also remember it isn’t “me,” I feel less vulnerable when someone attacks it. Becoming aware of what the identity means to me—what I think defines the identity based on my lived experience—I have a stronger base of authority to support me in dialogue or confrontation.
What about on a community level? I am curious for more conversation about this, and I think it’s needed. One thought I have is to become sensitive to signs of trauma so that I can respond with compassion when I or someone else acts in the ways listed above. These days I am more interested in communities organized around shared values or a shared mission rather than a shared identity. I think that helps us to depersonalize community problems and focus more on developing just and inclusive community systems with effective boundaries.
What do you think? What practices or policies could heal or manage some of these dynamics?
