Please Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood

Imagine a group of people. The group might be about anything – a committee, a charity, a workplace, a church. One of these folk will be the group’s natural leader, I suggest. I say ‘natural’ because the group might believe themselves to have no official leader or chairperson. But, even so, someone will take the lead. And, for the most part, the others will defer to him or her. Another of the group is there because they need the company. They don’t especially care about the group’s aims or whether it is successful or not. Just so long as there’s some interaction with others then they will find the group a comfort – just by being there. Another of the group is similar, in a way, but wants to turn the group’s attention around to their own personal issues rather than the work of the group. Another is a rival to the leader and wants to steal power for themselves. They will frequently challenge decisions of the group, because those decisions really stem from it’s leader. Another of the group has a similar jealousy of the leader, but somehow they recognise that they could not lead themselves – that people would not follow them. So they disrupt the group by making snide and sarcastic remarks. Now it could be that despite all this the group is nonetheless successful. It could be that people enjoy the meetings. Or it could be that the majority of the group suffer in silence. What’s more, there have been incidents where things have gone badly wrong. Perhaps it had been the leader’s fault. But now no-one dares to mentions these past problems. There’s a conspiracy of silence. There are elephants in the room. So now someone suggests a kind of ‘therapy’ for groups and for relationships of all kinds. It goes by the name of non-violent communication, or some such. Briefly, here’s how it’s meant to work. You – a group member – sense that you have some issues with the group. You give this a lot of thought. Then you decide on what it is that needs to change in order for your wants and needs to be met. This you take to whoever is directly responsible – often this will be the group’s leader. You state your case in plain, simple, honest terms. No threats or ultimatums – just, ‘here’s some thoughts to consider’. The group – having done the course – is supposed to respond in kind. They will listen carefully to what you say. They will consider it. Then they will respond, calmly and without fuss – just carefully answering you, point for point, on the concerns you have raised. It might be that your concerns are not addressed. You go away and consider. You come back with a further response and the process repeats. Perhaps answers are never found, but nonetheless the process has been useful. Your voice has been heard – others know where you stand – others indeed might have been given the courage to speak out on issues of their own, which previously they’d been keeping to themselves. There’s a lo to commend this idea – this non-violent communication. And I’ve heard of it working well in a few instances. But perhaps, from the way I’ve described the group above, you’ll see a problem. Our group doesn’t really deal too well with honesty, we might say. They pretend to all be equal, yet they have their natural leader – that’s one thing. And then there’s all those personal agendas and all those elephants. It’s fair to say that the purveyors of courses on non-violent communication are not idiots. They’ve been in groups, they know the problems. But they believe that the group learning to be honest and open with each other can cut through, get people to wake up to the realities of what’s going on, and learn to get along in a much more open and satisfying way than before. Like I say, sometimes it works. But I wonder about that title – non-violent communication. They are expecting violence?! And yes, try opening up with the truth and you might find that the leader is enraged at your impudence and the other group members turn on you for having rocked the boat. They’ve all done the course! And yet, somehow, thy cannot step outside their habitual behaviour. Over the years I’ve been all of those characters we met at the start of this essay – the leader, the one who just wants company, the one who wants to turn the group’s attention towards his own issues, the one who wants to replace the leader, the one who wants to usurp and criticise the leader. Now, I sit in silence. Indeed, I cannot speak, because I’m looking at the power dynamics being played out in front of me, plus I’m analysing my own response, plus longing to keep up with what the meeting’s actually supposed to be about. All of that takes a lot of processing. So I’m silent. I’ve come to recognise that – likely as not – my voice will not be heard. Whether leader or the led, calm participant or jealous disruptor – my voice will not be heard. Better to write stuff down, for people who do not know me and will never meet me, and send my messages out to strangers. I will mostly not hear back, but bizarrely, that is a greater voice than trying to speak in a meeting. And I will be misunderstood. Remember how the song goes – ‘I’m just a man whose intentions are good/Oh Lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood.’ Well, yes, good intentions, I’m full of those. And how easy it is to be completely wrong – completely misguided. So, when I put pen to paper, it is always with the caveat that I could be completely wrong. And even if not wrong, then certainly, and so often, misunderstood. That’s been the thing, these past few years – seeing how inscrutable and bizarrely strange the worldviews of others can be. And then, of course, realising that my own worldview must seem equally inscrutable and bizarre to others. I’ve found myself hating those purveyors of non-violent communication, because they think this can be sorted, just by everyone being honest and straight-forward. It’s an alluring prospect – and one that I’ve believed in myself. Ye,. sometimes, with monumental effort, the rational mind can win out over our instincts. Because, that’s what this whole group dynamic thing is about – rationality over instinct. What’s more, we have customs, procedures, laws, institutions, codes of conduct, gatekeepers, juries and all the rest – there to instil rational behaviour on creatures who, left to our own devices, are liable to go badly astray. And, if I’m honest, I see no alternative to keep trying the rationality route. Morality is a conversation, but there are plenty who think that they are both rational and moral, but whose opinions are far from reasonable. And they may try to force those opinions on the rest of us. So until there are no more bullies or psychopaths, all we can do is to keep trying. Then, one day, a proper conversation on equity, justice, peace and ecology can really begin.