ASSERT AUTHORITY
It is no accident that as a psychologist, my bias is to suggest that our behaviors are learned and, as such, are amenable (in varying degrees) to change. There may be one category of exception, however.
When I teach people about our responses to those in authority, I tend to offer the opinion that much of it is “hardwired.” I often ask my program participants to consider one of the remarkably few, truly universal, aspects of the human experience: because human infants are utterly dependent on others for their very survival, the adults with whom I work have all experienced that dependency as evidenced by their having survived.
When I want to teach about the power of authority, I sometimes focus on a participant in our group and, with a dramatic flourish, tell a brief story:
“Tom, suppose that right now, as we are starting this discussion about authority, you were to glance over to the refreshment table there in the corner. For a fleeting moment you might be tempted by the taste of the orange juice. But then, you recognize that the timing might not be appropriate, and so you wait.
“Then, as I continue to speak, you become aware of a sound coming from the ceiling. You glance up, and see that the tiles are parting. Then, a hand reaches down toward you, but it is not what any of us would describe as an ordinary hand. The hand is nearly four feet wide, and the person to whom the arm extends weighs over a thousand pounds!
“The hand reaches beneath you and in one gentle motion lifts you through the opening in the ceiling. Once up there, that huge person gently holds you and gives you a drink of the cool orange juice that had so tempted you just moments before.
“Then, as if you were as light as a feather, the hand returns you to you seat, satisfied, and happy.
“Tom, at very least, you’d have a story to tell!”
Of course most people find the story funny, but many acknowledge that their hearts are racing a bit (particularly if I do a good job dramatically).
That, I explain, is the universal experience of authority.
With the help of a few examples, it does not take long to convince my participants that the issue of authority is one of the very most important and potentially powerful in the tool kit of skilled facilitators.
How then do conflict facilitators typically invest the important resource of their own authority?
In my experience with many hundreds of talented people who wish to enhance their skills as facilitators, authority is most typically not used at all. I find that most of the people with whom I work abdicate their authority as conflict facilitators at every opportunity.
They usually describe to those whose interactions (whether in conflict or not) they hope to facilitate that they are all essentially equals. They often say, for example, “We are in this together.” They emphasize their peerlike status at every turn.
Having seen this tendency for years, I started to become intrigued (and concerned). I am well aware that people generally understand authority to be something of a two-edged sword, and I would often ask participants to list some of the problems and benefits associated with this powerful psychological reality.
Typically, the problem list was far longer and more detailed than were the lists of positive aspects of the use of authority. Most people were far more aware of abuses of authority than they were of any potential benefits. It was no wonder that they thought some form of abdication to be the best course.
My experience teaches me that when authority is conducted well, those of lesser authority feel safer. They become more secure. Their tolerance for ambiguity increases and with that they become much more creative. Certainly in any interactive setting the potential benefits of these changes can be significant.
In situations of facilitated conflict, such benefits can be crucial.
When the authority of conflict facilitators is used well, it is a profoundly valuable form of support.