Microattunement Part 4: Sites of Learning — the Small Group

In 1943, at a time of European existential dread, Jean-Paul Sartre ended his play Huis Clos with the famous line, “Hell is other people”. His exploration of phenomenological Otherness proposes shame as the original feeling brought on by the realisation of the existence of others — I am just the physical manifestation of my body in their sight, and my only defence against the tyranny of another’s gaze is to transform them in turn into an object for my own consciousness. This view of the struggle for human co-existence (a theme of Sartre’s process of philosophical enquiry rather than his own settled position) might today be read as the apotheosis of individualism, or as a manifesto for the 4chan brigade.

So this is the vortex that we can only escape with the recognition that other people — far from being Hell — are the source of all our living possibilities, and that making peace with others is the key to making peace with ourselves. This means that the crucial site of learning is the midst — total immersion in the lifeworlds of other people who are different from us. But instead of drowning there, we need to learn how to swim. Swimming together is the work of the relational practices we are going to consider in this chapter.

Synchronised Swimming: the Work of the Crew

Following the pattern of Richard’s Microsolidarity, the central and most crucial site of learning for the skills of Microattunement is the unit that he names the Crew. The crew is the small group — ideally around five, six or seven people — whose members have a shared aspiration and who are prepared to work closely and continuously together to achieve a common purpose.

What makes a good crew? The most important quality is difference, because our differences are the source of creative synergy. Yet our conventional methods for understanding and dealing with human difference in our everyday encounters are quite underdeveloped — and so it is a major preoccupation of this proposal.

But first, from twenty years of experimentation and detailed observation, here are some skills of microattunement that seem best developed in the supportive and determined atmosphere of a crew. I’m thinking here of a group of people who are already somewhat familiar with one another — but the same skills apply for a group of strangers who are meeting for the first time.

I’m organising the description of these skills under two headings: those that everyone can master, and those that are a bit more specialised — that depend more on phenomenological difference (differences of orientation) among crew members. The separation is a bit arbitrary, but here goes:

1. Some shareable skills

¶ A check-in. When the crew comes together, how things start makes a big difference to how they can go on. The first step is always to notice and acknowledge each other. And this not just making eye contact with a nod of recognition — though these are important. What works best is to take the time to enable each person to ‘come into the room’. And this can’t be a fixed time: it’s however long is needed for this crucial work.

People arrive from the maelstrom of their own worlds. Before there can be useful work together, there should be a transition from ‘out there’ to ‘in here’. So each person can be given space and time to speak about what’s up with them right now. What have they come from; what are they feeling; what are they ready to set aside in order to be fully present? (Often the first person to speak sets the tone for other people to follow. So it may be a good idea to vary who goes first to alter the mood.)

This kind of beginning is an exercise in active listening, not a space for launching into conversation. The challenge is to focus away from the self (What am I going to say? How will I look in the eyes of others?) towards witnessing the experience of others. What each of us will say is not difficult or needs preparation: it’s about listening to oneself, noticing what feeling arises first…the rest will unfold.

¶ A mindfulness exercise. This is about taking the time to slow right down, to notice the body, to regulate breathing, and to aim to clear the mind of distractions. Proponents of Theory U talk about “letting go” to make room for “letting come”. Because human connection in a group of people is such a complex matter — think of the collision of all those bodily senses and selves that we spoke of earlier — the creative and imaginative potential of a group working actively together can never be predicted in advance. So shared presence that involves the body rather than the mind is fertile ground for spontaneity and novelty. By setting aside preconceptions and immediately burning purposes, there’s room for something unexpected to arise. A sequence of practices that toggle between physical and verbal connection can be very productive.

¶ Voicing unease. This capability is a classic application of the skills of bodily awareness: arising from a sense of discomfort and dislocation that is experienced physically long before it is identified by the conscious brain. In this way it can be present as an acute sensation without a describable cause. The work here is to overcome any hesitation or fear of rejection by coming forward just to name the experience itself:

“I’m not feeling good about something here. I can’t say what it is yet, but I’m wondering if anyone else feels uncomfortable too, so that together we can figure out what’s not right?”

Confessing something that can’t be explained takes courage. But it’s a perfect opportunity to check attunement with the others present.

¶ Avoiding stuckness. Sometimes exchanges in a group conversation become repetitive or circular. Or the group reverts to themes that have been addressed a number of times before without making further progress. Or a particular unhelpful tone or mood reasserts itself.

Stuckness can be a common experience of working groups where habits and repeated patterns of relationship easily emerge. A skilled response means offering a new and unexpected pathway forward. Something like:

“ I think we know we’ve been here before…remember that we got to the same point in last week’s meeting? What if we start from other other end — what would it feel like to have already reached agreement, and then, what might have produced that feeling?”

¶ Noticing diffidence. This is about noticing another person — the sense that there’s someone present who has something to say, but hasn’t quite found the words or the courage to speak up. Sometimes a strong and confident exchange seems to leave no room for a more hesitant intervention. So the trick is to make a move to open up that space, perhaps by saying:

“Can we pause here for a moment? (Introducing a silence.) I’m wondering if there’s an opportunity to hear from someone who hasn’t spoken yet?”

And the same issue arises for voices that have spoken, but haven’t been heard while others have dominated. Something like:

“I don’t know if (this person’s) voice was properly heard - could we hear it again now?”

¶ Working to rhythm. This is a biggie — something that’s been popularised by the adoption of Agile software development practices within the mainstream of collaborative group work. It comes from the recognition that people in groups are motivated by their expectations, and that regularity and predictability of group events strengthens coordination. For an unconstrained curiosity seeker and lover of ambiguity like me, it’s a discipline that I don’t naturally initiate, but I’m always grateful for when I’m part of it.

Agile involves cascading sequences of repetition for organising and reviewing team efforts. I see this as another way of getting into our bodies — of generating physical and emotional synergy in the same way that music and dance do. And using an adaptable existing pattern is much easier than trying to invent a new one.

One useful rhythm is a regular retrospective, where the group reconsiders and reflects on the activities of the past work period. Another is the (daily or weekly) ‘stand-up’, where each person shows what they are working on and solicits help or advice from other group members.

¶ Showing appreciation. The “Yes, and” work. Not just waiting for the pause to rush in with your own response. Recognising that being honest and truthful in the midst of others is an act of bravery. Acknowledging another’s courage in their speaking by drawing attention to it.

A nice way to do this is by physical gesture rather than words. For example, at Enspiral the practice is to use ‘sparkle fingers’ (holding up the waving fingers of both hands).

2. Some skills of difference

These are skills that tend to arise from a certain natural orientation — skills of difference that a group can use to their advantage. They include:

¶ Concern for comfort. Some people are particularly thoughtful about the surrounding circumstances of a gathering, and the ease of everyone present. The skill is in taking the pre-emptive action: it may just be opening a door or window for fresh air, offering a seat to someone who’s not comfortable on the floor (or maybe vice-versa), responding to people’s tiredness, or inviting a toilet break at the right time.

¶ Articulating consequences. The practical skill of teasing out the implications or directionality of what is being considered and laying this out for consideration. The key here is to stay close to the action and to avoid over-interpretive speculation.

¶ Noticing precedents. The sense of history that sees patterns in the present that may echo patterns in the past. The understanding that nothing is ever entirely new, however much we might wish it to be, and that we can learn from the past by paying attention to it.

¶ Uncovering assumptions. This work is tricky. We are strongly socialised into accepting the inevitability of the world as it is. As a result we don’t notice that we’re not working from the natural order of things, but from beliefs that are buried so deep that we don’t recognise them as assumptions. A good example is the pervasiveness of ideas about the moral superiority of individual self-determination, that are baked into education, politics and the operations of all of our institutions.

¶ Recognising habits. Our habits of social conduct are also hard to spot. For example, we have rhetorical practices that seek to distill nuance and complexity into binary opposites: “You’re either for or against us.” In the same way, we look to reduce large-scale uncertainties into defined ‘problems’ that have ‘solutions’ that generate measurable ‘outcomes’. It can be easy to overlook the use of such devices as instruments of power and control. Another habit is to distance ourselves from the experience of the topic under discussion in an effort to ‘objectivise’, rather than speaking from an ‘I’ that has emotions, feelings, noticings and uncertainties.

¶ The art of crystallising. Some people are especially adept at finding a phrase or metaphor that ‘sums things up’ in a memorable way. This is a skill not only of articulation, but also of timing. In Quaker gatherings there is a established role for “taking the sense of the meeting”. It’s a delicate art that never forces or rushes a conclusion, but draws the strands of discussion together in a crystalline image. At the same time, we need to be careful that this device is not simply used for rhetorical or political advantage.

This discussion sets us up for the final Sites of Learning section, coming next, as Part 5 — Larger Gatherings.

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