The Discomfort of Conflict, Kindness and Chocolate
I have been thinking a lot about conflict and kindness recently. I wrote a few posts about kindness earlier this year, in the context of leadership and prompted by the sad departure of Jacinda Ardern — a leader who signed off from the world stage as someone who wanted to be remembered “as someone who always tried to be kind”.
My company’s strapline is ‘Deeply Human’. Why? Because my mission is to help create a kinder, more compassionate world — both in and out of work — where people are treated like humans, not like machines, by organisations that care about the impact they have on their workforce as well as on the wider world, and where we lead our lives according to our deepest wishes, dreams and desires.
But the truth is that this being ‘deeply human’ business is really tricky. One reason for this is our emotional responses to the world around us. Personally I am glad we have feelings; they are what differentiate us from machines, after all, and what remind us — through the glory of the joys and delights to the troughs of the pain and disappointment, and everything in between — that we are alive. But they are hard to manage sometimes and can often lead us to bump up against others.
Conflict and disagreement don’t get a good rap, at least not in British culture. We don’t do them well. We don’t really like them. We often seem to prioritise disingenuous untruth and the smooth waters of harmony over truth speaking and risking entry into the treacherous domain of conflict (I know I generalise here, but bear with me). In my professional capacity, I am very comfortable in the role of facilitator and mediator when tensions run high. And in my personal life, my intolerance for disingenuous untruth is definitely higher than my intolerance for conflict. But that does not mean that I like conflict or find it comfortable to experience directly, as various situations in which I have found myself recently have reminded me. This surprises some who assume conflict offers no challenge to me. But this is not true: I learned as a girl, that if you spoke out or didn’t comply, you were punished. And the anxiety about the possible repercussions of my non-compliance, remains with me today. It doesn’t stop me from doing or saying what I think is right. But the discomfort can be acute. I know that I am not alone in this and see others trying to steer clear of conflict, avoiding difficult conversations, pretending to agree or simply disengaging. The implications of this for relationships, creativity and finding solutions to complex problems, are serious. We need more, not less, diversity of thought in our communities and organisations.
And so what about kindness? What possible link can there be? For if conflict is like walking on shards of glass, kindness is surely like sinking into a warm bath? It soothes the nervous system, boosts a sense of wellbeing and even, according to research, increases our chances of experiencing happiness. But how often does it happen? And how do we respond to it when we experience it?
I remember years ago doing some voluntary work for a chocolate company. I left the day with a huge bag of goodies given to me in thanks for my efforts. Despite my immense appetite for all things sweet, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to consume that amount of it and so, on the train back to London, I began to offer it to those around me. To my dismay the majority of people I approached, turned down my offer with looks that ranged from polite confusion to outright suspicion. Why was this woman giving away chocolate? What was wrong with her? My kindness made them uncomfortable!
Last week roles were reversed when I found myself being offered professional help and expertise free of charge. My initial reaction was the same: discomfort, suspicion and disbelief. I just couldn’t comprehend why someone would do this for me. When it was confirmed that yes, this was a sincere act of generosity, I was totally bowled over (moved to tears in fact!) and embarrassingly blubbed my way through an expression of deep gratitude.
It strikes me as so odd that conflict and kindness — two such radically different experiences — should share an ability to generate discomfort in us. We would surely all do well to build our capacity and tolerance for both in order to help create a more deeply human world and to give this experience of being human our very best shot, leaving the world and others in it, just a little bit better off than they were when we started out.
