The other day I wrote a post looking at religion as an emergent container of meaning making that is both difficult to define and important in civic life. I’m writing this as a person who is religious to the extent that I practice within and belong to a 100 year old mainline Christian tradition with a mixed history in civic affairs, the United Church of Canada. It was involved in the establishment of both residential schools and public health care. It has championed and supported global solidarity and peace work and no doubt has left people feeling hurt by actions of its leadership. It was the first church in Canada to ordain gay and lesbian ministers and an early adopter of same-sex marriage. In many ways my life has been shaped by this tradition, even the two decades or when I wasn’t an active practitioner in a congregation.
As I have worked with many churches and faith communities of all kinds, I am acutely aware of the influence that religion can have on civic life. I am acutely aware that that is often “not a good thing” especially in this day and age. In the post I wrote the other day I was trying to explore how religion functions as an emergent product of a set of constraints. My basic idea is that religion itself is difficult to define and therefore difficult to either adopt or throw out in terms of its influence on civic affairs. Those of us that belong to religions have very different conversations about the role of religion in civic life than those who do not. Very few of my friends are religious, but with those that are, critical conversations about the role of religion in society are very different with them than with those who simply reject religion at all or say it should be a private matter.
Today I awoke to a beautiful Christmas present (yes this is the liturgical season of Christmas). My friend AKMA, an Anglican priest, Biblical scholar, and critical thinker, read and reflected on my post and offered some beautiful responses offered with grounded and gentle assertions from the perspective of one who inhabits a religion. He shared some sources which inform his thinking (knowing that I will chase these down for further reading!). Most importantly, he shared from a place of deep lived truth, with his characteristic humility and respect:
” I should own up that I take my faith and the sorts of congruent Christian discourse as true and real in a more than merely notional way. That applies even in a way that excludes other ‘religious’ claims. That’s just part of what I take believing to mean, and I’m keenly aware of the risks and presumption baked into that. At the same time, I know and recognise that other profound, admirable, illuminating people do nothold to what I believe, and some believe things that my faith contradicts. Since I have no specific reason to think I’m cleverer or more pious or more receptive to divine revelation than these among my neighbours, I must hold to my faith with a humility that obliges me to treat people’s divergent faiths with the respect that I’d wish them to show mine. I have more to learn than one lifetime…so I can’t by any means rule out the possibility that my Muslim neighbour has arrived at the true, real way of faith and I am wrong about many particulars.
All of which is to say that where Christian nationalists take their faith as a warrant to oppress others because they can’t imagine that they’re wrong, I take my faith as an obligation to honour others’ faith up to the point where our claims conflict, and there to handle that conflict as gently and respectfully as circumstances permit.”
His whole post is worth multiple reads, because what I think he is saying in response to what I am writing is that he isn’t necessarily interested in my framing and exploration of religion-as-container, but instead in sharing the way in which his participation in his religion guides his participation in civic life. And he does so in such a nuanced and expansive manner that it validates the point I was trying to clumsily make in my original post.
Viz:
The tricky task set before us entails finding a modus vivendi by which we who hold to particular exclusive claims about human flourishing can honour and respect people who take a different view, but who still want to live in a civic community with us, and how we can work together to minimise the damage done by fascist-nihilists who will contentedly imprison, torture, kill anybody who gets in the way of their implementing their will.
This is what I mean by religion as a powerful dialogic container. It is a bounded space of shared identity and meaning-making. Inside it, you see these conversations with contemporaries and with ancestors who have carried a deep questions about how we live together. AKMA’s distillation of such is an example for me about the role that religion plays in both personal and civic life. It feels brave to say it aloud. Thanks AKMA.
A mural at St. Andrews-Wesley United Church in Vancouver showing the ending of the Noah’s Ark story as if it happened on a BC Ferry.
The word “religion” does a a lot of heavy lifting. But actually finding a way to define it in a way that is useful turns out to be surprisingly tricky.
The scholar and minister Wilfred Cantwell Smith, whose book The Meaning and End of Religion (1962) had meticulously detailed the belated emergence of the ‘religion’ concept in Europe, long maintained that talk of ‘religion’ conflated too many things not to cause mischief, and urged that we give up such talk altogether; we should, instead, speak of faith and ‘cumulative tradition’. The anthropologist and historian Daniel Dubuisson, who anathematised ‘religion’ as a 19th-century Western imposition on non-Western worlds, urged that it be replaced with ‘cosmographic formation’. These evasive manoeuvres, in turn, have met with scepticism. As the social theorist Martin Riesebrodt drily observed, neologisms like Dubuisson’s could doubtless be shown to ‘have also been “constructed” through historically specific discourses’ and revealed as ‘instruments in the linguistic battle between classes or cultures.’ Besides, he pointed out, those who would eliminate the term ‘religion’ seldom manage long without it.
So how has ‘religion’, as a concept and category, endured in the absence of a stable definition? To answer that question, it may help to think about how referring expressions do their referring. Some terms keep their grip on the world even as our understanding of what they denote changes radically; others, once central to serious thought, fall away when their supposed referents are deemed illusions. What distinguishes the survivors from the casualties?
The interesting question here is seeing it as a space of meaning making, and therefore as a kind of container. From that perspective we might look at the constraints that give rise to the idea…the attractors, boundaries, connections and exchanges that create the unique identity that defines the emergent phenomenon of a religion.
If ‘religion’ endures, it’s because the word still does work, practical and theoretical. It orders law and policy, directs research, and shapes the inner lives of those who use it. Sociologists can enquire into its relation to charity or suicide; psychologists can study its connection to prejudice or wellbeing. In the United States, legislators and judges must have a sufficient grasp of the category that they can balance the [American] Constitutional dos and don’ts of ‘accommodation’ and ‘non-establishment’. For the religionist, meanwhile, it continues to name a space where meaning is made, defended or denied. Whatever else it may be, ‘religion’ remains a category with too many stakeholders to be fired by fiat. When it comes to what the word means, no one gets to say, and everyone gets a say.
This is such an interesting article, because I think emergent containers are very important in human experience and, as noted above, those we call “religions” play a more important role than others such as, like allegiances to a sports team, professional associations or, in some cases, citizenship. Like all dialogic containers. I think religions are emergent phenomena, which is why “no one gets to say, and everyone gets a say.” They are evolving spaces of meaning-making, and they are dynamic. The kinds of exchange for example, the rituals and liturgies of practice, are always changing. What happens in my little rural church on Bowen Island is very different to what happened in the volcanic tuft caves in Cappadocia, but there is a line of continuity between the two. Complex systems have path dependency, that is, they evolve and develop based on what has come before, which limits the ways in which they will likely change in the future.
Understanding containers of meaning through the constraints that give them rise helps us to understand how they change and why. Religions change, both in the object of their focus and in the ways in which they practice. Simply saying things like “religion is the problem” actually doesn’t bring useful tools to the conversation about the role of religion in civic life. Religions that are deeply exclusionary in practice, and place rigid boundaries about what is right and what is wrong, may nevertheless internally be places of deep community practice. Indeed, public social services, health care and education systems emerged out of religious institutions and in secular societies, the state took over these roles partly as a program of secularization.
I think there is a place for the containers that we call religions in our world. I think they can be places inside of which people polish their goodness and practice the full range of capacities that are needed to build a world of peace. And I think they can also be harmful cults, which do untold damage through violence, abuse, coercion and exclusion. Like all containers. Religion is nothing special, except that it is accorded a special place in our civic life, even in self-described “secular” states.
If the problem is that civic life in a place is dominated by the separations promoted by some religions, the answer may involve looking elsewhere within the container for the kinds of practices that help to build a civil society. A society that is evolving, growing and changing is doing so in complex ways. Those of us that are helping to make change (and helping to stabilize continuity) need to be careful not to take entire containers of human experience and throw them out. That is a form of colonization and erases and negates some of the ways in which human beings draw sustenance.
We can instead talk about what it means to create and build a society based on principles and practices of human dignity and peace and care and seek multiple sources of inspiration and expertise in designing these while at the same time collectively addressing places where people are dehumanized, killed, hated and excluded. Thinking about the ways we make meaning together from a constraints-based perspective helps me to see that the resources for doing so can be everywhere.
For several years I have been teaching online about the constraints that give rise to containers. I have a bunch of exercises that I do with people to give them a felt and embodied sense of “container” while we are online.
Today Matt Webb shares an interesting experience related to that:
A few weeks ago I was on a zoom call where someone had a standing mirror in their room in the background. I’ve never seen that before. It kept me weirdly on edge throughout like it violated some previously unstated video call feng shui or something.
(I had another call in which the person’s screen was reflected in a shiny window behind them and so I could see my own face over their shoulder. But that seemed fine. This was not the same.)
My disquiet came because the mirror was angled such that it showed an off-screen part of the room. I could see beyond the bounds; it broke the container.
The very best way to learn about dialogic containers is to notice dialogic containers. Where are the spaces inside of which you make meaning and how are they enabled? Carry that question with you.
We are deep in the rainy season here on the west coast of North America. I’ve been reflecting on my year of work and noticing a few patterns that are coming to mind as I think about the kinds of questions that our clients have been confronting this year. I don’t know that these observations are especially novel, but they do represent patterns that I have seen this year. they also represent places where I think our work can be helpful.
Something of the bigger context.
As it always has been. But that bigger context is currently full of austerity, fear and polarization. Much of our work is within the non-profit and public sector, and our clients have all been facing declines in funding, uncertainty about the future, skyrocketing need from their own clients and a deep questions about using their leadership to confront polarity and division in their organizations and communities.
It used to be that we were confronting a “scarcity mindset” where we feel to recognize the wealth of ideas and leadership that we actually have. This leaves leaders and organizations retreating into their own shells as they try hard to shoulder the responsibility of the work. Often in our organizational development work, we could do things that lift our eyes up a bit and help activate the leadership throughout the organization.
These days, on top of that dynamic, I think we’re facing an “austerity mindset” whereby that wealth of talent, attention and money is still present but it is actually locked away and not available to us. It has been concentrated elsewhere and everyone seems to be preparing to simply do without it.
I’m certainly not 100% sure of this shift, but it feels like the issues leaders are confronting are shifting in ways that we continue to explore with them and their teams, and my colleagues as well. What helps at this time is continued connection and sophisticated situational awareness to see and name what is happening and to be honest about what is available to work with. Maybe, dear readers, you are seeing it too. All work happens in a context and being able to name this context is important, without getting lost in it. I wrote about this back in September.
Five year strategic planning is dead.
The Covid-19 experience seemed to finally put to rest the typical five year strategic planning process. Everyone now has practical and tangible experience of how the best laid plans can be knocked sideways. And in the last year or two, as organizations have been recovering from Covid, they have no been hit with massive uncertainty in the world, including cuts to their funding. And it very much seems irrational, arbitrary and determined by bigger dynamics that are outside of the control of the organizations we get to work with.
In response, the kind of planning I have been asked to do more and more this year is about scenario planning and arriving at a set of practice principles that can help organizations lead towards a variety of futures. I do love this kind of work. It has relational benefits of visioning and dreaming together, but is rooted in deep and practical need for on the ground responses. I’m not an expert at operational planning – and there is always a need for that kind of work – but bringing people together to think about futures and develop some shared resourcefulness about responding to what might happen is useful.
Connection is needed but trust is shaky at the centre.
I have had a blog posts sitting in my drafts for a little while that talks about how we can move from centralized planning and control towards a more networked form of leadership. Ever since I ran across Open Space Technology in 1995 I have seen the need for this, because as Harrison Owen (who we lost in 2025) observed, Open Space activates an organizational structure of shared leadership and responsibility that is latent in any group of people. He called it “The High Performance Organization” and it checks a lot of boxes for what leaders want: engaged staff, ideas and responsibility sprouting up all over, connected and self-organizing teams that are working in a common direction, but meeting challenges where they are at.
The problem is that such networks really depend on the ability and willingness of organizational leaders to open up space for that to happen. We spend a lot of time in our longer engagements working with senior leaders to help them sustain their ability to truly trust the folks in their groups to do the work. It is sometimes a hard thing to bootstrap, but once it gets going, these types of networks can be quite powerful. Central leaders and organizations become conveners rather than resource sinks, and work becomes meaningful. It requires leaders to do the work they are uniquely positioned to do but to release to the community work that can be better done at the edges.
In the little supporter-owned soccer club I am a part of we do this but having our core leadership care for the fiduciary and technical responsibilities or the club and the rest of us live by the principles of “Assume your talents are needed, and proceed until apprehended.” In this way we activate community and true ownership over what we are doing.
And speaking of polarities…
This kind of things means that polarities abound: centralized control and distributed responsibility; continuity of tradition and new responses to emerging conditions; maintaining fiduciary obligations while stretching beyond; focus on the core external offering and building interior connections and development. Every planning process I have been involved in this year seems to hang on one or more of these polarities. Often the conversations about need and purpose start with an acknowledgement that both sides of the polarity are needed and the challenge is to lean into the skills and talent we have to do both. As contextual uncertainty has increased, our clients seem more willing to wrestle with these polarities rather than simply seeing their current conditions as a problem to be solved.
As always, we need to be thoughtful about how we think about change.
We are living in a world which seems to be revelling in ignorance about complexity. Every problem now seems to have a simple answer, with predictable and brutal results. We are fed this line in our civic conversations too, organizational realities and personal lives too. Social media algorithms have shaped our ideas about what is happening in the world and what we should do about it. I think complexity literacy is more important than ever. Just being able to think about the different kinds of change out there TOGETHER helps us to make sense of things in a more useful way and in a way that builds more relationships and therefore more resilience. Some of my go to frameworks for helping folks understand how change happens, the Cynefin framework and the Two Loops framework, continue to be extremely useful for helping people describe the spaces they are in, and chaordic planning has stood the test of time for collaboratively designing responses to these kinds of conditions.
AI is helping us delude ourselves into believing that we don’t need craft, or the ability to confront uncertainty with relationality.
It used to be fairly common that a client would discover that I was a facilitator and hand me an agenda and ask me to facilitate it. Its the reason I wrote the chaordic stepping stones guide in the first places, so that we could explore the possibility space together and design something that was fit to needs instead of simply rolling out a best practice. This year was the first time I received agendas generated by ChatGPT and asked to facilitate those. It took me a moment to figure this out, but I think that many people are probably asking their favourite large language model to give them an agenda for a two day strategic planning process. We are witnessing a massive cultural crises stemming from the destruction of craft across all the arts including music, writing, visual arts and process arts. Designing and facilitating participatory work is a craft. the two go hand in hand. One would never give an accomplished artist a paint-by-numbers set and ask them to use their technique to fill it out the way one wanted. Or hand a musician a piece of music to play that has notes in it, but no sense of development, harmony or rhythm.
Artificial intelligence is excellent at giving one the impression that the uncertainty they are confronting is easily solved. The tools that we currently have access to are extremely powerful aids to help with facilitation work, but they simply cannot replace the craft of relationship building and the time it takes to do work that generates meaningful contribution and ownership and sustainability. Facilitators and participatory leaders need to continue to develop the skills to work with groups of people in increasing complexity, within decreased time frames and a climate of austerity, polarization and uncertainty. Our chatbots are incapable of understanding what we know when we enter a space like that, but those of us that fear the ambiguity of these spaces can find ourselves retreating into the comforting certainty of a set of answers that come from what appears to be a divine and omniscient source. We just have to be careful not to lose the ability to sit together and figure something out. Keep watching sports like soccer and hockey. Keep making music with each other. Exercise the feeling and abilities that we have to make and undo things together without knowing where we are going or what might happen next. Move together, slightly slower than you think you should be, and seeking surprise along the way.
Stories and shared work are helpful.
I had a lovely call the other day with Cynthia Kurtz and Ashley Cooper are some folks Ashley is working with around using Participatory Narrative Inquiry to work with stories in communities and organizations. I continue to use that collection of methods for dealing with difficult and complex situations, including future scenario planning, because my experience has been that making sense of grounded stories together is the best way to engage with the uncertainty and opinionated conversation that passes for civic dialogue. I’m interested in methods and processes of civic deliberation and address conflict with process design. How can we bring difference into governance without confusing it with conflict? How can we work with conflict without confusing it with violence? This is not an area I have ever been comfortable in, but I have found that stories and circle are the best way to have a group of people dive in together on shared work that helps differences become resources and helps conflict become co-discovery. In watching the current kinds of conversations we are having in Canada around things like Aboriginal title, it’s clear that folks with opinions not rooted in actual experience have a hard time even beginning to understand issues, let alone seeing ways in which reconciling differences can be the work of a mature politics, and a potentially defining characteristic of the Canadian project.
So these are some of the things I have seen this year and I expect that these are threads that will continue to grow and bloom in the coming year too. I’m really interested what YOU have noticed?
My friend Holger Nauheimer is busy working on The Human-AI Facilitation Manifesto (LinkedIn link). Here is his most recent draft:
- Perception is plural. Humans sense emotions and atmosphere. Al sees patterns and structure. Together, they reveal deeper coherence.
- Meaning emerges in relationship. Al offers structure, but humans bring the stories that make sense of the structure.
- Belonging is human. Al can stabilize language – but trust grows only between people.
- Depth matters more than speed. Al adds value not by optimizing, but by making visible what is hard to say.
- Neutral clarity is a gift. Al can name tensions without judgment — offering safety without shying away from truth.
- Courage is shared. Humans bring vulnerability. Al brings steadiness. Together, they hold the uncomfortable without collapse.
- This is not a tool upgrade. It is a shift in attention. Hybrid facilitation expands what can be seen, said, and sensed.
- Clarity is not authority. Al can hold patterns, but humans must hold responsibility. Hybrid facilitation works best when projection is named and agency stays human.
Here are some thoughts I have on this, simple thoughts, thoughts off the top of my head. Starting points.
First of all, I’m not loving the “AI does this, humans do this” construction of this manifesto. I think we shouldn’t put humans and AI on the same footing. If we want a manifesto to talk about how AI can be an aid to facilitation and sensemaking, we should talk about what it can do, and what it currently cannot do. I think there is always a place for human beings to talk about facilitation and also what OUR role is in it, because honestly, some forms of what passes for facilitation (especially the wrong processes used in the wrong contexts) can be more damaging than just letting AI ask you a bunch of questions and leaving your group to talk about them.
So given that…thoughts on these points.
Perception is plural. I don’t think AI “perceives.” At least not the AI that most of us are using in 2025. It analyses, and uses algorithms and probability tables to auto complete thoughts. It can be trained to be agreeable or be contrarian or be a nazi or whatever. But it doesn’t “see”. It offers material that becomes one more part of the information load that humans take in. But how humans perceive AI output matters a great deal. Some might dismiss it. Some might give it a kind of divine appreciation. I’m already seeing lots of blog posts starting with “I asked ChatGPT, and this is what it said…” as if ChatGPT is somehow more perceptive, or smarter or has access to better facts than anyone in particular. Perception is something human beings do. We do it individually, and we do it together in groups. Computers don’t perceive. And computers don’t understand depth. See below.
Meaning emerges in relationship. Yes. 100% yes. AI offers structure the way a banana offers structure, or a photograph, or a stray feather. AI does not offer the kind of relational meaning making that humans experience together because it does not have the same cognition that humans do. Human beings can take any object and use it to craft a ritual and stimulate new thoughts and experiences. This can be very helpful, in that it can introduce oblique stimuli into an environment and help us find new thoughts and ideas through association, metaphor, interpretation, cultural norming or culture breaking. We use tools like Visual Explorer or poetry and art for this in group work, and AI is an excellent source of obliquity and ambiguity precisely because it is capable of NOT being in relationship. We are capable of actionable insight that triggers a particular process in our brains that not only makes meaning, but does something to the relationship and the relational field as a result. Builds community, friendship, love. Or hate, and despair and panic. AI isn’t doing that.
Belonging is human. Which follows from the above. AI has no role in belonging. A person belongs when they are claimed by others. if you find yourself being “claimed” by AI, be careful. You are being manipulated.
Depth matters more than speed. Sometimes. Sometimes not. It depends. To AI, everything is speed. Has anyone asked AI to take its time and let its thought process really deepen? To go for a walk and let its brain tense and relax in ways that open new pathways? Nope. AI delivers things fast. I’m not sure it is capable of what we mean by “depth.” We perceive depth as a vertical axis of meaning. We order thoughts and experiences by whether they are shallow or deep. It has nothing to do with speed. AI, I suspect, uses flat semantic structures. It is associative. It would not understand depth the way you understand depth, as perceiving something being more meaningful in this moment to you and your context than not. If you say the word “John” right now it might mean nothing to you. But that was my father’s name and as I type it I look up at the picture I have of him I drinking our last whiskey together, a dram of Ladaig 10 year old malt, chosen because it was the distillery closest to Iona where I finished a pilgrimage in 2018, and because we were talking that evening about spirituality and remembering the drams we shared together on our trip through Ireland in 2012. But to ChatGPT 5, what does “John” mean? ““John” feels like an everyman name. A placeholder for the ordinary person — anyone and no one in particular” (emphasis the robot’s, not mine). Oof.
Neutral clarity is a gift. It is very hard for a human being to offer neutral, clear feedback to another person. But AI will not spare your feelings. My favourite use of LLMs is to critique my writing and ideas, tell me where I am wrong, where others will disagree with me. Tell me where I am about to make a fool of myself.. This is a helpful function.
Courage is shared. I feel like relying on AI to give me courage is foolish. I feel like I need courage NOT to rely on it. For example, this blog post. I’m writing it and dashing it off so Holger and others can reflect on it, and so OI can thinking out loud on these issues. And I’m not going to give it to ChatGPT for feedback. I am noticing that THAT requires more courage than hiding behind something that might polish it up. If I was publishing in a journal, I’d want that (and a good editor). But right now I’m wanting to write a fully human post in my own voice, so YOU all can weigh in and tell me what YOU think too, without using your LLM to critique it.
This is not a tool upgrade. Indeed. It’s just another tool. Not THE tool. Not a phase shift in how we do facilitation. I have seen facilitators discover a new tool like Open Space Technology and evangelize the hell out of it, saying that it should be used everywhere all the time and in exactly the same way for everything. Humans can be very good at creating and using tools, but we have also evolved practices of apprenticeship and mentorship in using and then making tools. AI doesn’t replace that. We need good mentors to apprentice to as facilitators. And then we can think about how to use our tools well.
Clarity is not authority. I don’t think AI offers any special clarity, and I do not think it has a lock on seeing patterns. Humans are exceptional at spotting patterns. Our brains are possibly the most complex things we know of in the universe (although as Steven Wright once said, you have to think about who is telling you that!). We are built to spot patterns. And we are full of filters and biases and inattentional blindness. We are prone to enacted cognition. We are neurodiverse and cognitively gifted in different ways. And so working with others helps us spot patterns and validate useful ones. If AI is part of your pattern spotting family, so be it. Just realize that it lacks all the tools we have to make sense of patterns in complexity. It can only work with what it has got. Its processes of insight are reducible. Ours are not. They are emergent.
That’s me. What do you think?