“My grandmother was the one that inspired me,” said my friend Liz over lunch at the Valley Inn in Bella Coola. “She said that the world was once all together, and then it came apart and one day it will be all together again. So I just try to bring things together.”
Liz is a pretty remarkable woman. She worked for years in family reunification in Vancouver, bringing together First Nations kids with their birth families, reconnecting them to their culture and communities. She is at home now in Bella Coola on council, working for the Ministry as a social worker, but always about bringing people together. The reason I am here, for these two days of community conversations, is simply to be a part of designing and hosting community meetings that do that.
The Nuxalk Nation reserves sit in this stunning valley, at the mouth of the Bella Coola River, where it meets the ocean at North Bentinck Arm, still nearly 150 kilometres inland from the open Pacific coast. At the Bella Coola town site is an old cannery, an icehouse and a wharf. There are a couple of hotels and restaurants, a Coop store, some repair shops and and RCMP station. Across the street from that is one of the Nuxalk communities, an old part of the reserve called “Downtown.” It mostly consists of old Department of Indian Affairs Housing, never designed for the wet climate of the Pacific coast, some trailers that house the band office and a couple of community buildings and a playground. Yards are full of mullein, plantain and blackberry bushes and the occasional carved headstone can be seen in a yard. A small creek winds through the reserve and joins the river on the north side of the community. At this time of year there are people out on the river, drift netting their food fish, gathering coho for canning and smoking. The Nuxalk fisheries personnel are trying to find some sockeye to take eggs from so they can stock some of the streams and lakes around the territory. Like everywhere the fish are dwindling. In the past, oolichans ran through here in the millions, but now only a handful return in the early spring and the once rich Nuxalk grease, one of the healthiest human produced foods in the world, is now gone.
Up the river from here is the newer community of Four Mile, a subdivision of larger lots and larger houses. Kids roam around on their bikes and young families are out walking. The houses look like any rural subdivision but there are telltale signs you are still on Nuxalk lands. Poles dote the neighbourhood, carving studios take up garage space, and the occasional lawn has a fish boat parked on it.
As the Bella Coola valley winds eastward, a few more communities dot the landscape – Hagensborg is the biggest, another 10 kilometres along highway 20. It is an old Norwegian settlement, and here the houses look bigger, more durable, and on large lots featuring manicured lawns and gardens. No one is outside, the kids get dropped off from the school bus and head right inside in contrast to the reserves, where the kids scatter in all directions after school. As highway 20 heads up towards Williams Lake, it climbs the “hill” a steep grade of narrow switch backs with no guard rail, that is said by some to be the most terrifying drive in Canada. If you don’t fly out, or leave for Vancouver Island far to the south by ferry, this is the only way to go.
This is the valley in which I have been working this week. A place of stunning natural beauty and deep social alienation. Liz and the Nuxalk elected chief, Spencer, were both fed up with the kinds of community meetings that have been going on for years, where people come and yell at one another, where anger becomes unbottled rage and questions are asked that have no answers that will ever satisfy. Both realized that how we talk to one another is important, so we agreed to try an experiment, and see what might happen if we ran meetings using participatory methodologies.
The first day was a World Cafe, which I wrote about earlier, and yesterday we tried an Open Space meeting for a general community meeting. As is not uncommon, we started very late, once people had arrived, and a pot of moose stew appeared and everyone was settled, it was 5:00 – 90 minutes past the posted opening. We had about 20 people sitting in a circle wondering what would happen, and I was wondering the same. Most folks were Band employees, present to give information and participate in conversations as best they could. A number had been reluctant to come because they had no idea what would happen, and feared community members being out of control. “How are you going to stop people from getting on their high horses?” one man had asked me. “I’m not,” I replied. “But the way we do this will lessen the chance of that happening.” He wasn’t convinced. It was as if I had just described the concept of magic to him. I clearly knew my stuff, but that didn’t make me any more in touch with reality.
After a prayer and a quiet opening welcome, I stepped into the circle, with really nothing but an invitation to talk differently. We had not been able to do very much planning, and the notices for the meeting had only gone out to the community a couple of days before. Still, the invitation was to move from some visioning that the community had been doing for an Indian Affairs mandated planning process, to something more based in what the people wanted. I walked the circle, explained the process, reminded them that they had the power to set the agenda, and waited for what might happen.
Always in Open Space meetings, there is this moment of being on the edge of the complete unknown. All of the preparation and time spent building the invitation and the theme and the question usually pay off in that moment. If we have done all of that right and produced a strong social field, the ideas flood into the centre. But there are times when the conditions don’t tap the passion of the community, when people just remain confused about why they are there and what they are supposed to do. When they haven’t seen through their cynicism far enough to even listen to the instructions. Those times only happen if there has been little preparation in the community or organization. Open Space is not a magic wand – it does not automatically generate participation. Invitation is the magic wand and Open Space is the place where the magic can happen. Yesterday, I feared that the wand had not been well used. That we would be staring at the floor between our feet for a while.
But sometimes passion trumps preparation. It turns out that in Nuxalk, there are plenty of things to talk about. Life is hard for most people. There is 90% unemployment, the fish are disappearing, huge scale land rights issues loom over the heads of 1600 people, the language and culture is hanging by a thread, youth are drinking and drugging and getting pregnant. It’s no wonder really that people shout at community meetings. It’s the last place to rail against the morass of conditions that keeps these communities poor and out of the loop. The last place where people can feel their power, even if it comes at the expense of others.
So last night, as I sat down, four people rose up and we were off. One Elder who had been a vocal critic of how bad the Council was at communicating with the people convened a session on how she wanted to see it done It felt at some level like there was some forgiveness buried in her question. Let’s move on, she seemed to be saying. Let’s figure out how to do this better.
There were similar sentiments around jobs and youth and culture and language. Ten small groups were formed, and there was lots of visiting over the next hour as we did all the sessions in one time slot. Laughter broke out all around the room. More community members, who had been hanging around the outside of the hall, joined us. Liz picked up a conversation that she had started two years ago when I had been here before working with her. She introduced people to her idea of a community house – an intergenerational space where people could gather and be with one another.
As we gathered in the circle at the end, we talked about what it felt like to be working like this. People had a good feeling towards one another. I asked when was the last time people had left a community meeting feeling good. There was hearty laughter. “Never!” said one Elder, her eyes wide with the absurdity of the question. “Feels good now though,” she said.
We have a choice. We can meet in ways that get nothing done in the name of “information sharing” and “accountability” or we can meet in ways which allow our hearts to set the agenda, and our hands and feet to see it through to action. We didn’t begin massive amounts of work last night, but we cracked open something – a possibility that it could be different. Hopefully we opened a jar out of which choice flowed. As Thomas King once said, you can’t pretend not to have heard the story If you were there last night, you would have seen and felt something different. You can spin it to say some guy came up from the south and ran this kooky meeting and we talked in small groups. But no one who was there can deny that it DID feel good at the end. We felt like something was accomplished.
What do we dare choose now?
Liz reminded me that when we worked together two years ago, a young woman uttered a phrase that is stark in it’s power and implication for communities like Nuxalk: Leadership is seeing the beauty in others. It’s to draw together the world again, as Liz’s grandmother says. To heal by making whole, which is not to say fixing everything, but rather to bring things closer together.
As we left the hall last night, Spencer, the chief, waved at a man coming across the playground. He was a “trooper” one of the small number of chronic alcoholics in the community who have the hardest time of all. “What’s happening Spence?” the trooper cried out. “Community meeting,” replied the young chief getting into his truck. “We were just talking.”
“Oh, mmmhmm,” said the trooper. “That’s good.”
Share:
A cafe today, with littler preparation on the ground and a tricky issue in a community, but a good result today and some good learnings about harvesting. Here are my notes:
Before we began the chief invited us to stand in a circle to pray and to have some introductions. I was introduced and invited the group to find beauty in the work here, identifying what they really cared about for the education of their young people. We stayed standing in the circle for a half hour while some of the Elders talked about how hurt they had been over the past several years as the work the community had done to set up and govern the education system had gone sideways. They expressed frustration at the lack of communication and transparency and a perceived lack of respect for the community’s voice and the hard work that the community had done over the years. They talked about having more meetings, and more process to include people deep in the work of building support for the education system.
When people are stuck, you cannot move forward without acknowledging where they hurt. You cannot sweep pain and feelings of injustice under the carpet. People who are willing to stand for principles and stand for their beliefs need to be heard and acknowledged. No amount of defending or apologizing for the past will always do the trick either. In fact defending leads to more stuckness and no one ends up getting what they want. Concerns need to be heard as interests and as rooted in deeply held views about how things should work. The Elders in this gathering are talking about a process that they can be involved in and an education system that they can be involved in. It’s clear and to avoid that or design a system that does not makes space for their voice or passion does not transcend the pain and bad feelings that are the residue of the catastrophic collapse of the education board in years past.
To get through messes, simply listen, acknowledge, suspend beliefs and assumptions and make sure you hear people clearly and that they are heard clearly.
What do we want for education in this community?
We began with this question. The first two rounds of conversation focused on it. From there we asked: In a perfect world, how would our community be involved in education? We then finished in a circle again.
Part of the art of hosting is dealing with fear. I am so sure of the importance of a strong field being in place that when I work in a place where the field is weak or wobbly I fear that nothing will take root. But good questions are like weed seeds. The can thrive in some of the most depleted environments. And those first seeds that fall and sprout in depleted or barren ground make plants that make more soil. Lichens and mosses break down rock and create mineral soils that larger plants can grow in. Likewise, sometimes you just need to work with what you’ve got – design a question that assumes the best intentions of a community and drop it in and see what happens. People choose their engagement in cafe, they make decisions all the time about who to be with. In many subtle ways those decisions actually work towards optimal. During the evening, the law of two feet took over in this cafe. Many people were visiting with the Elders to hear what they have to say and the Elders were strategically visiting with others to make sure people understood their perspective. This is the field of good soil that is created by a good question and the freedom for people to engage. It’s by no means a garden of rare and wonderous plants, but with careful tending, the meager harvest from tonight could at least represent a change in the life of the community around this issue.
Share:
In the US right now, the health care “debate” is raging and town hall meetings being held across the country are being deliberately hijacked by those who don’t want to see reform go ahead. This tactic is discouraging but predictable. “Town Hall” meetings are not usually conducive to democratic deliberation, and they are never about dialogue.
Over the past few days an amazing conversation has unfolded on the National Coalition for Dialogue and Deliberation listserv about what these events mean for deliberative democracy. Tom Atlee has summarized a lot of the learning from these in a long blog post which is a keeper:
I want to take a look at the dysfunctional health care debate as an opportunity for evolutionary action. Not because health care is more important than other issues, but because its current dynamics exemplify the kind of transformational potentials we will face over and over in coming years, as the multifaceted crises of our time unfold. Understanding the dynamics of this currently disturbing event may help us prepare better for each new wave of opportunity.
Go have a read: Are Disrupted Town Hall Meetings an Evolutionary Opportunity?
Share:
Reading David Holmgren’s book on Permaculture right now, sitting on my front porch overlooking the garden that we have created using some of his principles. I love the permaculture principles, because they lend themselves so well to all kinds of other endeavours. They are generative principles, rather than proscriptive principles, meaning that they generate creative implementation rather than restricting creativity.
At any rate, reading today about the principle of Design from Patterns to Details and in the opening to that chapter he writes:
Complex systems that work tend to evolve from simple ones that work, so finding the appropriate pattern for that design is more important than understanding all the details of the elements in the system.
That is a good summary of why I work so hard at teaching and hosting important conversations in organizations and communities. Very often the problems that people experience in organizations and communities are complex ones and the correction of these complex problems is best done at the level of simple systemic actions. Conversations are a very powerful simple systemic action, and serve to be a very important foundation for all manner of activities and capacities needed to tackle the increasing scale of issues in a system. Collaboration, dialogue, visioning, possibility and choice creating, innovation, letting go of limiting beliefs, learning, and creative implementation are all dependant on good conversational practice. If we use debate as the primary mode of communicating, we do not come to any of these key capacities; in fact debate may be the reason for these capacities breaking down.
Conversation between people is a simple system that is relatively easy to implement and has massive implications for scaling up to more and more complicated and complex challenges. The ability to sense, converse, harvest and act together depends on good hosting and good conversation.
Share:
Lovely day here in Marin County hanging out with friends and charting some interesting paths forward on a few projects. One highlight of the day was spending time with Amy Lenzo, who I have known for a while but met only one time previously when we were on an diverse and eclectic team of facilitators holding space at the Pegasus systems thinking conference a couple of years ago. Amy is, among other things, the web goddess for The World Cafe community and we spent a lovely lunch at the excellent Buckeye Roadhouse talking over the nature of our work, the ways in which we look at the art of hosting within rich social spaces and what is at the core of our approach to things. We were reflecting on what the World Cafe, Open Space, Berkana and Art of Hosting communities (among many others) have in common and it comes down to these four things – archetypal patterns if you will:
- The source pattern for our understanding of group process is the circle
- The source pattern for leadership within that process is “hosting” or facilitative (or “holding space“)
- The source pattern for design of process is diverge – emerge – converge
- The source pattern of our worldview is living systems
These four patterns form a set of foundations about our practice. They stand in contrast to foundations of group work for which:
- The source pattern for understanding group process is the traditional school room.
- The source pattern for leadership is the teacher or command and control
- The source pattern for design is linear: moving from point A to point B
- The source pattern for worldviews is mechanistic.
These distinctions are useful because the source patterns serve as an invitation. If you find yourself in alignment with the first set of patterns, you’ll probably find kin in the Cafe, Open Space, Berkana and Art of Hosting communities. If you relate more to the second set you ‘ll probably find yourself engaged with people from more traditional training backgrounds. There is certainly a time and place for both, and the skillful application of one or the other sets of foundations is what is brought by artful process practitioners.