I wrote the following article at the request of the Order of Ecumenical Franciscans, as part of a series of articles on cultivating community committed to the “ongoing work of living lives of mutual care and accountability as a community.” It is lightly edited.
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The first article in this series brought our attention to human diversity as
“a source of tremendous richness.” And that's appropriate and wonderful, because there’s a lot to celebrate!
But there’s also this other thing, the “ongoing work of living
lives of mutual care and accountability as a community.” Because we
can also stumble over the differences.
I was once involved in an organizational conflict (as a stakeholder, not as a facilitator providing conflict transformation services) where the
board had mishandled an
instance of racial injustice. When called into accountability, they made more missteps. It connected with a history, both
organizationally and regionally, of how people of color have been
mistreated and then ignored. The pattern was simple: people
(especially people of color) spoke up; people in power (almost always
white people) agreed something needed to and would be done; nothing
was done; and the folks who initially spoke up eventually were
exhausted, tired of getting hurt, and became quiet or went away.
This time, however,
the community came together and insisted that things change. It was painful, and the first steps toward
making amends were also painful, as the board fumbled towards becoming accountable to our Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC) communities. And we white folks who were involved had to recognize uncomfortable truths about ourselves and our world, and
then join the process of dismantling the mechanisms of white entitlement and white
supremacy in ourselves and in the organization.
I bring this up
because none of the white people who served on that board intended to
harm anybody, but they still did. They said and did things that
deeply injured people in our community. To make it worse, more than
one board member became defensive, insisting that they had just been
misunderstood, and that, because they didn’t intend to hurt others,
they shouldn’t be held accountable and be asked to change. In fact,
the board’s first public response was to say the call
to accountability was, instead, a defamatory statement that put the board members' careers and well-being at risk.
This is one of the
ways that unhealthy patterns in organizations (and oppressive systems
in general) perpetuate themselves: constantly, though generally
silently, doing maintenance without us ever noticing. Harm often
flows along these well-worn patterns of historical and social
injustice, whether it is racism, sexism, disablism, gender and sexuality
antagonisms, classism, or some other system. As we grow up, we learn the rules of domination
unconsciously. We are complicit, and don’t even know it. This is
one way that harm can be done without us doing it intentionally and
knowingly. And when called to account, we can easily become
defensive. After all, we were just acting according to the rules we
had been taught.
I understand that
defensiveness. It feels spiritually and psychologically uncomfortable
to be faced with something in ourselves that doesn’t align with our
self-view and values. But that is where the work is.
As most of you know,
a great deal of my life has been dedicated to conflict transformation
and transformative justice work. I spend a lot of time with people
who are hurting, and hopefully healing, from conflict, and those
moments are difficult, often devastating, sometimes transformative,
and always sacred. And what I keep learning, through the years, is
that there is always more to learn.
Conflict
transformation is a practice and a spiritual discipline. Although we
may become more comfortable with navigating conflict, and more
skillful and creative in using the tools available for us, conflict
transformation remains more of an art than science. And I can’t
think of a better reminder of our own limitations, or for
opportunities to practice humility. New pain from old wounds may
erupt unexpectedly and suddenly, sometimes stalling or even derailing
a healthy process. And healing can spring forth with just as much
suddenness, sometimes when it seems least likely.
These intense experiences of grief, conflict, and change are also opportunities to reflect again that:
- Change is possible, but -
- Conflict is often rooted in our deeply worn ruts of social injustice, such as racism.
- For those of us in positions of relative power and privilege, our defensiveness can get in the way of even our best intentions, and
- People with relative power and privilege have a lot of work to do and are responsible for doing that work.
It is always easiest
to see the work that other people have to do. It’s harder to see
the work that needs to be done in ourselves and in places we love. As one of the order's documents explains, we
can’t separate our personal growth from this “ongoing work of living lives of
mutual care and accountability as a community.”
So this is the commitment required of each of us, renewing this ongoing spiritual
discipline of transforming conflict and transforming ourselves, of
learning to love and be loved.
