Community

by Peter Block

  Example: Police and Citizens

  One place where doubt and dissent are least understood is in the relationship between police and citizens. Few civil servants put themselves at such risk or are more vulnerable than the police. No civil servants are literally more physically present in a community than police. They walk or ride our streets, show up when we go out of control. They come to our homes when families are caving in. They also are constantly in community conversations about public safety. These safety conversations can be intense, and this is often because citizens project their anxiety onto the police, and the police absorb the projection and feel that they are on trial and need to defend themselves. This does not have to be true, if we can value dissent as healing in its own way. Not easy.

  At the core, police get into a problem when they think they are responsible for public safety—and when this belief is matched by citizens. The police are not responsible for my safety. Citizens who believe that the police are responsible for safety are avoiding their own accountability. Citizens are responsible for public safety; citizens commit crimes, prevent crimes, and create the conditions where crime is high or low. As long as police take responsibility for safety, they are going to stay in a defensive stance, which moves nothing forward. Police are responsible for enforcing the law, apprehending criminals, and mediating or stopping violence. Police are not suppliers of safety to a passive citizenry. Safety is not a product purchased from the police. When citizens want to place responsibility for safety on the police, and police defend themselves, they collude with citizens’ unwillingness to claim their sidewalks and community as their own.

  Listening is the action step for the police that replaces defending themselves. Listening, understanding at a deeper level than is being expressed, is the action that creates a restorative community. This does not mean that police, in this case, do not need to change or be involved in later problem solving; of course they do, as do the rest of us. It does mean that instead of answering every question, defending their actions, they can ask questions to find out more about the concerns, the doubts, and even the lives of citizens. No one understands this more than Mike Butler, police chief of Longmont, Colorado. One of Mike’s favorite statements is: “For 80 percent of the calls we receive, people do not need a uniformed officer; they need a neighbor.” Wise man.

  This then is a key role of leadership: get interested in people’s dissent, their doubts, and find out why this matters so much to them. Dissent becomes commitment and accountability when we get interested in it without having to fix, explain, or answer it. Granted, sometimes other things masquerade as authentic dissent, which will be discussed a little later.

  “No” Is the Beginning of Commitment

  The dissent conversation begins by allowing people the space to say no. It rests on the belief that if we cannot say no, then our yes has no meaning.

  Each of us needs the chance to express our doubts and reservations, without having to justify them or to move quickly into problem solving. “No” is the beginning of the conversation for commitment. This is critical: dissent is followed by the other conversations. To hold dissent productively is not to leave it hanging there but to see it as a transitional conversation taking us to the other conversations of possibility, ownership, and gifts.

  The fear is that we will make people more negative by giving them room for refusal. The mental model of the ostrich. If people say no, it does not create their dissent; it only expresses it. It also does not mean they will get their way. Restorative community is that place where saying no doesn’t cost us our membership in the meeting or in the community. Encourage those who say no to stay—we need their voice.

  We will let go of only those doubts that we have given voice to. When someone authentically says no, then the room becomes real and trustworthy. An authentic statement is one in which the person owns that the dissent is their choice and not a form of blame or complaint. The power in the expression of doubts is that it gives us choice about the doubts. Once expressed, they no longer control us; we control them.

  Doubt and “no” are symbolic expressions of people finding their space and role in the future. It is when we fully understand what people do not want that choice becomes possible. Dissent in this way is life giving, or life affirming. It is the refusal to live the life someone else has in mind for us. For individuals, it is the moment when we acknowledge that we are not the children our parents, guardians, teachers had in mind for us. We have disappointed others and for too long internalized that disappointment. The moment we say no to the expectations of others about who they wish us to be, the moment we declare, “I am not that person; I am not the son or daughter you had in mind,” our adulthood begins. Just because it took thirty or forty years, this is no time to get picky.

  Same in community. The moment people experience their capacity to dissent or, in softer form, express doubts, and not lose their place in the circle, they begin to join as full-fledged citizens. When dissent is truly valued and becomes the object of genuine curiosity, the chances of showing up as an owner of that circle, that room, that neighborhood go up dramatically. When the police understand this, the relationship changes. The police can then join with citizens in the discussion of how citizens can produce their own safety. This is what works, especially in the most difficult neighborhoods.

  The Distinctions for the Conversation for Dissent

  There is a vital difference between authentic dissent and inauthentic dissent, which we can call false refusal. Inauthentic forms of dissent are denial, rebellion, and resignation.

  Denial means we act as if the present is good enough. It is defense against the woundedness of the present and a rejection of any possibility beyond continuous improvement. Our denial of the destruction of the environment is a good example. Denial in this case takes the form of wanting more data or holding the belief that technology is a god that can surmount any obstacle. Denial often agrees there is a problem, but then trivializes its existence or its cost. Climate denial is really about cost and inconvenience, always the argument against the common good.

  Denial is a defining feature of addiction. In creating the communities we live in, we are addicted to urban centers and rural towns that don’t work for all, to a world of large class differences, to a place where we consider people on the margin not to be our brothers and sisters. We are addicted to accepting the illusion of safety that we get from allowing large systems to control the solutions for our communities. They control the development conversation; they promote their solutions to poverty that require more schooling and more training, and treat people in exile as if it was their fault. Hard to accept that you are a player in creating what you are trying so hard to eliminate.

  Rebellion is more complex. It lives in reaction to the world. On the surface, rebellion claims to be against monarchy, dominion, or oppression. Too often it turns out to be a vote for monarchy, dominion, or patriarchy. Rebellion is most often not a call for transformation or a new context but simply a complaint that others control the monarchy and not us. This is why most revolutions fail—because nothing changes, only the name of the monarch.

  The community form of rebellion is protest. It is noble in tradition, but still often keeps us in perpetual reaction to the stances of others. There is safety in building an identity on what we do not want. The extremists on both sides of any issue are more wedded to their positions than to creating a new possibility. That is why they make unfulfillable demands. The AM radio band is populated with this nonconversation. So is the blog world. Any time we act in reaction, even to evil, we are giving power to what we are reacting to.

  I have heard John McKnight say that advisory groups speak quietly to power, protestors scream at power, and neither chooses to reclaim or produce power. The real problem with rebellion is that it is such fun. It avoids taking responsibility, operates on the high ground, is fueled by righteousness, gives legitimacy to blame, and is a delightful escape from the unbearable burden of b
eing accountable. It brings great value when it occurs; it teaches us, holds us accountable. Occupy Wall Street was a useful wake-up call, but it was too easy to fall asleep after its moment. There was little in its framing of the issue that held citizens accountable for what they do with their money or how they think about their own choice to depart from the free-market culture.

  Resignation is the ultimate act of powerlessness and a stance against possibility. It is a passive form of control. It is born of our cynicism and loss of faith. What we are resigning from is the future, and what we are embracing is the past. None of us is strong enough to carry the dead weight of others’ resignation or even our own. Resignation ultimately alienates us and destroys community. It is the spiritual cause of isolation and not belonging. Beware of resignation, for it presents itself as if data and experience were on its side.

  Here, then, is the point: Dissent, as a form of refusal, becomes authentic when it is a choice for its own sake. When it is an act of accountability. Authentic dissent is recognizable by the absence of blame, the absence of resignation. Blame, denial, rebellion, and resignation have no power to create. A simple no begins a larger conversation, or at least creates the space for one.

  This is most clearly embodied when we realize there is nothing to argue about. Once again, when faced with a no, or doubts, or authentic refusal, we move forward when we get interested and curious. The ultimate expression of useful power is a leader’s saying, “I must warn you that if you argue with me, I will likely be forced to take your side.”

  The Questions for Dissent

  The challenge, then, is to frame the questions in a way that evokes dissent that is authentic. We do not want to encourage, through our selection of questions, any kind of denial, rebellion, or resignation. To circumvent denial, don’t ask people whether they think there is a problem. Or even ask them to define the problem. Do not ask people what they are going to do, or to list the ten characteristics of anything. The way to avoid rebellion is to stop trying to sell or control the world. When faced with rebellion, all we can do is recognize it, not argue.

  Some questions for the expression of dissent:

  What doubts and reservations do you have?

  What is the no, or refusal, that you keep postponing?

  What have you said yes to that you no longer really mean?

  What is a commitment or decision that you have changed your mind about?

  What forgiveness are you withholding?

  What resentment do you hold that no one knows about?

  These are in ascending order of difficulty. The final two are very diffi-cult and should be used with discretion. I always offer them as a possible conversation, for I know that if people do not want to answer a question, they won’t, and no damage is done. We can ask anything, as long as we do not pressure people in any way to answer.

  The key for the leader/convener is not to take the dissent personally or to argue in any way with the doubts that get expressed. If you can genuinely answer a question that resolves the doubt, then do so. Most of the time, however, the doubts are well founded and have no easy answer, so all we can do is appreciate that the doubt was made public.

  The intent is for concerns to be expressed openly, not left to quiet conversations in the hallways, among allies, or in the restrooms. Dissent is a form of caring, not of resistance.

  Conversation Five: Commitment

  Commitment usually comes later in the process, after the first four conversations and some of the work on substantive issues has been done.

  Commitment is a promise made with no expectation of return. It is the willingness to make a promise independent of either approval or reciprocity from other people. This takes barter out of the conversation. Our promise is not contingent on the actions of others. The economist is replaced by the artist. As long as our promise is dependent on the actions of others, it is not a commitment; it is a deal, a contract. A bargained future is not an alternative future; it is more of the past brought forward.

  The declaration of a promise is the form that commitment takes; that is the action that initiates change. It is one thing to set a goal or objective, but something more personal to use the language of promises. Plus, to the extent that a promise is a sacred form of expression, this language anoints the space in the asking.

  Lip Service Is the Enemy of Commitment

  Sometimes we act as if we need to choose between commitment and refusal or dissent. They are friendly to each other, and both are important conversations. Saying no is a stance as useful as a promise. Both offer clarity and the authentic basis to move forward, even if there is no place to go at the moment. Lip service is another story. Nothing kills democracy or transformation faster than lip service. The future does not die from opposition; it disappears in the face of lip service.

  The key distinction is between commitment and barter, but what is most dangerous to commitment is lip service. Lip service sabotages commitment. It offers an empty step forward. It comes in the form of “I’ll try.” It is an agreement made standing next to the exit door. Whenever someone says they will try hard, agree to think about it, or do the best they can, it is smart to consider that statement a no. It may not be a final refusal, but at that moment there is no commitment. We can move forward with refusal; we cannot move forward with maybe. Trying hard is just a coded refusal. Whether lip service is a response to feeling coerced, to a sense of internal obligation, or to just a desire to look good, it is really a way to escape the moment, and it hijacks commitment.

  Wholehearted commitment makes a promise to peers about our contribution to the success of the whole. It is centered in two questions: “What promise am I willing to make?” and “What is the price I am willing to pay for the success of the whole effort?” It is a promise for the sake of a larger purpose, not for the sake of personal return. Commitment comes dressed as a promise.

  Another key is to see the importance of the words “a promise to peers.” More on this later, but peers receive the promises and determine whether the promises are enough to bring an alternative future into existence. Enough to care for the common good. The convener’s task is to direct the eyes and words of citizens toward each other. That is why we have people sit in circles, facing one another.

  What reassures us in this process is that we need the commitment of much fewer people than we thought to create the future we have in mind.

  The Questions for the Conversation for Commitment

  Commitment embraces two kinds of promises:

  • Promises about my behavior and actions with others

  • Promises about results and outcomes that occur in the world

  As suggested earlier, promises that matter are those made to peers, not those made to people who have power over us (parents, bosses, leaders). The future is created through the exchange of promises between citizens, the people with whom we have to live out the intentions of the change. It is to these people that we give our commitments, and it is they who decide if our offer is enough—for the person, for the institution, for the community. Peers have the right to declare that the promise made is not enough to serve the interests of the whole. As in each act of refusal, this is the beginning of a longer conversation.

  Promises are sacred. They are the means by which we choose accountability. We become accountable the moment we make our promises public.

  Depending on our taste and intuition, here is a menu of questions for this conversation:

  What promises am I willing to make?

  What measures have meaning to me?

  What price am I willing to pay?

  What is the cost to others for me to keep my commitments, or to fail in my commitments?

  What is the promise I’m willing to make that constitutes a risk or major shift for me?

  What is the promise I am postponing?

  What is the promise or commitment I am unwilling to make?

  If you really want to ground this conversation, write the promises b
y hand, and sign and date them. Then collect and publish the whole set. About once a quarter, meet and ask, “How’s it going?”

  A note: “I am willing to make no promise at this moment” is a fine and acceptable stance. It is a commitment of another kind. Saying “I pass” is an act of citizen refusal that is ennobling. This means that refusal does not cost someone their membership in the circle. We need to hold the space for that kind of refusal. When we honor the refusal of one person, we honor that choice for all persons. When one person says no, that person is speaking in some way for all of us. Holding space for refusal in the midst of a conversation for commitment gives depth and substance to the choice or commitment all others have made.

  The only act that puts membership at risk is the unwillingness to honor our word. This is the choice to not fulfill our promises or not retract them when we know they will not be fulfilled. Refusing to make a promise is an act of integrity and supports community. Not being a person who honors their word by either fulfilling their promises or retracting when we know they will not be fulfilled sabotages community, and it does not matter what the excuse. This is the bloody trail of lip service.

  Conversation Six: Gifts

  In our attraction to problems, deficiencies, disabilities, and needs, the missing community conversation is about gifts. The only cultural practices that focus on gifts are retirement parties and funerals. We only express gratitude for your gifts when you are on your way out or gone. If we really want to know what gifts others see in us, we have to wait for our own eulogy, and even then, as the story goes, we will miss it by a few days.