—this article contributed by The Professor™—
It seems like a relatively straightforward question, and I have asked it of many people:
It seems like a relatively straightforward question, and I have asked it of many people:
Would you rather have a life that is like
an interesting play or a boring play?
You can guess the response: out of more
than fifty responses over the years, I don’t recall a single person responding:
“I’d prefer a life that’s a boring play, thank you very much.” And of course, it makes sense, doesn’t it? Who
would willingly chose to watch, or live, a boring play?
Well, yes, but when thought about further,
perhaps it’s not so straightforward. Interesting
plays, as dramatists know, are built from one basic building block: conflict.
If I
rephrased my question to ask for a preference between a life filled with
conflict and one conflict-free, most people would respond with “no conflict,
please.” The reader can see the paradox
of this: the same people who long for an interesting life also—in great
measure—hope to avoid conflict through their life.
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| The Professor and wife, making up after a loving argument |
Like an effective, well-tested and lovingly
administered behavioural vaccine, these small doses of conflict helped make us resistant,
if not immune, to worries over conflict.
It was something we associated with interesting daily life; we got good
at it, and we welcomed it (the last thing we would ever have wanted was an
adult umpire to supervise our baseball—how fun would that be? —what would we
argue about between innings?)
Fast forward to a different age:
“Don’t worry Jason, there are two more
bathrooms for you to get ready in if Tiffany is taking too long.”
“Of course, Joshua, there is no need to ask
permission to go to the rest room, it’s a perfectly natural thing.”
On
the playground: “Come on everyone, let’s gather for a fun game of ‘circle of
friends’ rather than that mean old keep-away.
Does someone have to lose to make us feel like a winner?” (Um, yes,
actually.)
“My dad says I can walk wherever I want,
and if you threaten me, he will tell the principal, who has a zero-tolerance
bully policy, and you’ll be in big trouble.”
“Well, Melissa, if you REALLY don’t want
those beans, I suppose your body just doesn’t need them—my parenting book says
if we put an assortment of healthy foods on the table, children will NATURALLY
eat what’s good for them.”
It’s important to make one thing clear: no
one wants to ignore the horrible and widespread cruelty that can grow up and
fester among groups of any kind. That’s not the conflict I’m encouraging. No one wants people to get tuberculosis
either, but the key to containing TB is not administering preventative antibiotics
to everyone who sneezes. There is a point
where conflict becomes dangerous or pathological, and as a society we must be
observant and deal with it, but insulating ourselves from every day, garden-variety
conflict sows the seeds of something more subtle but almost as detrimental: an unconsciously
fearful avoidance of conflict of any kind.
I can recall any number of married couples over
the years that have said to me or my wife (often contrasting themselves to us):
“oh, we never argue.” I can’t recall,
though, many of these people who are still married. Those who are still married
and never argue are, with the exception of the saintly—in a word—boring (which
is trivial compared to the advanced condition of the disease: unhappy.)
Today’s “confliphobics” may be right: It
may be better to work in an environment in which raising your voice when you feel
strongly is considered “hostile and intimidating.” It may be more comfortable
to have a carefully measured exchange of e-mails rather than a face-to-face conversation. And perhaps a professionally “facilitated”
workshop is superior to gathering for a drink or two after work.
Our workplaces are increasingly populated by
generations who have apparently grown up in a way so that even the spectre of
conflict prompts avoidance behaviour and perhaps a call to HR services. Many work environments have evolved in such a
way that discourages a person to share what they really think—even if
thoughtfully and carefully expressed—especially if they are not a member of a “protected”
class of employee.
The geezer in us wants to judge, but how
fair is that? We who have been given the
vaccine have little fear of such situations: we’ve built up a healthy supply of
conflict-resolving anti-bodies. But
really, pity the poor people who have reached
(chronological, anyway) maturity without developing this protection—without
a way to deal with the everyday conflicts that inevitably develop between
individuals who are thinking and caring; and who have enough respect for their
fellow workers to share what they think. Maybe there is somewhere that everyone
thinks the same, and there is no conflict (See: 1984 or Brave New World.)
Another theory, which I ascribe to, is that
the only time there is no conflict is when no one cares. The more one cares, the more probable it is that
you will come into conflict with others who care as well. AND THIS IS TO BE MANAGED (and celebrated,)
NOT AVOIDED. The inevitable conflicts
that arise when people care should be valued—it is the sign of a culture that
is alive and well. Yes, it must be
treated carefully (like you treat all valuable things), and we all need to work
on our conflict-related skills. We need
to continue to practice and strengthen our abilities to turn conflict into art,
the way the great dramatists have done for ages. It’s how we make our lives into an
interesting, artful play.
