Bringing Peace Into the Room Open Access

When I began teaching negotiation at Harvard Law School, one of my first tasks was to choose a teaching assistant. Relatively quickly, I came across a dynamic familiar to anyone who does hiring: the subterranean, yet palpable, affinity for those like me. I was not necessarily attracted to similar demographics or even style. Indeed, over time, I worked with men as well as women, quiet students as well as extroverted ones, tall and short, blonde and brunette, analytical and emotional. Nonetheless, when I look back on all the teaching assistants I have hired there is one strong unifying factor that links them together: I like people with whom I agree. I am drawn to people whose philosophy resonates with my own. I choose people over and over who think the way I do about negotiation, mediation, facilitation, and life in general.

So, it is with that admitted bias that I offer my strong recommendation for Bringing Peace Into the Room. I like it a lot, perhaps because I agree with so much of what it says. In fact, I love this book not only because I agree with its core premises but also because I see it in the context of a nascent trend in our field to explore domains beyond rationality. In other words, I appreciate the content and the existence of the project itself. As an advocate for harnessing the power of intuition, inner wisdom, and spiritual intelligence in negotiation and conflict resolution, I applaud this collection of essays for its important and timely propositions.¹

Bringing Peace Into the Room begins with a foundational essay by editors Daniel Bowling and David Hoffman. Their essential premise is that the personal qualities of the mediator have a direct and powerful influence on the course of mediation. These attributes, which they call “the combination of psychological, intellectual, and spiritual qualities that make a person who he or she is,” tend not to be the focus of mediation training. Instead, in what they call the first and second stages of development, beginning mediators are taught technique and theoretical frameworks. Bowling and Hoffman propose that in a third stage of development, mediators should focus on their own personal qualities. Ultimately, they believe, these are the attributes that will either enhance or limit the conduciveness of the environment to resolving the conflict.

Bowling and Hoffman make an important contribution to the field because their perspective has direct implications for any mediator. These authors tell us that as we achieve mastery as practitioners, mediation is less about what we do and more about who we are. It is our presence in the room that matters — not only our physical presence but the “personal power” or “force of personality” that we bring to the table. From this view, it follows naturally that later stage professional development for mediators is inseparable from maturation in personal and interpersonal development.

This message resonates with me deeply as I sense a new moment emerging in the dispute resolution field when those of us committed to managing conflicts on the outside will increasingly understand that we must focus intently on the inside. We should do this because as mediators, we ourselves are the resource; we are the vessel, we ourselves — not a scalpel, a gavel, a wrench, or a keyboard — are the tool we use when parties turn to us with their delicate, intimate conflicts.

Many cultures over the centuries have had communities with elders, sages or tribal chiefs to whom to turn with serious disputes. Those helpers were effective in part because of socially constructed authority. But, in large measure, those wise men and wise women held a society together because they had cultivated a lifetime of wisdom and the community recognized their acumen. Today, mediators are filling the void of high priests and priestesses. Where the elders might have performed a reconciliation ritual, we are called on to provide a system of private ordering in the “shadow” of the rules and force of the legal system. And at the end of the day, it will be our wisdom — not our toolbox of skills nor our stable of concepts — that will enable us to play the role that our postmodern society needs us to play.

To do this successfully, I completely agree with the authors that we must cultivate our inner qualities. We must recognize, as Bowling and Hoffman invite us to do, that our task is less about doing mediation than it is about being a mediator. To understand what that means, I believe we can look to the great wisdom traditions for guidance.

The Prayer of St. Francis offers an image of a practitioner from which mediators can draw inspiration. Regardless of whether they have a concept of a divine Source, I suggest mediators can use that invocation as a model for how to think about themselves as a resource for positive change:

To my mind, this image transcends that of the mediator as a skillful — if detached — third party negotiator. Rather, it paints a picture of a person who makes a difference by his or her sheer force of being. In essence, in the third stage of development, we need to learn to become a “channel of peace.” If we seek to promote reconciliation, empowerment, and recognition (Bush and Folger 1994), or even a simple settlement, we need to learn to “bring peace into the room.”

When I think about the cases I have mediated, what stands out are the poignant moments — the dramatic expression of emotion, the revelation of surprising information, the turn toward a new perspective, the ultimate meeting of the minds. Early signs of these prospects can be nurtured or squandered. This, in turn, means an opportunity for movement will manifest or get lost. That critical difference depends not only on mediators’ skills and capacity but also on their insight.

In mediation, the portals to change often open when you least expect. Little in the current training on skills or core concepts enables a mediator to identify those essential moments. Ultimately, in order to use a significant opening upon which an entire case may turn, mediators need to sense the moment approaching. It is not enough to seize upon a given chance for progress. We need to see the possibility and help it emerge. In regard to either problem solving or transforming a relationship, this ability to anti-cipate the pivoting point and bring it to fruition goes beyond active listening to the voices of the parties. It reflects the ability to hear the music of the process. It is this deep listening that allows a mediator to foster and sustain the environment needed for change.

Paradoxically, the opposite is true and equally important: some moments in intervention are not about facilitating change, nor should they be. They are about the ability to accept what is, exactly as it is, without needing it to be different. Sometimes the parties’ opinion of what is fair is simply very far apart. Sometimes the parties are devastated and hold each other responsible for their pain. Sometimes one party yearns to meet and talk, while the other prefers distance and minimal dialogue. It is here that a mediator’s basic facilitation skills are best complemented by equanimity, resilience, and compassion.

A central portion of the book focuses on the role of the folkloric trickster and its relation to the role of mediator. It begins with a lengthy essay by Robert Benjamin on “Managing the Natural Energy of Conflict: Mediators, Tricksters, and the Constructive Uses of Deception” and is followed by a short companion piece, “Trickster, Mediator’s Friend,” by Michelle LeBaron. Both essays invite us to look to myth and stories of oral traditions for the trickster role model. The first piece offers a strong conceptual paradigm of the trickster example. Benjamin’s piece does a nice job of using a specific case study of the fabled trickster Loki to illustrate connections to mediation.

The comparison of the mediator to the trickster opens the mind as it challenges conventional wisdom about useful and even acceptable characteristics of a mediator. Furthermore, where several of the essays offer more standard lists of “personal qualities,” the use of the trickster image is a refreshingly creative doorway into the room of style and traits. However, in its presentation, the first piece in the trickster essay dyad is too long and makes its core points several times. It meanders to more topics than its specific frame can hold. Still, Benjamin’s message is a thought-provoking idea of the mediators’ role, both in society in general and, more specifically, when mediating a particular case. Although I don’t agree with all of its premises, the essay offers a provocative vision of the mediation craft.

While the latter part of Benjamin’s chapter loses some focus, the earlier portion presents an engaging discussion of approaches to problem solving. Among other things, Benjamin challenges the dualisitic thinking which permeates Western culture. He rightly points out that mediators, like tricksters, transcend facile dichotomies such as right versus wrong, good versus evil, hero versus villain. Indeed many of us have experienced the simple truth that, as Benjamin reminds us “problems so framed are essentially unresolvable.” Instead of getting trapped in this bifurcated world, mediators and tricksters thrive in ambiguity, enabling them to develop a third, more unified perspective.²

In his quest to break down false dichotomies, Benjamin presents a wonderful overview of the history of rationality and argues for the integration of the powers of wit and instinct. In a discussion of “systematic intuition,” the author explores the need for mediators to work simultaneously with subjective and objective information. Encouraging a holistic approach, he makes it plain that reason alone will not suffice:

With this thesis, Benjamin joins his co-authors on the theme of integration. In their first essay, Bowling and Hoffman offer the comparison of mediation to a living system. They draw extensively on the thinking of systems theory and examples from the “new sciences.”³ These approaches reject the traditional image of isolating parts of a unit in favor of treating something as a “meaningful, organized whole.” In the context of mediation, author Michelle LeBaron of the second trickster piece describes this as “aspects of conflict unplumbed by our scientific and fragmenting analyses: the whole of it, the dance of it, the paradox of it” (p. 138).

Benjamin further elaborates on this general topic with the particular integration of reason and intuition. In this area, Benjamin makes a contribution by giving us good language for the integrated stance our field is just starting to explore. “Systematic intuition” is an idea that blends the analytical rigor of reason (systematic) with the instinct and perception of insight (intuition). I particularly appreciated the phrase because I am a fellow traveler, together with my colleague Marc Gafni, on the road to new vocabulary to describe previously elusive phenomena.⁴

To quote an age-old axiom, “one gains power over an [object] by calling it by its real name.” As so many of the essays in Bringing Peace Into the Room aptly address, the first tasks in this emerging area include generating new terms of art. In a later essay, Sara Cobb emphasizes that Alternative dispute resolution [ADR] is . . . more than the sum of its parts, and the resulting mystery remains inexplicable within the vocabulary of ADR” (p. 216). It is clear to me that making the dimensions of presence, mindfulness, and spirit viable and useful in managing conflict requires us to find the words to make them visible, describable, and discussable. Benjamin, Cobb, and their fellow authors in this book move us an appreciable distance in this direction.

As presented here, the mediator as trickster offers an intriguing and counterintuitive take on critical moments. The trickster character is wily and clever. Free spirit that he is, the trickster does not feel constrained by typical norms of behavior. As both Benjamin and LeBaron describe, he is a boundary-crosser, playing by his own rules. When this figure manifests as a mediator, she uses all sorts of unconventional strategies and techniques. These include, for example, the constructive use of deception and paradoxical injunctions, or the intentional creation of dissonance and confusion. In the extreme, Benjamin explains, some trickster prototypes “use outlandish behavior to shock actors or parties toward a new perspective . . . [Other] tricksters use outright deceit to con targeted parties into reconsidering their actions despite themselves” (p.108–109). While Benjamin distinguishes between the behavior of the mythic trickster and the modern mediator, he encourages us to look to our folkloric friend as a teacher of critical moments.

Of course, these unconventional tools are not ends in themselves. They are a means to foster a pivotal moment in the mediation during which a necessary shift can take place. “[T]ricksters and mediators shake up the situation and cause a certain amount of confusion so that the disputants might have an opportunity to gain a different perspective,” Benjamin writes. Rather than seeing the mediator in more stereotypical ways as the warm, empathic listener who honors the parties by creating a “safe” environment and process, the practitioner in this view purposely rocks the boat in the service of moving things forward.

The trickster model used by Benjamin and LeBaron thereby resembles the theory of crisis induction described by expert family therapist David Kantor (1985). The couples therapist similarly “induces a crisis” within the couple for the ultimately constructive goal of addressing how the couple deals with conflict. Thus, the mediator in this mode of practice would bring about a breakthrough moment with a range of off-the-beaten-track techniques. While the situation might look messier in the short run, the goal of these tactics is to use that moment for ultimate long-term good.

Throughout the book, all of the authors (including several not specifically mentioned here) offer thoughtful commentary on its two core questions: what are the important personal qualities of a mediator, and how do those characteristics impact the process of conflict resolution? For those interested in reflecting more on those issues, I highly recommend any of the chapters in this book. To my mind, however, two essays in particular stand out as speaking to the heart of the matter. These are “Mediation and the Culture of Healing” by Lois Gold and the final essay by Daniel Bowling, “Mindfulness, Meditation, and Mediation: Where the Transcendent Meets the Familiar.” In these essays, the authors give us a wider lens through which to view the entire discussion. And it is that lens which leaves the reader motivated and inspired.

I hesitate to summarize Gold’s piece because I wish that all mediators would read it in its entirety. Indeed, as I continue my own writing and teaching in this emerging domain, I will quote often from this essay and require all of my students to read it. In this chapter Gold clearly and eloquently makes the case for transcending our current norms of practice. In its place, she advocates for the embrace of higher intelligence — both our own and that of the parties — to guide us in the powerful and potential-rich experience of mediation.

In her piece Gold asks us to broaden our thinking about our roles as mediators. We are trained, she says, as “conflict technicians, not conflict healers” (p. 184). Gold believes we can bring ourselves into the practice at a deeper level by posing two essential questions: “How can we remain connected to the highest and best within ourselves? How can we inspire the highest and best within our clients?” Like the opening chapter in which Bowling and Hoffman encouraged us to develop ourselves, Gold thinks we need to look within to improve our effectiveness on the outside. “There is more to all of us than the elements of the dispute, and calling all of who we are into play is the untapped potential of mediation” (p. 185).

Like her colleagues throughout the collection, Gold values the intangible qualities of the mediator as a person in addition to his or her skill-set. Taking a step that few of the other authors do, Gold attempts to break down the elements of “presence” into discrete, specific categories. She further elaborates on numerous practices that a mediator can experiment with in order to explore this dimension of practice. These include the use of intention setting, the use of silence and reflection, and the use of ritual. Further, for those more interested in — or more comfortable with — cognitive approaches, Gold offers a range of techniques in this arena as well. Gold’s tone is confident and open as she sets out her paradigm. For those looking to take mediation to a new level, I cannot recommend this essay highly enough.

In the end, the book closes in the most appropriate place: not with a theoretical argument, nor a catchy metaphor, but with a directly personal experience with meditation, and an invitation to a commitment of individual practice. In the book’s final essay, Daniel Bowling shares his own journey with meditation. As we follow his mind jumping from thought to thought during a retreat, we understand what he means when he says that what we call “thinking” often isn’t that at all. His anecdotes demonstrate his claim that we must learn to control our minds if we are to have any hope of achieving authenticity of being. And “only then do we have a chance to bring peace into the room” (p. 271). Like his peers before him, Bowling urges us to inquire after “presence” and to make a place for it inside.

In the final essay, Bowling makes another important move. He links the person we are on the inside with the world we inhabit on the outside. In the world around us there is so little peace. “The world is desperate for peacemakers,” he writes.

From my perspective, by bridging the need for peace in the world with the call to meditate, Bowling echoes the teaching of His Holiness the Dalai Lama:

In essence, the question Bowling asks us — and ultimately that the book asks us — is whether we will make a choice to cultivate qualities in ourselves that make us instruments of peace. Will we take the time to learn, to ask questions, to experiment, and finally, to integrate some form of developmental practice into our lives? Will we make a decision to become the thing we hope to foster, to embody and express the peace and reconciliation we work to bring forth in the world? The moment we make that commitment, we open the door to bringing real peace into the room.