When is a Difficult Person not a Difficult Person? Negotiating Across Worldviews One‐on‐One

“Worldviews” are the core values, expectations, beliefs, and motivations that consciously or unconsciously affect human behavior. Because it is hard to know exactly how worldviews affect our behavior, let alone the behavior of others, I discuss here a more accessible—although imperfect—proxy: the degree to which we perceive someone to be a “difficult person.”

Some people believe that worldviews are fixed. However, I and many others believe that worldviews are malleable, changeable, and not always in sync within ourselves, let alone in sync with the worldviews of others. Our worldviews may be altered by events and by the worldviews of people to whom we pay attention. In addition, we know from contemporary neuroscience that our rational (“system two”) thinking often comes up with rationalizations for intuitive, infraconscious (“system one”) feelings and directives for action (Kahneman 2011). Thus, I may intuitively act on the basis of my worldviews, below my conscious understanding of decision making—and my system two brain may contribute a rationalization for why I acted as I did. In the same way, if my intuition prompts a change in my behavior, my actions may change, and my rationalizations may change also, in order to justify my change in behavior.

In sum, because so much of what goes into a “worldview” happens out of sight, it is not easy to know the worldviews of others—and at times I may not even be certain about my own worldviews, as many are fashioned below the level of conscious thought. But what I am likely to recognize quickly is whether I find it easy or difficult to negotiate with another person. I came to think about this early on in my work as an organizational ombuds at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT).

Observing the ways that some people negotiated easily and well with different tactics—even, or especially, with people they saw as difficult—helped me to understand the many “sources of power in negotiation.” When I began to teach a negotiations class at MIT Sloan, real‐life cases helped in forming my teaching list of “Sources of Power in Negotiations.”¹ And, indeed, all of the case‐based examples below, about dealing with a “difficult person,” draw on well‐known sources of power in negotiation theory. Ultimately these experiences and the underlying theory have led me to pose the question in the title of this article: When is a difficult person not a difficult person?

“You are a very difficult person!” A distinguished senior officer of MIT burst into my waiting room and came right into my office.² He was holding a furled umbrella high over his head, shouting angrily, “Where should I go if I want to launch a complaint against you? You are a very difficult person!”

It was 1973, the year that MIT hired me as Special Assistant to the President and Chancellor for Women and Work. As an early type of organizational ombudsperson,³ my office served as an open door for MIT's nascent “integrated conflict management system” (Rowe 1984; Society of Professionals in Dispute Resolution 2001). Everyone at MIT was welcome in my office, with any kind of work‐related concern or idea.

In “MIT‐speak,” my office was configured as a “zero‐barrier” office attached to the Office of the President. I was expected to be completely confidential; I did not keep any case records for MIT. My position required me to be independent and impartial—albeit with a special concern for issues related to gender, race, and religion. I had no management decision‐making power or powers of redress. No one could be required to come to my office; using my office was entirely voluntary. Theoretically, the barriers to seeing me were—and were meant to be—as low as possible, to encourage people to share with me their concerns or ideas.

I had kept a low profile for months as I learned about my new job. I was taken aback at this man's anger. I explained that anyone could complain to my two bosses about me. I reflected on a “Rule of Naval Psychiatry” as taught by Dr. Chester Pierce—a renowned Black, Harvard Medical School and School of Education professor, and psychiatrist at MIT and Massachusetts General Hospital: “Never meet hostility with hostility.”

I turned to my visitor with a quiet question, hoping to understand, “Why do you find me ‘very difficult?’”

As it turned out, some of our worldviews and values were different. My visitor understood (correctly) that I had suggested to other senior officers that a meeting about the future of the MIT/ Wellesley Exchange might include women undergraduates. The women students had requested that some specific information be gathered before any decision was made about the Exchange. I had therefore pointed out that a particular decision perhaps ought not be made without the women students' input—and in any case, maybe the decision ought not be made immediately. It turned out that my visitor had a different point of view. Our worldviews were not the same with respect to who should be allowed a vote—or even have a voice—about university decision making.

However, some of our worldviews and values were much the same. As I remember, we later bonded a bit about issues of race, a bond I was very happy to deepen. I had returned to the U.S. from some years in the Caribbean and Africa. In WWII my visitor had served with Black servicemen, at times as a lone white officer. Decades later, he was deeply committed to MIT's advocacy and actions on behalf of people of color—especially Black students, whose opinions and perspectives he thought warranted consideration. In later discussions about equity, I could always find a “bridge” with him on an issue if there was any connection with race or color. He began to send cases to me. Although I think he truly did not accept me—a woman—as an equal, perhaps I was not always a difficult person for him.

The interaction set me thinking about difficult people. What makes a person seem to me to be a difficult person? And when is a difficult person not a difficult person—or, at least, less difficult? In the context of this special issue on negotiating across worldviews, under what circumstances can worldviews appear less different, and a negotiation less difficult?

I recall the senior faculty member who, in their first visit, railed at me for perhaps an hour about the MIT Medical Department, upset because doctors had not immediately cured their painful repetitive strain injuries. I spoke no more than twice in that hour, unable even to ask a question. However, in many discussions about many topics over the next few years, after the injuries had healed and my visitor was no longer in pain, I listened, deeply interested, to the same faculty member. This person was now a thoughtful, balanced, generous, hard‐working colleague—respectful of me, respectful of others—and, also, respectful of the Medical Department.

Then there was a time when senior officers consulted me about several faculty who had suddenly morphed into “being impossible,” as they fought about dropping specific departmental requirements for undergraduates. I listened at length to these faculty—who were polite and friendly with me—and, also, returned to being their collegial selves in the department when their views about departmental requirements were heard and addressed.

On another occasion I met with a researcher who at first was rude and self‐centered, whom I suddenly found delightful at every subsequent visit. What had changed? The researcher had undertaken to teach me about the culture and history of their academic discipline. I was fascinated and grateful as I learned more about the worldviews in that discipline. That researcher has been, ever after, a kind colleague.

I began to take notes for my own guidance and to share with other complaint handlers and my MIT Sloan students. In these days of war, genocide, terrifying hate speech, lethal and near‐lethal disagreements about vaccines, and “cancel culture,” our need to consider the worldviews and values of others appears, anew, with every dawn. Some of the ideas on the list below may at first seem a bit far afield from “differences in worldviews.” As noted above, the concept of a “difficult person” is an imperfect proxy for the concept of a person with different worldviews. Moreover, some worldviews might not yield to any idea on this list. For example, there are people who perceive reality so differently from almost everyone else that none of these ideas would likely make much difference.

However, each idea on the list below is an everyday behavioral example of how and why one's own points of view and the points of view of another may shift.

Trust builds most quickly outside the stated agenda of a given negotiation. With “swift trust,”⁴ I may begin to see the other person as less difficult:

• When I perceive the “difficult person” to be “like me” or like someone I love.

• When we share some hobby or skill, or prior experience, or suddenly discover that each of us respects—and is respected by—the same mutual acquaintance or mentor.

• When we laugh at some of the same things and laugh together fairly frequently.

• When we are alone, together, and the person relaxes because there is no audience.

• When all the issues at hand are or have been depersonalized.

• When there is a deeply emotional situation outside the context of the present negotiation, like a major loss, and we offer emotional support.

• When I see that “difficultness” is just the person's outward style and learn to trust the integrity and motives of the “real” person.

During the negotiation, I may perceive the person as less difficult (depending on the context):

• When my surviving or thriving depends on the person. (The enemy of my enemy is my friend.)

• When this person is less difficult than the alternative partners or opponents.

• When we all are focused on a common goal and immersed in the work or when we face a common risk or a common enemy.

• When the person suddenly agrees with me about something important, listens to me, or is helping me.

• When it is useful for me for the person to be difficult (e.g., with someone else).

• When someone other than I can interact with the difficult person—someone who does not find the person difficult and/or whom the difficult person does not find difficult.

• When other people are around and “being observed” constrains the difficult person.

• When the person recognizes superior power and relevant rules, and calms down. (Powerful people are sometimes only constrainable or constrained by other very powerful people.)

• When the person is sanctioned, and their unacceptable behavior is stopped effectively by serious sanctions.

The difficult person may see me differently and therefore seem less difficult:

• When their surviving or thriving depends on me or my team.

• When the “difficult person” is well prepared—as compared to their norm of unpreparedness—and they are ready to make their own decisions.

• When the person recovers from acute illness or injury, fear, rage, bitterness, loneliness, or anxiety.

• When the person has just been widely appreciated/recognized/rewarded for genuine achievements.

• When the person feels no threat or offense from me and the people around me.

• When I remember to “negotiate the negotiation,” consistently embodying my commitment to fair processes, and demonstrating appropriate respect for the status and role of the difficult person and their team.

• When the person feels I am acknowledging their present interests—and will hold to my words.

• When I can acknowledge and affirm the rights—and especially the dignity—of the person and their team.

• When I listen and communicate in the figurative and literal language(s) of the person, including following any cultural norms of offering reciprocity for their accommodations.

• When I have been able to provide to the difficult person an unexpected helping hand, elegant solution, or bit of vital information for some personal or professional issue outside the stated agenda.

• When I have made a genuine apology to the person, or they to me, or we to each other.

When thinking about “negotiating across worldviews,” a negotiator may mentally recast each sentence above in terms of intangible and tangible interests, sources of intangible and tangible power and influence, and the intangible and tangible realities of context. The intangibles are likely to be at least as important as the tangibles in dealing with difficult people, as we reflect on the core emotional concerns of our partners and opponents.

There is another possible use for a list like this: reminding us of what to avoid. Each idea on the list has a bleak reverse image. Experienced conflict management practitioners and negotiation theorists will recognize the potential for a different path—of destructive behavior—and the potential for a downward spiral. That is:

• Trust also dies most quickly outside the stated agenda, when none of the sentences in the first section is true, or worse, the opposite is true.

• Over time, in the course of a negotiation, I may come to view the difficult person as ever more difficult, and the difficult person may come to view me as ever more difficult, if the opposite of each sentence in the latter two sections is true.

As we consider each of the ideas above, it becomes clear that the intangibles are usually at least as important as the tangibles when trying to deal with “difficult people” or people with different worldviews. These ideas may be useful both in terms of potential support, and as guidance for errors to avoid, when negotiating across worldviews.

This essay owes a great deal to Drs. Chester Pierce, Clarence Williams, Daniel Shapiro, Donna Hicks, Joel Cutcher‐Gershenfeld, Robert Cialdini, Robert Fein, Robert McKersie, Roger Fisher, Thomas Kochan, and Thomas Zgambo, and Toni Robinson, J.D.