Last month, a chance encounter with the CEO of another
organization in the hallway set off a chain of events that, three weeks later,
found me sitting in a mediation session with two warring colleagues. I work for
a charity in a building shared by other charities, surrounded by charitable
people for whom alternative dispute resolution is an easy sell. The reasons for
this, however, require an uncomfortable acknowledgment of a variety of
stereotypes that I don’t feel secure enough to list.
The colleagues in question, despite both self-identifying as
reasonable people, could not quite reach a resolution on their core
disagreement. My strategically placed grapes and custard creams could not
de-escalate the palpable tension in the room, with anger and frustration
fizzing almost visibly in the air. And yet, despite the thickly oppressive
atmosphere blinding my optimism, many smaller, bite-sized agreements were made
collaboratively, which, in the moment, gave me hope—and perhaps the parties hope—that
further resolution could be reached post-mediation. Sadly, that was not the
case.
Having submitted a post-mediation report and tendered my
invoice, I received a friendly but disappointed email from the CEO, dismayed
that a more thorough resolution could not be reached. Her words did not
explicitly judge my abilities. In fact, I’m relatively confident that they
didn’t judge my abilities at all, explicitly or implicitly. Yet, I couldn’t
shake the feeling that I was supposed to get them the result they wanted,
rather than the result the participants found. Of course, I am aware that if a
peer, employee, or student of mine were to seek my advice on a similar
situation, I’d assure them that they, as the mediator, are not necessarily
responsible for the outcome—and certainly not for the perception of that
outcome by a non-participant, commissioner or not. And yet, as is often the
case, it is hard to take your own medicine.
And so, the question is… is it a mistake for a mediator
to care about the outcome of a mediation?
Lest I be accused of simply moaning about perceived judgment
of a less-than-favorable outcome by a commissioning partner, this applies to
seemingly positive outcomes as well. In the very same week, I received an email
to thank me for group mediation work that took place about a year prior.
Generously, in fact, I’d say overly so, the sender shared a substantial amount
of credit with myself and my co-mediator for transformative effects within the
staff team, along with personal anecdotes of her own mediation-inspired
empowerment in her role. I was, I am not ashamed to admit, beaming from ear to
ear as I strutted like a peacock to share the good news with my mediation
partner.
My overwhelming desire is to own at least a piece of this
positive outcome. And why not? Mediation can be a tough gig—one filled with
moments of vulnerability and disappointment. Surely, we must celebrate the
“wins” lest we lose hope in the whole process. What then do we have to offer
our clients if hope is taken off the table?
“Overall,
sustaining hope in individuals after long-drawn conflict will not be successful
without a hope-mediator, armed with creative pathways, distinct goals, and
commitment to help disputants exit their conflict environment for a better
life.”[1]
I believe that mediators instinctively understand that
instilling hope in their clients is a valuable, significant, and necessary part
of their role. Hope that change can happen and that things can be better in the
future, starting now, in this place and time. To suggest that when those
changes, improvements, and future successes appear, we are not to accept any of
the credit—or at the very least, find some joy in our contribution to the
outcome—may be to fundamentally misunderstand why many of us step into this
arena in the first place, surely?
If I must accept my role in the “hope” of mediation, must
I accept my role in the “disappointment” of mediation?
Of course, a compelling argument may be that these successes are not only present in the outcome of the process but embedded within the process itself. Recency bias may see many—mediator included—unable to recall recognitions and empowerment shifts that took place in the first hour of the mediation if the second hour is defined by back-and-forth bickering and a crushing lack of resolution. A protective maneuver for the ego-bashed mediator may be to say, “Well… they didn’t get an agreement, but…” followed by a list of hastily patched successes desperately clawed back from the brink of defeat. And yet, when in pre-mediation with our clients, reaching a positive outcome is undoubtedly near, if not at the very top, of their hopes for the session. If this desire for a positive outcome is shared by both parties, and we agree to mediate their case, how can we not feel disappointed? Perhaps we should feel disappointed that we couldn’t help them get there—not because we don’t see those extra “wee magic moments” that may make it all worthwhile for us, but because they can’t see them. I have sat in many peer support sessions where mediators have expressed, me included, that whilst the parties did not reach agreement, they did have a positive conversation, remained calm, and seemed to listen and understand each other better. Is it our role to point these out to the clients, so that they too might share these alternative positive outcomes?
Maybe so… Maybe not.
I am reminded of the story of the Chinese farmer:
A farmer and his
son had a beloved horse who helped the family earn a living. One day, the horse
ran away, and their neighbors exclaimed, “Your horse ran away! What terrible
luck!” The farmer replied, “Maybe so, maybe not.”
A few days later,
the horse returned home, leading a few wild horses back to the farm as well.
The neighbors shouted out, “Your horse has returned and brought several horses
home with him! What great luck!” The farmer replied, “Maybe so, maybe not.”[2]
The story continues with each event—whether good or bad
fortune on the surface—being met with the simple phrase “maybe so, maybe not.”
Any attempt to forecast an event’s long-term outcome may be foolish in and of
itself when the successive events that follow are wholly unpredictable. If we
allow ourselves to follow the mantra of the farmer in the parable, we can enter
the mediation space less concerned about the future and more concerned about
the present. Mediation as mindfulness, perhaps.
Back to the question: is it a mistake for a mediator to
care about the outcome of a mediation?
Maybe so, maybe not.
[1] Emmy Irobi, 'Sustaining
and Nurturing Hope In A Mediation Process' (Mediate, 26th January
) <https://mediate.com/sustaining-and-nurturing-hope-in-a-mediation-process/> accessed
7 April 2025
[2] Jay
Mavani, 'Maybe so, maybe not We’ll see' (Medium, 8th
September) <https://blog.jaymavs.xyz/maybe-so-maybe-not-well-see-c35f53da68e1> accessed
7 April 2025
Comments
Post a Comment