Recently, I read Senator George Mitchell's book on the Northern Ireland peace process [Making Peace, ISBN 0-375-40606-9, Alfred A. Knopf 1999]. It wasn't an easy book to read, but not because it wasn't well-written and not because the subject wasn't fascinating. It's just that the underlying situation is so amazingly complicated that there is no easy way to tell about it. Luckily, on "Public Radio," I heard Senator Mitchell give a speech about the issues and process, and also heard him interviewed about his book. From the three presentations, I gained some insights that have application to other public involvement processes.
Picture your most fantastic problem solving/negotiation/public participation nightmare, and it would likely have some of the characteristics of the Northern Ireland situation. But, no matter how awful your problem seems, could it possibly be as bad as Northern Ireland? Here's a problem that has been getting steadily worse for hundreds of years; a problem that has its basis in philosophy, religion and politics, so that there is no obvious goal, no one "right answer;" a situation that has become so polarized that some participants in the problem-solving effort won't speak directly to one another - even to villify! - after sitting side-by-side in meetings for more than three years; a situation where the "sides" seem so mutually exclusive that they don't just call one another names, they kill one another!
Is a problem with these characteristics solvable? In this case, we may not know for sure for many, many years [right at the moment, things don't look very good], but it is clear that - largely because of the workings of an appropriate process - peace in Northern Ireland has come closer than most people ever dreamed was possible. If there is a process to bring peace to Northern Ireland, then there must be a way to satisfactorily resolve even the wildest problem you can conjure up.
Here are a few thoughts I gleaned from Senator Mitchell's work that seem worthy of consideration in any problem-solving process.
Senator Mitchell recalled that, at first, he found it extremely difficult to chair discussions because he couldn't comprehend the depth and complexity of the issues. His immediate reaction was that both sides (actually, all sides; see below) were acting irrationally, and he couldn't find any handle to the problem. As he interacted with the participants, and learned more about the way they thought and the way they expressed themselves, he found that he was better able to ask pertinent questions and to steer the discussions in profitable directions. [Remember, the way that people think and the way they express themselves are not characteristics of language or national origin, alone; what about regional, geographical, occupational, or educational "languages?"]
The second strike against him was that he had been invited into the process by the governments of Britain and Ireland, not by the grass roots participants. Distrust of the motives of "Government" must be universal, and Senator Mitchell was immediately suspected of bringing with him a particular agenda, or of seeking to move the group toward a particular pre-arranged solution. Just as he had to prove that he was not an advocate for either Catholic or Protestant, he had to show that he and his co-facilitators were not really "from the government." [Actually, it's pretty clear from reading his book that the British government did initially expect Mitchell's team to guide the participants to a particular conclusion. There were some pretty tricky periods during which he had to make it clear to everyone - the Government, included - that he was "his own man."]
No matter what the issue or the process, every facilitator comes in with some "baggage." Everyone has to prove at some level their fairness, impartiality, and neutrality.
His approach should make us wonder about some of our own projects, to which we devote a few hours or a few weeks, and think that we have exhausted the possibilities. Why do we so often put artificial time constraints on ourselves, when a more open or more prolonged process might mean the difference between a good or a bad resolution?
Whether we come to a process as an advocate or a facilitator, I suspect it is human nature to think in terms of "the two sides." In an election, we vote for one candidate and against the other, or we vote for or against a proposition. But remember that a final election is often the culmination of a process during which a slate of potential candidates (each of who represented a "side") has been winnowed down to a simple "for" or "against" vote.
This concept of every issue having many "sides" first became clear to me when I was involved in developing a plan to save the few remaining California condors. Our proposal involved capturing some of these giant birds and putting them in zoos, where we thought we could increase their egg production, and so eventually have more condors than if we left the birds to survive entirely on their own. In a situation where one might expect there to be two sides - catch them or don't catch them, or maybe save them or don't save them - we ultimately identified eleven major "publics" who had ideas about the condors' survival. Even having eleven "sides" turned out to be a simplification, because several of the groups that we would have expected to "vote" as a bloc turned out to be strongly divided into "pro" and "con" camps. Even though we did a pretty good up-front job of identifying our "publics" and anticipating their concerns, we missed a couple of them whose presence and influence were to prove critical to the outcome of the entire planning process.