IN THE BELLY OF THE BEAST

This is the first of a three-part series offering a glimpse into what it was like running "conflict resolution" workshops inside of maximum security prisons. To be clear, the purpose is not for sensationalism, but rather, to illustrate how camaraderie can be fostered in even the harshest of environments; how trust can be created amongst even the most hardened of adversaries; and how the principles of tribe building and non-violent communication (NVC) do not change, whether working with a room full of wary prisoners, or a group of a C suite executives.

The workshops were experiential in nature, required the active participation of all who attended, and usually consisted of 20-30 men. Most, though not all, were violent offenders, and many were members of rival gangs. They were conducted in a single room with no correctional staff allowed. It was, as they say, as real as it gets.

* Identities and minor details have been altered for discretionary purposes *

The workshops always began on Friday, after the evening meals had been run, and prisoners were available until the day's last count. Essentially, we had three hours or so. Most of the men didn't know each other, though some did, but that was not always a good thing.

The challenges were numerous. All the men arrived unsure of what to expect, and none arrived with an intention to open up and share.What everyone did arrive with, was their "tough guy" mask. The one which pronounces as loudly as possible: "I'm not soft or stupid, and don't fuck with me or else...." Trust, was not a readily available commodity, which was fine. We knew how to build it. On that weekend I had three veteran facilitators with me, and together we had nearly 30 years of experience. We were smart, seasoned, and worked very well together.

The first night is always about loosening the men up. We establish some ground rules, create a positive vibe and atmosphere, and run a few non-invasive exercises which don't require too much "personal" sharing. If it were softball, it would be slow-pitch. The goal is to establish a sense of trust in the room, and to have the men get to know each other, utilizing silly name-games, and light n' livelies. It lays the groundwork for Saturday, when the serious work begins.

But on this particular Friday, one of the participants, Jeremy, a young man in his early twenties with a domestic violence charge, refused to cooperate. At every turn he would act out, criticize others, refuse to be engaged, interrupt speakers, and violate our fundamental rule of respecting the group. The facilitators tried to work with him, encourage him, give him space, and let him get it out of his system. But he was angry, belligerent, and mostly non-compliant. On Saturday, it got no better. It was more of the same. By mid-afternoon, at our wits end and ready to throw him out of the workshop (which was a very rare occurrence), we ran an exercise related to the "healthiest" ways to argue with our partners. The men had broken into groups of four, and were sharing their domestic experiences. When asked about his girlfriend, Jeremy balked. When pressed by Big Al, a mammoth of a man in his 40's, and a member of his group, Jeremy flew off the handle. Observing the outburst, I moved to step in but was waived off by Al.

"What happened with your mom, J?"

Silence.

I was puzzled by the question. We were talking about domestic partners. Again I stepped forward to intervene but Al shot me a look. It wasn't a warning, but it wasn't exactly a request either. Instinct, not reason, told me to wait.

"J, what happened with your mom?"

Silence.

"She beat you when you were young?" Al asked.

Refusing to look up, Jeremy shook him off.

"She stayed gettin' high?" Al pressed.

Again, a shake of the head.

Finally, so softly I could barely hear him, and again without looking up, Jeremy mumbled: "She died. I was six. She was all I had. Got sent to foster care."

"And you had trouble with women ever since, right?" Al continued.

This time Jeremy nodded.

"You got issues with wantin' to control 'em, right?"

Again, a nod in the affirmative.

"You feel like you gotta control 'em, but only 'cause that way they can't abandon you, right?"

Slowly, Jeremy looked up and locked eyes with Al. I doubt he even saw anyone else in the room.

"How you know?" Jeremy pleaded, completely baffled, and nearly in tears.

'Because my moms died when I was ten." Al replied, "And I went through the same shit, lil' bro."

And there it was: Game, Set, and Match.

Jeremy was at war: with women, authority, and the world. Why? Because the one person he trusted, "abandoned" him. It was pretty much the source of all his anger and conflict, and it bled out in nearly every interaction he had.

During the next break, we sent Jeremy and Al into a side room to speak in private, and what was said there will never be known.

Still, one of the key takeaways is that four seasoned facilitators did not find the answers that Saturday, nor did we resolve the conflict. Al did. And he didn't discover the answers by talking, but by listening, and asking the right questions. One after another. Until the dam broke.

A coach or consultant should NEVER presume he or she knows why conflict exists, either in an individual client, or in an organization. Nor should she settle for the surface pretexts.

The very first rule in conflict resolution is needing to understand the source of the conflict within those we are trying to assist. Sometimes, it is easily discernible. But at others, particularly when it consistently manifests itself in negative behaviorial patterns, the answers often lie buried in the past. This is as true for executives as is it for the incarcerated, for individuals as it is for teams.

Trauma can and will frame our modes of communication, and it can keep us in conflict with our peers, bosses, employees, family, and friends. The solution is to recognize it, and develop skills that allow us to function in healthier and more productive ways.

Leaders of organizations and teams need to understand this, and create an environment which encourages sharing, empathy, and a culture of bonding.

Its how co-workers become teams, and teams become tribes.

*A footnote to this story is that once "understood", Jeremy's attitude changed drastically. He had never made the connection between his behaviors and their root. Nor had anyone else. But once the light-bulb came on, everything shifted. For the duration of the workshop he was a completely different person: active, fully engaged, an asset to the group. and honestly, inseparable from Big Al.

Interested in turning your team into a tribe who support and care deeply about one another? Reach out and let's set up a discovery call.

Strength and courage,

Viswa