Hate and leadership - an uneasy relationship
Recent events suggest that our hard won conversational norms can be derailed by social media. A channel by which what I hate and despise in myself, I can easily see, locate and despise in you. A channel that encourages others to pile in with their own unwanted and unbearable stuff. Of course, there may be questions to be asked, but these are lost when I do not face this possibility. That what I hate in you, I hate in myself. As result, our conversation is not an exchange, an investigation of ideas, experience or difference. It becomes the means to express my hate. A way to sustain the idea that I’m right; normal; it’s you who is not. You’re the one who needs to examine their thinking and behaviour.
Hate is a difficult topic. A way in is through D.W. Winnicott [1]. The gift of his work is his acknowledgment that hatred is inevitable, when faced with a ‘heavy emotional burden’. Others will do and say things (often unwittingly) to trigger this troubling emotion. So troubling, that we are reluctant to notice its power to drive our behaviour and talking. Winnicott argues that with help, we can hate objectively. We notice its presence in our thoughts, feelings and behaviour. We can with practice, pause before we go too far. To reflexively ask ourselves about our hate - why now; about you; this issue?
We don’t usually talk about hate. In 2007 I was researching how some people are able and willing to say difficult things. To speak to who and what is at risk of being silenced or ignored in a conversation. To be curious about why that might be. To act with respect while not being burdened by the need to agree or even like to the other person [2]. My DProf supervisor was uncomfortable with a line in my argument. I said constructive awkwardness was necessary to counter an aspect of leadership that was mostly silent in the development work I was leading. That effective leadership is often fused with an ethical outcome. A conflation that silences the investigation of bad leadership, the mobilisation of hate and very bad outcomes [3].
European history supports this connection. Systemised violence is the outcome of effective leadership [4]. Leaders who create a compelling reason for change by naming the problem (‘the other’) and arguing why they must now be silenced. Leaders who mobilise others; harness our capacity to collaborate and self-silence when faced with authority [5]. People who develop efficient and effective systems to achieve a shared purpose. People who can harness hate - their own and others. If these are the facts, then hate should be part of our leadership development conversations. Otherwise, we just repeat.
If hate is unavoidable, can we make it safer to have a conversation with people we perceive to be different; we don’t like or agree with?
Back to my supervisor. He acknowledged his discomfort. He reminded me it was my doctorate. So, I better be ready to defend my choices and claims. My viva would be a very tough couple of hours. My language; argument, claims and assumptions; the gaps in my knowledge would be relentlessly investigated. It would be emotional. He was right. He had been through it and he would sit beside me as I went through it.
A viva is by tradition a face to face conversation. Chaired by someone whose task is to ensure the rules and conventions that govern examinations of knowledge claims, are anchored in the rules and conventions of the University. This meant there would be respect; openness; questions and an expectation of personal accountability. The people examining, the people I wanted to join, were there to uphold academic standards. To not make it easy, yet not drive me into silence.
If my viva had been conducted within the conversational culture of social media, I would have been silenced. It is a culture that likes winners and creating losers. One that rewards quick thinking, over curiosity and accuracy. A culture that makes it feel like a waste of time and a sign of weakness, to try and understand and be curious why someone thinks so differently and why that provokes me so.
When I hate, I want to remember two (borrowed) thoughts. First. None of us are without sin. As I reach for that stone, I will think about why I hate you and why I want to destroy you. Second, my speech is an intervention, an action [6]. What I say to whom, about what and the language and emotions I express, matter. Matter, if I care about you being able to listen, think and reply. If I don’t, then I know what can happen to you and what might be really going on for me.
Hate is a difficult topic. A way in is through D.W. Winnicott [1]. The gift of his work is his acknowledgment that hatred is inevitable, when faced with a ‘heavy emotional burden’. Others will do and say things (often unwittingly) to trigger this troubling emotion. So troubling, that we are reluctant to notice its power to drive our behaviour and talking. Winnicott argues that with help, we can hate objectively. We notice its presence in our thoughts, feelings and behaviour. We can with practice, pause before we go too far. To reflexively ask ourselves about our hate - why now; about you; this issue?
We don’t usually talk about hate. In 2007 I was researching how some people are able and willing to say difficult things. To speak to who and what is at risk of being silenced or ignored in a conversation. To be curious about why that might be. To act with respect while not being burdened by the need to agree or even like to the other person [2]. My DProf supervisor was uncomfortable with a line in my argument. I said constructive awkwardness was necessary to counter an aspect of leadership that was mostly silent in the development work I was leading. That effective leadership is often fused with an ethical outcome. A conflation that silences the investigation of bad leadership, the mobilisation of hate and very bad outcomes [3].
European history supports this connection. Systemised violence is the outcome of effective leadership [4]. Leaders who create a compelling reason for change by naming the problem (‘the other’) and arguing why they must now be silenced. Leaders who mobilise others; harness our capacity to collaborate and self-silence when faced with authority [5]. People who develop efficient and effective systems to achieve a shared purpose. People who can harness hate - their own and others. If these are the facts, then hate should be part of our leadership development conversations. Otherwise, we just repeat.
If hate is unavoidable, can we make it safer to have a conversation with people we perceive to be different; we don’t like or agree with?
Back to my supervisor. He acknowledged his discomfort. He reminded me it was my doctorate. So, I better be ready to defend my choices and claims. My viva would be a very tough couple of hours. My language; argument, claims and assumptions; the gaps in my knowledge would be relentlessly investigated. It would be emotional. He was right. He had been through it and he would sit beside me as I went through it.
A viva is by tradition a face to face conversation. Chaired by someone whose task is to ensure the rules and conventions that govern examinations of knowledge claims, are anchored in the rules and conventions of the University. This meant there would be respect; openness; questions and an expectation of personal accountability. The people examining, the people I wanted to join, were there to uphold academic standards. To not make it easy, yet not drive me into silence.
If my viva had been conducted within the conversational culture of social media, I would have been silenced. It is a culture that likes winners and creating losers. One that rewards quick thinking, over curiosity and accuracy. A culture that makes it feel like a waste of time and a sign of weakness, to try and understand and be curious why someone thinks so differently and why that provokes me so.
When I hate, I want to remember two (borrowed) thoughts. First. None of us are without sin. As I reach for that stone, I will think about why I hate you and why I want to destroy you. Second, my speech is an intervention, an action [6]. What I say to whom, about what and the language and emotions I express, matter. Matter, if I care about you being able to listen, think and reply. If I don’t, then I know what can happen to you and what might be really going on for me.
