
I often find myself working with teams — or at least I would say, with groups. Smart people with good intentions operating collectively. People capable and often far more than just capable, who want the best for their organizations and work hard everyday to get there. However, as a proponent of reflective leadership I also often notice something that appears in the background of their meetings:
- The dominance of assertion: statements more than questions, or even observations
- More conversation about what’s wrong with an idea than what’s right with it
- If not by actually talking over one another, then by the immediate stacking of one opinion upon another with no breathing room or silence between statements or between speakers. Silence seems to be viewed opportunistically rather than as a resource for reflection
- Some peoples’ points are simply ignored, spoken over or bypassed
- Barely a moment’s praise for anyone or anyone else’s idea, let alone further curiosity about it
- It sometimes seems that one’s “seat at the table” is best justified by having the last word
- It can feel like people are competing but it’s unclear what they are competing for, perhaps credibility more than anything else
- Some people say almost nothing; other people say almost everything
I confess sometimes I am one of the people who is not saying much, even as the consultant, because there’s so little exploration of meaning going on. It can feel like the group culture contains an implicit demand that people “push into” the conversation and “mix it up,” to advocate a “better” solution — although this may be the very opposite of what’s needed as people race to plant their particular flags. In what I would call more generous groups, there may not be so much interest in whose idea prevails but there may certainly be an interest in proving one’s individual contribution, showing the value of one’s presence in the room and justifies my belonging. That ends up amounting to very nearly the same thing — a focus on the best thought, the best answer, the winning idea.
A more reflective approach would be different. “Shared meaning” suggests not so much the production of a best idea as something that involves a group’s deeper need for alignment, coherence, an understanding that serves as a bridge between people. Something that is the product of more than discussion, a term that comes from latin words for breaking things apart. I’m not sure we have a word that yet quite describes the opposite: putting things together in a deeper, creative, collaborative way. Yet even collaboration may not be that word, the notion of co-laboring bringing to mind only horses in a harness.
You have to be quite intentional in some meetings in order to say:
“That was beautiful. Why don’t we take a moment to reflect on what Mary just said.”
or
“I’m not sure everyone is in this conversation yet. Let’s slow down a moment. Who would like to be heard?”
or
“I’d like to really understand more about what you are saying and I’m curious about the experiences behind your perspective. Help me get what you mean by.…”
or
“I’m having a hard time getting my thoughts out onto this table. I’m afraid all you’ll hear is ‘word salad,’ but I’m willing to try and please help as I may fumble.”
More than anything, I find less reflective, competitive conversations to be based in overactive, intellective, inchoate analysis with little attention to the underlying, sometimes very private feelings and experience of the people who are in the room. It’s frequently about judgment that cuts things short and in so doing may actually avoid the deeper problems that reside there, just slightly off stage.
Admittedly, this is an old topic. It’s been referenced over the years by various authors, such as Peter Senge and Peter Koestenbaum. Senge, for example, calls out how typically there’s little penetrating examination of our underlying assumptions as we go about our problem-solving. And Koestenbaum in his masterpiece of reflective inquiry writes about a group of engineers who constantly argued and got nowhere until they were asked to replace the word “problem” with “pain.” Essentially, they were asked to slow down their conversations enough to share how they truly felt about their problems before trying to address them.
I often notice similar dynamics. In many teams no one is likely to say, “I’m really angry about this” or “I feel guilty about what happened” or “I’m so sad this has come up again” or “I was personally embarrassed by the whole thing and I’d like us to do better.” Feelings that help the members of a team understand where their colleagues and their ideas and judgments are truly coming from. Instead, about the only emotion that ever gets voiced is “I’m frustrated.” Frustration appears to be the only professionally acceptable word for an uncomfortable feeling. The rest can seem more or less taboo, perhaps interpreted as a sign of weakness or vulnerability.
Meaning hardly ever comes from banging on our problems according to their obvious surface facets, depersonalized and abstracted from how we truly feel about and experience them. We’ll be banging on this same problem next year, too. Meaning isn’t in our control in that easily glossed way, I don’t think, although some frequently pretend it is, continuing to push the assumption that with enough raw logical intelligence all problems can be solved (a dangerous accelerant for over-reliance on AI). Meaning may well be deeper down, submerged in the unexamined connections between us, between you and me. Some days it can seem to be there still waiting in the conference room long after we’ve all left for home. Truly it is in us and between us, not someplace “out there” to be possessed alone by a stark victor who first and foremost has won a prize for being right. Too often our subtly competitive meetings, meetings of good people trying to do the right things, may inadvertently work to strip us and our problems of real meaning, doing so without, of course, anyone meaning to do anything of that kind.
What then are we supposed to do?
Well, things often change when people become conscious. Noticing the dynamic as a pattern of how we do things can help — if it leads to constructive group reflection. In addition — and I hope you won’t hear this as too moonstruck — I’d say it’s good to remember that as individuals we come from a loving nothingness and we’ll all be headed back that way soon enough. It’s good to recall that we are just here together. That all we’ve got initially is human connectedness. That we’ve happened to show up in the same room at the same time and yet our individual trips to that room have all been the product of very different paths. That meaning is created but also discovered. That we start as much from what we don’t know as what we do. And it’s about the agency we hold together, what we can do, we can build, we can put together in the face of the darkness according to our vision, our common star wherever it may be; inevitably how we can help and care for each other, defining our humanity.
It’s good to remember we come from that nothingness, to be aware that the nothing is there under us all. Some days you can almost hear it hum.

