Tammy Lenski

A subscriber emailed me with the question, “How do I know when I’ve figured out the real problem or issue?” It’s a question worth unpacking and I have an alternative question to propose.

It’s reasonable and good to want to land on the “right” issues needing resolution, whether we’re helping others sort out disagreement or trying to sort things out on our own. We want to spend less energy on low-importance peripheral issues and more on issues at the heart of whatever’s going on.

Here’s a way to approach it:

First, stay out of the bramble patch

“What’s the real issue?” and its variants contain a sticky speculation, revealed by the way people often emphasize one particular word: How do I help them solve the real issue? How do we determine the real problem?

It’s hard to see. You can’t lay your hands on it. All you can do is circle around and say, ‘It’s in there somewhere.’

And it’s sticky because it implies that someone is trying to hide the “real” problem. Or that they’re self-unaware and can’t see their own “real” problem. Or that we believe we are in a better position to see the “real” issue than they are.

If we believe they’re trying to hide the “real” problem, we will be tempted to “get them to come clean.” Tricks, manipulations, or interrogations, even when well-intended, feel lousy to the recipient. They tend to complicate things, not make things better.

If we believe they are self-unaware, trying to “get them to see the truth” looks and feels arrogant to others. Who are we to say they’re self-unaware? There are so many reasons people don’t say out loud all that they might; why treat them as though they lack capacity?

Feeling sure we can see a problem they can’t (or won’t admit to) is fraught with problems too. So many mediation students have said to me, “But I can see their problem so clearly. Why can’t I just tell them what it is and get on with things?” Why indeed: Trying to impose our version of the “real” issue on others is about our own ego and a desire to show our brilliance, instead about what is relevant to them at this moment in time. We can do better.

For reasons like these, I recommend a different question:

When we focus on “meaningful” instead of “real,” we side-step the pitfalls and quagmires. And focusing on what’s meaningful to those involved — and to their lives — helps keep our white-knight egoism in check. It acknowledges their capacity and agency, so crucial for effective conflict resolution.

Second, peel the onion

Uncovering the meaningful problem(s) to be resolved is like peeling an onion. Too little peeling and we haven’t really gotten beyond the skin on the surface. Too much peeling and we’ve discarded a lot of perfectly good onion.

So we peel, layer by layer, with patience, until we and they find something meaningful to work on together. Sometimes it happens quickly. Sometimes it takes a while. The timeline is unpredictable. There may be multiple meaningful problems to work on.

Third, noodle over it

The way to peel the onion is to be curious. To wonder out loud. To not run with our speculations before checking them out. To ask good questions born of curiosity. As Seth Godin phrased so perfectly, to noodle over it:

There is no perfect question to help with noodling over a problem because a question that’s perfect and helpful in one difficult conversation falls flat in another. There is one question, though, that has proved useful often enough that I am deeply in love with it:

Alternatively, if you’re working on finding your own meaningful issue, ask, If we solve this problem, what would it do for us?

When you think you’ve uncovered a meaningful issue to work on, use this question to test whether or not you’ve peeled the onion enough. It’ll help you get closer to the heart of the matter and it will help you avoid solving the wrong problem.

I hope you will fall in love with this question too.

Last week I wrote a very short manifesto about the conflict resolution ideas I hold close in my work and conflict resolution premises I reject.

My conflict resolution mini-manifesto was prompted by a new client asking, “Will you teach me how to deal with difficult people?” I said no, I’ll do something better.

The conversation left me pondering, yet again, the ways we “less-than” others with whom we’re in conflict or are helping with their conflict. And the ways we “less-than” conflict itself, as though it is a pathology. Let’s stop. Let’s do something better.

Read my mini-manifesto here:

Conflict spirals are patterns of friction or tension that worsen over time. Distancing spirals are a particularly insidious form of conflict spiral because they cause relationship damage while we think we’re doing nothing wrong at all.

A conflict spiral is a situation in which conflict or tension grows worse over time — spiraling outward, if you will.

One type of conflict spiral that most of us recognize is the escalatory spiral. Left unchecked, escalatory spirals seem to take on a life of their own and grow increasingly destructive. Arguments that rapidly spin out of control are examples of one-on-one escalatory spirals. Arms races between countries are escalatory spirals on a global scale.

Distancing spirals are another type of conflict spiral. Compared to escalatory spirals, distancing spirals may seem sedate, as we grow increasingly distant from one another. As the distance grows, we may feel less investment in the personal or professional relationship, or harbor increasing disappointment or resentment.

Distancing in a marriage is one example of this kind of spiral. Another is the gradual distancing between two colleagues at work.

Distancing spirals grow gradually, often beneath our radar. They happen one avoided conversation at a time. Individually, none of the avoided conversations feels like a deal breaker. Collectively, they’re building a force that becomes, with time, harder to overcome.

The desire to avoid increases, the interest in direct communication decreases. In a marriage, intimacy suffers. In a work relationship, the easy banter of the workday and the willingness to share information diminish.

There’s a fancy word for the origins of a conflict spiral: Schismogenesis — the beginning of the schism. In distancing spirals, sometimes there was a precipitating event we can recall as the birth of tension. Sometimes, it’s been building for so long, one little emotional bruise at a time, that we can’t specifically recall when or how it began.

The best opportunity to intervene in any conflict spiral is near the beginning, before it spirals outward and grows. The next best opportunity is whenever we realize we’re swept up in one.

When we say, “I’m sensing some tension between us and want to make sure it doesn’t get in the way of our working relationship,” or “I’m noticing the two of you are avoiding each other. What’s up?” we invite the kind of conversation that keeps teams healthy.

When we say, “I feel us growing apart and that’s not the future I want for us,” we open the door to the kind of conversation that can alter the trajectory of a marriage.

I understand it takes a certain courage to confront a distancing spiral, to step into it instead of trying to outrun it. Yet: