The attorney pulled me aside and whispered, “I know you mediators like to get people talking about their feelings and everything. But don’t go there with my client.”
Feeling a little devious, I asked, “Tell me about that. Tell me why you feel that way.”
In the next five minutes, I learned a lot about that lawyer. I heard a few rational thoughts. But mainly I heard about her emotions.
Most of it was about fear. Fear that she wouldn’t be able to control her client if she became emotional. Fear that emotions would quicken the pace of the conversation and too much might be said or agreements might come too easy. Fear that she, the lawyer, wouldn’t be perceived as a zealous advocate. Fears.
I also heard about frustration. Frustration over giving her client another opportunity to be irrational. Frustration that previous mediations had disintegrated to shouting matches between the parties — or their attorneys. Frustration over the thought that after countless hours of working with her client, she might learn something new. Frustrations.
As I listened to the attorney’s underlying interests, I wished that I had time to explain some things to her about the way that people think and make decisions. I especially wanted to tell her about the way that emotional responses can both block and unlock the door to resolution. I wanted to show her that addressing the underlying interests of the parties can be the most effective way to generate creativity and answers to the issues.
Not having time for that, I simply reached back for a proven tool. I presented all that I had to offer at that moment — my personal credibility.
“I really appreciate hearing this,” I said. “It will be a great help to me as I work with you, your client, and the other side. We’ll see how it goes. However, if we get stuck in there, I may want to take a few steps toward exploring some interests. I’ll be watching pretty closely — and I know you will be. If it seems to be getting away from us, we’ll take steps at that time. Trust me.”
Trust me. Trust. Me.
Even in the most sterile of business transactions, trust is the hinge the entire deal swings on. Broken trust is the fuel that feeds the flames of conflict.
In this series of articles, I want to look at some emerging research in neuroscience that, as it is matched to the well-known theory of attachment, is suggesting that broken relationships can be reformed through building new paths of reasoning within the brain. (Attachment theory has emerged as an interdisciplinary study from the fields of psychology, evolution, and ethology [the scientific study of animal behavior].)
When I asked the lawyer to trust me. I was beginning to build an affect narrative — a new story — that would allow her to bridge over her own emotional response to interest-based mediation. We’ll be talking about that a little later.
Trust is a baseline position that must be established in all relationships. In our next segment, we’ll take a look at attachment theory and how the mechanisms involved protect us and make our lives easier to manage.
You’ve just finished reading “Stuck On You: Attachment Theory & Resolution – Part 1.” Please feel free to leave a comment or ask a questions. And be looking for Part 2, coming soon!