Feedback Alchemy for Humans
Feedback is hard. For everyone involved.
Humans, as it happens, are notoriously worse at feedback than our friends the empaths and telepaths. I know that’s true because you can’t disprove it; and, if you ask me, you’re starting to sound a little judgmental about the whole thing already. Of course, now I feel bad because I just made a bunch of probably unfair assumptions about you when all I was really trying to do was share my opinion, which I know doesn’t matter but I like to feel appreciated sometimes. And, now I haven’t heard anything else you’ve said because all I can hear is my guilt, disappointment, and anger.
So, awesome start to this article on feedback…
“Don’t walk behind me; I may not lead. Don’t walk in front of me; I may not follow. Walk beside me and just be my friend.” - Anonymous
An old story suggests that Sigmund Freud used to walk with patients in the pre-couch days. Direct eye contact while people are baring their souls or while people are having their souls bared can be, surprisingly, a little unsettling for many folks. Taking a walk, side-by-side, offered an opportunity to open those uncomfortable conversations without the pretense, formality, or intensity of close quarters and active listening. The story also suggests that’s why the couch ended up facing away from the therapist. Without a person at the other end staring back at us, we get to see whatever our imagination or a guided conversation will offer.
We use these “Freudian Walks” all the time in our training classes, chartering exercises, and group coaching sessions. Turns out, whether the old story is true or not, our experience indicates the stuff works. People who have very little connection or reason to connect end up returning to the room more engaged and even physically closer to each other than when they left. People who may be uncomfortable or afraid of each other are able to share something - a story, however small - with another human, and it opens the chance for a real dialogue to begin. Hence, step #1 of the model: Take a walk.
“The story is a machine for empathy. In contrast to logic or reason, a story is about emotion that gets staged over a sequence of dramatic moments, so you empathize with the characters without really thinking about it too much. It is a really powerful tool for imagining yourself in other people’s situations.” - Ira Glass
Odd as it sounds, empathy is something those aforementioned empaths are quite simply better at than we are. Even though we know that empathy can lower our defensive mechanisms, generate some positive energy, and offer a safer space to share and create together, we resist. The stories we tell and hear on those Freudian Walks are seeded from powerful questions offered by the facilitator and designed to create small cracks in our natural armor. Cracks, we hope, that will allow some empathy to seep through. But why? Why should we have empathy for people who feel the need to give us feedback? Why should we attempt empathy for those we feel compelled to give feedback?
Because feedback, as a human interaction, sucks most of the time.
Sure, you might prefer being lambasted with feedback constantly, but it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. If you want people to hear your feedback and offer you genuinely useful feedback, a good place to start is empathy. Empathy isn’t ruinous. It doesn’t mean you have to agree, to capitulate, or to stay quiet. It’s the ability to understand and share the feelings of others, to sense and translate their emotions, and to see their perspective. The only thing empathy ruins is our ego, our desire for control, and our selfishness.
As givers of feedback, empathy allows us to use the native language of the person to whom we are offering feedback. As receivers of feedback, empathy allows us to give people a chance to find that language - and to give ourselves a chance to listen. Often, as receivers, we are pretty busy mounting defenses once we’re alerted to feedback en route. It’s hard to hear over all that commotion. But, if we have empathy for the person giving us feedback, we’re spending more time listening than scrambling battle cruisers. That listening turns into sharing that turns into giving each other a chance. Hence, step #2 of the model: Whether you’re giving or receiving feedback, have some empathy for the other person.
Humans, you may have heard, are a social animal. We crowd each other, we miss each other, we are constantly sending and viewing photos and videos of each other. Feedback, especially in such situations, is a pretty natural social activity. In fact, it requires an impetus and a consequence, a triggering event and an impact event. Someone observes something someone else has done and inescapable thoughts are immediately generated about it. It’s a fascinating, if simplistic, circle of life. Feedback is what we call communicating to others our observations about them - their appearance, their behavior, their decisions, their most fundamental “them-ness”: their use of free will. Despite it’s unfortunate status approaching white noise on social media, one simple fact remains: feedback requires at least two people.
Uni-channel feedback is what happens when you crank the amp to 11 and you put the mic right up on the speaker. Most folks find this a pretty unpleasant sound, and yet we have this amazing habit of switching into uni-channel mode when we’re giving or receiving feedback. Suddenly, we’re the only person we hear. We’re yelling into the microphone, confused as to why the sound we hear in return reminds us so much of Miss Othmar. But, if we take a little bit of time to quiet our monologue and we allow some of that empathy to seep in, we may start hearing that sad trombone becoming a little bit clearer. Suddenly, we’re off exploring together and surfacing real opportunity to improve - if not ourselves then our relationships. Hence, step #3 of the model: Give each other a chance - appreciate them-ness and mute that uni-channel feedback.
“I’m sailing away, set an open course for the virgin sea… I’ve got to be free, free to face the life that’s ahead of me… On board I’m the captain so climb aboard… We’ll search for tomorrow on every shore.” - Dennis DeYoung, Come Sail Away
That’s right. Despite being a bit trippy and being a prime example of uni-channel feedback (repeating the song title a mere three dozen times in under 4 ½ minutes), Styx might have figured out a little something about how feedback can work. People sailing their own way, free to make their own choices. We invite each other onboard to talk about today and explore tomorrow, and we try “best that we can, to carry on”. Bazinga! Could it really be that easy?
Yes.
Spoiler alert… step #4 of the model is: Explore together. Unlike the rest of what we’ve talked about, this one is the closest we’ll get to rocket science. Okay, maybe that’s a stretch… It’s like rocket science to the extent that a bunch of alchemists explored the chemistry and mechanics of fireworks together, combining elements of yin and yang, push and pull, to discover something that occasionally blew up in their faces. Yet they persisted. Through much finger-pointing, by those who had fingers left, they persisted. Through many explosions, failures, explosions, and successes, they created what we know today as the incredibly complex field of rocket science by exploring it together. No one was made safer or smarter by throwing a grenade and running away, not then and not now. Similarly, no one was made safer, smarter, or better by throwing feedback and divesting. This model is about opening a conversation, creating a welcoming space, giving each other a chance, and investing in the outcomes for each human.
The real feedback alchemy is simply being determined to be for each other and for a better future together.