Happy
New Year! I hope you are all having a peaceful and prosperous 2014,
and that you are thawing out from the Polar Vortex (if you are in the
U.S. outside of California or Hawaii). My husband has encouraged me
to continue this blog in the new year, possibly so that he is not the
only recipient of my rambling reflections. So, please enjoy and add
your reactions in the comments!
In
December, I traveled to West Africa with my family to facilitate two
planning workshops in western Burkina Faso and northern Nigeria. The
purpose of the workshops was to envision different future development
trajectories for dryland West African agricultural systems, and the
organizers did a really good job of involving diverse participants.
At the workshop in Kano, northern Nigeria, two of the participants
were women from local farming organizations. They didn’t speak
English, and had only a grade school education. These ladies, in a
‘round robin’ reflection on the first day, expressed astonishment
that their accommodations and food were ‘nicer’ than they ever
thought they would have the chance to experience. They were usually
quiet during large group discussions, but participated in the small
group discussions with the assistance of translators.
On
the first day of the workshop, mid-morning, the minister of
agriculture for the state (interestingly, the first woman to hold
this post) was ‘announced’. She swept in to the room and planted
herself at the table in the middle of the circle of chairs (which was
not there for anyone to sit at; we simply hadn’t found a place to
put it against the wall in the small room), and read a prepared
speech. Afterwards, I led the group in an exercise designed to
stimulate conversation. The premise of this exercise is that
participants stand in one corner of the room if they agree with a
statement which I read out loud, and in the opposite corner if they
disagree. The presence of the minister disrupted this exercise,
because the crowd watched to see where she placed herself and
followed accordingly. The lone dissenters were foreign scientists who
didn’t have much stake in the regional minister’s opinions.
Fortunately, she didn’t stay very long, because she had other
events to attend.
Now,
I don’t mean to criticize the minister; my colleagues told me that
she was quite supportive of agricultural development initiatives and
sympathetic to the needs of her constituents. I’m just using these
two women—the poor farmers and the minister—to exemplify the
power dynamics inherent in any group process. As my career has moved
into group process facilitation, I have become much more aware of,
and sensitive to, these dynamics. To whom do we listen? Whose opinion
counts? Who takes up the space in the room (both literally and
metaphorically)?
And
lest you think that this phenomenon is unique to Nigeria, admittedly
a very hierarchical society where rank and status count for a lot,
let me correct you. Yesterday, I was at a meeting at my home
institution when our provost entered. I made a conscious effort to
pay attention to how she was received, compared to other meeting
participants. People gave her their rapt attention. When asking
questions or giving comments after her speech, people spoke in very
deferential tones, nodding vigorously whenever she made a point.
Again,
I am not saying this to criticize our provost, whom I respect. And
I’m not suggesting that we yawn, roll our eyes, or check our email
when the provost is speaking—after all, that would be rude. But how
many ‘less important’ people—like poor female farmers, for
example—do we feel free to treat in exactly this manner? Numerous
studies have documented the ways in which we sub-consciously identify
the most powerful person in a given situation and defer to them
through our body language, mannerisms, and means of address. Even if
you consider yourself a very egalitarian and democratically-minded
person, you probably do this.
My
research is related to agricultural development, poverty alleviation,
and environmental conservation, and any insights I can derive from
this work are critically dependent on the perspectives and knowledge
of the people who live and work in developing world smallholder
systems. So I’m not just paying lip service to the Christian notion
that ‘the first will be last and the last first’—like many
so-called ‘spiritual’ realities, this plays out practically in
the world as well. Let me give an example: a colleague told me that
last year, several prominent faculty from our institution traveled to
Seattle to pitch some grant ideas to the Gates Foundation. Midway
through their prepared slides, Melinda Gates interrupted them to ask
about the role of gender in the ideas they were presenting.
Essentially, the lady holding the purse strings was telling them that
the only way they would get X million dollars was by listening to and
incorporating the voices of poor female farmers!
So
the voices of poor smallholder farmers are just as important as the
voices of the agricultural ministers. However, because we prioritize
the voices of ministers over farmers, we should actively be seeking
to encourage, highlight and promote the voices of those we don’t
typically consider important. Also, as academics, we need to be aware
that we often take up far more than our fair share of space in any
discussion or process. We love to hear ourselves talk, but sometimes
we need to shut up and listen. Tom Dietz, a sociologist and champion
of scientists serving the public, puts it this way: we must be the
‘guide on the side’, not the ‘sage on the stage’.
So
now my facilitation mantra is the following: before I begin the first
day of a workshop, I repeat silently to myself, “I am the least
important person in the room.” And I try to believe it.
