This triad has turned out to be surprisingly helpful. I’ve been thinking about it ever since I posted it a few days ago, because it answers some questions that have been bothering me for a long time. So here’s an attempt to capture where the idea is leading. Think of this as watching it evolve in real time. Read on…
I continue to think through the ideas of containers in dialogic work. Thanks to some conversations with a couple of colleagues I had a thought today about the three-cornered nature of the container.
Inspired by the idea of a trialectic, we can describe containers as occupying a space between three points, depending on what they are, what work they are doing and the nature of the substrate in which they sit. The thee points are Designed, Built, and Emergent. Each of these three has a particular focus. The Designed container channels intention. The Built container provides retention and the Emergent container arises from, and demands, attention.
In facilitation practice, the language tends towards designed and built containers. We talk about holding space, we talk about the boundaries, the physical space, the beautiful question, the method. The role of the facilitator is often defined as a person that designs and holds containers.
Complexity however bids us to pay attention to what is happening. When humans meet, containers emerge, almost instantly. Our attention is directed and held, not with the help of a facilitator, but because the constraints of the situation shape what happens. Some constraints precede the encounter, like physical space, organizational history, culture, and power relations. Others emerge through interaction itself. Some are brought by the designer into the room. Together they constitute the container.
Every actual container is some combination of design, building and emergence. The space between these points is what matters, Asking where a container sits within the triangle tells us what work is being done by intention, what work has been stabilized in material, legal, or social structures, and what work must remain open to emergence.
Different types of containers need to do different work. A storage locker is a kind of built container whose work is only the retention of a space that can be filled. There is very little intention paid to the design of a storage locker, and once one is built, it doesn’t need to be designed again. Not much emerges within it. That’s a feature.
An emergent container is one that arises, for example, when two friends meet on the street. In the moment of encounter, a boundary begins to form and an attractor holds the attention of the interaction. When two friends are actively engaged in a conversation on the street there is stuff going on that an “outsider” would struggle to understand. What is at the centre of their shared attention might not be shared by others. You can feel how this little social space is carved out of the rest of the environment. A conversation between friends relies on attention to proceed, and both bring attention to the moment. No designer. No robust structure that must be held.
A designed container is something like a meeting method. When I am using Open Space for example, I am bringing a deliberate intention to the group. “We should meet this way. The conversations should flow like this. The outcomes can be harvested here.” This can be both helpful and extremely perilous.
When design makes contact with reality is the critical moment. Design is only the beginning. Once people begin interacting, the container inevitably shifts toward emergence. Good facilitation is less about preserving the design than noticing where the design is making contact with reality. If the design is held too tightly, the designer is privileged in the space and the group loses possibilities for true emergence. If the design proceeds from the use of constraints to shape interactions, that can be extremely helpful. If the work is complex, bringing attention to bear into the work is critical. The facilitator role shifts from being the process host to holding attention to what is emerging. Not to name it, or to synthesize, but to inform the next move of shifting constraints, including by enlisting the group in that work: “Should we take a break? Do we need more time? Is this the right question? What’s happening now?”
Design that contacts reality in a built container is one in which intention informs the retention. This is how architecture works. It’s about the deployment of pattern languages (in the Alexandrian sense) to the built environment. A living built environment begins with intention that translates into retention provided by stable structures in the built environment. It alos provides affordances for the attention of the users of space to learn and shape the space afterwards. Think of a community garden, or over longer scales, the built environments of towns and villages that shift and change over the years. Stuart Brand wrote about this in “How Buildings Learn.”
I’m exploring the idea that dialogic containers are spaces and moments (physical and non-physical) in which humans make meaning. Dialogic containers are not things facilitators create or hold. They are patterns of constraint within which meaning-making becomes possible. Good facilitation lies not in holding the container but in learning when to design with constraints, when to rely on built ones, and when to let emergent constraints lead.
The photo for this post was taken on Whyte Avenue in Edmonton last June when the Edmonton Oilers were in the Stanley Cup Finals. Everything in this photo can be mapped in the triangle above.
A raining morning, connecting some readings and the hard work of seeing ourselves for who we really are.
The famous wave at Nazare, Portugal on a light day. The wave is generated from the complex motion of water travelling up a very deep underwater canyon nearly to shore where it rises and meets strong currents coming in many directions. It produces some of the biggest waves in the world. Not easy to surf.
It’s not my title. It’s the title of a book/treatise by Mark Downham, who publishes very long treatises on issues of philosophy, organization, and complexity. This one looks at hosting containers as seen against ideas embedded in Classical Chinese philosophy and it’s going to occupy a big piece of my attention over the next little while.
This has been a spring of considering some of the deeper philosophical issues that meet in the intersection of complexity, hosting, and leadership. I’ve been beavering away a digesting a number of very, very long posts principally by Downham and Snowden in order to clarify my own thinking and practice as a process host, and a teacher of participatory process. It has been a case of getting very clear about the why and where the practice of hosting and holding containers in complexity lies, what is implied by those words and concepts, and why the deep inquiry into the theory brought by these thinkers this spring helps to challenge and sharpen my practice, and help us grow as a field.
It’s not easy. The texts I’ve been reading and engaging with have my mind spinning in several ways and I have been writing bits and pieces here and there to think out loud about them. For me a big benefit of this period of reflection has been to continue to refine the material we are teaching in Complexity Inside and Out, which is a body of work that represents Caitlin’s and my developing practice on working with complexity as and where we find it in our work and lives. That work has been an extension of the work we teach in the Art of Hosting workshops we run. It goes much deeper into practices of working with complexity and introduces people to the work of Snowden, Kurtz, and Eoyang as well as our own work. It is intended to introduce practitioners to complexity tools for working with change in the contexts in which they find themselves, including how to support a personal capacity to host and lead well in complex situations. It grew out of work that we did ten years ago and more when we offered Art of Hosting Beyond the Basics with Tim Merry and Tuesday Rivera, in which each of us extended our own inquiries that started in the Art of Hosting community and took us out to other bodies of work and practice to look at change, complexity, power and personal practice.
So my restless mind and spirit of curiosity has been aroused and shaken and challenged by this rather mammoth collection of works that has appeared this spring. For background I’m going to gather the texts here.
First Downham. These are dense, unexpected texts that draw together strands from fields that are familiar to me and those that are completely outside of my experience. I told Mark he would be a great player of the Glass Bead Game:
- The Architecture of Held Space: The mountain that holds — and the host who learns to hold like one. Here Downham uses many of my writings on the Art of Hosting to discuss the idea of container, so it is getting most of my attention at the moment.
- The Geometry of the Vanishing Container: Breath and Form, Faerie and Field: Pneumatology, Gestalt, and the Liminal Topology of Emergence in the Work of Harrison Owen and Patricia Shaw. which looks at issues of hosting and container work and is one of the few pieces I’ve ever read that sees Harrison Owen’s deep commitment to liturgy in its many forms and guises.
- Cynefin Dynamics and the Choreography of Organizational Change. A commentary on my favourite paper on Cynefin written by Cynthia Kurtz and Dave Snowden in the early days
Snowden’s posts:
- Stacy Unresolved
- Leadership in the Estuary
- The whole series on estuarine thinking, beginning with part one
- Trialectics, or thinking in threes. Alos the start of a series which is inspiring me to think through some ways of talking about containers and de-binarizing some of the dualities we talk about in the art of hosting.
- Foreclosing the territory. A three part series on theories of change that is deeply important in describing the implications of anthro-complexity in change work
None of this is easy reading and these texts have been consuming my thinking over the past few months. I think they are important to my practice, and to the practice of the Art of Hosting community for these reasons, amongst others:
- They offer important claims about epistemic justice, power and subsequent practices of sense-making that help me thinking about positionally of the host, what is visible and what is invisible.
- They offer important reflections on what it means to “design” processes and what it means to host them.
- The offer oblique insights on the notion of theory and practice of working with dialogic containers, especially in complex spaces.
- They challenge the universality of methods, approaches, and tools and invite a more rigorous and context-focused consideration of what to do and how one might do it.
- They surprise me constantly and have offered illumination to some blind spots in my own understanding, generated some aha’s in my own practice, inspired some sharpness in my own thinking, and placed me in a position where I can say more clearly what it is that I do and why that matters.
- They invite us to a reflection on what has built up over time as “ways of doing things” that we take for granted, and invite us back to a renewed view of our works, its sources and the places that it might grow and evolve.
My blog is, as Mark Downham named it, is a field book of notes on practice and theory that I have assembled over the past 20 years. Taken in its totality it represents a journey of a practitioner formed in and adjacent to meaningful communities of practice, bodies of work, teachers and teachings. It is and always will be a place of half-formed thoughts and questions, offered to others as a way to connect and grow a field of practice that honours voice, agency, and community in the pursuit of a better world. It is, as Mark Woods named his blog back in the 1990s using a quote from Stendahl, “the fitful tracing of a portal.” And so I will continue musing out loud here and hope others will join the inquiry.
This inquiry is not everyone’s cup of tea. It is a theory-heavy string, and that theory is positioned in a narrow field of inquiry. It challenges and at times does not pull punches. These blog posts that Downham and Snowden have produced this spring are the deepest and most sophisticated responses to the Art of Hosting body of work I have ever seen in the 20+ plus years I have been around the community. They deserve a serious response, which I have promised to both people. This response though will come in a messy way, informed by practice, thinking, new ideas and conversation. I welcome partners in this. It’s a lot of work but I think this is a serious and important inquiry for those of us who identify, and are identified, as stewards of this work and who are willing to jump in. Just getting the questions right is going to be the first step!
I’m still delightfully jet lagged from the France trip meaning, early nights and early mornings, which suits me fine. It gives me time to read and reflect and to walk, this morning taking time to make a detailed eBird list of the species around me (about 25 this morning, many new flycatchers on the scene), and sit by the sea and catch up with neighbours and their dogs.
I was walking a bit this morning with Augusto Cugnotti’s post in my mind, “The Container is Borrowed” in which he reflects on a mammoth essay by Mark Downham called “The Geometry of the Vanishing Container.”
Downham’s essay imagines a kind of conservation between Harrison Owen and Patricia Shaw, who is a much more interesting person to read. I have not read much of Shaw’s work, to my shame. She was a collaborator with Ralph Stacy and her book on Changing Conversations in Organizations is an important work, and I’ve made a note to take Augusto’s advice and read it.
At any rate, the Coles Notes version here is that I’m looking at this through my own interest in what a “container” is. Increasingly I think that the way I think about dialogic containers are not really captured in the way folks talk use the word. Harrison’s work, captured in Downham’s essay is that the container (especially the physical container) is prepared as a way to trying to create the conditions for emergence. That was his abiding interest and I think Downham names the liturgical and spiritual elements of that in a way I haven’t really seen others capture. When I’m setting up a room, I sometimes feel like a bower bird, and I won’t pretend that liturgy and ceremony is far from my mind. I get it.
It seems that Shaw’s work is primarily concerned with the idea that a consultant or a host or a facilitator can never really be outside of the field in which they are intervening. This seems elemental to me and I’ve made a point of saying that the Participation aspect of the Four Fold Practice of the Art of Hosting is very much about this. You are a part of the field, as is the container and everything else.
Augusto is naming some of these ideas here and it makes me think about why both actual appeal to me.
I see containers as constraint regimes. They are structures that are catalyzed and emerge from constraints that create boundaries and affordances for meaning and action. They are emergent. They are a part of the field, and when we step into a field (a la Shaw) we create a constraint regime just through our presence. Harrison’s approach is that we create physical space and get out of the way of what happens next. But it seems obvious to me that what happens next is not devoid of power, conflict or all the avoidances and limitations that are rooted in the field as well. It is naive to use Open Space (our any other methods) and believe that somehow everyone has left history and identity at the door, including the host. They have not.
Somehow I might define my work as catalyzing action that moves in a “more like this, less like that” direction by working with constraints to change interactions. All change work is about changing constraints, and finding the ones that are most influential in a given context is what complexity work is about. It is not the work of the facilitator to do that. Complex facilitation is about changing interactions not about changing people. A facilitator is not neutral in this context but is in fact a deeply influential participant.
I’m not defending Harrison’s work per se, but learning Open Space taught me about the essential work of managing process and not getting involved in content. It was the first big move for me away from traditional “get involved in the content” facilitation. Shaw’s work – as I understand it from the papers I’ve read – is about acknowledging that there is no “outside.” This was clear to me as a person who had spent my whole career working in communities and organizations. These ideas flow from a number of streams. Lewin helpfully names fields. Snowden and Juarrero name constraints. Pualani Kanakaole names the importance of the deep layers of context that do the real work of hosting. Snowden and Kurtz name the importance of narrative. Isaacs names the container. All of it conspires and moves together to put a question to the practitioner:
“What are you doing?”
When I enter a field to make change now it is not without attention to the landscape of meaning and affordances that exist. I use narrative capture to do that so that the field itself can talk about its experiences, make sense of them, decide what to do. There is a container for this work, and it is lifted intentionally and deliberately and gently from the field, like pinching a bit of cloth on a table to form a little wrinkle. It is not the One Meeting That Rules Them All. Change work requires staying in intimate contact with the field, the larger context. When the dialogic container loses contact with the field, whatever happens there will fail to make the change. It becomes its own thing. Fun maybe, or frustrating, or a kind of utopia. But you will quickly hear people talk about returning to “the real world.” Understanding the current topography of change and resistance and make that visible with minimal intervention is critical. Keeping the work in contact with the field but intervening in smaller ways more often gives a better chance that affordances will be found for promising action. If you aren’t making change in the “real world,” change isn’t being made.
Containers exist because constraints exist. There is a connection. There is a flow. There is an inside and outside, there is an attractor. Even in the most subtle forms, these precipitate differences that become meaningful. What is happening inside this coffee shop is defined by who is on what side of the counter, which languages are being spoken, what the layout of tables and benches do. Who knows whom. The woman who made my espresso was once a kid on a team I coached. When she appears at her job at the community centre, I don’t order coffee from her. We both own shares in the same soccer team, one for which she also once played. The container emerges, is “borrowed” as Augusto says, from the field.
We cannot pretend otherwise. It doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t intervene to make change. It means we should be aware of our intervention and the role we play especially if we show up to the field with power and influence. And if we are making change, that work needs to be as deeply embedded in the field itself and not in the briefcases of consultants or the magic spells of method user guides. It’s about practice. I’m a practitioner.
Harrison’s most influential teaching on my life was not Open Space, actually. It was his slogan “Don’t trust the process, trust the people.” Follow that to its deepest implications and one might arrive at the kinds of questions about epistemic justice, colonization, domination, change-making, and democracy that matter. Those implications are ever-present in my work. I have no answers, but the question “What am I doing?” is a dear companion on the journey.