Working with cultural differences
I have had an interesting few days working with Aboriginal leadership from around North America. In Michigan last week, I helped convene 24 folks interested in what indigenous leadership means, and today I am here in Port McNeil BC, hosting a community to community forum between First Nations and local governments.
One of the things that folks in the rest of indigenous North America don’t realize about the cultures of the west coast is how radically different they are from the cultures of the plains, desert and forests of the rest of North America. This is true in many ways, but especially true in the way the individual is perceived.
IN Ojibway culture for example, the individual is important. The integrity of one’s personal path is virtually sacred. So much so that Ojibway Elders never teach people by correcting them. Instead they will make broad pointers, refer to hypothetical people or talk indirectly about situations. Shaming is a very powerful force, and people will go to great lengths to avoid doing it. In general, hints are extremely subtle.
On the west coast however, the social world is very highly segmented, and in traditional communities, a strict hierarchical class system is in place from chiefs all the way down to slaves. Protocols are extremely important, and breaching protocols entails elaboration restitution and reconciliation before the natural order is restored. In this sense, west coast cultures are similar to Hawaiian and other Polynesian cultures as well.
I was faced with these two different cultural contexts in the last two weeks as I went about my work facilitating groups. In both cases, I experienced these cultural norms as participants were suggesting changes to process and the way I was facilitating.
In Michigan, we ran a circle process to help understand themes that were emerging from a cafe. In the circle, the conversation became more and more high level and eventually it came time for us to stop talking theoretically and start sharing stories. One man who was present, a Gros Ventre psychologist and teacher, made a very subtle hint about this saying “it will be good to ground these ideas and exchange stories.” It sounded like a very general comment, but it was offered, from his perspective as a very specific request: let’s move on.
When we didn’t move on, a Hawaiian professor spoke up, much more directly and suggested that I wrap up the circle and get to an Open Space process. That’s what we did and the energy began flowing again.
IN contrast today, while hearing a round of introductions, a young man was introducing himself but was going beyond the one things I asked people to say about themselves. At one point I interrupted his train of though with a friendly reminder about saying only one thing so that we could allow everyone to have a chance to speak. Instantly one of the hereditary chiefs rose, and in a big resonant voices said “point of order!” He then chastised me for “taking the talking stick out of that young man’s hands, and that is something we never ever do.” I apologized to the chief and the young man and he continued his introduction. It became a little teaching moment for the whole gathering, local politicians feeling their way into working together and the non-Aboriginal ones were quite nervous about protocol violations. Luckily I have no such qualms about making mistakes – in my 15 years on the west coast, I could never hope to be perfect all the time – and in apologizing, everything was set to rights and we continued, but the power was very visible in the room.
These kinds of deeply cultural ways of speaking and teaching and correcting are radically different between a Gros Ventre academic and a Gwasala hereditary chief. It’s one of the things that makes working in Indigenous communities so interesting and so challenging. Never make assumptions about what you think you know, and what is going on in the room. Every culture is different, has different thoughts about speech and different ways power is used. Understand that you can never hope to comprehend them all fully, not without years and years of living in the community, and even then, mistakes are made. Most important is to be yourself though, because although it is possible to violate protocols unconsciously, it is not possible to reconcile if you are anything other than authentic with people.
When all is said and done, that is probably the essence of the teaching for this week.
You know that I know what your talking about. At the same time, it’s things like these that will be lost for some native communities too with current assimilation. My Coast Salish community has lost a lot of these nuances of community life. So when it comes down to it, the elders can’t teach what they don’t know. Then what used to be normalcy or a custom within culture is over-rided by a new culture of Euro-Canadian nuances.
The only thing I know of, which is more formal, but probably would blend in like how it is with the Kwakwakwa’wakw (the community you referenced in your post) is that when asked to “ut’sam” or “witness”, you also speak on only what you are asked to speak on. It’s not the time to grandstand or limelight around, but offer wisdom, teachings, and insight for the family as a recorder of the events taking place. If someone was out of line, the family could walk up and give your your “quarters” in the middle of your speech, saying “You are speaking out of line, and thank you that is enough”.
Even the overused and misunderstood term of “huy chexw a” is similar. In modern context, it’s been used as a phrase for the modern term of “Thank You”. In a sense it means thank you, but there’s a very specific usage and context. When the family member is pouring the soup into your at a potlatch or feast, you could say “huy chexw”, meaning “Thank you that’s enough now”, because the term is more of a command then a term of gratitude or endearment. Interesting eh?
I would have to conclude by saying the nuances of Coast Salish culture, akin to what your speaking about here, is that the apart of respect is doing what is asked of you, and no more.
Thanks Dustin…always great to get the deep context from you. The idea of witnessing is really interesting, and when I’ve worked with Lyla Brown in the past we actually made that a formal part o fthe work.
thanks for these subtle insights and guidance.
It is interesting to me the difference between teaching by a direct as aopposed to an indirect approach. For example, in my work with Indigenous Youth, I use a story , fable, or legend to illustrate the reasons for the rules of the house that are in place concerning everyone’s wellbeing. Other staff use a more direct tact which I notice most youth react to negatively. The home is in Sto:lo territory and some of the staff are “Spirit” Dancers. I find that some of the “scolding” that i have also seen used in Smokehouses seems to be a residule of Residential School experiences passed down to new dancers. I think it is fine to be firm and direct and imparative that this is carried out with kindness and explanation. Simply saying, “We dont do that here!” gives no life to learning and to me is abuse which is not an Ideal I can find rooted in any Culture. To me correction should come first as a lesson then if the student performs an act that s/he knows better not to do, then sterness is most appropiate. so it is also with the spirit that corrects one through folly when one knowingly goes against the best interests of the people.
Mitakue Oyasin