Saying “no” to anyone, about anything, tends to be challenging. We know how uncomfortable it is to hear the “no” we would say. We want to avoid that discomfort and the consequences that might come our way for being “exposed” in our unwillingness. Many of us genuinely wish to be always caring and available, and find it strenuous to face a situation in which, for whatever reason, we don’t find the willingness or ability to say “yes” to what is being asked of us. In some cultures, or for certain groups of people, it is entirely unacceptable to say “no,” which only makes things more complex.
These challenges arise even in the most ordinary exchanges, or in our most trusted relationships, and are orders of magnitude more challenging when the relationship has power differences built into it. I plan to come back to the added complexity of how power and “no” interact. For now, I want to look at the “easier” piece, navigating a “no” in a relationship of equals, in a way that allows us to retain trust and a spirit of collaboration.
What Makes “No” So Challenging?
What this means, if we want to say “no” to someone, is that we need to find a way to subvert this fundamental dance. We can, instead, aim for a way to say “no” to the specific request while continuing to affirm that we care about the person making the request and about what’s important to them.
For the most part, we don’t know how to do that. Learning the essential steps of maintaining care and connection while saying “no” is one of the specific reasons I feel such gratitude to Marshall Rosenberg for inventing Nonviolent Communication (NVC). It was studying his recommendation and attempting to understand what led him to the specific suggestions he made that led me to understand so deeply the underlying conversation that rarely happens except unconsciously and usually with some pain.
Conveying Care
“No” to the Strategy; “Yes” to the Need
The more I study and teach the practice of NVC, the more I find that the most revolutionary aspect of it, on all levels, is the distinction between strategies and needs. When someone makes a request, they are presenting a strategy that, if I agree to, will support them in getting their needs met. That strategy is not synonymous with the need. Part of the art of saying “no” is recognizing that even if I am thoroughly unwilling to do what is being asked of me, I can almost always support the need, the person’s desire to get the need met. This is one piece of inner work for me: when I can make that separation within me, it’s easier for me to access the care I know this person likely seeks, in addition to and separately from the request itself. If you are not familiar with NVC, then you can think of the need, as I have written here before, as the “why” behind the “what” of the strategy. If I can articulate my fundamental interest in this person’s needs getting met and mean it, it already softens the intensity of the “no.”
Speaking the “Yes” behind the “No”
Just as much as this person’s request is a strategy to meet their needs, my saying “no” is a strategy to meet mine. This desire to say “no” likely represents other needs that I am saying “yes” to by saying “no” to the request. Finding the moment in the interaction to bring in what those other needs are that lead me to say “no” to this person’s request can also support the other person in taking in my “no” in a way that still conveys care. If the “why” of my “no” is clear and understandable, it’s less likely that the other person will take it as being a “no” to them. This is especially true if we keep affirming our intention to support the person in attending to what’s important to them whether or not we are the ones taking action about it.
Staying in Dialogue for Collaboration
If we are able to keep our attention focused on attending to what matters most, and keep coming back to that intention, life may surprise us. We might hear the needs of the other person more clearly and shift into saying “yes.” The other person may hear what’s behind our “no” and change their request to one that’s easier for us to say “yes” to. We may find, together, alternative ways of addressing what truly is at the heart of their request without agreeing to the request itself, ways that work remarkably well, sometimes even better, for both of us.
The point, here, is to stay in the not knowing, to back away from focusing on solutions, to insist on staying together in the dilemma until we reach a conclusion together. In my experience, when we are able to do that, we find more creativity than we might expect.
When a Solution Eludes Us
However much we are committed to supporting the other person, saying “no,” even as a step in the dialogue, even if we do everything else to convey care, is likely to have an effect. Especially if we are not able, even through dialogue, to find a strategy that would work for both of us, focusing on the quality of connection, seeking to solidify trust and mutual care even through the disappointment, become vitally important. Rather than closing our heart in order to say “no,” which is what we often do, we can choose to open our heart wider and wider, so that we actually feel the pain of saying “no” and are present to the effect. We can invite and encourage the other person – in this circumstance and in all circumstances of challenge – to tell us the full truth, and remain present to hear it.
The foundation of collaboration is togetherness, not necessarily or always an immediate solution. Togetherness is both the ground of co-creativity and the possibility of walking through the impossibility of finding a solution, sometimes, without losing the relationship. If we build trust through the process and through an ongoing relationship, we can find extraordinary sweetness in the shared grief that arises in not finding a path forward that works for both of us. It doesn’t matter, in these kinds of dialogue, who made the initial request and who said “no,” because the “no” itself becomes a request of the other person to look for other paths. We find a solution, together, or we grieve, together, and come to accept. Either way, staying together through the challenge increases the resilience of our relationship.
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Good grist for changing habitual attitudes and behaviors into new and more expansive ones. These are most worthy of experimentation by anyone dissatisfied with the inner conflicts you that burden us all. Your theme reminded me of a book I read and was a great influence in the mid 70's, "When I Say No, I Feel Guilty" by Manuel J. Smith. Here is a sample I quote that I just found on a site called "get abstract, compressed knowledge:
ReplyDeleteProblem Solving
No one’s life is problem-free. Inevitably, everyone encounters bumps on the road. Just like other members of the animal kingdom, humans have an innate, survival-based “fight or flight” response when they feel threatened. Unlike animals, however, humans in conflict possess another coping skill: the ability to solve problems verbally. Yet, when threatened,
challenged or intimidated, people often respond with “anger-aggression, fear-flight or depression-withdrawal.” These primordial coping mechanisms pale in comparison with “verbal assertive problem-solving.” Unfortunately, many people have not learned this skill or do not use it as well as they could.
From the moment you could walk and talk, your parents attempted to control your behavior. Often, they manipulated your emotions so you felt “anxious, ignorant or guilty” about your actions. They did not intend to be mean and they were probably unaware of the impact of their words because their parents brought them up the same way. For instance, if you left your toys on the floor, your mother might say, “Only bad children leave their toys out to make a mess.” This made you feel guilty, nervous and a little bit scared. It would have been better if she simply had said, “I want you to pick up your toys, even though I know you don’t feel like it,” without assigning the label of “good” or “bad” to your behavior.