I was one of the few Christians in my fraternity at the University of Michigan. I hit on the idea of leading a Bible study as a way of sharing my faith with the guys in the house. As president of the local Inter-Varsity chapter, I felt an additional pressure to have a successful discussion, for not only did I care about the guys, I also wanted the Bible study to be a model of effective evangelism.
Seven fellows joined me the first night, coming for a variety of reasons. One was a philosophy major interested in batting around ideas; another was my best friend who felt obligated to come. There was the loner who admitted he was curious about what the Bible had to say, while two were openly scornful of anything smacking of religion and came out of curiosity. The final two were Christians who had prayed with me ahead of time for the venture.
I announced this would be a free and open discussion concerning God and life, kicked off each week by a passage from the Bible. Privately, I was committed to using the time as a way of convincing them to believe the gospel. I was excited so many had shown up, and vowed to not waste the time with idle chatter. From that point on, it was all downhill.
The first night we looked at John 3. I’d prepared some questions to stimulate discussion. Most were so simplistic as to be obvious to even a high school dropout: “When did Nicodemus come to Jesus?” “According to John 3:16, what is necessary for us to inherit eternal life?” “When Christ talked about being born again, was he talking about physical birth?”
Other questions required special biblical knowledge: “What was Christ referring to then he spoke of Moses lifting up the serpent in the wilderness?” “Who were the Pharisees?” Since I was the only one who knew the right answers, I ended up lecturing on these matters. Both kinds of questions had a chilling effect on free-wheeling dialogue. The philosopher and the two scoffers never came back.
The second week I determined to give them some meat to chew on. We studied Galatians –the deeds of the flesh versus the fruit of the Spirit. It was like beating a dead horse. Questions such as “What do you think Paul means by love?” sounded pallid to me. The halting discussion was punctuated with wide gaps of silence.
An hour before the third week’s discussion, my best friend hastily said he had to go to the library; one of the Christian fellows was similarly occupied. People were voting with their presence-or lack of it. The seeker of truth and the other Christian struggled to respond to my questions from Romans 3 about sin, the law, and righteousness. At the end of the hour, the loner thanked me for leading the discussion. He said he had wanted to investigate what was in the Bible. Now he had found out enough and didn’t think he’d come back. As he walked out of my room, 1 overheard him remark to my Christian brother, “I never knew talking about God could be so boring.” No one game the following week. The great evangelistic discussion folded its tent.
It would have been easy to mutter pious complaints about the frivolous nature of my fraternity brothers, or to see myself as the victim of persecution. Fortunately, I had the grace to realize that my inept discussion skills had caused the exodus. I vowed I would learn to do it right the next time.
I’ve since learned that many church leaders are in the same fix. Most discussions in the church are flops. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Let me focus on how to avoid the pitfalls that doom the average religious discussion, as well as ways to generate lively participation.
You Wonder Why I Called This Meeting?
Before a leader calls people together, he or she needs to honestly face the question, “Do I really want a discussion?” The answer is not an automatic yes. Many times we try to use a discussion format because it’s the “in” thing in group techniques. Our members want it, or our superior expects it, but in our heart-of-hearts, we’re uncomfortable with the loss of control.
Some college professors are rotten discussion leaders because they’re afraid to find out what their students are thinking. It’s a threat to discover your neatly organized lecture didn’t come across clearly. My fatal Bible study is another example. I had a “hidden agenda.” My actual purpose wasn’t to have an interchange of ideas; it was to convince them to become Christians. They weren’t dumb, and easily spotted my ulterior motive and became defensive.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for evangelism. But a discussion group is a poor place to persuade because of behaviors that contribute to a defensive climate. Actions that show evaluation, control, strategy, superiority, and certainty all have a cooling effect on spontaneity. Persuasion is the common thread that runs through these five behaviors. No wonder my Bible study flopped; I didn’t really care what the others thought.
Although a discussion doesn’t lend itself to direct influence, it’s an ideal way to get feedback. Leaders want to find out what others are thinking for a number of reasons: they might be soliciting new ideas for the group; they might want some clues as to how others are responding to their leadership; or they might use it to find out where others are at. In order to influence others later, it’s necessary to discover their present attitudes. Sensitive counselors at Christian camps see this as the purpose of cabin devotions. Instead of using the time as a way of delivering another message-filling in the gaps the speaker missed-they solicit reactions to the day’s events and use the information to plan and adjust the next day’s activities.
Stimulation for a response is another legitimate use of group discussion. Too many lectures, messages, . and sermons are about as interesting as watching grass grow. Group members can listen much faster than a speaker can talk. So they slouch down in their chairs, shift into neutral, and passively let the speaker’s words wash over them. But discussion calls for response. It takes energy to figure out what you want to say in a constantly changing discussion. The heartbeat increases, the juices begin to flow. This is a precondition for learning. It’s also a good way to foster change. I’m closed to new ideas as long as I can hang back and not express my thoughts. But jog me into debating the merits of my opinion, and I may start churning inside. If my rigid views are thawed, I might even consider a different or”wrong” position.
Once I get it clearly in mind that I’m not trying to persuade, then I’m ready to plan a discussion. My aim is to stir up others to the point where they’re willing to take the risk of saying what they think and becoming involved.
Building Bridges, Not Walls
There’s a truism in the field of communication that states:
Communication = Content + Relationship
Whether the goal is to persuade someone to buy life insurance, reach a joint decision, or comfort a bereaved friend, two factors come into play: 1) the words spoken, and 2) how each party feels about the other.
Since words are the name of the game, it would be natural for us to focus on the content of communication. Yet we do so at our peril. No matter how provocative our discussion questions, or brilliant our repartee, the dialogue will become mono
logue if the relationship with the leader is out of kilter. Here are some things you can do to ensure that the group will want to participate:
¥ Learn names. There’s nothing quite as demoralizing as being referred to as ”the tall man with the beard in the back row.” The mere possibility makes me want to sit on any idea I might share. Yet if someone cares enough to learn my name, suddenly I’m important, I count-and I want to respond.
There are all sorts of ways to remember people’s names. I try to get a vivid impression of a prominent characteristic-long blond hair, a ski-jump nose, brooding dark eyes, a square jaw. Then I associate it somehow with the first name. I don’t worry about last names. I have enough trouble remembering the Christian name, and that’s the one that counts in an informal discussion. I try to use a person’s name immediately after I hear it so I won’t forget it. “Use it or lose it” applies to name recall as much as it does to any other skill.
Of course, you may be called to meet with an entirely new group. You’d probably do better to ask them to wear big name tags with the first name printed in large letters. If participants will be sitting at a conference-type table, take along a stack of 5 x 8 file cards and a magic marker. One lengthwise fold makes the card prop up at just the right angle in front of them so you can see inch-high letters. The whole name-tag business might seem “Mickey-mouse” to some, but it’s much warmer to call on a person in a way he likes rather than pointing and saying, “Hey, you.”
¥ Get involved. Take the first step to develop a relationship. I was asked to be the speaker for a Spiritual Enrichment Week at a small liberal arts college in the South. The administration was trying to rekindle a Christian emphasis on campus, and the students were understandably wary of me as an outsider who was comirig to lay enlightenment on them. I tried spending lots of time in the cafeteria, playing tennis, and generally engaging in the art of small talk. I also went and cheered for the soccer team. At the end of the week, one of the girls who spoke up the most in the discussions told me how carefully the students had monitored this effort. “The most important thing you said all week was, ‘Yeah, team!’ When we saw you lose your cool cheering for us, we knew you were one of us. It was safe to tell you what we really thought.”
¥ Try to divest yourself of accumulated clout. A difference in status can kill off a lively debate before it starts. My wife and I don’t find it particularly helpful to be Dr. and Mrs. Griffin when working with our church’s junior high program. We’re comfortable being called Jeanie and Em, and the kids seem to take a certain delight that we make an effort to bridge the gap. Informal dress also works to minimize the gulf. I shed my sports coat and tie before I enter the youth lounge so I’ll be better able to stimulate honest feedback by blending in with the motif.
Popping the Question
Up to this point, my advice has been a matter of simple common sense. Any sensitive observer of the human scene would reach the same conclusions. Posing questions that elicit response is tougher. It’s an acquired skill. Since it doesn’t come naturally, let me outline an approach that works. Asking the right question can make or break a discussion.
The first thing I’ve discovered, through sad experience, is don’t ask a question with a right answer. The worst question is one that can be answered with a simple yes or no. Here’s how not to do it. I was working with a group of non-Christian high school guys. I wanted to get them thinking about the divinity of Jesus Christ. I was afraid they thought he was merely a good man. After a fun day of skiing, we sat down together, and I launched out:
“What do you think, guys? Is Jesus Christ really God?” I leaned forward expectantly, prepared for a rousing thirty-minute discussion. Silence reigned. No one spoke; I’m not sure they even breathed. It was like a prayer meeting-every head bowed, every eye shut. They wouldn’t look at me for fear of being called on. I restated the question: “Is Jesus really God?” After the pressure became unbearable, one bold soul took the plunge. “Yes,” he said. End of discussion! All attempts to go further fell flat. Was he really convinced of Christ’s identity? “Uh huh.” How about the other guys? They all nodded their heads in mute agreement. To this day, I have no idea of what they really thought about the deity of Christ.
What went wrong? I had asked a question with a right answer. Not only that, the fellows could tell there was a right answer. Uninitiated into spiritual matters though they were, they had the street savvy to spot a loaded question at its core. Their reasoning could have gone something like this:
Em’s looking for something. He’s been to seminary and has studied this sort of thing. I’m almost positive the answer is yes. If I say it and I’m right, I’ll get his approval, but my buddies will think I’m trying to be teacher’s pet. And suppose it’s a trick question and I’m wrong? Then Em will put me down, and I’ll feel like a fool in front of my friends. It’s safer to just keep quiet. So they did. As they saw it, they were in a no-win situation.
Is it possible to have a Christian discussion without asking questions of truth? Yes. Suppose you want to stimulate thinking about Christ’s Sermon on the Mount. The typical format would include questions such as: “What are the different components of the Lord’s Prayer?” “How did Jesus enlarge the COZ11mandment about adultery?” “What is the Lord’s attitude toward seeking riches?” All of these are questions of fact, and they are almost guaranteed to generate little reaction.
On the other hand, you could put it this way: “You’ve read the Sermon on the Mount. Suppose Christian kids in your school were to put its teaching into effect for just one week. How would things be different?
That’s a whole different ballgame. Instead of one right answer, there are lots of possibilities. No one of them is right. Joan can think that non-Christians would be threatened, while Bill might conclude it would be heaven on earth. There’s room for disagreement, even an argument. And since there’s no way you can authoritatively state they are wrong, neither of them fears being shot down by the leader. This suggests the second principle of popping the question.
Make them the experts. I was a counselor at a Young Life weekend camp. Although it was past midnight, the twelve guys in my cabin felt no inclination to hit the sack. I thought I’d use the opportunity to find out what they thought of the evening message. The speaker had focused on sin, so 1 asked, “What do you guys think sin is? How would you define it?”
They tried-they really did. But they were strangers to this theological ground. I was the one who knew sin could be defined as missing the mark, breaking the law, or severing a relationship. They were aware I was one up on them. Besides, sin is a rather touchy subject if you feel that anything you say may be used against you. So they “took the Fifth.”
Sensing their discomfort, I took a different tack. “What’s the average guy at your high school like?” I asked. It took about two minutes of pump-priming to convince them I really wanted to know, but after that, it was as if I’d turned on the spigot. They covered:
¥ how he did in school
¥ how much his father earned
¥ whether he was out for sports
¥ ways he spent his spare time
¥ whether he dated much
¥ what he did on a date
¥ whether or not he believed in God
¥ whether he went to church
¥ how he treated others
¥ what he felt guilty about
The bull session went all over the map with only occasional questions from me: “Is that right? Do most kids at school get drunk on weekends?” They didn’t always agree with each other, but that added to the liveliness. And regardless of what they said, I couldn’t contradict them. They knew much more about life as a teen-ager in their town than I did. I’d discovered a topic on which they were the experts.
When we were finished, I knew a lot about an average guy at their school. I also knew a lot about them. As one fellow put it, “Let’s face it, Em. We haven’t been talking about the average kid, we’ve been talking about ourselves. When it comes to sin, we’re experts!” I’ve since learned to phrase questions so as to put the group in a place where they know as much or more about the topic than I. It’s not a matter of playing dumb; rather, it’s drawing on their unique experience.
For instance, this is an article about leadership. Suppose I wanted to involve a group of readers in a discussion of group leadership. I could ask, “What are the five main principles of discussion leadership?” I could, but getting your thoughts would be like pulling teeth. You’d reason, “Em’s the one who’s writing. He’s supposed to be the pro. Who am I to tell him what will work best?” But suppose I set up the discussion this way:
All of us have been involved in a great number of discussions, gab-fests, and bull sessions. Think back over all the discussions you can recall. Pick the one that was the most stimulating, the one where you just had to get in your two-cents worth or you’d burst. It may have been a committee meeting, classroom debate, dorm floor meeting, or your family sitting around the dinner table. Try to remember as much about that time as you can. Tell us about that discussion and what you think made it go. I could get a good discussion about leadership using this question as a springboard. Note that you would be the expert. You were there, I wasn’t. Your interpretation of its success is unassailable. We may discover your conclusions are different from those reached by others; but they were drawing on other situations, so in no way could you be wrong! In this supportive climate, you’d be motivated to do new thinking about leading a discussion, and in the process, I’d be privy to your opinions as you share them with the group. That was the purpose of raising the issue in the first place.
This concept of making others the experts is so crucial, that I want to toss out one more example. Suppose you wanted to discuss the attributes of God. You could simply ask the group, “What do you think God is like?” By now you realize this approach is fraught with pitfalls. On the other hand you could give the issue a different slant-something like this:
Christmas is only a few weeks off. Suppose you came down Christmas morning and discovered a big package under the tree. They say good things come in small packages, but you’ve always been partial to the big presents. You eagerly tear off the shiny red paper and discover a genuine, do-it-yourself, Make-a-God kit. It’s not the artificial plastic model, but the authentic original. You read the instructions and find you can make any kind of god you want. The only requirement is that once you’ve made him or her, you have to live with it.
I know this is ridiculous. There is no such thing as a Make-a-God kit. But what if there was? Religious skeptics claim that man makes God in his own image. Suppose it was possible to create a god to match our desires. What kind of god would you make?
I’ve used this discussion starter a number of times. It’s a winner. It’s just off-beat enough to stir up curiosity. However a person responds, he’s correct. He’s merely stating his preference, not the state of cosmic truth. In the process, I learn a great deal about his views on omnipotence (power), omniscience (knowledge), and love and/or justice. At the same time, the group participants start the process of mental churning. I promote this by probing their responses. If someone asserts they’d make a god powerful enough to stop all wars, I point out that he’d have enough clout to force his will on them as well. When the discussion centers on this god’s knowledge, I query them on their willingness to bring into being a god who would know their inner thoughts. The key to this process is crafting questions that make every member an authority. A bit of sanctified imagination will bring it off almost every time.
The Make-a-God kit example also illustrates a third principle of opening a discussion. Use vivid imagery. A few of my colleagues in philosophy claim that man can think in abstractions, but I’m not convinced. If you ask someone to consider the topic of determinism, you’re liable to get a blank stare unless he first develops the term into a mental snapshot of a puppeteer pulling the strings. People think in pictures. You’re ahead of the game if you help your group think in concrete terms. Otherwise they could just let abstract terms wash over them without ever engaging in the dialogue.
It’s possible to visually portray almost any topic. Our spiritual pilgrimage over a period of time can be charted like the Dow Jones average. Our family relations can be depicted by drawing a seating plan and communication pattern at the dinner table. I’ve led a Bible study on Mark 4–Jesus controlling the wind and waves by having participants create a weather map similar to those seen on the evening news. Different areas of the country represent distinct areas of our lives. Traditional symbols for sunny, cloudy, thunderstorms, and fog show how we feel about our work, friends, home life, recreation, and God. For any of these issues, it’s best to start with the nonverbal exercise, and then have people talk about their creation. Most of us are freer to speak up when we can refer to something tangible in our hands.
If you ever want a college group to grapple with the question of how the Lord feels about them, you might suggest they write a letter to themselves from God. Mail is an important event in the lives of college students. It’s helpful to get them to picture themselves walking up to the mailbox and finding an envelope with no return address. They rip it open and are stunned to find a letter from God. At first they tend to dismiss it as some kind of joke, but the words have the ring of truth. What does it say? I ask them to follow the format of Jesus’ letters to the seven churches in the book of Revelation:
¥ A personalized greeting
¥ God giving himself a special name
¥ Praise for a Christian virtue-some good news
¥ Blame for a specific sin-some bad news
¥ Request for a change
¥ A warning if the request is ignored
¥ A promise if the change is made
Ten minutes of writing can foster a fascinating hour of interchange. Usually there’s a buildingblock effect. As some in the group see others seriously concerned with God’s opinion, they also get caught up in the quest to discover God’s will. It seems everyone has trouble verbalizing what God appreciates about them. Writing a letter from God helps picture God saying, “Well done, my good and faithful servant,” in response to their positive qualities.
There are many structured exercises, games, and role-plays available commercially. Secular topics include leadership, roles, decision-making, cross-cultural communication, and creativity. Christianoriented material is available for stimulating discussion about community, spiritual gifts, and many of Jesus’ encounters with people in the Gospels. Both types can be effective because they stay away from the simplistic right/wrong answers, provide an experiential base that gives all an equal competence, and make an abstract ideal visual. But you don’t need to wait for someone else to create structured experiences for you. With some imagination, you can make up your own discussion starters that are tailor-made for your situation.
Keeping the Ball Rolling
Starting a discussion is one thing; keeping it going is another. Your goal is to keep the energy level high. You’ve taken pains to get the beast off the ground, so take care not to let the air out of the balloon. Call it what you will-energy, electricity, excitement, dynamism, oomph-it’s the name of the game. What follows is a simple do and don’t list I’ve found helpful:
1. Don’t judge. You’ve set up your whole discussion on the premise there are no right answers. Don’t give it the lie by evaluating their comments. I’m at my best when I take a quizzical stance: “You’re not wrong, but I’m not sure you’re right either.” A gentle probing works wonders-never challenging, but in a friendly spirit of curiosity- exploring the depths of what another is saying.
If someone states he is against war, I try to find out what war. Viet Nam? Israel’s three-day strike against Egypt? The Allies resistance to Hitler and Tojo in World War II? It may turn out there are some conflicts he’ll regretfully support.
Or if someone announces categorically that God would never have us lie, I’ll mention Rahab the prostitute, who lied about the spies she was hiding in the attic. In Hebrews 11 she’s praised for her faith. Although there are any number of objections to my example, chances are my questioning will be an impetus for others to take the plunge into the discussion.
I work hard to surface variant views, without putting anyone on the defensive. As leader, I won’t argue. If I can promote a’ spirited interchange among group members, however, I’ve achieved my aim. A bit of conflict helps people overcome their inhibitions and enter the fray.
2. Don’t preach. This is so obvious it hardly seems worth mentioning. Yet many Christian leaders feel an irresistible urge to put in their two cents. Usually it comes across more like a dollar fifty and squelches contributions of others. The best advice I ever received about discussion leading came from a long-time professional in a workshop. This piece of wisdom made the $100 price of admission worthwhile:
Whenever I’m tempted to stick in my own opinion, I shut up. It’s the height of arrogance to suppose others are going to be more interested in hearing my views than they are in expressing their own. So when I feel that gnawing desire to pontificate creeping over me, I make it a practice to wait at least sixty seconds. By that time, I’m usually glad I resisted the impulse to intervene. I suspect the group is even happier.
3. Don’t take the detached stance of the scholar. You’re the leader. The group will take its cue from you. If you lean back with your cheek in your hand as you objectively weigh each thought, the conversation will be dull and halting. If, however, you model excitement, the thing might catch fire.
I try to sit on the edge of a table or desk. I lean forward eagerly when someone speaks. I’m careful not to let my eyes wander. Eye contact says I’m up for hearing his thoughts. Lack of it would scream out an indifference to the value of his opinion. I’ll also nod my head as he continues. If you want to see how effective this is, try an experiment the next time someone shares an idea with you. Nod your head and intersperse your listening with verbal signs of approval-“yes, uh huh, that’s interesting, go on.” The words will pour forth in a torrent. Another time, meet the words with only a blank stare. Or worse yet, solemnly shake your head negatively and mumble with a sigh, “That’s not right.” It’ll wipe the speaker out. (I suggest you only try this latter experiment with an understanding friend.) Another way to show your interest is to repeat back in your own words what was said. It shows you were really listening.
All of this takes continual effort. So I make sure I enter a discussion internally fired up, raring to go. For you, it might take a cup of coffee, a slap of aftershave, a good night’s sleep-anything to overcome an impression of indifference. Unless the occasion is formal, I wear my tennis shoes; the discussion needs energy, and somehow I feel bouncier.
4. Do plan ahead It’s easy to fall into the trap of not listening to what people are saying because your mind is racing ahead trying to come up with your next question. Preparation is the only way to combat this tendency. It’s important to bone up on a topic so you have illustrations at your finger tips. A discussion of tragic moral choice will go much better if I have a number of Rahab-type ethical dilemmas to trot out at the appropriate time. That kind of mastery takes effort.
An effective discussion takes more preparation time than a speech. A speech goes from A to B to C. In a discussion I start at A-my opening question- but I don’t know if the group will branch off to C or G or B. Good preparation requires I be ready to react to all contingencies, that I’ll have thought through all possible responses ahead of time. If I do my homework, I won’t be worrying about my side of the conversation. I’ll be free to concentrate on what the other person is saying and thus avoid the deadening gaps that often plague a spur-of-the-moment effort.
5. Do use humor. I’ve stated that conflict enlivens a discussion. It’s the same with laughter. Many leaders are afraid to use humor in a religious discussion. That’s too bad. Humor is a great way of releasing tensions and keeping things loose. A discussion should be fun.
The kinds of humor that help a discussion along are repartee, puns, plays on words, incongruity, and exaggeration. Most of us are capable of an occasional comic rejoinder. If all else fails, poking fun at ourselves guarantees some group mirth. However, don’t force it. If you have trouble seeing the funny side of life, you’ll appear stilted trying to be something you aren’t.
One further warning: it’s easy to slip into a caustic, biting humor that tears down group members. Chances are they’ll never let you know they’re hurt, and you’ll learn too late that you’ve overstepped. When in doubt, err on the side of making yourself the butt of your jokes, not them. It’s both effective and Christian.
6. Do seek balanced participation. You need to deal head-on with the two thorniest problems facing a discussion leader: How to get the apathetic person to enter in, and how to prevent the monopolizer from dominating the discussion. Both extremes spell trouble.
There’s no way you can assess the thoughts of a silent member, but the problem extends beyond that. His silence might have a chilling effect on others in the group. Suppose you were in a Bible study where people took seriously James’ admonition of confessing sins to one another. Nonparticipation of any one member is going to be viewed as a threat to the others. “What’s he thinking about me?” you’ll wonder. As long as his reactions are a mystery, you’ll be less than candid. Also, his apparent boredom seems to pass judgment on the worth-whileness of your efforts. To put it bluntly, he’s a wet blanket.
In dealing with apathy, it helps to realize that what looks like boredom often is fear instead. This is especially true in a new group. Each person is casting about to see where he fits, how he can contribute, and what he can expect from others. This uncertainty creates tension that contracts facial muscles and tightens vocal chords. So although his mind might lie racing with valuable insight, his actual appearance is one stage short of coma.
The standard way of dealing with silent members is to call on them by name: “Do you have any ideas, Bill?” “What’s your opinion, John?” “You haven’t said much, Linda.” Unfortunately, this usually drives them deeper into their shells. If they’re quiet because they’re scared of others, singling them out is merely going to increase their fear. Going around the group so everyone has a chance to say something doesn’t allay the tension. As his turn comes closer, the silent member dredges up an innocuous comment designed to shift the group’s focus toward someone else. Stimulating discussion it’s not.
I approach apparent apathy more indirectly. I try to create an atmosphere so exciting that a guy or gal just has to share thoughts or they’ll split. Controversy, humor, painting word pictures, creating common experiences, a nonjudgmental atmosphere, an informal setting, a high-energy level-all are designed as goads to overcome selfconsciousness so everyone will take the plunge.
I then conduct the discussion in a fashion best described as “planned disorder.” I skip orderproducing techniques such as hand-raising and turn-taking, and avoid making comments such as, “Shh. Everyone listen to what Sue is saying. If you have something to say, share it with the whole group.”
At times it may seem chaotic. But perhaps the best a silent member can do is turn to a friend and comment on what someone else said. I don’t want to stifle boldness, so I tolerate a wide latitude of whispering, laughing, and interruptions in hopes of activating the silent member. Eye contact and an occasional smile are ways of signaling to others that you’re aware of them. When you see a flicker of interest, casually offer by a silent nod, “Do you want it?” Sometimes that will do the trick. This personalized attention is best coupled with an occasional general statement such as, “Remember, your idea is as good as the guy next to you-probably better.” Or, “Let’s give some who haven’t had a chance to say something a shot at the question.” There’s no iron-clad guarantee this indirect strategy will free up all members to participate, but at least you’ll know that when a person finally does speak, it’s because he wants to, not because it was dragged out of him.
The group member who talks too much presents a very different kind of problem. At first, you may be glad for his participation if others are hanging back, but your reaction might soon switch from gratefulness to gritting your teeth. It’s not just that his constant chatter is irritating; that you could handle. But when he’s taking up most of the time, others are getting shut out. They might even decide that joining in is not worth the effort for fear of appearing as obnoxious as Mr. Know-it-all.
Your response to this person who has no unspoken thought will depend on the reason for the talkativeness. It’s no use being subtle if he’s insensitive to the reactions of the group. Chances are that talking has been his way of getting attention since childhood. He’s learned that if he talks long enough and loud enough, people will at least pay attention to him. It’s better than being ignored.
The firm approach works best: “Kathy, you’ve put in some interesting ideas. Now give some others a chance.” Sometimes it may be necessary to interrupt a rambling monologue: “Hold it right there, Pete. You’re tossing out a number of worthwhile ideas, but I’m not sure we can handle all of them at once. Take your first point, boil it down to one simple sentence, and we’ll see what others think about it.”
Excessive participation could be due to a special interest in the topic. In these cases, monopolizing isn’t chronic. The person merely gets caught up in a topic that fascinates him, and he has a chance to shine. A bit of private affirmation will usually bring the amount of participation down to an acceptable level: “Bill, you know a lot more about this than others in the group. I’m afraid your knowledge might intimidate them. How about hanging back awhile so they can get in their licks without feeling stupid?” In this way, you’ve deputized the monopolizer as an associate discussion leader, and he shares your concern to draw out others.
If there’s no opportunity to talk with him in private, a public comment can accomplish the same effect: “Bill, you’ve obviously thought a lot about this, and your ideas are pretty well set in wet cement. That’s been helpful for us. But creativity is a tricky process. Fresh ideas often come from those who are brand-new to the problem. Let’s see what others have to say.” The precise way you do it isn’t as important as making sure you intervene. If the monopolizer is unchecked, he’ll kill the discussion.
Winding It Up
Most discussions don’t wind up, they wind down. The leader asks plaintively, “Does anybody have anything more to say?” The answer is painfully obvious. Everyone is tired of worrying the problem to death. I’d much rather have an intense fifteen-minute discussion and quit while things are hopping, than drag things out to conform to a predetermined time frame.
I’m often asked the best way to summarize a discussion. My advice is simple: Don’t. A summary has three things against it. The main drawback is that it has a calming effect. It ties everything into a package. This imagery is reflected in typical discussion terminology. The summary is the time for “wrapping up.” There are no loose ends. We can relax now because the topic, which seemed so uncertain and turbulent, is now reduced to a neat list of principles that won’t bother anyone. They can go home with an unfurrowed brow.
But you don’t want that! The whole purpose of the discussion was to stimulate. You’d much rather see people walk out of the room arguing, churning with things yet to say, bothered by ideas they’ve heard. The best way to accomplish this is to simply cut off while things are going well: “Hey, that’s it. This has really been good. See you next week.” Much better to leave a few of them agitated because you quit too soon than to miss a number of good stopping points.
Another problem with a summary is that it never catches the full flavor of what’s been said. How could it? When you try to capture all the diverse elements of an hour-long discussion in a threeminute synthesis, something is bound to be lost. Ideas get truncated; sharp edges blurred. I might have spoken up only twice, but I remember best what I said. If my ideas are missing in the summary, I feel gypped. Even if I spot them, I’m angry that you didn’t understand the full nuance of the thought. Either way, it’s a no-win situation.
Finally, there’s the ever-present problem of evaluation lurking just below the surface. Although it’s theoretically possible to summarize in a purely descriptive fashion, judgment almost always creeps in. People have long memories. You’ve stated up front that there are no right answers. If your mood and manner at the end give those words the lie, it can be fatal the next time you try to get people to open up. They’ll figure you will give the “true answer” at the end, so they’ll sit back aloofly and wait for you to lay it on them.
As in any field, group leadership is laced with pompous-sounding jargon. My favorite is “quality dialogical interface.” It merely means a good talk between two people. As stilted as the phrase sounds, it would be a shame to let it mask the truth to which it refers. To be a whole person, you must have someone listen to your story. If no one will listen, you are nothing. No matter how talented and powerful a leader you are, you won’t be effective unless you find ways to let your group have its say. One-way communication has gone the way of the dodo bird-at least, it should have.
Leading a discussion is tough. It would be easy to try out some of the ideas given here, fall flat on your face, and then revert back to the safety of straight lecture. But that’s not an option for the sensitive leader. The only way to find out what people are thinking is to ask them. Sometimes it’s risky finding out. It’s even more risky not to know.
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