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Posts by Paul Costello1

The GROW Model of Coaching and Mentoring

The GROW Model

A Simple Process for Developing Your People

As a leader, one of your most important roles is to coach your people to do their best. By doing this, you’ll help them make better decisions, solve problems that are holding them back, learn new skills, and otherwise progress their careers.

Some people are fortunate enough to get formal training in coaching. However, many people have to develop this important skill themselves. This may sound daunting but, if you arm yourself with some proven techniques, practice, and trust your instincts, you can become a great coach.

The GROW Model is a simple yet powerful framework for structuring your coaching  or mentoring  sessions. We’ll look at how to apply it in this article, video and infographic, below.

Click here  to see our animated video on the GROW Model

About the Model

GROW stands for:

  • Goal.
  • Current Reality.
  • Options (or Obstacles).
  • Will (or Way Forward).

The model was originally developed in the 1980s by business coaches Graham Alexander, Alan Fine, and Sir John Whitmore.

A good way of thinking about the GROW Model is to think about how you’d plan a journey. First, you decide where you are going (the goal), and establish where you currently are (your current reality). You then explore various routes (the options) to your destination. In the final step, establishing the will, you ensure that you’re committed to making the journey, and are prepared for the obstacles that you could meet on the way.

Tip:

In its traditional application, the GROW Model assumes that the coach is not an expert in the client’s situation. This means that the coach must act as a facilitator, helping the client select the best options, and not offering advice or direction.

When leaders coach their team members, or act as mentors to them, this may or may not apply. On one hand, it’s more powerful for people to draw conclusions for themselves, rather than having these conclusions thrust upon them. On the other hand, as a team leader, you’ll often have expert knowledge to offer. Also, it’s your job to guide team members to make decisions that are best for your organization.

How to Use the Tool

To structure a coaching or mentoring session using the GROW Model, take the following steps:

1. Establish the Goal

First, you and your team member need to look at the behavior that you want to change, and then structure this change as a goal  that they want to achieve.

Make sure that this is a SMART goal: one that is Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Realistic, and Time-bound.

When doing this, it’s useful to ask questions like:

  • How will you know that your team member has achieved this goal? How will you know that the problem or issue is solved?
  • Does this goal fit with their overall career objectives? And does it fit with the team’s objectives?

2. Examine the Current Reality

Next, ask your team member to describe their current reality.

This is an important step. Too often, people try to solve a problem or reach a goal without fully considering their starting point, and often they’re missing some information that they need in order to reach their goal effectively.

As your team member tells you about their current reality, the solution may start to emerge.

Useful coaching questions in this step include the following:

  • What is happening now (what, who, when, and how often)? What is the effect or result of this?
  • Have you already taken any steps toward your goal?
  • Does this goal conflict with any other goals or objectives?

3. Explore the Options

Once you and your team member have explored the current reality, it’s time to determine what is possible – meaning all of the possible options for reaching their objective.

Help your team member brainstorm  as many good options as possible. Then, discuss these and help them decide on the best ones.

By all means, offer your own suggestions in this step. But let your team member offer suggestions first, and let them do most of the talking. It’s important to guide them in the right direction, without actually making decisions for them.

Typical questions that you can use to explore options are as follows:

  • What else could you do?
  • What if this or that constraint were removed? Would that change things?
  • What are the advantages and disadvantages of each option?
  • What factors or considerations will you use to weigh the options?
  • What do you need to stop doing in order to achieve this goal?
  • What obstacles stand in your way?

4. Establish the Will

By examining the current reality and exploring the options, your team member will now have a good idea of how they can achieve their goal.

That’s great – but in itself, this may not be enough. The final step is to get your team member to commit to specific actions in order to move forward toward their goal. In doing this, you will help them establish their will and boost their motivation.

Useful questions to ask here include:

  • So, what will you do now, and when? What else will you do?
  • What could stop you moving forward? How will you overcome this?
  • How can you keep yourself motivated?
  • When do you need to review progress? Daily, weekly, monthly?

Finally, decide on a date when you’ll both review their progress. This will provide some accountability, and allow them to change their approach if the original plan isn’t working.

Tip 1:

A great way to practice using the model is to address your own challenges and issues. By practicing on your own and getting yourself “unstuck,” you’ll learn how to ask the most helpful questions. Then, write down some stock questions as prompts for future coaching sessions.

Tip 2:

The two most important skills for a coach are the ability to ask good questions  and the ability to listen effectively.

Don’t ask closed questions that call for a yes or no answer (such as “Did that cause a problem?”). Instead, ask open ones, like “What effect did that have?” Be prepared with a list of questions for each stage of the GROW process.

Use active listening  skills and let your “client” do most of the talking. Remember that silence provides valuable thinking time: you don’t always have to fill silence with the next question.

Example

You’re helping a team member, Julie, achieve her goals using the GROW Model.

Julie says that she would like a promotion to team leader within the next two years. This is a SMART goal – it’s specific, measurable, attainable (as she already has one year of experience, and there are several team leader positions in her department), relevant (both to Julie’s overall career aspirations and the team’s mission), and time-bound.

You and Julie now look at her current reality. She’s in an entry-level position, but she already has some of the skills needed to be team leader. You brainstorm the additional skills that she’ll need in order to be successful in a team leader role: She needs more experience of managing other people, and experience dealing with overseas customers. She also needs to continue performing well in her role, so that she’ll be considered for a promotion when one is available.

You then both review her options. To get the experience she needs, she could lead a small team on a small project. She could also spend time in the overseas team.

Finally, you establish the will. As her manager, you offer to let her lead a small team on a minor project. If she performs well, she can take on additional projects with more responsibility in the future. Julie must also approach the overseas team to arrange to spend time in that department, and continue performing well in her current role. You agree to review her progress in three months’ time.

You can see our infographic on the GROW Model here:

The GROW Model

Key Points

The GROW Model is a simple four-step process that helps you structure coaching and mentoring sessions with team members.

GROW is an acronym that stands for:

  • Goal.
  • Current Reality.
  • Options (or Obstacles).
  • Will (or Way Forward).

You can use the model to help team members improve performance, and to help them plan for and reach their longer-term career objectives.

The Power of Peer to Peer Coaching

Peer Coaching Program – Community – Coaching Young People For Success

Today Project Change has the pleasure of a Master Coach, Lynn Feingold, who is taking the team through the process of Peer to Peer Group Coaching, the practice the team know as Bells and Whistles at each training meeting.

It begins with knowing how to truly listen, to be able to actively feed back to the speaker that you have heard them, what they say, how they feel, and how they understand themselves.

What the listener gives back is not what they heard so much as what the speaker heard himself or herself say. We presume that we speak and know  what we mean and how we feel, until someone mirrors back to us how we come across, and that perhaps our words were stronger than we intended, or that there is a feeling underneath the words that others are much more aware of than we are.

A powerful listener does not hear us so much as allow us to hear ourselves at a deeper level. That means however that we remain focused on the person speaking to us and not allowing distractions or the impulse to give advice or move the focus to ourselves.Along with Active Listening, the team are learning:

  • the power of the question
    We hear our colleague describe a problem but we usually have no sense of the situation, the duration, the story of the situation that is behind the problem. Hence, the first round of questions needs to flesh out the reality as it could be observed by someone else. Narrative Scholars sometimes call this mapping the Landscape of Action. Next, once we get a sense of a shared understanding of what is going on, we shift to map the landscape of Consciousness, as to meaning, and how important is this to you, and what are the assumptions or needs or desires behind the problem that make it a problem or a challenge?
  • the power of the pause
    Conversation is noise unless we allow ourselves and our partners the space to embody the words, to allow the words to become flesh. Lynn does the “How are you?” exercise, where on the fly, you ask it and get the on the fly response, “Fine.” Then, she does it with the asker taking a breath before asking, and the respondent taking a breath before answering, and suddenly, we have created a different conversation. A Coach holds the space for a conversation to expand and go deep. The body is always in the act. So, deep listening is spatial as well as emotional and mental. The coach has to learn the space that silence creates and pausing respects, to catch echoes and resonances that are too easily missed.
  • the power of a plan.
    The coaching session is part of an ongoing story of making a difference. Hence, the words need at some point to enter the world and instigate action. At the end of each session, the person with the challenge makes themselves accountable to DO something, or perhaps NOT do something, as a strategy for change that at the next session, they can report on.The power of peer to peer coaching as a narrative tool means we are sharing our stories in real time, when we don’t know how they are going to end, and at the same time, sharing our commitment  to being agents of change, and not victims of circumstances. We are recruiting an audience that is championing our leadership and on side with our intentions to do the best we can and be the best we can.  We can’t do that alone, and Peer to Peer coaching is a powerful means by which we can express that.

The Surprising Power of Peer Coaching

From Harvard Business Review April 14 2021 by Brenda Steinberg and Michael D Watkins

Given a choice between working one-on-one with an executive coach or working with a group of peers in a facilitated coaching process, most executives would choose the former. Surely, the thinking goes, it’s better to have an experienced coach’s focused attention instead of relying on dialogue with your peers to support your development. The coach will get to know you well, understand your development needs, and focus exclusively on you. How could working with a group possibly be better?

This rationale overlooks the substantial benefits of small-group coaching. In the leadership programs we facilitate, our participants often comment on how much more valuable the group coaching experience was than they expected. The benefits are different from and complementary to those realized in a one-on-one setting.

The benefits of small-group coaching come from powerful learning interactions among leaders who aren’t on the same team but are roughly equal in experience and position. By bringing people together who have no formal accountability to or interactions with each other, you can create deep learnings that wouldn’t be available otherwise. We’ve found this happens because the process provides the following benefits.

Immersion in real-time group dynamics. In one-on-one coaching, the coach does not see you interact with others. So, the belief that the coach will know you better through individual coaching sessions doesn’t hold up in practice; their experience of you is quite limited. If, for example, your goal is to engage more effectively with your team, both the coach and the group will witness and feel the impact of your behaviors in the group setting.

Insight into diverse perspectives. If the process is set up well, your group members will have different personalities, experiences, and goals. They’ll see the world differently, and you’ll benefit from understanding their perspectives and challenges. These differences will allow you to gain deeper insights by comparing yourself to others in your group. Identifying commonalities and differences will help you better understand your strengths and the impact of your blind spots.

Opportunities to practice new skills in a safe space. The small group is a vehicle to enhance valuable leadership skills, including listening, being vulnerable, getting comfortable with others’ perspectives and emotions, asking insightful questions, giving and getting direct feedback, and helping people find their own solutions. Many of these skills will directly relate to your learning objectives, and you’ll become better at coaching, motivating, and developing people.

A robust accountability system. Many leaders experience challenges in getting direct and honest feedback at work. As your group develops a foundation of psychological safety, you’ll get that feedback. Whether your goal is to be bolder, develop your strategic thinking skills, or emotionally connect with your team, your group members will give you regular input on your progress. Additionally, by openly sharing your goals and action plans and having regular check-ins, other group members will hold you accountable. The social forces operating in coaching groups are likely to have a more powerful impact on you than can be achieved by working with a coach alone.

An enduring support network. Finally, with enough time together, most coaching groups develop a foundation of openness and trust. Being a senior leader can leave you feeling isolated; there are often business issues and personal concerns that cannot be shared with your reports and peers. Group members can become a source of both support and valuable insight. These relationships often continue beyond the formal small-group process and don’t depend on the coach to be sustained. Additionally, many leaders, having experienced the group’s deep bonding, will work to create greater connectedness both at work and in their personal lives.

You won’t realize those considerable benefits unless you build some essential foundations early on. The ultimate goal of small-group coaching is to achieve the highest possible levels of individual and group learning. To get there, all members of the group must be committed to the following actions.

Nurturing a climate of trust and support. To build such an environment, group members must have a shared commitment to maintain complete confidentiality. A sense of psychological safety allows group members (including you!) to feel comfortable revealing doubts and weaknesses and sharing perspectives with total honesty.

Having a collaborative attitude. Group members must take responsibility for helping others improve rather than just pointing out their mistakes or weaknesses. Small-group coaching is not a vehicle for evaluation, nor should it be a forum for competition. Group members should strive to be collaborative, objective, and fair. The goal is to support each other by providing constructive feedback and advice without being cynical or judgmental.

Listening actively. Group members should be each other’s thinking partners, giving accurate information about others’ behavior, asking relevant and probing questions, and sharing their views. In these ways, they demonstrate that they value others’ skills and judgment. Be curious about other participants and their experiences.

Providing direct feedback. Collaborative and empathetic attitudes should not be a reason to avoid discussing shortcomings. Too much positivity leads to complacency and mediocrity, while too much negativity creates defensiveness and withdrawal. Group members must be open to seeing themselves from others’ perspectives.

Being generous. In small-group coaching discussions, strong emotions inevitably emerge and need to be discussed. They should be handled through appropriate expressions of understanding and exploration.

Taking risks. Group coaching will require you to step outside your comfort zone. To create learning, you’ll need to be vulnerable in exploring your challenges and in summoning the courage to question others on sensitive issues and give direct feedback.

The process of small-group coaching can generate leadership development impacts that exceed what’s possible in one-on-one coaching. If you follow these guidelines, you’ll learn more about yourself and the organization you lead. Moreover, by asking for support from others and creating a safe place for exploration, you’ll build foundational skills for all future personal and organizational growth.

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This Conversation Will Change How You Think About Trauma

EZRA KLEIN: I’m Ezra Klein, and this is “The Ezra Klein Show.”

The Ezra Klein Show Poster

So one of the things I do for the show is I try to keep an eye on the best seller lists. And a few months ago, I began to notice something strange. “The Body Keeps the Score,” which is a book about trauma from 2014, was back up near the top of the New York Times list. It’s number one, as I write this, the book’s 147th week on the paperback nonfiction list — 147th. And if you know what this book is, that is wild.

“The Body Keeps the Score,” it is a searing read about the way trauma disconnects our minds and our bodies. And it’s pretty clearly written with a professional audience in mind. This is a book very largely aimed at other psychiatrists. That so many of us are turning to it, it says something profound about where the national psyche is in this moment of, yeah, trauma.

I’ll be honest of my own history of it here. “The Body Keeps the Score” is one of those books people have told me to read for a long time. But I thought I knew what it was about. I’d heard it discussed so many times, and I’d read it written about. So even though I hadn’t read it, I thought I knew it: trauma lodges in the body, we carry a physical imprint of our psychic wounds, it’s all very hard to heal. Got it.

But I was really wrong about that. The core argument is — I want to use the word “subversive” here. Certainly subversive in how it will leave you thinking about yourself and those around you. It is about traumatic experiences: sexual assault, incest, emotional physical abuse, war and much, much more. They can disconnect our body and our mind. That is when an experience becomes a trauma — when it disconnects us.

And this is a part I didn’t understand from the way the book is talked about. The devastating argument it makes is not that the body keeps the score, it’s that the mind hides the score from us. The mind — it hides and warps these traumatic events and our narratives about them in an effort to protect us. Human beings are social animals. And our minds evolve to manage our social relationships.

So when we face an event that could rupture our relationship with the community or the family, particularly for children of the family that we depend on, the mind often talks us out of it. It obscures the memories or convinces us our victimization was our fault or it covers the event in a shame so thick, we refuse to discuss it. But our body — and that’s an imprecise term here. But the parts of us that are more automatic that manage and respond to threat — our body doesn’t forget that. Our mind can’t talk that part of us into feeling safe again. And it’s this disconnection of mind and body where trauma lives.

So how do you reconnect them? Bessel van der Kolk is the author of “The Body Keeps the Score.” He was a leading researcher and psychiatrist active in many of the early battles to understand post-traumatic stress syndrome. But more recently, he co-founded and leads a trauma research foundation and has been studying ways to try to heal these deeper parts of our psyches, everything from movement therapies like yoga and dance to E.M.D.R. to internal family systems therapy to MDMA treatment. We talk about all of it in here.

But I do want to offer a disclaimer: the research on some of these novel treatments, it is really promising. But these are often new studies with pretty small sample sizes. So I don’t want anyone to mistake this conversation for direct advice from a psychiatrist who knows your situation and psyche. So if anything in here connects for you, talk to a professional about it. Don’t just drop the treatments you’re using or the medications you’re taking and run to something new.

But with that said, there is so much to learn from in this conversation. I really haven’t stopped thinking about it since we recorded. As always, my email, ezrakleinshow@nytimes.com if you want to send me further guest suggestions or recommendations for things we should read or look at. Again, ezrakleinshow@nytimes.com.

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/this-conversation-will-change-how-you-think-about-trauma/id1548604447?i=1000532955898

Bessel van der Kolk, welcome to the show.

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: Hi, good being here.

EZRA KLEIN: You have this very powerful line in the book from the writer Jessica Stern where she says, quote, “Some people’s lives seem to flow in a narrative. Mine had many stops and starts. That’s what trauma does — it interrupts the plot.” Tell me a bit about how trauma interrupts the plot.

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: Well, trauma is really a wound that happens to your psyche, to your mind, to your brain. Suddenly you’re confronted with something that you are faced with horror and helplessness. That nothing prepares you for this and you go like, oh, my God. And so something switches off at that point in your mind and your brain. And the nature of trauma is that you get stuck there. So instead of remembering something unpleasant, you keep reliving something very unpleasant.

So the job of overcoming trauma is to make it into a memory where your whole being knows this happened a long time ago, it’s not happening right now. But the nature of traumatic stress is that you keep reacting emotionally and physiologically as if these events are happening right now.

EZRA KLEIN: What is trauma? Is it the event itself or is it your reaction and processing, or I guess lack thereof, of the event?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: It really is a reaction that you have something horrible that’s going on. And different people have different responses. Although I must say, having done this work as long as I have, I don’t recall ever seeing somebody in my office coming for traumatic stress that I go, oh, this seems like a trivial issue. Like having your child run over by a car, you go like, oh, my God. And usually my response to hearing about people’s trauma is, oh, my God, are you still here?

EZRA KLEIN: I’ll say that, for me, was the hardest part of reading your book was just being faced with something I already know, but being faced with how much pain people are simply carrying around with them every day. It’s one way reading the book made me just look at the world a little bit differently. It’s just this reminder that you have no idea what somebody is carrying.

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: That is so true. And of course, we do need to wear our blinders, and we cannot face up to all the bad stuff that’s happening in the world. But to give an example to what you’re saying here: when we first put this diagnosis of P.T.S.D. in a textbook, we said, this is an extraordinary event outside of the usual realm of human experience. That is the official definition. Nobody talked about how common incest is, nobody talks about how common child abuse is, how common domestic violence is. And it’s really quite startling when you get to see how much people actually are coping with.

EZRA KLEIN: At various points in the book, you argue that trauma is the most costly public health problem that we are dealing with. This is before the era of Covid, of course. So let’s keep that to the side. But do you want to talk for a minute about that at scale, what it means that so many people are holding these kinds of experiences and pain?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: Yeah, that statement actually came from the Centers for Disease Control, when Vince Felitti at Kaiser Permanente in San Diego did this research more than 20 years ago right now where he asked medical patients — insurance carrying, largely college educated white people — did anybody ever hit you very badly, did anybody molest you, did you witness your parents having physical fights? And the data that came back were just stunning, how much really very scary stuff the majority of people experienced in their lives.

And what their studies there slowly showed is how erosive and devastating these effects are on people’s capacity to recover also. The big issue is that people tend to think about trauma as, oh that event, and having a bad memory about something. That is not really what it is. Once you get traumatized, it changes your brain, it changes how you see the world, and it changes how your body reacts to your environment.

And so it’s not the only thing that goes from your survival system into your mind. It goes also into your body, and the stress hormones continue to erode your system. When you have been traumatized, your chances to die much earlier and to have many diseases go up very dramatically. So much of what we can think about, major social issues in the world we live in, are actually — the social elements, the contextual elements are terribly important.

EZRA KLEIN: Tell me a bit about the conditions under which an event that could be traumatic becomes a trauma. And in particular, I was very struck by how much of your research suggests that trauma is an event plus a kind of instigated social crisis. There are objectively catastrophic events, like 9/11, that were less likely to cause trauma because they were shared by the community. Where, on the other hand, things like child sexual abuse is very reliably traumatic because it disconnects you from your family. So could you talk a bit about the social structure of trauma?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: Yeah. So what we tend to leave out of most of our discussions about human functioning is to what degree we are primates. We have brains in order to get along with each other, to be with other people, to connect with other people. That’s really what we are fundamentally all about. And so, much of trauma is about a rupture of the safety of the people who are supposed to protect you and the people who are supposed to come to your help.

So basically, the way that we are wired is that we are wired to not be able to do everything by ourselves, but to be able to look for help and for other people to take over when we can no longer do the job ourselves. And that’s perfectly normal. But if, at that point, the people you can count on most are not there for you, let you down, have been killed, or whatever, then it’s entirely up to you. It’s a much harder thing to deal with terrible situations.

EZRA KLEIN: I just want to tag something you said there for the audience, because we’re going to come back to quite a bit, which is we have brains in order to get along with other people. I think that’s going to be really, really, really important to this conversation. But this gets to something that I found really rich in the book. So “The Body Keeps the Score” has — I mean, as a book, it’s a phenomenon, as a social meme, it’s a phenomenon. So I felt like I knew what it said even though I hadn’t read it until recently.

But then when I read it, what really struck me about it is how much of the book is about not just how the body keeps the score, but how and why the mind hides the score. Can you tell me a bit about that?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: Yeah, brilliant. We are created to survive. We’re also created to be loyal and to be part of a group. And sometimes, in order to survive, you need to keep your realities [INAUDIBLE] the people around you. And so when you go through a terrible reality like 9/11 in New York or terrible natural disasters, oftentimes people get very close together because it’s out there, everybody can see it, people help each other. Part of our nature is to be altruistic and to be generous when people are in distress.

But if your feelings conflict with your loyalty — let’s say, if your own mom or dad beat you up and you don’t feel safe with them — you cannot tell other people about it either because you’re supposed to love your mom or dad. And so you need to keep it to yourself. And then it starts festering inside of you. So the reason why you do psychotherapy is mainly to help people to find words for the reality that they have dealt with. And oftentimes, those are realities that are not acceptable for the people around you.

EZRA KLEIN: You talk about the difference between the parts of the brain that create the autobiographical self and the parts of the brain that create the experiencing self. Can you discuss that a bit?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: Yeah. So we have these layers of the brain that have different functions. So the deepest layer has to do with what Antonio Damasio calls “the housekeeping of your body”: being able to breathe, go to the bathroom, go to sleep, have an appetite, being able to engage in caregiving and sexual relationships — very elementary. We have that in common with all other mammals basically.

But then we have this meaning making systems that come on top of that, starting with the larger limbic system that has a more complex way of organizing your perceptions about reality. So basically, your limbic system is the part of your brain that forms a map inside of the world outside of you. And so your brain gets programmed by experience to know what to expect and what sort of reactions people will have to certain behaviors. And so early experiences very much shape your perceptions of the world.

So if you are terrified of the people who take care of you, it’s very likely that you will either, or combination of, really be extremely compliant with people in power and hope that they won’t hurt you, or you become chronically angry and oppositional or a combination of those two. But that imprint of, I’m not safe with people who say they care for me, becomes an imprint of how you come to perceive the world. And those are not rational thoughts, and this cannot be abolished by pointing out to people how irrational they are, because that’s the way our brain becomes hardwired to deal with the reality in which it gets formed.

EZRA KLEIN: It was astonishing to me, reading some of the stories in the book. I think all of us have the experience of telling a story about ourself that is not true to how we feel. But you treat patients who, the stories their minds have told or the memories their minds have hidden are really shocking. So why do victims of abuse, particularly child abuse, so often either forget what happened to them or blame themselves for it?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: So the issue there is that we need our parents or caregivers to take care of us. And so the moment we give up on our caregivers as little kids, we’re done for. And so the way the child is wired is to stay as close to the people who are supposed to take care of them as possible. And with that, they will deny the reality of being beaten. Or the imprint is very much like, I’m being beaten or I’m being molested because I’m a bad person. I must deserve it.

So your identity becomes basically, I’m fundamentally a bad and flawed human being. And if I had been a nicer child, people would have loved me and taken care of me. If I’d been a worthwhile child, people would not have done these horrible things to themselves. And actually, when you get into treating these issues, the hardest thing to actually treat in people is this deep sense of being defective, something being wrong with you.

And what many of my patients also deal with is that I must have made the story up. This is too horrendous for people to do it, I cannot believe that it’s happened to me, I must feel this way because I’m crazy. And oftentimes, that gets reinforced by the environment, or you’re just a difficult child, you’re just making up false memories. But the fact is what happens over time, the reality slowly starts filling out.

EZRA KLEIN: This was a real epiphany for me in reading your book, because you read about cases like this. You read about false memories or you hear about or even know people who blame themselves for horrible things done to them — child abuse or rape or a beating or whatever it might be. And you think, what would happen that brains would be defective that they would do that? That doesn’t make any sense.

But the point of your book, I think, in part is that it does make sense. There’s an evolutionary fitness reason for the brain to do that, which is that it’s a story that allows you to maintain within a family, or maintain within a workplace or maintain within a community. Because if you told the real story, it would rupture your family, it would rupture your community, it would rupture your workplace.

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: Exactly. These thoughts didn’t come from me, of course, originally. All these thoughts have been thought before. But the great hero here is John Bowlby, attachment researcher, who really showed how children really need to cling to their caregivers and will do anything they can to keep a semblance of connection going so they don’t die or get totally abandoned. And the price they pay for that is very much this very profound sense of self loathing, oftentimes despising yourself, getting into a lot of difficult behaviors because I’m no good anyway. And it’s a deep sense of, I may as well put myself in danger, I may as well take drugs because I’m no good anyway.

EZRA KLEIN: So then you get into these cases where people are telling a story about something — either telling a story that admits something or telling a story that normalizes something — that their body doesn’t believe. And so you have these kind of two systems, like the kind of cerebral system of what somebody is sitting in front of you saying, and then the fact that they collapse into a ball at the touch of another human being or hide in drugs or have all these other coping behaviors. So can you talk about why the system that is rationalizing isn’t able to convince the body? Because you would think maybe that would be just one system all the way through. You got to live the lie. But part of what you’re getting at is you don’t live the lie, you just tell the lie.

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: Yeah, you live the lie. You really believe that I’m fundamentally defective and that’s why this happens to me. So people really very deeply come to rationalize their very bad feelings. And that actually allows them to continue to survive to some degree. And that’s a different part of the brain.

But of course, your core survival part of the brain picks up the danger signs and keeps continuing to secrete stress hormones, immunological abnormalities, muscle tension, fibromyalgia — a whole bunch of physiological systems where the body continues to behave as if it’s in great danger while the mind says, don’t pay attention to him, he’s lying, he’s a terrible person. So it’s really the conflict between the body feeling very unsafe and the mind not wanting to accept the reality of what has happened to you is at the core of this, yeah.

EZRA KLEIN: This is a strange idea to wrap your mind around. How is it possible that your body — which on some level is controlled by your mind. I mean, it’s getting electrical signals from the brain. How is it possible that you can have such disagreements within one system?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: Well, because they are somewhat different systems. The system that helps you to sleep, for example, is a system that most of us have very little control over. And so you may rationally know that it’s important to go to sleep now and life is safe and I have nothing to worry about. But something in the back of your brain, your survival brain, seems to give you messages of, I’m in danger.

Very commonly, when people have had sexual molestation or issues like that early in their lives, they are with somebody, they have a sense of desire, and suddenly their body shuts down. And they become very angry or very frozen. And they say to themselves, there’s something deeply wrong with me because I really like this person that I’m with and I’d really like to have a good time. But my body won’t let me because the primitive survival part of the brain is still stuck back then, when they felt in danger. But the frontal lobe may not register that.

EZRA KLEIN: One of the main ways you say the mind hides the score is through applying shame. You write at one point that for trauma survivors, quote, “Shame becomes the dominant emotion and hiding truth a central preoccupation.” Can you talk a bit about what shame is, what it is as an emotion, and then the role it plays for people after trauma?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: Yeah, shame is really a feeling of wanting to hide how you don’t want anybody to see you. Shame comes from having feelings that are fundamentally unacceptable. Like if you’re talking very nicely to me, and I may have a feeling that I’d like to kill this guy, and you think to yourself, what a terrible person am I to want to kill somebody who’s very nice to me. And then you say, I must be crazy, there’s something wrong with me.

As it happens to be, maybe you have a particular accent or a way of talking that may remind me on a very deep level of somebody who beat me up when I was a kid, and I have this intense emotional reaction to you, and I feel like, what’s wrong with you, Bessel, that you have such a terrible reaction to this nice person, and he probably already has picked up that I’m trying to hide something from him because I feel so angry with this person who’s actually being very nice to me. So that’s the confusion and the shame that traumatized people live with.

EZRA KLEIN: One thing that struck me about that passage is — and I apologize because I can’t remember where I read this distinction. But I once read that guilt is an individual emotion and shame is a social emotion. Guilt is, I feel bad about something I did, and shame is that I am afraid the community will look bad upon me for something I did. And within this context of trauma often relating to things that happened that would create rupture of the community, it seems interesting and also profoundly sad that shame is such a constant companion to that, because it’s a way of fearing that your community will turn on you potentially if the truth were to be known.

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: Well, we are communal creatures, and we survive terrible things by community. So the people who are able to get themselves together as, for example, New York did after 9/11 — New York had a spectacularly effective way of dealing with the trauma of 9/11. And once you have the community to go with you, you’re not ashamed of yourself anymore because your neighbor may have the same feelings of terror and fear that you have, and you don’t feel crazy, and you don’t feel like you’re worthy of exclusion.

So one of the things that is driving this whole trauma issue is that you feel cut off from your community, you do things that embarrass you, you blow up at people. Your kids want to play with you, and you get angry with the kid, and you feel bad about being angry with the kid, and you start yelling at this child, and you go like, oh, my god, what’s wrong with me that I’m yelling with the child. And you start trying to control yourself with alcohol or with drugs. And so you have these reactions that you hope people will not see. And the longer they last, the more isolated you became.

So one of the things that I’ve seen, much to my distress, is that when we started this field in our particular window of history, it was a very communal issue. It was women got together around “Our Bodies, Ourselves.” My friend Judy Herman was running incest groups. I was running groups for veterans. And they got a lot of comfort and support from each other, and they shared their very scary thoughts and their angry thoughts. They said, oh, I feel the same way. I’ve had the same experiences. I also made people very angry who I feel close to, et cetera, et cetera.

So people to be with, as the 12 step programs so brilliantly have done, give you a sense of not being alone despite the fact that you feel very damaged and ashamed about yourself.

EZRA KLEIN: I want to put a pin in New York in 9/11 because I want to come back to that and the question of whether or not there are things we can learn as a society, whenever it will be the case that we can begin to recover as a society from Covid and whether or not there are things we can learn in that experience for how to do it well. But I want to ask about another way that we end up hiding what we feel, which is that trauma has a way of numbing people to their feelings, to their emotions, even to very basic physical sensations. And something you talk about, which I didn’t realize, is that when that happens, it becomes hard to construct a coherent sense of a self. Can you talk about how that works?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: Yeah. When you are involved in your trauma and you are continuously reacting to stuff, you can’t trust yourself. And you don’t really know what’s right because you keep sort of getting into trouble again, you try something and you freeze, and you try something and you explode. And you do something and you feel terrible about yourself. And you don’t know where that comes from. And so you try to make sense out of this turmoil that’s going on in your sensory system. And if you’re lucky, you are talented and you’re a good basketball player, a good guitar player, a good accountant, and you can hide yourself in your particular talent where you can find a safe area for yourself. But when it comes to the complexity of dealing with teenage children or relationships, that may be too much for you and you keep falling apart. And so your identity becomes like, I cannot be with other people, I’m no good. And so that sense of trust in yourself, predicting yourself, knowing who you are, knowing how you react to things becomes very damaged.

EZRA KLEIN: You have an interestingly complicated relationship to language in the book. You talk about it as both a miracle and a tyranny, and the ability to both put words to things you’ve experienced and also put words to things maybe we haven’t or ways we don’t feel about how we’ve experienced them. And so I wanted to ask it this way, because a lot of us have had experience with therapy have primarily had experience with talk therapy, where you go and you sit in a room and you get asked questions about your parents and you try to answer them. What can that do, and then what can language not do in these cases?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: Language, it’s really great when you have kids as you do or grandchildren as I do, how you can see kids develop language over time and you can see how as they develop language, they’re able to communicate about what they like, what they don’t like, and to form common realities with other people. As long as you don’t have language, you really don’t know how to form a sense of community.

So having a language that allows you to define your common reality is terribly important. And of course, traditionally, psychotherapy is very much about developing that language for yourself, which is very important. But understanding why you screwed up doesn’t necessarily stop you from being screwed up. Now I know why I freeze when somebody touches me. Now I know why I get so angry. But the anger and the freeze may still happen.

So you still need to rewire the physiological system. And much of my research has been, how do you get there. And the earlier studies we did was doing yoga. And somehow, yoga helps people develop a more harmonious sense of the internal workings and the internal body sensations. Moving together, dancing together with other people, getting a sense of rhythm, which many people around the world except in the Western world use — drumming together, singing together, making music — helps to reestablish that sense of community and being in sync with the people around you. Later on, sending neurofeedback, playing computer brain interfaces where you can actually play computer games with your own brainwaves and help your brainwaves to become more rational.

And our current research is very much also in psychedelic agents, which turn out to have a very dramatically positive effect on exactly the courses of defectiveness, self-loathing, internal confusion. And our latest data really show that MDMA particularly can really help people to get a much deeper sense of who they are and a deep sense of compassion for themselves.

EZRA KLEIN: We’re going to go through a bunch of these therapies. But one thing I want to ask about them as a group is that one thing lurking around your book, and certainly that I felt reading it and that I felt in my own life as I’ve looked at various modalities for things that I’ve struggled with, is that there’s a hierarchy of status to different treatments. So it’s very accepted at this point, very rational, to take a pill for depression or anxiety. Talk therapy has a very long history. Nobody looks askance at that. That’s something intellectuals do in New York, and they sit in a chair and talk about feelings. And I don’t want to say anything bad about either of those. But then you start looking some of these other things, like E.M.D.R. which we can talk about, or dance therapy or yoga. And it feels soft. You’re like, well, that’s silly, that’s holistic, that’s — and something I think the book is trying to get at is that maybe we have come to overweight certain kinds of approaches to how we feel and underweight others. So before we get into how these therapies work, can you talk about that meta level of coming to respect therapies that maybe don’t have a lot of social status right now?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: Very important point you make. It’s a cultural issue. You hear from my accent, I’m northern European, and North America is still very northern European. The world and northern Europe developed two ways of dealing with bad stuff. One of them was to drink. And so taking a pill is a respectable thing in Western culture to do, and normal people ingest stuff to make themselves feel better.

Nobody feels bad about it. Other places in the world may say, that’s weird. Then the other thing that Western people are very good at is talking. We’re not very good in singing together and moving together. You go to China after a disaster and people are doing qigong together, and so that’s interesting, or tai chi.

And you go to Brazil in [INAUDIBLE] area, and you see people practice capoeira. You go, are they practicing capoeria because it looks good to the tourists, or are they practicing capoeira because it does something to the way they relate to their bodies and their sense of self-control?

So I think to some degree, we are trapped in this post- alcoholic paradigm that the only way to change is through taking pills or by talking. But of course, once you raise kids and you hang around with kindergarten teachers, they don’t do a lot of talking. They’d also do a lot of singing together, and a lot of moving together, and a lot of tossing balls together. And a lot of things that help you get in tune and in rhythm with each other.

And that’s not really the strong point of Western culture. So it all depends on the cultural assumptions you have about what’s helpful to people.

EZRA KLEIN: This part of the book made an interesting connection for me. I had the journalist Anna Sale on the show a couple of months ago for her book about having difficult conversations, and something she says in that book is that we used to have more institutions, and rituals, and conventions, and structures that guided us through the hard conversations, and hard parts of life.

I mean, things like churches and civic organizations. There is a lot of singing in those places, there is a lot of dancing in those places. I mean, you go to a Jewish synagogue, a lot of singing and dancing. And one point she was making is that as some of these institutions have faded in American life, we’ve been left without a template for these conversations.

But reading your book made me think of it on another level, too. I mean, a bunch of the modalities you just talked about, like capoeira or qigong, I don’t want to suggest they don’t have therapeutic roles, but they’re not primarily seen as therapeutic. They’re just a bigger part of those cultures.

And I wonder if you think that one of the issues with trauma in America is that we have lost institutions that were comfortable with ways of being embodied, even if they didn’t frame them in a “the body keeps the score” kind of framework that we used to have. And so they were playing roles that maybe they framed themselves as religious, or civic, or something else, or communal or ritual, but they were also doing things for how we process difficult issues or allowed us to get in touch with our emotions, that they had these side benefits that we didn’t understand and never knew how to measure.

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: That’s, of course, a terribly important point. But at the same time, institutions are dangerous. And sometimes you have to pay a price to keep belonging to the institution. So you may have to keep silent about an elder or a respected person doing bad things to women or to children, or to each other. So yes, there’s comfort in institutions, and yes, there is danger in institutions.

What I’m also impressed by is, in the circle that I live in, which I imagine is fairly rarefied, I see a lot of people exploring things. I see people going on meditation retreats, and singing retreats, and movement stuff, and making music together. So if you’re somewhat privileged in our culture, people oftentimes find ways of reestablishing their sense of connection, their communality.

And again, the issue of privilege and equality is a huge issue. Particularly right now with the pandemic, some people have much better opportunities and have a much easier culture that they fit in that other people do.

EZRA KLEIN: That point about the dark side of institutions is very important, and very well taken. But let’s talk about some of the things that you explore in the book and that people are exploring. And why don’t we start with one that folks may have heard of, but even if they have, even when I had, it’s very alien, which is E.M.D.R. Can you talk a bit about what E.M.D.R. is?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: EMDR is a very simple and weird technique. It is that you ask people to call up the images in their mind about horrible things that have happened to them, and to remember what they felt like in their bodies, to remember what they saw, what they heard, but you don’t talk about it. Because the moment you start talking to people, you change your story according to what you think that person wants to hear.

Talking always becomes the interpersonal process, and talking makes you adjust your reality to what people are able to listen to. So in E.M.D.R., you keep it to yourself, you see these things, and then you ask people to move their eyes from side to side in response to your fingers.

The first time I heard about it, it sounded like crazy. And my patients started to come back saying, I resolved things, I was able to just leave the memory behind. I did the first National Institute of Mental Health- funded research on E.M.D.R. Our adult onset P.T.S.D. people had like, a 78 percent cure rate. So clearly it had major positive effects.

And so that was my introduction, which I’m very grateful for, of seeing something that’s just on the surface bizarre, but has a very profound effect, that gets us out of this post-alcoholic paradigm of talking or drugs. I said look, this is interesting, this is weird. And so I got very interested in how does it work.

And so two years ago we finally did a study where we looked at what these eye movements cause. And what we saw, it changes the connectivity between different parts of the brain. And so what we saw is that it affected neural networks. And that for me was just so cool, because this really opens up the frontier of where our treatments need to go, is how do we repair these networks where the different parts of the brain are disconnected from each other.

But the result is that when people have this inkling of trauma, they feel it as if it’s still happening now. And what we saw in our neuroimaging study of E.M.D.R. is that the circuits of the brain change, so it allows the mind to go, oh yeah, this has happened to me, but it happened back then, a long time ago. It’s not happening right now. So the E.M.D.R. was my opening that there’s ways of switching neural circuits so your perspective on the issue becomes very different.

EZRA KLEIN: Why would moving your eyes back and forth open that pathway?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: That’s the question we don’t know, except you go back to what Darwin wrote about and Pavlov wrote about it, about conditioned responses of the brain, start to react with how you move your eyes in a certain direction when there’s danger. And there’s maybe some evolutionary circuits involved with moving your eyes in the direction of threat. We don’t know, because research funding would not really allow people to go into asking these questions at this point. I wish we would.

EZRA KLEIN: And one of the other things that was interesting … I’ve not done E.M.D.R. myself, but in people I’ve known who have had a very positive reaction to it, and then in the stories you tell in your book, one of the things about it is that you don’t just tell the story of what happened to you. Oftentimes you begin to alter it.

There’s an imaginative capacity. You’re telling what happened as trauma, and then also people begin rewriting the story, saying things that didn’t happen, and that there’s some healing that seems to happen here and in some of the other modalities that we’ll talk about, from, in an open environment, imagining the way things didn’t play out.

And on some level that’s very strange to me, right? That you can heal yourself not by just understanding what happened, but talking through what didn’t happen. But it seems to be recurrent in these therapies. So can you talk a bit about the role of imagination in healing, and counterfactuals?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: I was hoping for questions like this, this is great. So the way we deal with unpleasant situations is by imagining how we can do things differently. And that’s really the glory about the brain. It’s like, oh, if you get fires in California, but I can imagine what we can do to prevent the forest fires, to anticipate how you can make a difference.

Trauma destroys that capacity to imagine how things can be different because you get trapped in that traumatic moment. So you cannot imagine anymore that things can be different. So a very big issue in helping people to overcome trauma is to experience the possibility of alternative outcomes.

In my own work, I love to use psychodrama for that. We are involved in theater programs where people actually get to play different roles and see what it feels like in our body to take a new position, to imagine being Lady Macbeth. And so to be able to embody the experience of a powerful queen, you go like, oh, that’s what a body feels like that feels powerful. So a very important part, in my mind, of therapy is to help people to embody new realities.

EZRA KLEIN: There’s a fascinating study you bring up, which relates I think to this very, very famous study where they are still following, actually, but this one class of men from Harvard from decades, and decades, and decades ago. But something the study found is that in the people who were traumatized by their experience in war, their memories never really changed.

They told the same story 40 years later that they told right after it happened. Whereas the people who weren’t traumatized by it, their memories kept changing. The imagination was telling and retelling the story, right? The cliché of the old war stories that never quite happened, or the fishing stories where the fish keeps getting bigger.

So if you could you talk a bit about that? About the way weirdly, a healthy memory is actually a less accurate memory? Because what you need in life is not accurate memories but a story that works for you in the world.

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: Exactly. My friend who ran the sleep laboratory at Harvard, Bob Stickgold, showed very clearly that, with your dreams, your dreams allow you to retain what’s most relevant and to ignore what’s irrelevant, and you slowly change your story about what happens in order to prepare yourself for the future. It’s a very complex mental phenomenon, and our memories are extremely flexible.

For example, I go to family reunions with my siblings, and we all tell stories about growing up. And we look at each other and say, you grew up in a different family for me! Have we all created a different story about our past? And that suits us. That’s the story we like to live with.

But the reality may be very different. What we first found out about trauma is that the problem with trauma is you cannot change the story. And the story is the same damn imprint, the same vision, the same body sensation as you had 10, 20, 30 years ago. And so what we need to do when we treat people is to get the normal processes of the brain to work so you can create a new story for yourself, and not get stuck on the specific sensations of back then.

EZRA KLEIN: Speaking of family reunions, can you talk about internal family systems therapy? I had never come along this until the book, but it’s fascinating.

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: Oh well, internal family systems is not about families. It’s about how we all have families living inside of ourselves. It’s a very important evolution, the past 30 years or so. Jung already talked about the same thing, William James talked about the same thing: that we have a multiplicity of minds. Walt Whitman wrote a poem about it, said that “I contain multitudes.”

You strike me as a very loving, and kind, and intelligent, and attuned person.

EZRA KLEIN: Oh, thank you.

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: I hope that’s all there is to you. But only the people know you best know that there is other parts of you that people don’t get to see, and there may be part of us that we may not be aware of sometimes. So that we have different ways of reacting, or engaging, that can be quite different regarding the circumstances.

And what I.F.S. particularly showed us is that when terrible things happen to you, you create ways of being in the world, personalities, that help you to cope. For example, if you get chronically humiliated, you may say to yourself, “Nobody is going to ever humiliate me anymore,” and you become this staff bully who put people down before they can put you down.

You may go home and be a very sweet and gentle person to your kid, but when you deal with a guy in the office, you may become a bully. That doesn’t mean that all of you is a bully. That means that a part of you is a bully that comes out under certain circumstances. So we never know other people until we live with them for a long period of time, because there may be very hidden parts of themselves that we may have developed back then in order to cope with particular challenges that we face growing up.

EZRA KLEIN: So my understanding of how I.F.S. works in practice is it identifies these almost little personalities in the brain. There are managers, who try to protect you from feeling unsafe, and the firefighters, who respond to moments of crisis, the exiles, who you’re trying to avoid, and that helps people identify these distinct parts of their personalities, and how those parts come out and contribute to different reactions.

And that seems like something that would be helpful even outside the context of therapy. In addition to all the wonderful qualities of mine you listed a minute ago, I do a lot of meditation. And one of the things that years of that is done has make me much more skeptical that there is just one of me in here. When you’re sitting there just watching your mind, the constant question is, well who thought that? Who thought thinking that would be a good idea? I didn’t want to be there.

And the mind has felt to me for a long time like it’s more of a corporation. You know, it has different divisions, and some of them have big budgets, and some small. But family systems seems to get at that too. That one thing that actually causes people frustration and shame is they are told they’re in control or should be in control of their minds.

And then it’s very frustrating, for me as somebody who has struggled a lot with anxiety and obsessive rumination, it’s very frustrating to not be able to control my own mind. Because that feels like I’m failing. And the idea that it’s actually not something I should be able to do, that it’s not just one singular mind, but a lot of different minds or something vying to be heard, there’s some relief in that. And it seems to me some real accuracy in it.

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: It’s very helpful in relationships. That you can only survive a relationship if you can really understand how your partner gets very uptight, or angry, or shut off, or something, in response to certain things. And if you start understanding that it is different part. And let’s say if your wife, this probably never happens to you, but perhaps to many other people, someday may say to you, “I hate you!”

And for you to know, oh, she’s now triggered and there was something I did that caused that angry part of her to come out. I know that that angry part is not the most reasonable part of her, so this is not a time for me to start arguing with her that I’m not the most selfish person in the whole world, but you know that that part is out, and you try to help her to know that this too shall pass. And I can see that I do things that really bother you, and I’ll try to work on that.

And she can say, I can try to negotiate with a very angry, frustrated part. A little therapy might help in helping me to know where it came from, so that I don’t get so out of control angry with you when you don’t do the dishes.

EZRA KLEIN: The single best piece of advice I ever got on marriage is that there is no use in thinking of your partner as a single stable entity that exists separate from you. There’s only your partner in a dynamic with you. There’s only who you also bring out in your partner, that they’ll be somebody totally different with other people. But so the question always, if things are going right or wrong, is, like, which parts of the two of you are being brought out in relationship? Not just, who is this person and do I like them?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: See, and Dick Schwartz extended what you just said in your relationship to yourself. And to really understand that you may have very different reactions at different times, and to really get to appreciate that certain things make me very upset, and to really start making decisions about do I want to give in to that, or do I want to do something about it? Or how to really start getting a perspective on this landscape, and make a discovery inside of yourself.

EZRA KLEIN: An intervention you discuss glancingly in the book, but it sounds from something you said earlier like you’ve been doing more work on, is psychedelic therapy. It’s been a lot more research since you did the book, it sounds like you’re actually behind some of it. So given what we know now, I’m curious how you understand the role of psychedelics potentially in helping people deal with trauma?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: I think psychedelics are a true revolution. And it’s partially a revolution because we don’t know how they work. There’s all these explanations: oh, the serotonin system or the default mode network. But what has happened in the world we live in is that people pay varied attention to what happens in the mind.

And what we see in our MDMA research is that MDMA seems to really trigger a capacity to look at yourself in a more compassionate way, in the same way that MDMA is being used at parties. And when we do our work, very painful, painful, old things tend to come up. But people are able to go there and not get overwhelmed by shame, or overwhelmed by the horror.

And they’re able to go there and say, yeah, this is what happened to me. Oh my God, that was awful. And actually, I’m working on that paper right now, which I think is a very big deal, actually, is what you see is a dramatic increase in self compassion. People say, I now can really see what I went through, and how awful it was, and how I have survived it.

And what’s fascinating to me is that it gives people a sense of perspective, of who they are, and their sense of self gets very much enhanced. This is who I am, this is what I went through, and this is what I’ve learned from experience. It’s really very dramatic, and I think it’s the sort of thing that may happen with very long term psychotherapy, but I think very profound things can happen in a very short period of time.

EZRA KLEIN: I’m very fascinated by the space, both for personal and professional reasons. And something I was thinking about, in the context of some of the other treatments you bring up, is the why. And I’m thinking here less about MDMA, which as you say has a profound self compassion effect, and more about things like mushrooms and LSD.

But something that came to mind, so Robin Carhart-Harris, who is at UCSF now and is one of the leading researchers on psychedelics, he’s put forward this model which argues that the mechanism by which psychedelics work is that they sort of relax our mind’s confidence in its own internal models, and pattern matching, and stories, which then allows us to kind of experience some of these deeper emotions we have and begin assigning meaning and stories to them, too.

Which sounds actually a lot like E.M.D.R., sounds a lot like, in a way, what internal family systems work is doing. That ability to begin sensing something else and then trying to tell a story about it that your brain will actually believe, and begin to give weight to. And I wonder if you think there’s something to that, that it’s a relaxing of the model that is helpful here?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: Well, certainly Carhart-Harris has done more work on it than any of the rest of us. And I think his formulation approximates what we see here. I think the big thing in terms of trauma, is that when you’re traumatized you live in a very narrow world. A world of fear, and trying to stay under control, and being afraid to get out of control, or being afraid to get overwhelmed.

So your world becomes more and more constrained. Pierre Janet already wrote it about 150 years ago. How you get narrow minded, and what Janet said back then also, he says, when you get traumatized, the mind has a hard time continuing to grow. The mind gets stuck in its effort to try to control itself, it becomes very hard to open your mind up to new things.

So when you’re traumatized, you oftentimes tend to have the same patterns over and over again. You have a hard time learning from experience. Your mind closes down. I think what psilocybin, ayahuasca, LSD do is they open up a new universe inside of yourself that somehow you need to cope with.

The way you phrased it is a little bit too deliberately cognitive for my mind. The mind does something to become aware — but even aware is too conscious — of that I’m a much smaller piece in the much larger universe, and a universal experience through these substances, which Carhart-Harris and Pollan and those people who also write about, is how you get to see your relative position in the universe.

At the same time as you experience yourself as quite unique and special, you also get to see the rest of the universe as also being unique and special. And universally, regardless of the culture, you always end up with a feeling of, I’m a part of a much larger universe. But I’m an essential part of that part of the universe.

Which is, of course, the opposite of being traumatized. When you’re traumatized, you go, I’m messed up, nobody else is, everybody’s having a life and I don’t, and you feel alienated. And that sense of what all these mind altering substances do, of opening yourself up, being a part of a larger whole, is very significant also.

EZRA KLEIN: So MDMA combined with therapy is now in phase III trials in the F.D.A. for treating post-traumatic stress disorder. You have psilocybin at other levels of the regulatory process. There’s very much a vogue for all this. Do you worry that it has risks we’re not paying attention to?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: I think societies have had a very difficult time legalizing and dealing with the outflow of these massive mind-expanding agents. And I’m very curious to what degree we’re able to stay reasonable about it, to be careful about it, to not have it get out of control. And I’m really delighted with Rick Doblin, who runs the Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies, M.A.P.S., which forms part of his studies. He is working very hard to keep it very careful. But I’m very worried that things will get out of control, yeah.

EZRA KLEIN: You were very much part of the rise of just pharmaceuticals to treat mental illness. You did one of the early studies on Prozac. And in the book, you have a very complicated relationship with these drugs, which you prescribe and believe they can help people. But you also worry that we overuse them, that we use drugs to ignore signals, or numb signals the body is sending, so that it becomes easier to not do things. How do you think about that space now?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: So I was a very young person. So I worked in the hospital and did a lot of the early studies and did some myself, and there was an enormous promise that chemicals were the answers. And people said, mental illness is a chemical illness, and if we just find the right chemical, we’ll cure it.

And billions of dollars on the chemical studies really haven’t yielded all that much in terms of understanding or treating mental illness. But the sad thing is that psychiatry as a profession became addicted to drugs. And so the notion that oh, if you just find the right symptom, you’ll find the right drug, still prevails among many professionals.

There are chemicals that can be somewhat helpful. They can help you to sleep better, to be less uptight. But they’re chemicals that really interfere with your natural capacity to deal with these things. And for me, very quickly after I did these early studies with not bad results, they certainly did not promise total happiness, really started to concentrate on what inborn mechanisms we have to deal with our own anxiety, and with our depression.

And so I really discovered the world of the body and tantric traditions, the yoga traditions and breathing traditions, and musical traditions that show that we actually are capable of rearranging our own internal physiological systems. And I wish that in every classroom in America they would teach the four Rs: reading, writing, arithmetic and self regulation, from kindergarten through 12th grade, of what can we do to calm ourselves down, to stay focused? What sort of activities can we engage in to feel in control of ourselves?

And so that we get away from this culture of, if you don’t feel right you take a drug, instead of if you don’t feel right you go for a bicycle ride. If you don’t feel right you go to yoga class. If you don’t feel right, you may need to do some body work to help your body to calm, or you need to go to do some tango dancing, or you need to do something to rearrange your relationship to your internal physiological state.

EZRA KLEIN: Where do you think psychiatry and mental health as a profession is in its evolution? And I mean it in this way, that it all feels very scientific. And there’s a lot of studies and you can read journals. And at the same time, including when reading your book, it’s remarkable how crude the tools we have are. I mean, we have medications that do things that we don’t really understand, but seem to have some help for some people.

We have things like E.M.D.R., which do things we don’t understand, but help some people, or theater therapy, or yoga. We know exercise is good. We don’t always exactly know why. Now we’re exploring psychedelics, which have profound effects and seem to, with the right level of integration, help with trauma. We’re very like, kind of throwing stuff against the wall and finding some things unexpectedly work in ways we don’t fully understand.

So do you think that there are just limits to what we can access in the kind of deep psyche? Or do you think that 100 years from now, or 50 years from now, our treatments today are just going to seem incredibly crude, like we just had not discovered germ theory or something?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: All of the above, and none, to some degree. I don’t think we are throwing everything against the wall. We’re doing actually the opposite. We’re looking for yet another drug doing the same old stuff that we have done. We are looking at yet another talk therapy that will make people into sensible human beings.

We have, as a discipline, completely ignored our early data, when we first started to image trauma in the brain, that trauma sits on the right side of the brain. And so these right brain phenomena are lasting phenomena. And so the time has come to really start looking at what else can we do, because basically the funding has been very much focused on talking therapies and drug therapies.

So no, we haven’t thrown things against the wall. I’m still waiting for the study of comparing tango dancing with cognitive behavioral therapy. I’m a scientist, it’s an empirical question. But I put my money on tango dancing over C.B.T., by and large, for some people. So I think we need to explore much more.

Is the world open for it? Yes and no. For example, I was able to start a foundation, and rather than become a recipient of funding, I’m able to fund some studies. Now the very first study we are funding is a study of touch and trauma. Everybody who knows anything about trauma, is that some of these people have very varied and oftentimes very anomalous responses to human touch.

People have won Nobel prizes about vision, Nobel prizes about audition. Touch is basically off the wall. The main way that people get comfort in life is through being touched. Once you have been touched inappropriately, touch maybe can defeat this. Let’s study touch.

We are synchronous human beings. The source of pleasure in our lives is to be in sync with each other. The reason why I like talking with you is because, whenever you ask a question, I go, “Boy this guy really gets it.” I feel you’re in sync with me, which gives me a tremendous sense of pleasure. So being in sync with people is critical for our sense of fun, of feeling alive. So how can we increase people’s sense of synchronicity with other human beings?

So I don’t know how it will work itself out, because in the world we live in, everything gets monetized. And so we tend to be able to study very expensive technical treatments more than simple treatments. And so where things will go, God knows. But boy, are we missing the boat on exploring a much larger number of options. Yes, up to now we have.

EZRA KLEIN: On the point of touch, that there are a couple lines in your book that have really etched themselves in me. And one in particular here where you say that “the things that calm adults are the same things that calm children. Being held, being rocked, and being shushed.” And I don’t know. I just found that very moving.

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: It’s true! You see it through to have your own kid go — yeah, he’s very young. But I need to do the same thing for him as I need myself.

EZRA KLEIN: But at some point, we make it very difficult for adults to ask for those things. You can maybe ask your partner, and that’s it. Particularly, I’ll speak more for men here, because I understand male relationships a little bit better, but you really, as a man, you can’t go to your male friends and ask to be rocked and shushed. [LAUGHTER]

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: Yeah, a little bit, the culture has something to do with it.

EZRA KLEIN: Yeah, and it just strikes me as a shame. To the point you were just making, we spend so many billions of dollars, and so much effort to get the medications we think will help, and to see psychiatrists. And we’ve also cut ourselves off from a lot of just very cheap things, right? We have culturally cut ourselves off from a lot of touch, right? We often live in very atomized ways.

I mean there’s very kind of cheap, natural things that are part of our deep history that we give to our children, or at least in many homes, that, I don’t know, we’ve just decided are a little somehow uncouth, and we suffer for it.

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: A very big part of what you’re talking about is our socially stratified system, and our humongous income inequality. I sent my kids to schools where there was a lot of theater, music, dancing, creative writing, sports. They were always moving and creating things. The poorer you are, the less you get any of these things.

EZRA KLEIN: We’re going to come back, we’re definitely going to come back at the end to the bigger question of inequality. But before we do that, I want to reverse the way we’ve been looking at this. We’ve been talking about the way traumatized people are disconnected from their communities. And I want to talk a little bit about what it means to be in community with somebody who is traumatized.

A lot of the patients you talk about in the book, a lot of the behaviors that traumatized people exhibit, they’re very alienating to those around them. They’re difficult, they can be dangerous. Can you just talk a bit about what trauma is like for those who love someone who is traumatized?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: It is very hard to be with someone who is traumatized, who suddenly shuts down, suddenly blows up. And it takes an enormous toll on relationships. And oftentimes partners get blamed for the other party’s behavior. And so it really finds its way into relationships.

And so, groups of survivors become very important. Groups of incest survivors, groups of people who were molested by Catholic priests, people who struggle with addiction, helping each other say, I know what you’re talking about. I’m not here primarily to condemn you, but to keep you company in your struggle. For a survivor, it’s terribly important.

In a couple’s relationship, that’s harder, because you have a job to do, raising kids, et cetera, et cetera. But these support groups can be very good to give people a sense of being a member of the human race. And once you stop feeling like a member of the human race, your chances for wanting to survive become very slim.

EZRA KLEIN: How do you advise people to deal with the very difficult question of what you can ask of someone they love? I mean, the tension between recognizing the reality that people’s actions are often largely out of their control. They don’t want to treat us badly, they don’t want to disconnect, they don’t want to pull back, and also that we don’t want to be mistreated, or taken advantage of, or hurt.

And that there is something you can ask of some people, right? Sometimes you can ask somebody to treat you better. And then sometimes you need to recognize that there is healing that has to happen before they’re going to be able to do that. But it’s often hard to know which situation is which. Do you have advice for people who feel like they’re in that situation?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: Yeah. I think that’s really — to a large degree that’s what relationships are all about. It’s the continuous negotiation of, what can we be for each other? A relationship is about being there for each other. So my job, if you and I are in a relationship, is indeed to try to create situations in which you can feel safe and be productive.

But your demands may be too much for me. And I need to be able to say, honey, I cannot do it. I really need to sleep in a bedroom by myself if you wake up screaming in nightmares all night, and it must be very hard for you if I cannot sleep in the same bed with you. But we both have needs. And these are very hard to negotiate. And I think you need to have a lot of consciousness, and a lot of awareness to actually be able to sit down and to identify these issues, and to talk about these issues.

But that is the nature of relationships. What can I do, what can I not do, what are the expectations, to what degree can I fulfill these obligations, and to what degree do you need to get the resources for yourself from somebody else? Because I’m depleted, I cannot give you what you’re asking for.

EZRA KLEIN: So I want to go back then to this question of the broader society that you were talking about a minute ago, with schools and inequality. On one level, it’s clear I think that providing child care, and pre-K, and well funded schools, and universal health care, and better access to mental health services would help make a society that is better at helping people.

But on some level, that also can’t be the whole answer, because a lot of middle and upper class people’s lives are full of trauma, too. So I’m curious what you think are the structures and institutions, or even just social mores, that would help us become healthier, and help people either be traumatized less often or help them more once they are?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: It’s of course, very complex, and nobody has the answers. But creating situations where parents can safely take care of their kids is terribly important. And of course, that is much easier when you have money than if you don’t have money. So almost every other society has universal health care and has support, which we lack.

So for me, this is really a very big issue. Yes, it’s because of the system we live in, the majority of people I treat are people who come from relatively fortunate circumstances. Because if you come from very low education and you don’t have a high school diploma, there’s no way you will find a way of getting to see an experienced mental health professional.

EZRA KLEIN: What interventions for kids do you think would do the most good? I mean, if you could wave your wand and put some new structures into law that they have elsewhere, or that they don’t have elsewhere, what would the first couple of them be?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: Well first of all, child care, that you don’t have to be locked up with the same person all the time. It’s very important for a kid to have the experience of being exposed to more than one adult, and to see that other people have different ways of doing business. So you can actually see, oh my mom gets very upset, as opposed to, oh, that’s the world I live in.

The second piece is to be involved in rhythmical activities with other kids. Moving together with other kids, dancing together with other kids, playing with other kids, exploring the world with other kids, is so at the core of what creates a healthy mind and a healthy brain. That means that there is space, and that people can actually explore things safely. You can actually go out with your friends and try things out, so you don’t live in an environment where there is so much danger outside the door, or inside the door, that you cannot play anymore.

So I would say the most important thing for traumatized kids is to go to places where they can play. And that is, even in some very well known children’s institutions, there are hardly any places to play. Hardly any place to move around. To sing, to play, to dance, to run. So kids are supposed to really move. And move with other kids.

And basically, our systems are made to move in synchrony with the people around us. When you get traumatized, you get out of sync on every most elementary level. What does the military do? They have people move together and march together, to get them back in sync with each other.

EZRA KLEIN: And it sounds to me like you think the same is actually true for adults, that you need space to play, to move, to be in synchronicity with others, to sing, to dance, to have what gets called collective effervescence.

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: Absolutely. Of course, you get more frozen as we grow older. But cooking with people, serving meals to people, pouring that wine to other people, still that moving together is a terribly important way of feeling our communality with other human beings.

EZRA KLEIN: And then I want to return to a question I said we’d tackle here at the end, which is you talked about the ways in which the post- 9/11 period in New York City was actually well handled from the perspective of trauma. One thing that led to us doing this podcast is your book has been back up, all the way up on the bestseller lists.

And I don’t think that’s an accident. I think that has to do with people sensing a lot is wrong in themselves and in society, as we do and, in some cases, don’t recover from the coronavirus. So we’ve just been through a society- wide trauma, we are still going through it. But at some point, there’s going to be the potential maybe for recovery. Are there lessons from New York City after 9/11 for countries when they finally can turn to trying to recover from this pandemic?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: To my mind, the biggest lesson from New York was, for one thing, everybody knew the reality of what had happened. And nobody blamed anybody on the inside. So that immediately puts the issue of secrecy and shame off the map, which is fairly rare when it comes to trauma.

The next thing is that people actually did things. People got together in neighborhood groups, they got together with their family. And there’s a lot of communality in New York. New York temporarily became a very kind city. People really were lovely with each other. They made space for each other. It was almost unrecognizable.

The other thing is that money poured into New York. Something like half of all Americans donated money. So there was no dearth of resources. So many people who are traumatized have no resources. They have no money. We don’t have universal health care. If you don’t have good insurance, it’s very hard to get many of the treatments that I talk about.

So the issue of access and resources is huge. And if we wanted to have good health care systems, we need to have universal health care. We cannot have one health care system for the rich and a completely different health care system for the poor.

EZRA KLEIN: I think that’s a good place to end. So always, our final question. What are the three books that have influenced you that you would recommend to the audience?

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: Yeah. Eve Ensler, who now calls herself V, wrote a beautiful book called “The Apology.” Her whole work comes from having been severely molested by her dad. And I think her book, and her other work also, is an extraordinary testimony of courage, of facing up to yourself, and to your experience, and then going on. She’s just marvelous.

The other book that comes to mind is “Love at Goon Park.” It’s a book about Harry Harlow and his laboratory, his discovery of attachment in monkeys. So just a marvelous book about us as human beings, being very much like interactive with other people. And Harry Harlow is a very flawed human being discovering that.

Another book that I think is great, an Australian guy by the name of [Richard] Flanagan, who wrote a book called “The Narrow Road to the [Deep] North,” about war experiences and how war experiences impact on people and get split off. I could just go on, and on, and on. Karl Marlantes’s book about “What It’s Like to Go to War” is an extraordinary description, up there with Tolstoy’s, about the war experience, and his own journey to recovery. Those are just three or four examples.

EZRA KLEIN: Bessel van der Kolk, your book is “The Body Keeps the Score,” it’s remarkable. Thank you very much.

BESSEL VAN DER KOLK: Thank you. It’s a pleasure.

“The Ezra Klein Show” is a production of New York Times Opinion. It is produced by Jeff Geld, Roge Karma and Annie Gelvin. Fact checking by Michelle Harris, original music by Isaac Jones and mixing by Jeff Geld.Real conversations. Ideas that matter. So many book recommendations.

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Opinion: Fear sells. It’s our job not to give in to it.

Opinion by David Von Drehle  Columnist Washington Post October 5, 2021 at 3:12 p.m. EDT

Sixty years ago, on Oct. 6, 1961, the condition of the world had reached such a point that President John F. Kennedy advised Americans nationwide to prepare fortified shelters, ideally underground, and stock them with everything needed to live for weeks.

The existential menace embodied by fallout shelters has been defanged by time. Now, the little cells are part of a gauzy mid-century nostalgia, much like tail fins on cars and dancing the twist. With a little effort, though, one might imagine the dread that must have permeated a society upon learning that its preeminent leader felt nuclear war could be near.

Kennedy said, in effect: Make it a priority to have a blast-protected hole in the ground, close enough to reach in a matter of minutes, where you can wait out a lethal dose of radiation before surfacing into a hellscape where hundreds of millions of people are dead.

It is fashionable to say that the United States is at its low point, and that the rest of the world is going to blazes, too. We are more divided, more demoralized, more deceived than ever before. Our problems are too large for our leaders, who are too small for their jobs.

There is a lot of truth in that diagnosis. We have allowed ourselves to become deeply divided, living in politically homogeneous enclaves, feeding on information that reinforces our biases, waging culture wars for fun and profit. We magnify small differences even as we deny common purposes. The resulting erosion of trust cripples the nation’s ability to meet both internal and external challenges.

What the diagnosis gets wrong is the historical dimension. Little is happening now that has not happened before, in some shape or form. Today’s climate crisis, for example, only appears more menacing than the potential nuclear holocaust of the Kennedy years because one is in the foreground while the other has receded. Today’s immigration crisis feels more urgent than the immigration crisis of a century ago only because this one is ours. Today’s racial reckoning feels unusually raw because it is happening to us — not because it is somehow more painful than lynchings or chattel slavery.

Charles Dickens was on to something when he wrote of the French Revolution: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” Every era and generation contains elements of both: concurrent seasons of light and darkness. To deny this is to reveal a shortage of historical understanding.

What distinguishes the present age is the widespread and lucrative focus on the apocalyptic: the magnification of threats and minimizing of opportunities; the exaggeration of differences; the desire to see things as worse than they are. We invent ever-more-outlandish conspiracies, impute ever-baser motives, foretell ever-bleaker futures.

Fear sells.

This is why courage has been revered throughout history as a cardinal human virtue. Courage has many facets, but each reflects an individual’s choice to be the best person possible in even the worst of times. Courage is not the antithesis of fear, for it would not have any meaning in the absence of fear. Rather, courage acknowledges fear but refuses to be mastered by it.

Like all virtues, courage is an individual choice — though tremendous damage can be done by leaders who operate on fear rather than courage. Those with open eyes can see such leaders everywhere they look: leaders in government and industry stoking fear of enemies, fear of conspiracies, fear of calamities, fear of the future.

The moral weakness of these fearmongers demands courage from the rest of us. We must recognize appeals to fear and reject them — even if the fear being invoked feels real and true and justified to us. Indeed, seductive fears are the ones we are especially called to rise above.

A healthy society is not a society without problems, because no society has ever been without problems. A healthy society is one that faces problems without fear because its people have courage — and their courage raises courageous leaders. History records that 1933 was the worst of times, when the global economy was sunk in the Great Depression and tyranny was on the march across Europe and Asia. A turning point was marked by Franklin D. Roosevelt’s ringing declaration: “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.

If you feel, as so many do today, that these are some of America’s worst days, if you fear for the future of this democratic republic, then your duty is to master the fear and refuse to be governed by it. If the voice on TV is trying to scare you, turn it off. If your social media leave you anxious, shut them down. Let the worst of times bring out the best of you, for a light shines brightest in the dark.

Not the Same Old Story

BY LYNN SMITH NOV. 11, 2001 LA TIMES STAFF WRITER

Everybody loves a good story. Little did we know how much.

From cavemen to scholars, people have been drawn to fire pits, water coolers, theaters and grave sites to share stories, which have long been at the core of the arts, novels, movies and plays. But since the postmodern literary movement of the 1960s swept out of academia and into the wider culture, narrative thinking has seeped into other fields. Historians, lawyers, physicians, economists and psychologists have all rediscovered the power of stories to frame reality, and storytelling has come to rival logic as a way to understand legal cases, geography, illness or war. Stories have become so pervasive, critics fear they have become a dangerous replacement for facts and reasoned argument.

In these tale-telling times, the crisis ignited on Sept. 11 has been called a clash of narratives between the stories that terrorists use and those Westerners believe. And literary debates about whether a story describes what is real or determines reality have gained a new relevance.

“We always knew stories are really powerful. They’ve probably never been treated before as if they mattered” in shaping our public and private lives, said Paul Costello, co-founder of the small Center for Narrative Studies in Washington, D.C., which was formed six years ago to track the spreading use and practice of narrative. “Before, it was always ‘That’s only a story, give me the facts.”’ Now, he said, more people are realizing that “stories have real effects that have got to be looked at seriously.”

Interest in narrative arose spontaneously among a handful of intellectuals in the late 1950s, said Stanley Fish, dean of the college of liberal arts and sciences at the University of Illinois at Chicago. “Between 1958 and 1963, a bunch of books appeared in a number of disciplines, all written independently, all making the same point: Our sense of fact and of the shape of events always follows from an unarticulated set of assumptions,” he said. Thomas G. Kuhn, John Langshaw Austin, Clifford Geertz, Richard Rorty and Michel Foucault shared similar insights in science, culture, philosophy, anthropology and sociolinguistics.

“When we see things, we don’t see them directly and immediately. That generalized way of looking at things, we didn’t choose. We more or less fall into it by virtue of our nationality, ethnicity, etc.”

Since then, he said, the idea of the narrative construction of reality has been like “something in the water.” In some cases, scholars said, academic insights passed more form than substance into the wider culture, as, for instance, deconstruction came to be an advertising slogan for jeans.

Yet people widely absorbed the scholars’ argument that at some level stories are the most powerful form of discourse, stronger than logic, stronger than reason, stronger than bare fact. Stories explain, justify and inspire in a way that abstract reasoning just can’t do, said Yale University’s Peter Brooks, author of “Reading for the Plot: Design and Intention in Narrative.” In fact, he said, “I don’t think we would have that much of a perception of reality without constructing it in a narrative.”

Popular historians such as Joseph Ellis and David McCullough have revived narrative techniques to engage readers, and even the most seemingly fact-based fields have felt the pull toward storytelling. “There’s been a claim that economics is really about stories,” Brooks said.

Narrative is seen by business consultants as a way to improve “knowledge management,” Costello said. In geography, he said, “a story is what converts space into a place. Mention the Mississippi and people immediately evoke a story, Mark Twain or the floods.”

In law, storytelling has been rediscovered as a way to counter legal abstraction, and its use has raised a new consciousness about the malleability of the story. “People are more self-conscious about the fact that narrative is selective,” said Martha Nussbaum, a University of Chicago philosopher who has taught law students about the value of narrative. “The way you tell a story is quite crucial to the legal issues involved.

“This is popping up not only in the teaching of law, but in the awareness of judges, who recognize a story can reveal or can obscure. We want to make sure we get the right stories.”

She described one sexual harassment case, for instance, in which a judge ruled that a woman was not harmed by crude language in the workplace, partly because the woman herself had also used such language. However, an appellate judge overruled the lower court, saying the story painted by the defense had left out features that were legally relevant, such as the fact that the woman was in the minority in a system that used intimidation, and that she had only been trying to fit in, Nussbaum said.

A school of narrative medicine aims to discern patients’ stories in addition to their symptoms. Writing in the October issue of the Journal of the American Medical Assn., Dr. Rita Charon from Columbia University, noted literature seminars and reading groups have become common in medical schools and hospitals. Physicians, taught in the ‘60s to practice “detached concern,” now collaborate with their patients to publish their stories in popular journals as a way to engage and develop a therapeutic alliance for proper diagnosis and care.

If physicians cannot perform “narrative tasks,” she wrote, “the patient might not tell the whole story, might not ask the most frightening questions, and might not feel heard.”

Narrative ideas fit so well with psychology that at least two narrative-based branches of therapy have developed. In one, clients are led to replace old personal stories of themselves as victims, for instance, with healthier new versions. In the more analytic view, the new story is always under construction. “Their understanding would be less that they are victims of events, or genes or energies in them which only their analyst can understand, and more as an understanding of themselves as creators of their present, their view of the past, and their relationships with others,” said Robert Moore, a Bay Area psychotherapist and author of “Creation of Reality in Psychoanalysis” (1999).

And of course, storytelling has come to occupy a central spot in the world of politics. Brooks noted that in his inaugural address, George W. Bush used the word story 10 times, starting with, “We have a place, all of us in a long story…. ” and ending with, “This story goes on.” He introduced his Secretary of State Colin Powell as “a great American story.” Of Transportation Secretary Normal Y. Mineta, Bush said, “I love his story.”

Hardly a political debate goes by without a candidate bringing in a constituent to tell a tale illustrating an issue like prescription drug abuse, he said, leading some to complain about making policy by anecdote. “Sometimes, you would prefer them to argue their points logically with principles and so on,” Brooks said, wistfully.

Critics note that persuasive stories can be spun out of false memories or into propaganda. People deceive themselves with their own stories. A story that provides a reassuring explanation of events can also mislead by leaving out contradictions and complexities.

On the other hand, Fish and others contend that people cannot lose an objectivity they never had in the first place.

“We don’t understand things as we experience them,” said UCLA anthropologist Elinor Ochs. “Milan Kundera says remembering is not the opposite of forgetting. It’s a form of forgetting. We can never really capture our experiences. We can only construe them after the fact. When we’re in the middle of it, it’s like we’re going through a fog. Especially if it’s distressful.”

Wanting desperately to make sense of their everyday lives, people not only order their stories in a plot, but also tell them to others and use the feedback to clarify the meaning of the events, she said.

Some stories just don’t fit into a framework or feel authentic, she said.

Someone from a minority group, for instance, might not think generic stories about an “American childhood” or “American family” are the same as theirs.

And that makes it harder for politicians and the public to agree on an official story about war. “Someone may say Johnny went off to fight in Vietnam because of our interests, as part of a larger national story. That may all make coherent sense on another level for many people involved in the war. Other people may feel this is one story, but it’s not the only story. There are alternative ways of construing things that happened,” she said.

“People are split between two desires: the desire for coherence and a desire for authenticity. Usually coherence wins out.”

In the view of some experts, looking at current world events through the lens of narrative theory is a way to find clarity in what appears to be incomprehensible. It’s important to understand that the terrorists’ narratives make sense to them, Brooks said, but they seem like poison to us. “What is terror to us is holy war to someone else. That’s a very terrifying discovery.”

Novelist Robert Stone concurs. The shock of Sept. 11 was so great, he has written, “our conscious minds denied the violent assault of one narrative system upon another. People deeply enclosed in their sanctified worldview were carrying out what they experienced as a sacred command to annihilate the Other…” But rather than dismissing such a narrative, Costello said, it is to vital to take seriously an opponent’s story. “One of the narrative principles we teach is to say unless we have the terrorist’s story out of which they’re acting, then we don’t have the full story.” Unless we find out why it did make sense to them, he said, “we haven’t done the homework that would help us combat it,” he said. “If you only go with one story, there’s a danger of editing out too much of the other reality that’s part of the picture.”

Brooks said, “The narratives we reached for first were standard military narratives of rooting out and destroying the enemy. Now the problem may be those narratives seem a little bit simplistic or un-nuanced for the actual situation. People are baffled as to what the right narrative is, and particularly baffled because any good narrative for something like this has an end in sight. The end is by no means clear,” he said. Nor is it clear what victory would mean.”

Brooks, who is currently teaching in England, said he’s picked up hints of a new narrative from speeches by Tony Blair and other writers’ reactions about the impossibility of American isolation and the need to engage the Islamic world.

In the U.S., leaders could tell a new story, for instance, that might portray a humble America, Costello said. “Our stories can join a lot of other stories now of people who have had to deal with adversity,” he said.

And these new stories, he added, can come from familiar wellsprings. Costello approves of recent collaborations between the White House and Hollywood producers to clarify America’s image on screen. “Entertainment is America’s largest export. It is exporting who it is, what it believes. Maybe we’ve got to rethink America’s story in the world and what America wants to stand for.”

“We say the story always comes late to the reality, and we’ve got to keep the story open. We might discover things that totally overthrow our earlier presumptions.”

Until a new story emerges, Costello says the story needs to remain uncomfortably ambiguous. Watching the collapsing towers, he said, reminded him of a scene in an English movie version of the sinking of the Titanic. Two men in a lifeboat watch the ship as it goes down. Rather than encapsulating the catastrophe in a tidy moral, one man shakes his head in disbelief and says, “We were so sure of ourselves. I don’t think I’ll ever be sure of anything ever again.”

Telling Tales

by Steve Denning in Harvard Business Review May 2004

Summary.   Reprint: R0405H A carefully chosen story can help the leader of an organization translate an abstract concept into a meaningful mandate for employees. The key is to know which narrative strategies are right for what circumstances. Knowledge management expert Stephen Denning explains that, for optimal effect, form should follow function. Challenging one professional storyteller’s view that more is better, Denning points out that it’s not always desirable (or practical) to launch into an epic that’s jam-packed with complex characters, cleverly placed plot points, an intricate rising action, and a neatly resolved denouement. True, if listeners have time and interest, a narrative-savvy leader can use a vividly rendered tale to promote communication between management and staff, for instance, or even to foster collaboration—especially when the story is emotionally moving. However, if the aim is to motivate people to act when they might not be inclined to do so, it’s best to take an approach that’s light on detail. Otherwise, the particulars can bog listeners down and prevent them from focusing on the message.

Drawing on his experiences at the World Bank and observations made elsewhere, the author provides several dos and don’ts for organizational storytellers, along with examples of narratives that get results. The sidebar “A Storytelling Catalog” presents seven distinct types of stories, the situations in which they should be told, and tips on how to tell them. Many of these aren’t even stories in the “well-told” sense—they run the rhetorical gamut from one-liners to full-blown speeches—but they succeed because they’re tailored to fit the situation. So even though it’s common in business to favor the analytical over the anecdotal, leaders with the strength to push past some initial skepticism about the enterprise of storytelling will find that the creative effort pays off.

In 1998, I made a pilgrimage to the International Storytelling Center in Jonesborough, Tennessee, seeking some enlightenment. Several years earlier, as the program director of knowledge management at the World Bank, I had stumbled onto the power of storytelling. Despite a career of scoffing at such touchy-feely stuff—like most business executives, I knew that analytical was good, anecdotal was bad—I had changed my thinking because I’d seen stories help galvanize an organization around a defined business goal.

In the mid-1990s, that goal was to get people at the World Bank to support efforts at knowledge management—a pretty foreign notion within the organization at the time. I offered people cogent arguments about the need to gather the knowledge that was scattered throughout the organization. They didn’t listen. I gave PowerPoint presentations that compellingly demonstrated the importance of sharing and leveraging this information. My audiences merely looked dazed. In desperation, I was ready to try almost anything.

Then in 1996 I began telling people a story:

In June of 1995, a health worker in a tiny town in Zambia went to the Web site of the Centers for Disease Control and got the answer to a question about the treatment for malaria. Remember that this was in Zambia, one of the poorest countries in the world, and it happened in a tiny place 600 kilometers from the capital city. But the most striking thing about this picture, at least for us, is that the World Bank isn’t in it. Despite our know-how on all kinds of poverty-related issues, that knowledge isn’t available to the millions of people who could use it. Imagine if it were. Think what an organization we could become.

This simple story helped World Bank staff and managers envision a different kind of future for the organization. When knowledge management later became an official corporate priority, I used similar stories to maintain the momentum. So I began to wonder how the tool of narrative might be put to work even more effectively. Being a typically rational manager, I decided to consult the experts.

At the International Storytelling Center, I told the Zambia story to a professional storyteller, J.G. “Paw-Paw” Pinkerton, and asked the master what he thought. You can imagine my chagrin when he said he didn’t hear a story at all. There was no real telling. There was no plot. There was no building up of the characters. Who was this health worker in Zambia? And what was her world like? What did it feel like to be in the exotic environment of Zambia, facing the problems she faced? My anecdote, he said, was a pathetic thing, not a story at all. I needed to start from scratch if I hoped to turn it into a “real story.”

Was I surprised? Well, not exactly. The story was pretty bland. There was a problem with this advice from the expert, though. I knew in my heart it was wrong. And with that realization, I was on the brink of an important insight: Beware the well-told story!

The Power of Narrative

But let’s back up a bit. Do stories really have a role to play in the business world? Believe me, I’m familiar with the skepticism about them. When you talk about “storytelling” to a group of hardheaded executives, you’d better be prepared for some eye rolling. If the group is polite as well as tough, don’t be surprised if the eyes simply glaze over.

That’s because most executives operate with a particular—and generally justified—mind-set. Analysis is what drives business thinking. It cuts through the fog of myth, gossip, and speculation to get to the hard facts. It goes wherever the observations and premises and conclusions take it, undistorted by the hopes or fears of the analyst. Its strength lies in its objectivity, its impersonality, its heartlessness.

Yet this strength is also a weakness. Analysis might excite the mind, but it hardly offers a route to the heart. And that’s where we must go if we are to motivate people not only to take action but to do so with energy and enthusiasm. At a time when corporate survival often requires disruptive change, leadership involves inspiring people to act in unfamiliar, and often unwelcome, ways. Mind-numbing cascades of numbers or daze-inducing PowerPoint slides won’t achieve this goal. Even the most logical arguments usually won’t do the trick.

Analysis might excite the mind, but it hardly offers a route to the heart—and that’s where we must go to motivate people.

But effective storytelling often does. In fact, in certain situations nothing else works. Although good business arguments are developed through the use of numbers, they are typically approved on the basis of a story—that is, a narrative that links a set of events in some kind of causal sequence. Storytelling can translate those dry and abstract numbers into compelling pictures of a leader’s goals. I saw this happen at the World Bank—by 2000, we were increasingly recognized as leaders in the area of knowledge management—and have seen it in numerous other large organizations since then.

So why was I having problems with the advice I had received from the professional storyteller in Jonesborough?

A “Poorly Told” Story

The timing of my trip to Tennessee was fortunate. If I had sought expert advice two years earlier, I might have taken the master’s recommendations without question. But I’d had some time to approach the idea of organizational storytelling with a beginner’s mind, free of strictures about “the right way” to tell a story.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t follow Paw-Paw Pinkerton’s recommendations. I saw immediately how to flesh out my modest anecdote about the health worker in Zambia: You’d dramatically depict her life, the scourge of malaria that she faced in her work, and perhaps the pain and suffering of the patient she was treating that day. You’d describe the extraordinary set of events that had led to her being seated in front of a computer screen deep in the hinterland of Zambia. You’d describe the false leads she had followed before she came across the CDC Web site. You’d build up to the moment of triumph when she found the answer to her question about malaria and vividly describe how that answer was about to transform the life of her patient. The story would be a veritable epic.

This “maximalist” account would be more engrossing than my relatively dry anecdote. But I had learned enough by then to realize that telling the story in this way to a corporate audience would not galvanize implementation of a strange new idea like knowledge management. I knew that in the modern workplace, people had neither the time nor the patience—remember executives’ general skepticism about storytelling in the first place—to absorb a richly detailed narrative. If I was going to hold the attention of my audience, I had to make my point in seconds, not in minutes.

There was another problem. Even if my audience did take the time to listen to a fully developed tale, my telling it in that fashion would not allow listeners the mental space to relate the story to their own quite different worlds. Although I was describing a health worker in Zambia, I wanted everyone to focus not on Zambia but on their own situations. I hoped they would think, “If the CDC can reach a health worker in Zambia, why can’t the World Bank? Why don’t we put our knowledge on the Web and broaden our scope?” But if my listeners were immersed in a saga about that health worker and her patient, they might not have any attention left to ask themselves these questions—or to provide answers. In other words, I didn’t want my audience too interested in Zambia. A minimalist narrative was effective, in fact, because it lacked detail and texture. The same characteristic that the professional storyteller saw as a flaw was, for my purposes, a strength.

The professional storyteller saw minimalism as a flaw; for my purposes, it was a strength.

On my return from Jonesborough, I educated myself about the principles of traditional storytelling. More than 2,000 years ago, Aristotle, in his Poetics, said stories should have a beginning, a middle, and an end. They should include complex characters as well as a plot that incorporates a reversal of fortune and a lesson learned. Furthermore, the storyteller should be so engaged with the story—visualizing the action, feeling what the characters feel—that the listeners become drawn into the narrative’s world. Aristotle’s formula has proved successful over the ages, from The Arabian Nights to The Decameron to The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and most Hollywood screenplays.

Despite the narrative power of the traditional story, I knew that it probably wouldn’t spark action in an organization. In retrospect, though, I realize that my insight blinded me to something else. Believing that this wonderful and rich tradition had no place in the time-constrained world of modern business was as wrongheaded as thinking that all stories had to be full of detail and color. I would later see that the well-told story is relevant in a modern organization. Indeed, a number of surprises about the use of storytelling in organizations awaited me.

Tales of Success and Failure

In December 2000, I left the World Bank and began to consult with companies on their knowledge management and, by extension, their use of organizational stories. As part of this work, I once found myself in London with Dave Snowden, a director of IBM’s Institute of Knowledge Management, teaching a master class on storytelling to around 70 executives from private- and public-sector organizations.

During the class’s morning session, I spoke about my experience at the World Bank and how a positive orientation was essential if a narrative like the one about Zambia was to be effective. But in the afternoon, to my dismay, my fellow presenter emphatically asserted the opposite. At IBM and elsewhere, Dave had found purely positive stories to be problematic. They were, he said, like the Janet and John children’s stories in the United Kingdom or the Dick and Jane stories in the United States: The characters were so good they made you feel queasy. The naughtiest thing Janet and John would do was spill a bottle of water in the yard. Then they would go and tell their mother about it and promise never to do it again. Janet would volunteer to help out with the cleanup and John would offer to help wash the car. These stories for children reflected a desire to show things as they should be rather than as they are. In a corporate environment, Dave told his audience, listeners would respond to such rosy tales by conjuring up negative “antistories” about what must have actually happened. His message: Beware the positive story!

After the workshop, Dave and I discussed why his stories focused on the negative while mine accentuated the positive. I could see he had a point, that negative stories can be more powerful than positive ones. I’d used negative stories myself when trying to teach people the nitty-gritty of any subject. The fact is, people learn more from their mistakes than from their successes.

Eventually, however, it dawned on me that our points of view were complementary and that our stories served different purposes: My stories were crafted to motivate people, and Dave’s were designed to share knowledge. His stories might describe how and why a team failed to accomplish an objective, with the aim of helping others avoid the same mistakes. (To elicit such stories, Dave often had to start by getting people to talk about their successes, even if these accounts were ultimately less useful vehicles for conveying knowledge.) It was then I began to realize that the purpose of telling a story might determine its form.

Granted, even optimistic stories have to be true and believable, since jaded corporate audiences know too well the experience of being presented with half-truths. Stories told in order to spur action need to make good on their promises and contain sufficient evidence of a positive outcome. But stories intended mainly to transfer knowledge must be more than true. Because their objective is to generate understanding and not action, they tend to highlight the pitfalls of ignorance; they are meant not to inspire people but to make them cautious. Just as the minimalist stories that I told to spark action were different from traditional entertainment stories, so effective knowledge-sharing stories would have negative rather than positive overtones.

A Collective Yawn

Once I saw that different narrative forms could further different business goals, I looked for other ways that managers could make stories work for them. A number of distinct story types began to emerge—ones that didn’t necessarily follow Aristotelian guidelines but were nonetheless used to good effect in a variety of organizations. (For descriptions of some of them and the purposes for which they might be used, see the sidebar “A Storytelling Catalog.”) I continued to come across unexpected insights about the nature of storytelling within organizations.

A Storytelling Catalog

Storytelling is an increasingly accepted way to achieve management goals. But leaders need to use a variety of …

For instance, if negative stories have their place, so do “boring” ones. In his book Talking about Machines, Julian Orr recounts a number of stories that have circulated among Xerox repair technicians. While rich in detail, they are even less storylike than my little anecdote about the health care worker in Zambia. Most of these tales, which present solutions to technical problems, lack a plot and a distinct character. In fact, they are hardly stories at all, with little to hold the interest of anyone except those close to the often esoteric subject matter. Why are they compelling even to this limited audience? Because they are driven by a detailed explanation of the cause-and-effect relationship between an action and its consequence. For example:

You’ve got a malfunctioning copy machine with an E053 error code, which is supposed to mean a problem in the 24-volt Interlock Power Supply. But you could chase the source of that 24-volt Interlock problem forever, and you’d never, ever find out what it is. If you’re lucky enough, you’ll eventually get an F066 error code, which indicates the true source of the malfunction—namely, a shorted dicorotron. Apparently, this is happening because the circuitry in the XER board has been changed to prevent the damage that would otherwise occur when a dicorotron shorted. Before the change in circuitry, a shorted dicorotron would have fried the whole XER board. Changing the circuitry has prevented damage to the XER board, but it’s created a different issue. Now an E053 error message doesn’t give you the true source of the machine’s malfunction.

This story, slightly condensed here, doesn’t just describe the technician’s accurate diagnosis of a problem; it also relates why things happened as they did. So the account, negative in tone and almost unintelligible to an outsider, is both informative and interesting to its intended audience.

As I continued my investigation, one area of particular interest to me was the link between storytelling and leadership. I already knew from personal experience how stories could be used as a catalyst for organizational action. And I had read in two influential books about leadership—Leading Minds by Howard Gardner and The Leadership Engine by Noel Tichy—how stories could help leaders define their personality for their followers, boosting others’ confidence in the leaders’ integrity and providing some idea of how they might act in a given situation.

I also had seen leaders using narrative to inculcate a positive set of corporate values and beliefs in the hearts and minds of their employees. Think, for example, of Tyco’s effort to repair its battered value system. The company began by creating a straightforward manual that outlined new rules in such areas as sexual harassment, conflicts of interest, and fraud. But Eric Pillmore, senior vice president of corporate governance, quickly figured out that, as written, the booklet would merely gather dust on people’s shelves. So he threw out what he had done and started again in an attempt to bring the principles alive through narrative. The story below became part of the revised guide, as a sidebar in the section on sexual harassment and other forms of intimidating behavior in the workplace:

The entire team jokes about Tom being gay. Tom has never complained and doesn’t seem to mind, but when Mark is assigned to work with Tom, the jokes turn on Mark. Now that Mark receives the brunt of the jokes, he tells his supervisor he wants to be reassigned. His supervisor complies with Mark’s request.

While the guide clearly lays out the company’s policy on harassment, the simple narrative helps bring the policy to life and provides a starting point for thinking about and discussing the complex issues involved. Dozens of similar stories illustrate an array of company policies.

An Enticing but Hazy Future

Although these types of stories furthered leadership goals in a relatively predictable way, others I came across were more quirky—particularly ones used to communicate vision. Noel Tichy writes in The Leadership Engine about the importance of preparing an organization for change. He notes that “the best way to get humans to venture into unknown terrain is to make that terrain familiar and desirable by taking them there first in their imaginations.” Aha! I thought. Here is a place where storytelling, perhaps the most powerful route to people’s imaginations, could prove indispensable.

But as I looked at examples of such stories in a number of arenas, I discovered that most of the successful ones were surprisingly sketchy about the details of the imagined future. Consider Winston Churchill’s “We Shall Fight on the Beaches” speech and Martin Luther King, Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech. Neither of these famous addresses came close to describing the future in enough detail that it became, in listeners’ minds, “familiar terrain.”

Over time—and, in part, through my work in corporate scenario planning—I realized why. Specific predictions about the future are likely to be proved wrong. Because such predictions almost inevitably differ in major or minor ways from what eventually happens, leaders who proclaim them risk losing people’s confidence. Consequently, a story designed to prepare people for change needs to evoke the future and conjure up a direction for getting there—but without being too precise. Think of the corporate future that was laid out in a famous mandate by Jack Welch: “General Electric will be either number one or number two in the field, or we will exit the sector.” This is a clear, but general, description of where Welch wanted to take the company. Like my Zambia story, although for different reasons, this statement doesn’t convey too much information.

I also came across stories used in somewhat unusual situations that called for reactive rather than proactive measures. These stories counteracted negative ones that circulated like a virus within an organization and threatened to infect the entire body. Dave Snowden of IBM first pointed out to me how stories could be used in this manner. His hypothesis was that you could attach a positive story to a negative one in order to defuse it, as an antibody would neutralize an antigen.

For example, at an IBM manufacturing site for laptop computers in the United Kingdom, stories circulated among the blue-collar workers about the facility’s managers, who were accused of “not doing any real work,” “being overpaid,” and “having no idea what it’s like on the manufacturing line.” But an additional story was injected into the mix: One day, a new site director turned up in a white coat, unannounced and unaccompanied, and sat on the line making ThinkPads. He asked workers on the assembly line for help. In response, someone asked him, “Why do you earn so much more than I do?” His simple reply: “If you screw up badly, you lose your job. If I screw up badly, 3,000 people lose their jobs.”

While not a story in the traditional sense, the manager’s words—and actions—served as a seed for the story that eventually circulated in opposition to the one about managers’ being lazy and overpaid. You can imagine the buzz: “Blimey, you should’ve seen how he fumbled with those circuit boards. I guess he’ll never work on the line. But you know, he does have a point about his pay.” The atmosphere at the facility began improving within weeks.• • •

Much work remains to be done in developing a menu of narrative patterns that can be used for different purposes in an organizational setting. Although the handful of story types that I’ve identified is no more than a start, I hope it inspires leaders to consider the various ways storytelling might be used. Certainly, the ability to tell the right story at the right time is emerging as an essential leadership skill, one that can help managers cope with, and get business results in, the turbulent world of the twenty-first century.

A version of this article appeared in the May 2004 issue of Harvard Business Review.

What Makes Storytelling So Effective For Learning?

by Vanessa Boris | December 20, 2017 Harvard Business Publishing

Learning and development professionals walking and talking

This is the second of two posts co-written by Vanessa and Lani Peterson, Psy.D., a psychologist, professional storyteller and executive coach.

Telling stories is one of the most powerful means that leaders have to influence, teach, and inspire. What makes storytelling so effective for learning? For starters, storytelling forges connections among people, and between people and ideas. Stories convey the culture, history, and values that unite people. When it comes to our countries, our communities, and our families, we understand intuitively that the stories we hold in common are an important part of the ties that bind.

This understanding also holds true in the business world, where an organization’s stories, and the stories its leaders tell, help solidify relationships in a way that factual statements encapsulated in bullet points or numbers don’t.

Connecting learners
Good stories do more than create a sense of connection. They build familiarity and trust, and allow the listener to enter the story where they are, making them more open to learning. Good stories can contain multiple meanings so they’re surprisingly economical in conveying complex ideas in graspable ways. And stories are more engaging than a dry recitation of data points or a discussion of abstract ideas. Take the example of a company meeting.

At Company A, the leader presents the financial results for the quarter. At Company B, the leader tells a rich story about what went into the “win” that put the quarter over the top. Company A employees come away from the meeting knowing that they made their numbers. Company B employees learned about an effective strategy in which sales, marketing, and product development came together to secure a major deal. Employees now have new knowledge, new thinking, to draw on. They’ve been influenced. They’ve learned.

Something for everyone
Another storytelling aspect that makes it so effective is that it works for all types of learners. Paul Smith, in “Leader as Storyteller: 10 Reasons It Makes a Better Business Connection”, wrote:

In any group, roughly 40 percent will be predominantly visual learners who learn best from videos, diagrams, or illustrations. Another 40 percent will be auditory, learning best through lectures and discussions. The remaining 20 percent are kinesthetic learners, who learn best by doing, experiencing, or feeling. Storytelling has aspects that work for all three types. Visual learners appreciate the mental pictures storytelling evokes. Auditory learners focus on the words and the storyteller’s voice. Kinesthetic learners remember the emotional connections and feelings from the story.

Stories stick
Storytelling also helps with learning because stories are easy to remember. Organizational psychologist Peg Neuhauser found that learning which stems from a well-told story is remembered more accurately, and for far longer, than learning derived from facts and figures. Similarly, psychologist Jerome Bruner’s research suggest that facts are 20 times more likely to be remembered if they’re part of a story.

Kendall Haven, author of Story Proof and Story Smart, considers storytelling serious business for business. He has written:

Your goal in every communication is to influence your target audience (change their current attitudes, belief, knowledge, and behavior). Information alone rarely changes any of these. Research confirms that well-designed stories are the most effective vehicle for exerting influence.

Stories about professional mistakes and what leaders learned from them  are another great avenue for learning. Because people identify so closely with stories, imagining how they would have acted in similar circumstances, they’re able to work through situations in a way that’s risk free. The extra benefit for leaders: with a simple personal story they’ve conveyed underlying values, offered insight into the evolution of their own experience and knowledge, presented themselves as more approachable, AND most likely inspired others to want to know more.

Connection. Engagement. Appealing to all sorts of learners. Risk-free learning. Inspiring motivation. Conveying learning that sticks. It’s no wonder that more and more organizations are embracing storytelling as an effective way for their leaders to influence, inspire, and teach.

Read more about the power of storytelling in our brief, “Telling Stories: How Leaders Can Influence, Teach, and Inspire

Vanessa Boris is Senior Manager, Video Solutions at Harvard Business Publishing Corporate Learning. Email her at vanessa.boris@harvardbusiness.org

The Importance of Storytelling and Story Creation

By Kate Hurst  Paths to Literacy

Perhaps the thing that makes us human is the stories (real and imagined) that each of us has inside. Many people think that the gift of storytelling belongs only to writers, shamans, and the very old. The reality is we are all storytellers from the very earliest days of our lives. Children who are blind and visually impaired or deafblind also have stories inside them. Helping them to tell their stories is very important to their social, emotional and cognitive development, especially communication and literacy.

Stories come in different forms and mediums.

Stories come in a variety of forms: poetry, song, movement, pictures, plays and even Dad Jokes. The creators of the stories use various mediums such as braille, sign language, movies, and dance to share the stories with others. 

Some stories are dynamic, we hear them or experience them and then they are gone. Stories become static when we write them down or record them in some way so we can revisit them over-and-over again. 

Children who are visually impaired or Deafblind, may experience a story by tactually exploring items collected on a walk or playing with the materials used to take a bath if these are placed in an experience box or bag. Another child with low vision may enjoy simple picture books with limited print. Audio and braille are other mediums that may be used to share a story with others. 

The form or the medium are not as important as the story itself or the creation of the story.

Storytelling quote

Stories help us cope.

We make sense of our life experiences in part by the stories we learn or tell ourselves. Imagine a story the young child might create and revisit. 

“It is dark and stormy. I am frightened. I think I see a monster in my closet. Will it hurt me? If I cry out loud Dad or Mom will come save me.”

At the time the child tells himself the story he doesn’t know if it is fiction or nonfiction. He is just building a story based on his experience of what happens when he cries out at night. But the power of that story may help to calm him and take action to meet his own needs. This can be true of many stories we read or hear.

Even stories that might frighten us a bit, help us to cope because the outcome for the protagonist or hero ultimately turns out well.  So, when we face challenges in our own lives we may have a certain belief that everything will be alright eventually if we take action.

Research actually shows that using expressive writing can help us deal with stressful and traumatic events and can even positively impact our health. (Opening Up by Writing It Down, Pennebaker, J.W. and Smyth, J. M., 2016)

Pen and ink drawing of 3 young children reading a newspaper outside

Stories help us remember and imagine.

Humans are constantly creating stories. We make up stories in our heads about how our day will go before we head for the office. We tell ourselves stories about the amazing places we will see and exciting things we will do as we plan our vacations. We tell ourselves stories about how people treat us and how we treat them. We are our stories.

Many people may not agree that this is storytelling, but it is where many of us begin to learn the power our own memory and imagination. Stories told within a family or in a culture become even more powerful as they are shared year after year. They become part of who we are, what we believe, and how we see our future. 

When we preserve stories in some static form like a book or a recording or a movie, people from different times and places can share that story. Many of these stories guide whole populations in learning how to live their lives (e.g., religious and spiritual texts, the Constitution).

Using our imaginations to modify an existing story or create a fictional world allows us to create solutions to existing problems or imagine places where other challenges exist. For example, think of the different real-life devices that reflect the long-ago creations of Jules Verne in his stories, such as Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea or From the Earth to the Moon

Stories help us solve problems and try on solutions.

Stories also help us to solve problems by providing opportunities to try out different actions that might lead to different outcomes. This is especially true if another person is helping to co-create the story.

When someone is creating a story with us, he or she might suggest a different action than we would suggest. What will be the outcome of the story with this new twist? What might I learn from their suggestion or solution? We can often work through a problem or situation by writing about it or creating a story.

Two students collaborate to co-create a play-based story.

Two students collaborate to co-create a play-based story.

Stories engage our attention.

When we find ourselves sitting in an airport or waiting to see the dentist, reading a magazine or book engages our attention and helps to make time pass more easily. For many of us, there is no better form of escape than to stick our noses in a book and vanish into the story. With the advent of audiobooks and podcasts, many of us listen to stories as we jog or walk or ride in a car or airplane. For many of us, reading or listening to stories is our favorite form of recreation.

Stories help us understand others.

Stories have the ability to help us learn about others and to find understanding and empathy for them and their situations. Whether we actually know the individual or not, hearing their story evokes feelings within us. Learning to relate to others and empathize with them is so important in developing social skills and making friends.

We need stories. 

Stories serve so many purposes in our lives. Stories are about so much more than just reading or listening. They are instrumental in cognitive, social and emotional development. 

Literacy begins with stories others tell us or we tell ourselves. Co-creating stories with an adult or peers helps our children and students begin to create stories they can share with others.

Adults begin “storytelling” with infants and toddlers by sharing nursery rhymes, songs, and bedtime stories. Then we help them to learn to read others’ stories and write their own. 

Stories help us understand others and ourselves. We feel empathy with the characters we encounter in stories. This ability to learn from stories is a skill that will help our students throughout their lives. In addition to academic goals, stories enrich lives and provide guidance to living.

If you want to do something great for your child or student, explore the ways you can begin to co-create stories with them. 

https://www.pathstoliteracy.org/playing-words/why-it-important/importance-storytelling-and-story-creation

Other articles about the importance of storytelling

Storytelling in the First Three YearsSusan Engel

 Importance of Storytelling in Child Development   Yash Patel 

Telling and Re-Telling Stories: Learning Language and Literacy   Rebecca T. Isbell

To Achieve Lasting Policy Change for Kids, Advocates Need to Choose Their Words Carefully

By Nat Kendall-Taylor and David Alexander
– Chronicle of Philanthropy 

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Kids right now are making more than the usual amount of noise. In Congress and state houses, they’re at the center of public-policy debates on issues such as the child tax credit, Covid-19 vaccines and mask mandates, and the long-term effects of climate change.

For the first time in many years, advocates have a real chance to get something done for children. To take advantage of this opportunity, nonprofits and foundations need to reconsider how they talk about the problems facing kids. They need to recognize that the words they use have the power to shift how legislators, governments, and the public as a whole think about children and what they need.

While many nonprofit organizations are remarkably effective at showing concern for America’s kids, they rarely frame problems affecting them in ways that encourage public action and solutions. A new report released by the organization’s we lead — FrameWorks and Leading for Kids — makes this abundantly clear. The report, How are Advocates Talking About Children’s Issues?, sampled communications materials from 25 organizations that advocate for policies and programs to help children. We found that much of the messaging focuses on fear and crisis, not efficacy or solutions.

Most nonprofits, as well as the media outlets that cover their work, use terms like “vulnerable” or “at risk” to describe the primarily low-income children of color they serve. This is understandable given the significant challenges facing children historically harmed by societal and cultural institutions. But our research shows such language often backfires. The idea of “vulnerability” puts the focus on deficits and sets up a fatalistic perspective. Even if no ill intent exists, such language can be demeaning and paternalistic and can perpetuate racist stereotypes.

Vague and Uninspiring Language

Instead, rather than using language that emphasizes the suffering of oppressed groups, the focus should be on the policies and social structures that cause harm — and what decision makers need to do to fix them. Those discussions should offer clear and concise solutions. Unfortunately, our research found that messages about solutions are themselves often nonspecific and fail to inspire action.

Part of the problem is an overuse of the amorphous term “child well-being” in nonprofit narratives. While “well-being” is a strong, positive word and a rich concept, without clarification it is merely shorthand for a broad set of outcomes and fails to convey the types of solutions that will make a difference. Left in the dark, many people, including policy makers, default to their own interpretation. For instance, we found that people often think about children’s issues solely in terms of child care and education. This narrow focus leaves out many solutions that advocates know would benefit kids.

A better approach is to specifically show what well-being looks like for children and what is necessary to achieve it. An explanation of the child tax credit, for instance, could include a discussion about how the credit helps parents pay the rent, buy healthy food, and provide their children with opportunities, such as camp or music lessons, all of which are essential to a child’s well-being.

When discussing children’s issues, it’s important to translate collective concern for kids into a collective sense of responsibility — and action. That requires demonstrating that these aren’t just problems experienced by some kids but are part of a larger systemwide set of issues that demand a societal response.

Contextualizing the latest research from across the field of philanthropy, the Snapshot of Today’s Philanthropic Landscape provides nonprofits with the information they need to create informed fundraising strategies.

The Black Lives Matter movement, for example, showed that racism isn’t just perpetrated by a few bad cops or some guys waving Confederate flags. It’s deeply embedded in societal systems that, over centuries, favored white people over Black people — from slavery to Jim Crow to housing and employment discrimination to today’s harmful policing practices. Addressing racism requires dismantling these larger systems, not just taking one-off actions.

Show the Impact of Racism

Similarly, when addressing problems affecting children, nonprofits need to clearly explain why creating a new child-care center or education program isn’t nearly enough. Frequently that involves discussions about how racial inequities that permeate institutions and societal systems have hurt children and their families.

Nearly 40 percent of the communications materials we analyzed mentioned issues involving race, using terms such as “racial equity,” “diversity equity, and inclusion,” and “systemic racism.” While such terms are commonplace in the nonprofit world, we found that most people, both white and Black, either don’t understand what they mean or have a different view of their meaning than advocates. Our focus groups, for example, revealed that many people think of equity as a financial term, associating it with home or business equity.

Such terminology needs to be explained in relatable ways that invite more people into the conversation rather than putting up barriers to involvement. One way to do that is by using examples to show what these concepts look like in real life. Again, in the context of the child tax credit, explaining the rationale behind the policy could begin with a discussion of how unequal employment opportunities in this country have created large wealth disparities between both races and immigrant populations. That would lead to the proposed solution: how a tax credit to boost incomes would help alleviate the effects of such systemic inequity and help all children and their families.

A similar approach should be taken when data is used to illustrate challenges confronting children. Too often we found that data presented in reports and other materials about racial disparities were expected to speak for themselves, with little or no explanation provided for why those disparities existed. Here’s an example of a typical sentence from materials we examined: “In 2018, Black children represented 14 percent of the total child population but 23 percent of all kids in foster care.” Without explaining the causes of such disparities, people fill in their own explanations, frequently relying on racist assumptions about people of color.

For example, people might explain differences in income or wealth by suggesting that work or education isn’t valued in “some communities” and that this explains why “those” (Black and brown) families are less successful. In other words, when context isn’t provided, data are often interpreted in ways that reinforce the assumptions about race that communicators are trying to dispel.

Most Americans, including most policy makers, want to solve the problems facing our kids today. To take full advantage of the increased focus on children’s issues, advocates and foundations need to choose their words carefully. That includes recognizing that few people outside their bubbles understand how public policy relates to children. Rather than reflexively using language that doesn’t mean much to most people — or may even alienate them — advocates need to create narratives that pull people in and compel them to fight for the changes we know kids need.

We welcome your thoughts and questions about this article. Please email the editors or submit a letter for publication.

https://www.philanthropy.com/article/to-achieve-lasting-policy-change-for-kids-advocates-need-to-choose-their-words-carefully?cid=gen_sign_in