The Power of the Herd (38 page)

As new employees, grudge holders are hard to spot. When challenged or wronged in some way, they don't “fight it out” in person; they retreat and undermine offenders from a safer distance. People who engage in this passive-aggressive form of revenge are highly effective at blocking communication, innovation, and problem-solving efforts. This compromises team building, hurting the grudge holder and everyone associated with him or her in the long run.

While overt revenge results in violence and more trauma, grudges draw on a different arsenal of “mops,” spreading dirt around in quieter, more subtle ways through sarcasm, cynicism, the silent treatment, and gossip. The latter sometimes involves pathologizing coworkers perceived as adversaries, a now-popular technique in which amateur psychologists diagnose offenders with any number of personality disorders. This twenty-first-century version of objectification and demonization, boosted by gossip disguised as concern, spreads slowly yet effectively through clandestine conversations questioning a team member's mental health.

It's important to remember that no matter how satisfying it initially feels to exact revenge, hold a grudge, or lash out at someone who has offended us, these efforts backfire, stirring up more trouble in the long run. This is doubly true for leaders who tend to enlist others in these nefarious pursuits, producing numerous casualties.

On this issue, George Washington stands out, once again, as an unusually
evolved character. His courage was matched by an emotional strength that allowed him to maintain sensitivity on and off the battlefield. He actively de-escalated volatile situations, calming and focusing others while exuding power and authority,
preventing
American soldiers from exacting revenge on British prisoners of war. In this way he reduced trauma and turned many captive mercenaries into supporters. Yet Washington remains the exception to the rule. Andrew Jackson's aggressive, knee-jerk reactions to threats of any kind are relatively common among modern leaders. His erratic behavior provides a classic example of how destructive people can be when they're unable to match physical strength, intelligence, conviction, and endurance with
emotional heroism.
(See Guiding Principle 11,
chapter 23
.)

C
ONSTRUCTIVE
A
LTERNATIVES
.
Over the years, I've found that when someone tries to undermine my authority, hurt, betray, or insult me, it helps to treat the ordeal as an impromptu sharo, a skill I initially exercised with my stallion Midnight Merlin. With this fiery horse, I found that if I held my ground with a strong yet inquisitive attitude when he suddenly became aggressive (rather than running off or striking out in anger), I avoided causing further abuse while gaining his respect and trust. I've yet to experience a human attack that produces anything close to the terror I felt the first time Merlin raced toward me rearing and striking. Even so, this same technique works with intimidating, antagonistic, panicking, or enraged people as well.

If someone literally came after me with a big stick, I'd surely run screaming in the other direction or try to defend myself. But at an emotional level, the sharo is an incredible tool for modulating interpersonal conflict. To take a bit of a verbal beating — waiting for the right moment to respond constructively rather than reacting with hostility — is a profound act of self-control that pays off in the long run. With regard to social intelligence, this is not about playing the victim. It's about overriding unconscious flight-or-fight impulses to stay present during extreme situations. In this sense, it's also a heroic form of wu-wei, allowing you to assess what's happening before you react. (See Guiding Principle 11,
chapter 23
, for specific procedures that transform the sharo concept into an emotional-intelligence tool.)

Several additional skills are involved in turning potential enemies into colleagues, friends, or at the very least,
respectful
competitors. First, you must increase your tolerance for feeling vulnerable (Guiding Principle 5,
chapter 17
) without panicking. But enduring acts of aggression or disrespect is not in itself enough. You must also address the reasons behind such attacks
with
the person who attacked you, approaching the difficult conversation that follows from
an empowered, compassionate stance. In this effort, it's helpful to understand how to set boundaries with aggressors (Guiding Principle 4,
chapter 16
), use fear-management skills (Guiding Principle 7,
chapter 19
), and discuss uncomfortable topics in thoughtful, nonshaming ways (Guiding Principle 9,
chapter 21
).

There is absolutely nothing new or exotic about this advanced social-intelligence skill. The term
sharo
may be Fulani, but it's not an original idea. A good fifteen hundred years before these master herdsmen arrived on the scene, Jesus took this same concept to the absolute limit, and not only by encouraging people to turn the other cheek when challenged. He fought extreme violence with uncompromising nonviolence, performing the ultimate sharo, suffering with arms wide open while nailed to a cross, preaching compassion and forgiveness to the very end. That many Christians throughout history have had trouble activating this principle under pressure shows how truly extraordinary Jesus was. Yet the evolution of human consciousness and behavior demands that people adopt this counterintuitive approach to power in daily life, no matter what religion they practice.

Objectification involves characterizing other living beings, groups, or cultures as unevolved, unintelligent, defective, or even innately evil. Projection involves punishing, rejecting, or persecuting others for the same weaknesses and darker qualities we refuse to acknowledge in ourselves.

Because there's no need to consider an object's feelings or needs, objectification allows opportunists of all kinds — from politicians, preachers, teachers, pundits, entrepreneurs, and scientists to conquerors, terrorists, child abusers, and psychopaths — to justify ostracizing, destroying, or exploiting people and animals. The more archaic practice of demonizing people is still popular among religious extremists. The modern “arts” of racial profiling, sexual stereotyping, and pathologizing those we don't get along with are also forms of objectification.

According to philosopher Martha Nussbaum, objectification occurs when
we treat a living being in any of the following ways: as a tool, as a possession, as lacking in agency or self-determination, or as interchangeable (and therefore easily expendable). In all twenty-first-century cultures, animals are legally objectified, though laws specifying humane treatment temper extreme cruelty in some countries. The related technique of characterizing a human being as an unintelligent, instinct-driven animal is still used to oppress women and deny rights to certain ethnic groups worldwide. As advanced as we may think we are
in this regard, Western civilization has only very recently begun to emerge from the trance of this age-old practice. In 1906, the London zoo featured an African bushman as an exhibit. Hunting licenses for aboriginal tribes were available as late as the 1930s in some countries. In other African and Middle Eastern subcultures, selling women, beating them without reprisal, and controlling their sexuality through the brutal practice of female circumcision are still enforced by religion, shame, and tradition.

When we feel strong emotions like hate, disgust, or extreme mistrust in relation to people, cultures, or animals we've objectified, there's usually an element of
projection
involved as well, which means the person or group is acting as a mirror for darker qualities we don't want to see in ourselves. Hardly a day goes by that we don't witness people projecting their own shadow onto others: A conservative male senator venomously opposes gay rights, only to be caught having an affair with a man. A notorious Middle Eastern terrorist speaks out against the decadence of Western society by day and watches Internet porn at night. Four close-knit coworkers commiserate about a colleague's “gossipy,” undermining nature, insisting she can't be trusted, unconscious of the fact that
they
are talking behind her back with no intention of addressing their concerns constructively.

Catching ourselves in the act of objectifying or projecting is hard to do — and extremely unpleasant when we actually succeed in making this behavior conscious: The initial awareness of what we've done unleashes waves of shame and guilt, especially if we've hurt someone with this “tool.” But as discussed in the following section, there are constructive ways to move through shame, blame, and guilt, allowing us to use these admittedly problematic agents as stepping-stones to a more balanced, empowered state. When we stop employing shame and guilt as weapons to punish and control others, these grime-attracting processes actually fertilize new growth.

Of all the antiquated power tools in our closets, however, the combination of objectification and projection is by far the most destructive. The Deadly Duo, as I like to call it, causes even gentle, well-meaning people to feel justified in whipping out a host of other nefarious tools, rallying revenge, dominance, intimidation, shame, blame, guilt, rejection, persecution, and exploitation in service to literal and figurative “holy wars.” Leaders who employ the Deadly Duo stir up incredible trouble, leaving generations to mop up all kinds of trauma, mistrust, and retaliation. Hitler is the ultimate modern example. His devastating, incredibly effective, exceedingly well-organized ability to objectify the Jews, projecting all possible human weaknesses onto a single ethnic group, is enacted to a lesser degree daily, in offices, schools, playgrounds, churches,
homes, and most definitely political discussions where any individual or group is treated as a hopeless cause worthy of ridicule.

Conservatives
and
liberals are apt to employ objectification and projection when they feel frustrated or threatened, usually adding voluminous amounts of shame and blame, invigorated by heart-stopping doses of sarcasm and exaggeration. This creates a most unhealthy stew of angst and outrage that many people, me included at times, actually find entertaining when it's (ironically) done well: politically based comic strips and radio and TV programs thrive on this technique. Yet I have to ask myself: What price do we ultimately pay for these divisive forms of humor? Perhaps in small doses they're a guilty pleasure, but only if we realize we're ultimately making fun of the foibles, frustrations, and cartoonishly ineffective habits that humans throughout history have struggled to release without significant success — at least so far.

I
NDIVIDUAL
C
ONSIDERATIONS
.
Recognizing
when we're objectifying or projecting
instantly
reduces the destructive potential. The worst effects occur when people engage this Deadly Duo unconsciously. It's also important to realize that objectification spreads like an infectious disease in all kinds of unexpected ways. People objectified in one context often objectify others, adding projection to the mix, adopting a form of “selective empathy.” This combination, for example, allows victims to mistrust or punish anyone who reminds them of the original perpetrator (who took advantage, in part, by objectifying
them.)

While this sounds like an issue best handled in a counselor's office, the incredibly irritating truth of the matter is that objectification and projection often occur in the workplace, throwing a serious wrench in everyone's ability to get the job done. For instance, I've encountered female abuse survivors who, despite counseling in some cases, still suspect that all men are insensitive, untrustworthy, potentially violent predators. At work, some of these women engage in emotionally aggressive behavior with colleagues of both sexes, feeling justified in lashing out over minor threats or interpersonal mistakes.

And that's just the tip of the iceberg. Since it's so difficult for former victims to admit that they too have the potential to act insensitively, they refuse to see that they've overreacted in certain situations. To make matters worse, they sometimes pick a particular team member to demonize, usually the most naturally aggressive male or female on staff, projecting all their own darker qualities onto this person, shutting down communication and innovation on all sides. Since the scapegoat is considered evil and hopeless, he can never apologize profusely enough for legitimate faux pas, let alone discuss the possibility that someone may have overreacted in other situations. And any improvements he
may show as a result of emotional- and social-intelligence coaching are either completely dismissed or considered superficial and suspect by people projecting their own shadows onto him.

This complex scenario is activated in the horse world as well, particularly with stallions and highly sensitive, fiery breeds like Arabians. I've met some cowboys who insist that all Arabs are crazy and dangerous, when it's clear that these proud, defiant, sometimes emotionally explosive trainers have much more in common with the “demonized” breed than with the calm, submissive quarter horses most ranchers prefer. Aggressive trainers actually seem to draw out and then punish a horse for the same qualities they possess.

This might very well have been a factor in Merlin's brutal training. Lacey didn't simply correct behavior she found unproductive. Tying Merlin's head between his legs in that darkened stall was a form of torture that had no training value whatsoever, making him even more dangerous and unpredictable. It would be easy to characterize Lacey as cruel or inept, but it's more likely that her judgment was hijacked by the exaggerated feelings and reactions all people exhibit when they're projecting their darker qualities onto others. She may also have been engaging in “transference,” a special term describing how we sometimes overreact to people (or in this case horses) who remind us of family members, friends, clients, or colleagues who have hurt us in the past. In this way, projection and transference can pack a double whammy of uncontrolled emotional responses that have little to do with the current situation.