I remember getting it so wrong when I was doing public policy and advocacy.
An interest group was pushing a funding measure, and I had given their bill my grudging support. Then, in what I believed was an off-the-record conversation, I mentioned to a friend that I wished there were a way we could send the money directly to mental health providers. My friend happened to work in a legislative office with some power over that funding measure.
The group heard about it. They were furious, and they accused me of going behind their backs. It damaged my relationship with them, and it damaged the most valuable asset anyone has at the Capitol: trust. It also destroyed their measure.
I could not bring myself to admit my part in it. I believed I had been speaking off the record, and more globally, about a reality I wished were true. I also didn’t want to face the reality that I had influence and, worse, that I had destroyed it.
So I tormented myself. I bitterly castigated myself for harming my credibility and my integrity, and for going against my own values. Those values directed me to be collegial and honest with everyone, regardless of what they believed.
Seeking the Life Raft
I brought the issue into a coaching session. I explained myself, admitted fault, and expressed my misery, hoping my coach would help me find a way to restore my good name.
I was looking for some principle to grab onto, like someone drowning. I wanted something I could learn and carry back into the world of the forgiven, something that could help people act more in line with their values.
He was silent, allowing me to whip my own back in penitence. Finally, I talked myself out and was silent too.
He said simply,
“You’ll never have to defend yourself to me for being ruthless.”
The Wisdom of the Choice
What he was saying was far more revolutionary than the principle I came looking for. People do things for a reason. There is almost always a positive intention behind a choice, even when the decision appears destructive, immoral, or irresponsible. The only question is this one:
What is the wisdom of that choice for you?
I know that sounds ethically out there. Some choices do real damage to real people, and those people are owed accountability. There will be time to make apologies and amends, all the things they teach you in a 12-step program. But how do you even know what you are apologizing for if you can’t, for a moment, respect the wisdom of the choice?
So I looked closer. And I had to admit it: I had every intention of killing their bill. I didn’t want to do it in the open, where they could see it and have time to defend it. The measure needed to die behind the scenes, leaving its proponents confused, defeated, and unwilling to try again.
The cost was my integrity and my word. No heroics. No excuse to make myself feel better.
Two years later, I did make amends with the group.
Respecting the Wisdom in Every Client
If there’s a lesson I learned from that, it shows up in all of my coaching sessions. I will never criticize a client’s decision, internally or externally.
That doesn’t mean I approve of the damage it might do to them or to others. My role is to invite them to examine the wisdom of their own choices so that they can be responsible for the outcomes. In that way, they can hold an appreciation for themselves while looking at the outcomes without undue shame or judgment.
It helps my clients shortcut around the defensive noise and truly examine their own motivations. The recipe looks like this:
- Examine the wisdom of the choice, with appreciation for yourself.
- Look at the outcomes without undue shame or judgment.
- Take responsibility for the impact of the decision on others.
- Learn, and make an even more empowered decision next time.
That is how people come to see themselves as powerful and responsible at the same time.
So, you never have to defend yourself to me for being ruthless.