Tactical Compassion: Weapon or Lullaby?

He was aggravated, and told me my methods were complete BS, but when I said, "Think of tactical compassion as a weapon," he finally agreed to train it.

I think of tactical compassion as a smart and kind way to achieve better outcomes, not a weapon.

But describing it that way had led to his outburst: "F*CK compassion!!"

The problem:

In a training last week, tasked with helping a client diffuse a dispute, I saw that his situation would be best served by tactical compassion.

But I soon noticed that coming at a high-performing alpha type with the words "tactical compassion" made him cringe and resist.

His counterpart in the dispute was disrespectful, overstepping boundaries, and making unreasonable demands.

Showing compassion was the exact opposite of what my client really wanted to do to them.

Compare that with what my experience has shown me:

That the best way to handle people who disrespect you, confront you, and are unreasonable is to first give them a chance to calm down.

After you've done that, you can still continue to defend your positions and interests with self-confidence and grit.

The reason:

If you don't give them a chance to calm down, you're confronted with a person who's got a highly active amygdala, probably a fair amount of adrenaline in their brain and body, maybe even increased cortisol levels.

And brain science shows us that that limits their ability to think clearly.

Is that who you want to be arguing with?

Someone whose physiological state has disengaged their ability to think straight?

Whose bloodstream & muscles are flooded with aggro-readiness?

No.

So, learn to calm down their amygdala first, and then argue about whatever you need to argue about.

But when I said that, my client almost hissed with anger: "Am I their f*cking babysitter? Now I gonna coo 'em and lull 'em to sleep?!"

Me:

"No. Think of tactical compassion as a weapon. It enables you to deny their amygdala high-level functioning.

Which is like ... the outer gate of their fortress. And once you've crushed their amygdala, you can move in your entire army and do whatever you want in there."

Sure, a crude metaphor.

But it worked.

(He wanted a fight, so I described the method like a fight.)

The consequence:

We spent 45 minutes training how to "crush the amygdala," moving step by step into the reality that it's all about compassion.

And inner calm.

And letting their aggression flow off you like water off a duck's back.

The point:

As long as doing all these things felt like "crushing their amygdala," it was OK for my client, even fun.

Then, 5 minutes before the end of the session, it clicked.

"Ben, you're a bastard. Anybody ever tell you that?"

Me: "Coming from you, that sounds like -- a compliment?" (I gave him a questioning look)

"Let me get this right: Did you just do what I think you did?"

I nodded.

We had a good laugh.

Because of course the whole reframing of tactical compassion as a military exercise was itself driven by my empathy for his anger and desire to fight. (tactical compassion in action)

"You and all your talk about crushing the amygdala."

"Or maybe just singing it a good lullaby?"

"Same difference, right?"

"Same difference."

--

Now, I'm very lucky that my wife takes time to listen to me and help me reflect these kinds of decisions.

If you know me, you know that I'm a pacifist.

Compassion is not a weapon, and I don't aim to "crush" any part of my counterparts brain.

Even as I was using it, I bristled at the military metaphor.

I don't think it's cool, and though it popped up intuitively, I told Yoko I'll probably hesitate to use it again. Ever.

Her reply:

"It's not about the words. It's about what they do in a given situation."

And she's right.

Maybe I will use this metaphor again.