Facilitation Isn’t Always About Solving Problems

Throughout 2022, I facilitated two working groups within the board of directors of a nonprofit organization. Each group met monthly online and was tasked with figuring out a really gnarly problem. In October, it was time to report out to the full board and to get agreement on the next steps to address each problem.

I had my doubts that the working groups had reached the point where we could even recommend next steps to the board. We had had productive, generative conversations within both groups, but the two problems were really, really hard. I didn’t know what would happen in the full-day board retreat. Would the board decide that the two groups had wasted their time? Would they decide that I was a waste of time?

On my half-hour drive to the meeting, I put on a YouTube audio recording of the Book of Ecclesiastes — from the Bible. More than reviewing the agenda or the meeting read-aheads, that was the preparation I felt I needed.

Ecclesiastes tells us that everything is “vanity and vexation of spirit,” that “there is no new thing under the sun,” and that “the thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done.” (I’m a King James Version kind of guy.) The problems we were trying to solve, and all problems we would ever try to solve, have always been there and always will be.

I said in mine heart, if everything is vanity and vexation of spirit, if there is nothing new under the sun, then what is the job of a facilitator? If I’m not supposed to help clients solve problems, which is ostensibly what they hire me to do, then what am I there for?

The YouTube recording put me in precisely the mindset I needed for the meeting. The agenda kicked off with a round of check-ins where each participant spent a couple minutes sharing where they were — cognitively and emotionally. During my check-in, I shared my trepidation about the progress we might (or might not) make. I even revealed that I listened to Ecclesiastes on the way to the meeting.

“Jesus!” exclaimed one participant. She was responding to the text’s despondent orientation. She wasn’t invoking the personage from the New Testament.

We then proceeded with the report-outs from the two working groups. My acknowledged trepidation floated in the air — present like a spring breeze, not heavy like a cloud. In the end, we decided on next steps for addressing both problems, even though they were not the steps the working groups had proposed.

My acknowledgement that I didn’t know what would happen allowed the board to open their minds to what they could do to address each problem. Imagine if I had clung to the working groups’ recommendations; the whole discussion would have devolved into a yes-no vote on actions that were not the ones the board believed would best move them forward.

This was one of those facilitations where, in my estimation, I actually said and did very little. I set the context (e.g., by citing Ecclesiastes), I managed the time, I redirected the conversation a few times, and I wrote some things on a flip-chart. But at the end of the day, as often happens, several participants came up to me to praise my facilitation.

“You do a really good job managing this group,” one participant told me.

What did I do that was so effective? I did something no one else in the room could do. I held the space for the possibility that they might not come up with any useful actions to solve the problems. Paradoxically, by detaching myself from the outcome they said they wanted, I was able to facilitate the kind of conversation that stood the best chance of helping them achieve it.

In my book on facilitation, I point out that the word “facilitate” comes from the Latin for “to make easier.” Sometimes that means structuring activities to make it easier for a group to solve their problem. Other times it means making it easier for them to discover the problem they need to solve. And other times it means helping them realize that a certain problem can’t be solved, and then deciding what to do with that insight.

But no matter what the outcome, a facilitator can improve a group’s experience of facing their problems. I think of this in terms of the integral calculus I learned in high school and college. Imagine that there is nothing new under the sun, and that which has been will always be. Think of that as a curve on a graph that is always going to end at the same spot. That’s the outcome, and it’s not going to change.

Now think of the area under the curve. That’s the group’s experience of facing their problems. Even if the group does not solve their problem, if the facilitator can lead a high-quality conversation, he can elevate that curve, even just for a day. He can increase the area under the curve, improving the group’s experience of facing their problems. This alone will give them greater strength and confidence for the problems they can solve, and greater resilience for the ones they can’t.

As we head into 2023, there are a lot of problems to solve. We’ll solve some of them this year. Others will still be with us in 2024, 2025, 2035, and beyond. If you are a facilitator, I encourage you to step back from your clients’ stated outcomes and do your best in the moment to help people have the conversations they need to have, come what may. If you are a client, I encourage you to look for facilitators with this ability. If you need help, I encourage you to give me a call.