"How to Handle a Martyr”: From Camelot to Arles
Finally, the fourth of four entries about academic martyrdom – and the one I’ve been the least eager to write. Having spent so many years writing out of philosophy with a heavy influence from critical theory, I am the first to argue that complex problems cannot be solved in three points followed by some inspirational poem or the like. Added to this contradiction – setting myself up to respond while simultaneously wrestling with my opposition to simple solutions – I keep getting interrupted by an earworm as I try to map out the response to martyrdom in my head. The only thing worse than an earworm is a parody that emerges from an earworm to provide annoyance and dissonance in a two-for-one distraction.
So, as I attempt to write down my thoughts, images of Richard Harris playing King Arthur in Camelot are stuck in my head: the scene where he is calling out to Merlin in a desperate attempt to understand his “Genny”. Yes, this 1967 scene includes a horribly dated and sexist song from the musical. “How to Handle a Woman,” is problematic on many counts. But, nevertheless, it is catchy. And Merlin’s advice to King Arthur fits this situation. To make it a bit less offensive, I’ve revised the song in my head to “How to Respond to a Martyr.” And with this, I agree on Merlin's general advice: simply love him/her. I realize this is an odd way of looking at things, but it provides a simple (and profound) basis upon which to consider our martyrs: love them. Keep in mind, I am suggesting an agape king of love – not something that would result in some sort of Title IX action.
Disrupting the Hero/Villain Narrative with Love
Love is the best response to disrupt the hero/villain narrative that inevitably emerges when you interact with a martyr. Many martyrs fall into a hero/villain narrative when simply being a victim is not enough. Instead, the martyr is the hero, working tirelessly to save his or her program or unit. Because the martyr internalizes his or her work, any questions or requests to do things differently become attacks. As the leader/supervisor providing that feedback or making those requests, you become the villain.
At one institution where I served, a teacher stepped up to assume a leadership role. While he had great ideas and genuine interest in the well-being of the students, it was clear that he was going to drive decisions in his unit with little regard for their implications. Those whom he supervised soon learned that it was best not to question, lest they be subjected to his wrath. As his supervisor, I was the primary villain in his world. If I asked him for updates or made suggestions regarding the work of his unit, he lashed out, claiming that I did not trust him. If I introduced elements that could render a decision he made problematic, then I was trying to sabotage him.
To make matters more challenging, this teacher generally behaved like an ass: showboating, throwing tantrums, and avoiding contact with anyone who did not genuflect to his unquestionable awesomeness. It would have been so easy, particularly in a position of power, to humble him. Beyond that, there were countless opportunities where I could have humiliated him in front of his peers. Had I done so, many of them would have probably enjoyed it – believing that he had it coming. Even without such explicit acts of retaliation, I could have, at the very least, let his peers and others know just how dreadful he was and how his decisions were causing problems in the school.
Considering all the things I could have done to reign him in or “give him his due,” I asked myself, “But, to what end?” The truth of the matter was that he did enough damage to his own reputation across the school that I did not need to shed light upon the mess he created. While I might experience some level of satisfaction by bringing his term as a supervisor to an abrupt and humiliating end, it would have come at a cost. It would further sever the relationship between us, it would perpetuate the conditions that caused the individual to be a martyr in the first place, and it would negatively impact the overall climate of the unit. Instead, I tried to focus on whatever good he created amid the bad. No matter how ego-driven an individual is, it’s still possible to find some degree of positive impact and make the positive the subject of accolades.
As Merlin advised, I simply needed to “love him.” I reminded myself and others about the good he did and publicly celebrated his accomplishments. Admittedly, it took a while to get there. Initially, I just didn’t engage. After all, there’s no battle if the antagonist doesn’t show up. However, I began to realize that refusing to engage in battles can easily turn into avoiding conflict and inadvertently continue to feed (albeit more like the rate of an I.V. drip) his ego. However, simply focusing on the good and ignoring the bad wasn’t sustainable. Nor, for that matter, was it loving. To address conflicts without initiating an epic battle, I had to make sure the focus was on the problems, not the person. When we addressed problems that he’d had a hand in creating, I also had to make sure there were many stakeholders (both internal and external) who were part of the solution.
Does this mean that I was never tempted to walk up to this individual and with a “Gibbs-like” smack to the back of the head yell, “This is not about you!”? No. But nothing good can come from a battle. If you engage an ass in battle – whether it’s in a parking lot over a stolen parking space or within an organization – spectators will ultimately struggle with determining who the real ass is, and after a while, it doesn’t matter. Everyone is uncomfortable. Nothing good can come from engaging the martyr in battle. You are far more likely to end up with an outcome closer to Avenger’s Infinity War than you are to see a victorious Wakanda sunset.
Beyond Merlin: Achieved Mutuality
While Merlin may have been on to something, love isn’t enough. As I noted in my first entry, we have to consider the conditions we create to diffuse the impact of martyrs and, as a result, hopefully create conditions that will help us respond more effectively when martyrdom occurs. I believe the most important conditions to impact martyrdom involve mutuality. I developed a framework about mutuality when I studied the collaboration between Van Gogh and Gauguin during their time in Arles, France. Granted, using a relationship that ended with one partner cutting off part of his ear may seem a bit odd, but the work the two did from the little yellow house in Arles sheds a great deal of light upon collegiality and mutuality. In my framework, I identified four levels of mutuality:
Mutual Vulnerability
Mutual Sympathy
Mutual Respect
Mutual Visions
Each level of mutuality – from the bottom to the top – is a precondition for the one(s) above it. While they may not be sustained indefinitely, each must be achieved at some level before the next.
Mutual Visions
The first and most basic level of mutuality is mutual visions. This does not mean identical visions. It means the visions cannot contradict one another. Mutual visions create space for nuanced differences, and finding ways for individuals to work together in the midst of nuanced differences is essential to respond to martyrdom. It is important to create opportunities for colleagues to see how they are going in the same direction even if they do not agree about everything. It’s not (nor can it be) about dichotomous thinking. It’s about nuanced differences that can co-exist and often protect a unit against group think. This creates spaces for conversations based upon shared commitments that will build capacity for handling conflicts when bigger differences of opinions emerge. We rarely engage at a level of nuanced debate. Often, because we are discussing issues in order to make a decision and to act, we deal with polarizing differences, and individuals get defensive, fighting for their positions. Instead, we need to create conversational spaces for growth. We need moments in our organizations where we recognize that we agree on larger aims/ideals even though we differ regarding the details. Without this, we cannot grow, and without this, any claims we make regarding our valuing diversity are simply words.
Mutual Respect
Once we recognize that our aims/ideals are mutual (even though they are not identical) then we can achieve mutual respect. This level of mutuality occurs when we stop looking at our colleagues as “wrong” and start to see that their positions/beliefs are simply different. Beyond tolerating colleagues (as with the level of mutual visions), we engage one another out of respect. It means we listen to one another and seek the kind of robust conversation that comes from nuanced differences. We recognize that the differences among us benefit the unit. As I noted in my study of Van Gogh and Gaugin, the biggest obstacles to achieving mutual respect are arrogance and insecurity – two key qualities many martyrs possess. To create the conditions that minimize arrogance and insecurity (or at least their impact within a unit), it is important to genuinely honor colleagues and find ways (including organizational rituals) to celebrate all colleagues' achievements in substantive ways and to see those achievements as ways through which we learn from one another.
Mutual Sympathy
Colleagues can remain fairly passive in the midst of mutual respect. While it requires engagement in terms of communication, mutual respect does not require someone to change his or her behavior based upon others and their ideas. Regarding mutual sympathy, colleagues cannot simply learn from their colleagues in theory. Their work must change based upon what they learn from their colleagues. If I simply respect you, then I can let you teach the Introduction to Teaching course your way while I continue to teach it my way. However, if we achieve mutual sympathy, we both make changes in our course based upon the other. When Van Gogh and Gaugin worked together, there was a moment in each man’s work where he tried to paint like the other. It was very different work for each man, and each returned to his style and processes after “trying out" the other's, but it is still important to note that they took that risk to try to learn from one another. Mutual sympathy among colleagues can create the building blocks for empathy and relational equity. These possible outcomes are essential in order for a unit to grow, and they can become normative moorings during turbulent times in the organization.
Mutual Vulnerability
It is a great achievement to get colleagues to achieve mutual sympathy – to learn from one another and to try new things because of one another. For many university administrators, this, in and of itself, would be a great achievement. However, we should always strive for more. Life and leadership should always be about approximating the ideal. With this in mind, mutual vulnerability is a constant state – an organizational culture – of mutual sympathy. It is the constant realization that we all are (as Maxine Greene noted often) unfinished beings, and that we should look to those around us to push us to know more and do more. This state is the essence of a true democratic community, and reaching for this ideal is the best way to create conditions that would nullify academic martyrdom.
Conclusion
All leaders, at one point or another, will encounter academic martyrs. While we hope that their martyrdom will have minimal impact on the unit, it is far more likely that their actions will have far-reaching and long-term consequences. As a leader, it is important to not only look to the martyr and respond with “love,” but to also look to the conditions that made his or her martyrdom take root. While we may be limited in the degree to which we can change that one individual, we can change to conditions to reduce the likelihood that others will follow suit. We can also change conditions to minimize the impact of the martyr and to create avenues through which he or she can come back from that role and become a trusted and valued colleague again.