The crowd that assembled for a conference about designing cities to mitigate and adapt to climate change avoided talking about the heat—the emotional heat. And avoiding emotional heat means avoiding the hard work needed to effect the changes we say we want, whatever the topic.

I do not think this is a conscious choice, but when we organize conferences and pour the resources we do into them, we create the conditions for people to tell each other about what they think about a topic. While individually, as tellers, we have explored issues at length, a conference collects the individual perspectives, puts them on display and does not allow for collective exploration. We do not notice, let alone explore, what we think; at best, we hear what a few think.

(As I write, I am conscious of a conundrum I am creating for myself. I am telling you what I think, much the same way a lecturer does on a stage. The difference is that you are sitting reading, likely alone. You are not sitting in a room, in person or online, with tens or hundreds or thousands of others sitting beside you, also listening to me. You and I are not missing out on an opportunity to digest together--simultaneously--what I am exploring. And so I activate our one-on-one relationship, me the writer and you the reader. Further, rather than giving you instructions, like a (violent) saviour, I share what I notice and invite you to conduct your exploration. Please share what you find.)

Let’s explore the contrast between telling and exploring when we gather, face-to-face, in meetings, conferences and the like, and what it means for the heat.

Individual exploration: keep the expert and the audience separate

When we gather physically in the same city at conferences, the same space and the same room, we keep ourselves separate. The usual format involves “the sage on the stage,” the expert and the audience. The expert tells us what we need to know; the audience receives that information. There is no or little interaction between the expert and the audience; we remain isolated from each other. We declare dialogue is taking place under the guise of questions and answers, but with clearly delineated expert and audience roles, this is not dialogue. At best, it is information sharing. (NOTE: When the purpose of a gathering is to share information, this format is acceptable.)

We pretend that we are networking when we are in the same room, that the audience and experts mingle and build relationships. While this happens to a degree, it is minimal. At meals, we observe the following protocol: known experts and organizers sit together at the head of the room. We might rub shoulders at the coffee break. We accept this minimal interaction as good, sufficient.

Worse yet, we replicate this pattern when we create, in our pandemic era, conferences that keep people separate from each other to an even greater degree. A Zoom webinar does not allow the audience to see each other, as we would before or after an in-person gathering. A Zoom call enables us to see each other if we turn our cameras on, but most often, we design the gathering in ways that don’t allow us to make contact with each other, other than a perfunctory “chat.”

We design our gatherings, in-person or online, to keep the expert and the audience separate and keep the audience separate from themselves. We do not create the conditions for connection.

Avoid or welcome emotional heat

At conferences, we organize ourselves to not talk about the emotional heat we feel and experience. On rare occasions, a speaker may mention it, but we do not explore or digest it. It slips (or is shoved) to the side, remains outside of us, external. If we do notice the heat within ourselves, exploring that feeling is not expected, wanted, let alone accommodated. We sit. We listen. We network over coffee. As we are separate from our experiences and separate from each other, we avoid talking about what it will take to move our ideas forward.

“As we are separate from our experiences and separate from each other, we avoid talking about what it will take to move our ideas forward.”

What is compelling about conferences are the nifty people that assemble. It is fun to hear about exciting ideas and spectacular stories. It used to be that the only way to hear these folks and their ideas was at a conference, but this is no longer true. There are YouTube channels, podcasts, TED Talks, webinars. At any point, we can listen to a plethora of thinkers describe what they think. Rather than sharing ideas, the conference is now about containing ideas, not setting them free; conferences keep ideas, and us, in a box. Hearing what they think no longer needs to be the purpose of face-to-face gatherings.

“Rather than sharing ideas, the conference is now about containing ideas; it doesn’t set them free, it keeps the ideas, and us, in a box.”

We organize conferences to control and contain what happens by predetermining topics, themes, and content and limiting exploratory conversation to chance at coffee breaks or in the “chat” function in most online platforms. We do this as a defence mechanism to avoid experiencing the heat of conflicting views. We do this to maintain our defended positions against others. We do this to avoid being open to the influence of others. We do this to avoid having to care about others.

We organize to control information dissemination

“The conference” keeps us in the realm of information dissemination, removed from the realm of action. Even when we say over and over that action is what we want. Ironically, what feels like talking in circles is what will lead us to wise action. What if we offered a container instead of control and containment (the conference experience)? What if we offered a cauldron instead of a conference?

“What if we offered a container instead of control and containment (the conference experience)? What if we offered a cauldron, instead of a conference?”

Join me in a thought experiment

“Conference,” as I am describing it here, is defined (at lexico.com) as a formal meeting of people with a shared interest, typically one that takes place over several days. Let’s try a cauldron on for size (lexico.com) as:

a large metal pot with a lid and a handle used for cooking over an open fire, and
a situation characterized by instability and strong emotions.

When we gather to ponder wise action, what if we choose to provide a container for, and allowed, emotional heat? The qualities of a conference and cauldron feel like this:

Conference

Purpose: containment, control what is talked about
Emotional heat: contained, discouraged
What happens with conflicting ideas: the audience watches debate take place on stage, and conflicting ideas are generally defended, not explored
Our experience: one-way information sharing (with tolerance for clarification questions
What it feels like: stable, predictable, safe, separation of experts and audience, light attachment to the community, exclusive, formal, lecture, download of information, familiar
What we get from it: ideas and thinking from those chosen for us, who provoke us to think differently as individuals

Cauldron

Purpose: container, to support what needs to be talked about
Emotional heat: allowed, used to move toward wise action
What happens with conflicting ideas: conversation in small and large groups explore conflicting ideas to understand them better and find a way forward
Our experience: ideas come from unexpected conversations, people with similar interests find each other
What it feels like: unstable, unpredictable, dangerous, integration of all forms of expertise, deep attachment to community, inclusive, informal, conversation, spreading of information, strange
What we get from it: ideas and thinking from everyone, we provoke ourselves to think and act differently as individuals and group, surprising and synchronistic experiences

There is useful information at a conference, and the connections we make with each other are valuable. However, a cauldron can amplify the ideas and connections we make—and their meaning to us individually and collectively. We strengthen our ideas and connections when our participation shifts from passive audience to active participant.

A cauldron asks us to participate actively

When we passively sit in a room listening to experts, we are not listening to each other. A cauldron asks us to be in the heat as convenors when we speak and participate. It asks us to expect something different from ourselves and others.

Convenors and hosts

At a conference, we ask convenors and hosts to:

Predetermine the topic and content
Design a program of speakers
Provide an environment that establishes conflict as a battle of wills
Leave emotional well-being of participants to participants

In a cauldron, we ask convenors and hosts to:

Craft a compelling invitation to explore
Design for community exploration
Provide an environment that supports exploration of conflicting ideas
Care for the emotional well-being of participants

Speakers

At a conference, we ask speakers to:

Prepare lengthy presentation ahead of time on what needs to be said
Deliver and disappear (some stay, most “dump and run”)

In a cauldron, we ask speakers to:

Speak to serve the conversation in the moment
Participate in the event, be a part of the community

Participants

At a conference, we as participants to:

Passively participate by hiding in chairs
Allow experts to shape opinion and positions
Listen to experts to inform individual action

In a cauldron, we ask participants to:

Actively participate in the discussion
Be open to the influence of many others
Participate in the discernment of wise action--for community and self

A cauldron asks us to create the conditions to be in the heat of hearing self and others. It reminds me of the personal reflection time I need to listen to myself, notice what I am feeling and experiencing, and discern the wise action from a place of inner knowing. It is a place where facts and evidence rub up against my feelings that I notice when it is time to act or not. As groups, whatever size, we are no different–we need spaces to see not only the actions I/we need to take but the ones we are willing to take. The latter comes with reflection and commitment from deep knowing within, not a lecture.

That conference I mentioned at the top of this piece? The pinnacle was the violent saviour, the old white man with an urgent, preachy message: we must change our ways, or we will die. He insisted we do as he prescribes to save ourselves. But sitting and listening for days is not the answer because all we do is name the actions we could take. “Drinking from the firehose” of information about needing to take action does not lead to action. After the conference, sharing videos of the main speakers allows us to continue to feed our information addiction, an addiction that keeps us from taking action.

When we meet face-to-face to talk about serious stuff and the needed actions, I want to have time to digest the actions asked of me. I want time to digest the actions we are prepared to take, notice if we are committed or not, or what it will take. I want to wrestle with conflicting ideas to dig into what is happening underground, the real reasons why things are happening (or not) the way they are. I want to experience a support system out there that I can call on if I need it. For wise action that sticks, we need a cauldron from time to time.

I’ve realized that it is the emotional heat of the cauldron that enables action, not the familiarity of the conference.

“This is what I’ve come to realize: it is the emotional heat in the cauldron that enables action, not the familiarity of the conference.”

As always, the purpose of a gathering should guide its design. And clear purpose allows convenors and participants to achieve what they are looking for: the stability of a conference or a cauldron’s danger.

It is the latter that propels us into action.

Reflection

What is the conversation I long to convene that will lead to action?
What do I need to work on to be a willing, active participant?

First published as “Heat of the Cauldron.”

Conferences Keep Ideas—and Us—in a Box