Another Way of Approaching Conflict Analysis & Resolution: An Introduction to The Way of All the Earth

The multi-disciplinary core from which the field of Conflict Analysis and Resolution (CAR) emerged offers its students the opportunity to learn from various perspectives and fields ranging from psychology to anthropology, and from history to international relations. These perspectives present different lenses to explore conflict and together they might create a holistic framework that helps capture the true complexity of conflict. Clearly, understanding complexity, a concept deeply relevant to our field, is no easy task and requires recognition of various levels of analysis and how theory corresponds to each.¹ Yet, for students, the tendency is often to specialize in one area and subsequently examine the field through this (and only this) lens. Saying this, I will not use this paper to debate the pros and cons of this decision. Intuitively, being a “Jack (or Jill)-of-all- trades” seems to be the best way to go if we are speaking in terms of capturing complexity. But life is terribly short and it may not be a realistic expectation for all students to become ‘masters’ (though our degree shall say just this) of the field. Conceivably, however, students should at the very least acknowledge “all trades” and do so critically. The problems of the world are complex— so we should treat them as such and be prepared to ex- plore them in a more comprehensive and critical way.

In Pedagogy of the Oppressed, Freire effectively argues for the benefits of critically engaging students:

Students, as they are increasingly posed with problems relating to themselves in the world and with the world, will feel increasingly challenged and obliged to respond to the challenge.²

Now, I agree strongly that this should occur and that we should pose these problems to students. Indeed, we should want to deepen (and sharpen) our critical consciousness as we become aware of how deep and complex the problem truly is. But I am not convinced that we, as students, always follow Freire’s logic. Let’s consider this more.

Each day in class we are faced with problems and challenges; structural violence is a term that we toss around like a hacky-sack; and we sit next to (and across from) people who have experienced these things first hand. Yet even still, our conversations often times remain stagnant and avoid some important issues. I have identified three reasons that this might occur, all of which are meant to invite the CAR community to collectively explore positive and effective solutions:

1. We are still exploring modalities for presenting the severity of conflict. After all, the problems we face are complex, tough, and often terrifying. Therefore, it is no easy task to discuss these things openly and honestly (and for good reason)

2. Creating a truly safe and honest space in the classroom is difficult to do—our APT has focused on creating such a space where honest dialogue and perspective is welcome

3.  Critical thought is largely  missing  from  students’ repertoire (their ‘tool-kit’)—many disciplines did not encourage students to find their voice and approach problems critically

For purposes of this issue, I will tease out the third reason.

It seems many students have not been trained to critically unpack the world around them. Perhaps previous institutions did not encourage it or perhaps it was not a fundamental skill to many fields. Is there room (or need) in some disciplines for students to critically engage with the material and create active dialogue? Conceivably, the answer is, ‘no.’ So here, we see how this way of thinking might carry over to graduate programs that do in fact require critical engagement. We see this fairly often here at the School for Conflict Analysis and Resolution (S-CAR). For example, a student responds to a question about a reading and the professor doubts, based on the scant response, whether the student read at all. Often times (but not always!) they did in fact ‘read.’ But for many, reading is more about haphazardly familiarizing oneself with an array of topics rather than intimately and critically exploring core issues. On the one hand, we as students might choose to regurgitate what we think the professor wants to hear (see Freire’s discussion of the banking model of education).³ On the other hand, we might overcome this fear and feel compelled to take ownership of our education by reconnecting with the material on a deeper level. Considering this, it is important for us to engage in close readings (let’s unpack poignant passages line-by-line collaboratively); in critical reflection (let’s also create a space where we can dialogue openly and challenge one another’s perspective); and in different modalities that approach some of these issues creatively (let’s be the artist). All of the above encourage critical engagement.

While studying English Literature as an undergraduate, critical engagement was at the forefront of my educational experience. People often ask, ‘Why English? More often than not (although some times I offer a bewildering response for the sake of being bewildering), I say, ‘Because it taught me how to think.’ ‘How did it do this?’ ‘Well, we read fiction—lots of it for that matter; we exercised our imagination; we thought critically about the works of dead poets and authors; and we brought these words to life collaboratively in the classroom. Students were never afraid to be ‘wrong’ because fiction presented no ‘right.

I once received a class assignment from an esteemed Professor of Medieval Literature that asked us to choose a passage in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales (no more than sixteen lines) and defend why it was evocative or resonant to us. That’s it—plain and simple: explain why something speaks to you. Assignments such as this demanded that students find their own voice⁴ by engaging in critical reflection and imaginative inquiry. In Rich Rubenstein’s course (offered here at S-CAR) Conflict & Literature, the final assignment asks students to write a short story—preferably of fiction—about conflict. What is the ‘madness’ behind this assignment? It exercises students’ imagination and critical consciousness by encouraging a creative and unfamiliar approach to a problem. For these reasons, I have chosen to answer this issue’s core question (Where do we go from here?) by writing my own short story.

Fiction, for me, has always helped my own reflective practice; it has helped develop my critical eye; and it has helped me stay imaginative. This short story, The Way of All the Earth, tells the age-old-tale of a conflict between a parent and child, but also explores inter-generational dynamics, the role of nature in order and chaos, and what it is to be human in the CAR field and in the world.

1. Dennis Sandole, “A Comprehensive Mapping of Conflict and Conflict Resolution: A Three Pillar Approach,” Peace and Conflict Studies 5, (1998). Available online: http://www.gmu.edu/academic/pcs/sandole.htm. [↩]
2. Paulo Freire, Pedagogy of the Oppressed, (Penguin Books, 1970), 62. [↩]
3. Freire, Pedagogy, 52-67. [↩]
4. See Anne Angarola’s article on voice. [↩]