Some Thoughts About Responding in Open Dialogue

‘For the word (and consequently for a human being) there is nothing more terrible than a lack of response’ (Bakhtin, 1984, p. 127)

Responsivity is at the core of Open Dialogue, in my experience. How we respond to network members is crucial in creating a space where they can say more. This response can be with words, or it can be something in our body that communicates without words. It’s a human-to-human connection that demonstrates that what someone has said has been heard, taken seriously and has value. This responsivity feels especially important when a network member speaks something that is on the edge; a quiet voice, perhaps, or something that risks their marginalisation. In responding and valuing their contribution and, sometimes, the courage it may have taken to share it, we show that their voice is an important part of the evolving dialogue.

My experience of a lack of response

When I look back through my years of mental health service use, this call to respond feels urgent. I remember times where I found a way of speaking about some of the things that I feared, only to be met with very practical responses that missed the emotional intensity of what I was conveying. I talked about being afraid I was no longer human and that my programming would take control of me. The crisis team worker began to ask about coping strategies. I shared my worries about people harming my child and was advised to take a nice relaxing bath. I even remember, many years ago, telling an inpatient ward nurse that I had taken an overdose only for her to stop the conversation and say she needed to report this to her manager. In the latter example, at least, action was necessary. Yet, what was missing was that human response; the connection. In each example I was, inadvertently, left alone with my experiences.

So what is a response, and how do we know it’s sufficient?

For me, a response cannot be planned in advance of what someone is saying. It cannot be scripted or be something that I tend to fall back on in difficult situations. If I allow myself to be open enough to hear the other, as a fellow human being, the response comes. Sometimes I need to breathe and check in with my body, making way for the response. Other times it is there, in my heart, waiting to be spoken. I’m tempted here to give an example or share a phrase I have used. Yet, examples are hollow. They miss the being-in-the-moment of responsivity. It’s not, I think, the words in and of themselves that matter so much – it’s that in using them I’m reaching out to another who has reached out to me. Maybe our words and presence can connect us, enough, to risk staying in dialogue. Perhaps we can navigate, together, those things that are hard to bear alone. This responsivity does not require a network meeting. We can strive towards it in any dialogue we have.

In search of an authentic voice

In Open Dialogue training we often support trainees to step back from filling the space with their own questions, ideas and concerns. There is a place for these, but we encourage people to prioritise the words, experiences and ideas of network members. We try and create a space where people can be heard. In doing that, some trainees might feel they need to sit on their hands. They might find themselves feeling frozen, unsure what to say for fear of inadvertently dominating the meeting space. It’s a natural process, I think, in learning to trust the network and hold a generative collaborative space. Yet, by the end of training processes I always hope that people have begun once more to find their voice within it. This voice is, for me, part of being authentically present in a network meeting.

We are not, I hope, developing an army of Open Dialogue zombies that parrot phrases without thought. Through training, I hope that we are helping to resource people to hold space for others in distress. That space might look different to how I hold it, but it is dialogue with the network and the cultures within the room. Connecting authentically is, I believe, an essential part of this responsivity that I value.

Responding in Network Meetings – learning from mistakes

In network meetings there is so much to respond to. I often have this sense that there is something that I and my co-facilitator have missed, some nuance that we didn’t hear. Yet, our capacity to respond is increased by virtue of us being a pair. We can each hear and see different things in the dialogue. We each respond differently. Learning to trust the responses of my co-facilitator has been a journey. Recognising that I am not ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ in my own responses has been a learning curve, also, when I so want to be ‘right’ and ‘useful’. I’m learning to let go of my ego or at least hold it more lightly. We are there in all our imperfections hearing as much as we are able and responding as we are able. That is something. Is it always enough? No. I miss things. Despite my best efforts, I don’t always respond in a way that other people feel meets them. I make mistakes and I try to learn from them. I try.

How do I know if my response is sufficient?

Dialogue is a dance. It’s music. It’s something we create alongside other people, whether we’re in a 1-2-1 or in a group setting. I might feel my response was ‘good’, only to find that the person or people I was responding to feel I missed them. It may sound strange, but I do not aim for perfection. I just hope that what I and my colleague offer is good enough, that it helps people feel met and heard. I hope that it encourages them to speak more. That, even when the conversation has some difficult aspects to it, that they’ll feel it is possible to stay in it. If the dialogue continues then maybe it’s a sufficient response, for now. Maybe that is good enough.

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