Another mediation task is to keep the conversation from getting bogged down; this can happen very easily, as people often think that if they just tell that same story one more time, they will finally be understood and the other person will do what they want.
To keep things moving, the mediator needs to ask effective questions, and when necessary, maintain or even speed up the pace. Once, when I was scheduled to lead a workshop in a small town, the event organizer asked if I would help him with a personal dispute related to the division of family property. I agreed to mediate, aware there was only a three-hour window in between workshops to do so.
The family dispute centered on a man who owned a large farm and was about to retire. His two sons were at war over how the property was to be divided. They hadn’t spoken in eight years even though they lived close to each other at the same end of the farm. I met the brothers, their wives, and their sister, all of whom were involved in this set of complicated legal matters and eight years of pain.
In order to get things moving—and to stay on schedule—I had to speed up the mediation process. To keep them from spending time telling the same stories over and over, I asked one of the brothers if I could play his role; then I would switch and play the part of the other brother.
As I was going through my role-play, I joked about wanting to see if I was playing the part right by asking if I could check in with my “director.” Looking over at the brother whose part I had been playing, I saw something I wasn’t prepared for: he had tears in his eyes. I guessed that he was experiencing deep empathy, both with himself from my playing his role, as well as for his brother’s pain, which he had not seen until then. The next day, the father approached me, also with tearful eyes, to say that the night before the whole family had gone out to dinner for the first time in eight years. Though the conflict had persisted for years, with lawyers on both sides working unsuccessfully to come to agreement, it became simple to resolve once the brothers heard each other’s pain and needs as revealed through the role-playing. If I had waited for both of them to tell their stories, the resolution would have taken much longer.
When relying on this method, I periodically turn to the person whose role I’m playing, addressing them as “my director” to see how I am doing. For a while I thought I had acting talent because of how often I find them crying and saying, “That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to say!” However, when I started training others in role-playing, I now know that any of us can do it as long as we are in touch with our own needs. No matter what else is going on, we all have the same needs. Needs are universal.
I sometimes work with people who have been raped or tortured and where the perpetrator is absent, I would assume their role.
Oftentimes the victim is surprised to hear me in the role-play saying the same thing they had heard from their perpetrator, and press me with the question, “But how did you know?” I believe the answer to that question is that I know because I am that person. And so are we all. As we apply a literacy of feelings and needs, we are not thinking about the issues, but simply putting ourselves in the other person’s shoes, trying to be that person. “Getting the part right” is not in our thoughts, although from time to time we check in with the “director” because we don’t always get it right. Nobody gets it right all the time, and that’s fine. If we’re off the mark, the person whom we are playing will let us know one way or another. We are thus offered another opportunity to make a closer guess.