LAST week, I attended a conference that was primarily organised for people in a particular category. Those people hold power because they control resources that others need to do their work or meet their goals and are often put in competition with one another to gain access. The organisers of the conference, accustomed to convening the target group of people and cognizant of the power dynamics and the criticism aimed at it, decided to tell target group members to nominate people they aim to serve to attend the event. This was supposed to make it possible for the two groups to directly engage with one another and lift the veil so that “beneficiaries” could be present for and participate in conversations that shape the strategies of the people in positions of power.
This change did, as expected, result in a conference attended by people who hold significant power and people who need to engage them in order to get them to use their power to make the decisions that enable access. Those of us in the latter group expected to be, for the most part, on the listening end while those in the former took centre stage. We were taken aback when, instead, people from our group were on panels and leading small group discussions. While no one thought it was wrong to give members of our group a great platform, there was immediate concern that the target group members were removing themselves from the equation and putting the onus on us to teach them and attempt to move them in a certain direction.
The conference opened with a keynote that, apparently, most people considered elementary and unnecessary. The very next segment was a panel, entirely comprised of the people in need of resources, speaking directly to the people in positions of power. They, perhaps without realising it, built on the content presented in the keynote, highlighting the ways that people may believe they have information, but can still fail to use it to create systemic change. They talked about the failure of people in positions of power to deconstruct systems of oppression. One person on the panel was particularly direct in comments, letting the organisers know that even the composition, timing, and content of the panel was indicative of their inability to use even the most basic information, within the current context, to act for change.
That panel, just a couple of hours into day one of a two-and-a-half day conference, was the most memorable of the entire conference, and we all immediately knew that no other sessions would come close it. In small group sessions and informal discussions, it was the main topic of conversation. Numerous people asked, “How are they going to respond to that?” “Are they going to just let that linger and not give us a response?” “When will we get a chance to hear from them?”
In my conversations off-site that evening, I heard from some of the people in positions of power that many of them were still trying to figure out what to do with what they had heard. Those that I spoke with did not appear to be upset that they were called out for their complicity in oppressive systems and called up to a higher standard. Some of them were, of course, surprised, and many of them simply did not have the authority to speak on behalf of their organizations. One person said, “I mean, I agree with everything that was said. I just don’t know how to take my political analysis back to [the people with more decision-making power in my organisation].”
It is interesting to see how people view themselves, and how greatly their perceptions of themselves can diverge from the ways they are seen by others, and from reality. I looked at that person and listened to the suggestion that the power they hold, far greater than the power of the people in my group, was far too little to be able to make a difference, even with the people they work with on a daily basis. In that person’s mind, the gap between them and the people they work for is much greater than the gap between my group and theirs.
How is it that our group of barely invited people could stand on stage in a room full of target group members, boldly giving the context, connecting it to systemic issues, and issuing the call to action, and the target group is afraid to take it back to their colleagues and directors? Is it so terrifying to repeat the points that have already been made by others? If so, then they must think it nearly impossible to support those points and advocate for the demands to be met.
On the second day, I heard whispers about people in the target group who took great exception to being called out. They, apparently, felt “attacked” and did not know what could possibly be expected of them. It is easy to assume that these people are so accustomed to the power they hold resulting in people treating them with excessive care and caution, that anything outside of that is offensive. They, perhaps, considered themselves entitled to undue kindness and the avoidance of uncomfortable topics of conversation.
This is the way it goes. It is not only in conferences that events unfold in this way. It is much easier to consider oneself powerless than it is to grapple with what it means to hold power, particularly when others hold so little. It is far more expedient to convince people that hands are tied, the budget is already in, the decision is not yours, or that their proposal can be considered in the next cycle. It is easier to pretend that you simply do not understand the problem, or that you are offended by the very suggestion that you have done anything wrong or failed to do enough that was right than it is to refuse to be complicit and to choose to do something about the power imbalance or, at the very least, leverage your power to meet the needs of the people with significantly less.
As I reflect on the conference and the behaviour of the people there, I am reminded of the government of The Bahamas and its response to human rights issues. The government, of course, has a certain kind of power than it can use to guarantee access to human rights for people in situations of vulnerability. It is regularly called to account by advocates in The Bahamas. It is also reminded of its obligations by its peers through multilateral systems. Rather than accept its responsibility, it points to the general public and says that it is “not ready” or that it would be too “confused” by necessary changes. It even says that the “outcry” is not sufficient. It pretends to have no idea what is happening in the country. When feigning ignorance does not work, it ascribes ignorance to the populous, and it has been getting away with it. It is strange the Bahamian public, which is generally quite easily offended, has taken it lightly when the government suggests that it is uneducated and incapable of understanding information and issues that the government simply refuses to clearly present.
Holding power feels good. Sharing power feels less good. Using power for benefit of all should feel incredible, but that would require a general interest in the wellbeing for all people. There is a power problem, indeed. We also have to acknowledge and address the other problem—that people lives are significantly and increasingly undervalued by other people and, of course, by government administrations that benefit from keeping people dependent on handouts. This is the reason no administration in recent history has brought the impactful change they promise, and political parties no longer bother to even make such promises. They know, and we need to understand the truth: incremental change will never bring us equality, justice, or liberation. Power has to shift, and the people with it will not be the ones to make it happen.