A few weeks ago, a colleague and I struck up a conversation about values in the context of leadership. 1 It felt like a full-circle moment. A few years earlier, I’d shared with a colleague that I was worried about losing my sense of being values-based as I progressed in my career. 2 They came back with: “What makes you think you would?”
Looking back on the conversation from a few weeks ago, I was surprised by how much emphasis I’d placed on values in processes, rather than values in outcomes. As I step briefly into an acting role and reflect, I’ve realised that I may have missed something about processes in my earlier writing.
Processes and actions
I’ve previously written about how I view being values-based as a process that makes values explicit and guides actions in decision-making. I focused on how internal reflection on values connected to outward impacts through the decisions we make.
I missed, however, articulating how the processes themselves, not just decisions resulting from them, are actions that have an impact. Processes are consequential in their own right. As someone who relies on inclusive processes to contribute effectively (and has been fortunate to have great workplaces and supervisors), I was surprised to have missed this point.
I was immediately reminded of “process as output,” a concept I’d heard Steven Chang share in a presentation titled ‘Wicked problems and bold solutions‘ (drawing inspiration from First Nations knowledges via textbook decolonisation projects). In essence, the process itself is the point. The process is not just a means to an end, but is as important as any product. It urges that how we work together in our processes matters as much as what we produce.
Since I value relational approaches, this emphasis on process resonated with me.
Relational processes in practice
Relational approaches, in contrast to transactional ones, create space for connection and repair. It’s an approach I endeavour to apply across both research activities and professional spaces.
An article on the ‘repair economy‘ describes how repair is often discouraged. The article draws a connection between “the way society treats material objects and the way it treats people,” often choosing to discard rather than restore. 3 It’s through repair that we find “value in the workings, relations and meanings of things.” That is to say, there is value in such processes.
In practice, for me, relational values have looked like listening to understand instead of reply, taking the time to repair and check in on people, and not shying away from difficult conversations.
I’ve been on recruitment panels where decision-making conversations were paused to consider the influence of positionality (our social and professional contexts) on outcomes. In other instances, relational leadership has meant I’ve stopped meetings to check in on someone when it was clear they weren’t okay. And at other times, systems-related decisions I’ve been involved in had no perfectly values-aligned outcome, but I could facilitate processes that were equitable and evidence-based.
In these instances, the focus was on the values we brought to the processes, recognising that these processes, in turn, influence the outcomes. Where I couldn’t contribute to or control the outcome, or I knew it wasn’t ideal, I was content knowing I’d shown up with integrity and inclusivity in the processes leading to it.
I’ve also been on the other side of relational processes. In the research space, I think about a colleague who initiated conversations about accessibility, inclusion, and universal design with me. While I had a fantastic experience and outcome because of their approach, it was the conversations we had along the way and the trust I had in the process that made the difference, at a time when I needed it most.
Personal processes
The value I place on processes isn’t isolated from other experiences.
I’ve had personal life experiences where I didn’t have the agency to speak up or step away, and needed to feign agreement and silence as a necessary choice for safety. I now place great value on relational approaches, and (personally) bring an openness and willingness to share with that.
Yet, being transparent about my values and acting on them can create personal vulnerability in processes. I’ve organised many difficult conversations with the knowledge, or a sense, of what I’d be walking into and the disadvantages that would await.
This vulnerability often feels greater from a disability perspective. The relational processes I aspire to, built on mutual trust, are often the very conditions where my disabilities can become visible.
My disabilities are invisible, until they’re not. My stutter, tics, and stims sometimes come out in the places and with the people I feel most safe with.
Sometimes, I carry a calm and muted appearance when I feel most disabled, or even distressed. It’s later replaced by the appearance of disfluency and disability when I feel most myself. The experience of being disabled raises concerns or poses challenges in one context, but in others, it’s accompanied by a sense of joy, intense interest, and genuine connection.
For me, this visibility is part of a relational process, not separate from it.
When relational conditions exist, my disabilities and neurodivergence become visible. That visibility isn’t a failure, but is evidence of the processes at work around me. That others may misinterpret that visibility is a reality I navigate, but it doesn’t change what the visibility and process mean to me.
- The mention of the conversation that prompted this blog post has been shared with permission. ↩︎
- For me, this starts with making values explicit in processes and decision-making. ↩︎
- Wilson, K. (2019). Mending hearts: how a ‘repair economy’ creates a kinder, more caring community. The Conversation. ↩︎