Peace Notes are tools that can guide us in difficult conversations. Instead of turning toward our phones and technology as a distraction, a Peace Note can help us turn toward one another.
It was Wednesday, November 9, 2016. Donald Trump, the Republican nominee for the 2016 presidential election, became the president-elect of the United States after defeating Hillary Clinton. For some, this was a surprise victory. Tension and unrest ran high throughout my university campus, just like it did throughout the country. Like other college campuses, there was an upsurge in verbal threats and violent incidents.
Our university president sent a campus-wide email message in response to this tense climate. It read:
"We must understand that our own community on Hawk Hill includes those who are celebrating the victory of the candidate they supported, those who are grieving and sense a true loss, and, regrettably, those who feel scared, uncomfortable, and even unsafe.
The feelings of our colleagues, friends and classmates are genuine. We must be mindful of them and demonstrate compassion toward one another. Let us face our challenges honestly, openly address what may be uncomfortable and not miss the chance to grow as a community and emerge even stronger."
The one problem with this very well-meaning message was that not everyone knew how to do this work of community building. We didn't all know how to face our challenges honestly, without judgment. We didn't know how to openly address what may be uncomfortable. We didn't collectively know how to sit with our discomfort. We didn't know how to even begin embracing this as an opportunity to grow as a campus community — because we did not know how to listen to one another.
It was then I felt we had all lost our ability for dialogue.
In the classroom that day tensions were high. From my students' faces, I tried to read the room. I tried to recognize their moods. It was obvious that they were dealing with a range of emotions, including confusion, frustration, anger, guilt, and shame. I quickly stopped having class as usual and gave students some free time to write. I asked them to write about what they were sitting with. I asked them to specifically write about what questions they currently had in regard to the election news. Then I gave them the option to turn in their writing – anonymously.
Here is what their questions sounded like:
Why is it that the people who stood for "loving everyone" are all of a sudden hating on anyone who has a different opinion?
How can I teach others to see why this election is wrong without seeming judgmental or condescending?
Is it possible to "agree to disagree" about this election?
How do I talk to others without getting upset or angry?
Why am I losing friends for being right?
How can I talk about politics now without my friends viewing me in a negative way?
This data set also reflected what was happening outside the university walls. It was clear that they were a class politically divided (about 50/50). But what we all had in common was our fears: fears of conflict, fear of being attacked, fear of creating bad or uncomfortable feelings, fear of accusation, and fear of counter-attacks. Why was there so much fear around speaking our thoughts aloud to one another? Perhaps because we didn't trust that we would be listened to. We feared our peers would judge us.
Regardless of their political beliefs, some students did not know how to hold space for different points of view, how to express their own beliefs, how to listen to others, and how to withhold judgment. Some didn't believe they should have to.
It was a crisis of communication.
There was a clear need for dialogue, yet an unsureness in how to actually facilitate a productive one. Furthermore, it was more than just students who needed help engaging in productive dialogue. It was also clear that faculty at my university — and across the country – needed some tools to help them listen to where others were coming from.
As Beth Berila recommends in Integrating Mindfulness into Anti-Oppression Pedagogy: Social Justice in Higher Education, "these fraught moments are when our capacity for such dialogue so often fails us . . . are precisely the moments when we need to learn better ways of being with one another" (1).
Almost a year later, I was still thinking about this issue when I was reading Thich Nhat Hanh's The Art of Communicating. In this book, Hanh offers the idea of sending a Peace Note to those you are upset with. He calls the Peace Note a practice for compassionate communication.
He says:
"The peace note can be used as a healing tool when we're hurt or angry because of something someone has said or done." He says, "if you have difficulties with someone in your life, you might spend some time alone and write that person a real letter" (152). He asks us to look deeply into the nature of our relationship. "Why has communication been difficult? Why has happiness not been possible?" (152).
Hanh further explains the value of the Peace Note in How To Fight:
With permission from Plum Village, I created a form to facilitate this Peace Note method. A Peace Note helps us to engage in a mindful process that does more than communicate information.
A Peace Note helps guide us in difficult conversations. Instead of turning toward our phones and technology as a distraction, this tool can help us turn toward one another. Just like Hanh proposed, a Peace Note guides the practitioner through a process that lays the groundwork for a valuable and respectful interaction with another where there is currently struggle or tension.
Try it and see.
Your recipient will then have a choice to respond with a Peace Note reply.