A natural image of the dependency paradox.

The Dependency Paradox

Independence can be deadly.

Yet even with poignant stories like that of Chris McCandless, it’s easy to get caught up in a perpetual pursuit of independence—especially if you’re an American who hears this siren song every 4th of July. Since there is no wax with which to stop our ears from hearing this enticement, let’s turn to other voices for protective balance.

Stephen Covey described a journey from dependence to independence to interdependence. This tracks with the natural course of human development, which anyone who has worked with adolescents knows. Covey returns to an appreciation of dependence in the form of interdependence. While this linear progression makes sense, integrating an insight from attachment theory adds another dimension to it. 

In their book Attached, Amir Levine and Rachel S. F. Heller describe what is known in the field of attachment research as the dependency paradox: “The more effectively dependent people are on one another, the more independent and daring they become.” This reality reaches all the way back to our experience of childhood, as the classic “strange situation” experiments show. Incorporating this understanding into Covey’s progression transforms it from a journey of abstract ideas to something as easy to understand as a baby’s first steps.

Although Attached is essentially a practical guide for the relationship with one’s “significant other,” the significance of the dependency paradox reaches far beyond that particular kind of relationship. It applies to every interpersonal context—in any work-related relationship, on any team—but not just in the obvious way that if you’re not functionally dependable, you’ll be fired. It explains why emotional intelligence’s emphasis on a relationally safe workplace is so important. If we really want our coworkers to innovate, excel, and grow, they need to have a secure relational base with us.

To experience the dependency paradox to a greater degree, here are three of the five principles of effective communication from Attached:

  1. Wear your heart on your sleeve. Being honest about your feelings, even if it makes you temporarily vulnerable, is a prerequisite for an emotionally healthier relationship.
  2. Focus on your needs. But with an important caveat: those needs must take the other’s well being into consideration, as well. If you’re not working toward a win-win scenario, this becomes merely selfish.
  3. Don’t blame. Very few things can shut down communication faster. You can minimize the chance of defensiveness and retaliation by avoiding blame and not initiating difficult conversations when you’re angry.

Independence is attractive because freedom is a basic human need, but it gets dangerous when it cuts us off from awareness of our other needs. 

Independence is like reaching the top of a mountain. Most pictures of mountain climbers feature a solitary person on a peak with a breathtaking view. But as you reach for the sky, remember that the mountaintop of independence is no place to stay. While it may be gratifying and even necessary to summit, it’s cold and harsh and supports no life. Life is below the tree line, helping others climb up.

The image of one of those trees further down the mountain is a much more helpful image for those who want to reach for the sky. The further your roots grow down into the humble ground, the higher your branches will reach toward the glorious sun.

Humble Inquiry

Charlie Brown’s teacher is everywhere. There are lots of people who claim to have answers—and who are quite eager to share them with you. The minority on the other end of the spectrum, who have far more questions and who exercise reserve in asking them, can be paradoxically powerful problem-solvers.

We assume that telling has more value than asking. In Humble Inquiry, Edgar H. Schein challenges this assumption. He writes: “We are biased towards telling instead of asking because we live in a pragmatic, problem-solving culture in which knowing things and telling others what we know is valued. We also live in a structured society in which building relationships is not as important as task accomplishment.” While these cultural forces are significant, there are still more powerful forces of human nature at work. “Having to ask is a sign of weakness or ignorance, so we avoid it as much as possible,” Schein writes. After all, who wants to project weakness or ignorance? A saber-toothed tiger in the next cubicle might see it and pounce over the partition. 

Sadly, there is a high price to pay when leaders, managers, or others in positions of authority value telling over asking. Schein reports that “in many accidents and disasters, a common finding is that lower ranking employees had information that would have prevented or lessened the consequences of the accident, but either it was not passed up to higher levels, or it was ignored, or it was overridden.” Why does this happen? Although most senior managers assert that they are receptive to input from their subordinates, those same subordinates often report that they don’t feel safe bringing troublesome news to their supervisors or that lack of response or acknowledgement from those bosses led them to conclude that their contribution wasn’t valued.

Although it is not always easy to develop or maintain, a habit of humble inquiry is a simple and effective solution to this problem. Schein writes, “Asking temporarily empowers the other person in the conversation and temporarily makes me vulnerable.” At the core of humble inquiry is a paradoxical dynamic of power: in that moment in a relationship when we let go of our own power (or the power we think we have), and empower the other person for that moment, the relationship receives power and strength that lasts beyond that moment. 

If you want to build a habit of humble inquiry, here are three practices inspired by Schein’s work—three “A”s, if that helps you remember them—that can help:

  1. Assume nothing. Telling, as opposed to asking, puts the other person down, implying that he or she does not already know what I’m about to tell him or her.
  2. Allow curiosity to lead you. Here’s a link to a reflection by one of my mentors on the importance of curiosity.
  3. Access your ignorance. This may sound a bit harsh, but it’s a reality that we don’t know everything. And as the knowledge-producing capacity and speed of technology increases, accessing our ignorance will become more and more necessary.

The result of humble inquiry are relationships with a higher level of trust and interdependency. These relationships develop when we are willing to invest respectful attention in others, which goes beyond the functionality of a task-oriented relationship to the place of a vulnerability inspired by true courage. 

And if we go beyond the intellectual virtue of humble inquiry, we arrive at the spiritual virtues of silence and listening, traits that bring to mind an altogether different sort of teacher than Charlie Brown’s:

It is reported that in the early days of his move to the desert, Evagrius visited an old desert father, perhaps Macarius of Egypt, and asked him, “Tell me some piece of advice by which I might be able to save my soul.” The reply was, “If you wish to save your soul, do not speak before you are asked a question.”

Don’t Ignore the Yellow Lights

The speedometer gets more attention than any other indicator on my car’s dashboard. I generally want to get to my destination as quickly as possible without compromising safety or getting a speeding ticket. 

Focused as the workplace is on speed and productivity, it’s not surprising that businesses have adopted the dashboard metaphor to track the metrics relevant to their functionality and to the people who create it. But how many of the yellow signals—like the “check engine” light or the indicator of low tire pressure—are on the dashboards of business?

Among those metaphorical dashboard lights are those related to emotional awareness. Because they are yellow and not red, we sometimes pay less attention to them. But to ignore them would almost certainly affect the bottom line in a negative way. Here are three reasons why we should learn to give more consideration to emotions, all from The Body Keeps the Score:

  1. Emotions are signals that something deserves our attention (p. 100). Anger, for example, tells us that we need to confront something. It could be someone else’s behavior, a bad process, or something within ourselves. Fear indicates the presence of a threat, which could be real or imaginary. In both examples, it’s clear that emotion alone doesn’t give us clear, reliable information on which to act, which leads to the next point:
  2. Emotions and reason are not opposed to each other. They are simply in some sort of tension, balance, or imbalance with each other. Although they are valuable as indicators of what deserves attention, strong emotions can also hijack thinking. Processing those feelings is a key to clearer thinking and therefore better action. As Dr. van der Kolk writes, “Our emotions assign value to experiences and thus are the foundation of reason.” He goes on to state: “Psychologists usually try to help people use insight and understanding to manage their behavior. However, neuroscience research shows that very few psychological problems are the result of defects in understanding; most originate in pressures from deeper regions in the brain that drive our perception and attention” (p. 64).
  3. Emotions are a source of motivation to initiate action (p. 75). Not only do they point us toward or away from an object. They help us move and do.

The “check engine” indicator on my car’s dashboard often lights up around the time the engine needs an oil change. New lubricant usually results in that light turning off. But I still take my vehicle to the mechanics to perform that simple task because I just don’t know what else they might find.

I journal every day to attend as best I can to the emotional lights on my personal dashboard. It’s certainly a helpful practice. But I know both from personal experience and learning that the effects of emotion can sometimes be so powerful or subtle that they cloud my vision or skew my perception without my awareness. Another person often gives better attention to the complex ecosystem of my thoughts and emotions than I can myself. 

Who else is checking your internal engine?