Whenever I start a focus group, I point out that the participants don’t have to agree on everything. “We’re not the Continental Congress ratifying the Declaration of Independence in 1776 – there’s no need for unanimity,” I’ll say. “We can disagree and still get along.” I’ll often go on to point out that if they argue with each other for the entirety of the group, that’s fine with me, as long as they keep it friendly.

A key principle in qualitative research is this:  you’re more likely to learn interesting, surprising stuff when people disagree than when everybody’s on the same page. As George Patton said, “if everyone is thinking alike, then somebody isn’t thinking.”

This is important wisdom for all aspects of our lives. How boring things would be if everybody we encountered shared all our opinions. However, interacting with people can be challenging when they have opinions that are diametrically opposed to yours.

Frequently, I hear it said that we must respect all opinions. I disagree. We must respect people, and we absolutely must respect their right to their opinions, but we most certainly do not have to respect the opinions themselves.

One factor that makes this difficult is the tendency to confuse opinions with people. So, here’s a fundamental principle: you are more than just your opinions. People are defined by their actions – the things they actually do – not the thoughts in their heads. All people have a fundamental right to be treated with respect. But ideas and opinions aren’t people, and so they don’t have that essential entitlement. They must earn respect.

I have friends who differ profoundly with me on important issues. These are good, honest people whom I am fortunate to call friends. But maintaining that friendship in the face of such disagreement requires a crucial social skill: the ability to agree to disagree. This can be harder than it sounds, particularly in the case of emotionally charged beliefs – such as religious ones  – or those that are linked to a moral principle. The key lies in separating the opinion from the person. Respect for you doesn’t require respect for your opinions, and disrespect for your opinion doesn’t imply disrespect toward you.

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Disagreeing respectfully – even lovingly – is tricky. Here are a few things that can make it a bit easier:

1. Before you decide what think about an opinion, determine what kind of opinion it is. Opinions can be divided into two categories:

Aesthetic judgements – these are entirely subjective beliefs. E.g., ‘my dog is really cute.’ Beauty being in the eye of the beholder, it really doesn’t matter if others respect this opinion or not.

Truth claims – these are representations of fact, such as, ‘George Washington had wooden teeth’. As Aristotle pointed out, something is either true or it isn’t. If an opinion is a truth claim, and the facts support it, then it’s worthy of respect.

One thing that can muddy the waters: aesthetic judgments sometimes get stated as truth claims, and truth claims sometimes get stated as aesthetic judgments. And things get even more confusing if there’s a truth claim on one side of the conversation and an aesthetic judgment on the other. So be careful.

2. Express disrespect for an opinion in a way that clearly shows respect for the person who holds it. Rather than saying something like “you’re an idiot for thinking that” or “that makes no sense,” ask questions such as …“what’s the basis for your point of view?” Or, “Tell me about how you came to hold this opinion and the journey that led you to it.” This gives you an opportunity to share your own journey.

3. Remember that opinions—even your own— must be subject to examination. Nobody should expect their opinions to be accepted without question. It is never OK to say that an opinion is ‘off the table’ for scrutiny. If opinions can’t be challenged, then there’s no mechanism for preventing the acceptance of bad information or the rejection of valid information. If you’ve read my previous post you’ll know why this is important.

The right to hold whatever opinion you like – no matter how outrageous  – is fundamental to a democratic society, but it presents challenges to civil discourse. A few key social skills can help smooth the waters.

I was conducting focus groups with doctors, and without giving too much away, at one point we were talking about the effects of certain nutrients on a chronic disease. Two participants got into a heated disagreement about what is known about this topic. Here’s a somewhat edited version of their exchange:

Doctor 1: The data we have says …“blah, blah, blah.”

Doctor 2: Yes, but that data is from retrospective, observational studies and is of very poor quality, so you can’t draw conclusions from it.

Doctor 1: Retrospective data is 90% of what we have. If we throw that out, we’re left with almost nothing.

Doctor 2: If that’s the case, we should be honest about what we actually know. If we don’t know much for sure, patients should realize that.

Doctor 1: That’s not realistic. Patients and doctors need definitive answers.

Doctor 2: I’d rather tell a patient I don’t know then make a recommendation based on nothing.

What these doctors were really arguing about was this – what’s worse, a bad answer or no answer?

When no answers are available, bad answers are seductive. Not having an answer is uncomfortable. When I worked in CPG marketing, it was genuinely unacceptable. Admitting not having an answer to a question about your brand could damage how you were perceived by management. As a result, I saw some disastrous decisions regarding new product launches and brand communication made based on bad answers.

When you acknowledge not knowing, you give yourself a gift: the opportunity to keep learning. When you settle for a bad answer, you’re cheating yourself of the opportunity to discover new knowledge. That’s one reason qualitative researchers ask open-ended questions. Closed ended questions are built around assumed knowledge – things we believe we know; open ends assume little or nothing, which requires admitting you don’t know.

So, to give ourselves the opportunity to discover new insights, we need to get comfortable with being uncomfortable. We must be willing to say we don’t know yet. That word – ‘yet’ – is important. It communicates that the process of inquiry is ongoing, and that acknowledging not knowing now eventually leads to better understanding.

This principle goes beyond market research. I wish public officials would be more willing to admit ignorance, rather than feigning knowledge. Perhaps, someday, that will become politically feasible. So, don’t settle for a bad answer just because you don’t have a good one. Admit that you don’t know  – yet – and continue to strive for understanding.

If you know me, you know that I teach martial arts – and you probably know this because I talk about it all the time. I’ve gained a lot from teaching, and one of the most important lessons I’ve learned is that, if you want to learn something well, teach it to somebody else. Not only has being a teacher made me a more adept martial arts practitioner, but encouraging students to teach a newly acquired skill or principle to somebody else – another student, a friend or a family member – as soon as possible has become one of my primary instructional techniques.

This concept can be applied to nearly all areas of endeavor, including qualitative research. A great way to help research participants crystalize and refine their own thinking is to ask them to explain their point of view to another participant. And, if you want to be a better researcher, find opportunities to educate others in the profession. That’s one of the reasons I write this blog: my own professional development. Hopefully, if you’ve been reading it regularly over the past three years, you’ve learned a thing or two, and that’s certainly been one of my goals. But I can assure you that nobody has learned more from this newsletter than I have. Similarly, I speak regularly at market research industry conferences and events. This forces me to acquire new knowledge or deepen my understanding of what I already know.

The reason this principle – learning by teaching – works so well is that most skills are self-taught, particularly advanced ones. Like many advanced skills, qualitative research is as much art as it is science. You need a solid grounding in fundamentals, basic facts and principles. However, when it comes to actually doing the thing, it just takes a lot of hard work, failure, and repetition before you become proficient. And this whole process will be improved and sped up if you make a point of finding opportunities to teach what you’re learning.

So, think about your own life. There must be things – personal or professional – at which you want to improve or that you want to know more about. Put this principle to work for yourself – find a way to teach those things to others. If nothing else, this is an opportunity to exploit the people who love you. Turn them into your students, whether they like it or not. My long-suffering wife would probably tell you that she has been on the receiving end of this sort of thing far too many times,  but somehow, she still tolerates me.

One reason there’s so much social and political dysfunction in our world these days is that we don’t take the time – or make the effort – to understand each other.  Case in point, I once witnessed this exchange between two focus group participants. The category: personal wealth management.

Participant 1:  “I love index funds. They make things so easy. I don’t have to pay attention to them, and they perform well.”

Participant 2:  “That’s irresponsible. We should personally take charge of our own money.”

Participant 1:  “That’s easy for you to say. You’re retired and don’t have kids. I’m a single parent working full-time with three kids. My children need as much attention as I can give them—they’re my first priority.”

Participant 2: “Fine. But, thirty years from now, when you can’t afford to retire, you’ll realize the mistake you’ve made.”

I’ll spare you the rest, but things got pretty heated with neither party able to understand – to empathize – with the others point of view.

What do we make of this dialogue? More to the point, can we analyze this exchange to identify the source of disagreement and understand the inability to see another point of view?  Fortunately, there’s a set of tools that will enable that analysis: mindset models.

If you’re trying to figure out why people can’t understand each other, there’s no more valuable tool than mindsets. I’ve compiled dozens of mindsets that I’ve come across throughout my years as a researcher so I could quickly identify the ones driving this breakdown in empathy.

Participant 1 was looking through two mindset lenses: nurturance and efficiency. His highest value was that of caring for his children; secondarily, this was an overtaxed guy trying to get the most out of his time.

Participant 2 came at this conversation from different mindsets. She was focused on self-reliance – we must take responsibility for our obligations – and seemed driven by the idea that there is moral value in hard work – that outsourcing tasks is immoral.

So, here’s a crucial principle: when you encounter attitudes and behaviors that don’t make sense to you, realize that you haven’t identified the controlling mindset. It’s easy to say, “that person’s crazy,” “he’s evil,” or, “that guy’s an idiot.” But, In doing so, you’re missing an opportunity to see things from another point of view.

Mindsets give insight into the feelings of others. In a world where empathy seems to be in short supply, having a set of tools that can help you understand others is of tremendous value.