Sometimes, when I’m conducting qualitative research, a sensitive issue will come up for which there’s no time, that’s off topic, and that I want to avoid.

This came to mind when I recently gave a seminar to The Center for Learning and Living on agreeing to disagree. I’ve been blogging about this for a while, so it was a welcome opportunity to talk about it with thoughtful people. One point that came up in our lively discussion was that, while being able to have friendly, honest conversations with people with whom you disagree is important, avoiding difficult conversations is also a necessary skill. This is true both in everyday life and in qualitative research settings. Sometimes a civil conversation isn’t in the cards, or maybe you just don’t want to get into it with someone.

Civil conversation is a skill. But sometimes there’s no opportunity for agreeable disagreement, and you need to draw on a different skill – avoidance.

My family has a set of four techniques for deflecting or delaying difficult conversations. Here they are, in no particular order:

Ignore.  Sometimes there’s nothing gained from even the tiniest bit of engagement. If that’s the case, simply ignoring is the way to go. For many, this is harder than it sounds, as it might make you feel like you’re being rude. Some people are naturally confrontational, and struggle to ignore the objectionable. Ignoring might also be interpreted by others as aggression, implying a message you actually don’t want to send (then again, maybe you do).

Smile and nod. A greatly underrated skill. Smiling and nodding can be interpreted by others in any way they like, which might suit you just fine. Use this one if you don’t care if others think you agree or not. Another advantage of this is you can do it while walking away.

Grunt noncommittally. A great technique, it enables you to provide a response without actually responding. Just make some sort of noise in the back of your throat and you’ll be home free.

Disengage. This can take many forms – walking away, directing your attention toward another person, changing the subject, deflecting with humor or a non sequitur. Depending on the situation, this can work better than ignoring in that it might not feel as rude or belligerent.

And there you have it – four essential social skills to avoid unpleasantness or delay it for a more appropriate time. One last thing: there is a top-secret fifth social skill. I can tell you is that it involves the liberal consumption of alcoholic beverages, but that’s all I’m going to say.

As a qualitative researcher, it’s essential that I be skilled in gathering and understanding all points of view on a research topic.To put this in context, I was a member of the debating club in high school. Despite not being a very good debater – no killer instinct, they told me – the experience was a formative one. The club had three rules:

1. All arguments must be grounded in verifiable facts – no making stuff up

2. No personal attacks

3. Whatever side of the issue you’re assigned, you must debate to win – regardless of your own opinion on the topic

I’ve never forgotten that third rule. We debated a lot of fraught issues: welfare, school prayer and creationism, to name a few. The experience of arguing an opinion that I didn’t hold was uncomfortable, but also exhilarating.

I’ve come to understand that if you can’t argue every side of an issue – regardless of where you personally stand – you don’t really understand the issue. The philosopher John Stuart Mill put it well:

“He who knows only his side of the case knows little of that. His reasons may be good, but if he is unable to refute the reasons on the opposite side, if he does not know what they are, he has no ground for preferring either opinion.”

I continue to follow this principle. I feel a responsibility to be able to state coherently the arguments of people who disagree with me.

I’ve written in the past that – while we must respect others and their right to their opinion – we don’t have to respect opinions themselves. Here’s a build on that; you can respect an opinion without agreeing with it. But to do that you must understand it. Furthermore, if you aren’t willing to try to understand a conflicting opinion, how much respect do you have for the people who hold it?

Being able to argue the other side of an issue takes resolve – maybe even courage. Looking for information that contradicts your worldview and then constructing an argument in conflict with your own opinion can be nerve-racking. There’s a reason we have the term ‘cognitive dissonance.’ However, it is essential to respectful discourse.

So, pick a controversial, emotionally-loaded topic about which you feel strongly: voting rights, abortion, religious freedom, eating meat, whatever, and ask yourself this: if you were a member of my high school debating club, could you convincingly argue the other side? If not, what does that say about your command of the issue? And what might you do about that?

Conversation in focus groups often comes around to current events, regardless of the topic at hand. Occasionally I want it to do that, mostly I don’t, but it usually happens anyway. And, when people are discussing the news of the day, you’re almost definitely going to find anger, and you’re probably also going to encounter outrage. That just seems to be the way of the world these days. To live in our current social and political environment is to immerse yourself in outrage.

But, as a qualitative researcher, if I can’t deal with outrage in research participants, I won’t be able to have productive conversations or obtain reliable information.

Before we go any further, some definitions:

Anger is simply a strong feeling of annoyance or displeasure.

Outrage is what happens when anger gets out of control, particularly when combined with feelings of stress, fear, isolation, and helplessness, often exacerbated by poor problem-solving skills.

Anger is a normal, potentially productive human emotion – it spurs us to do things that need doing. Outrage can be toxic and destructive. It prevents civil discourse, prompts bad decisions and irrational behavior, walls you off from compassion, and can lead you to dehumanize the people you see as the source of your outrage.

But, the dirty little secret is that outrage is also highly engaging. It provides emotional release; physiologically, it triggers your body’s fight-or-flight response, causing the secretion of numerous powerful hormones, most notably adrenaline and cortisol. So outrage is exciting – maybe even fun.

The political essayist and cartoonist, Tim Kreider, has described outrage as something that feels good, but that “devours us from the inside out.” He points out that, “it’s even more insidious than most vices, because we don’t consciously acknowledge that it’s a pleasure.” He’s right about it being a vice – it’s number five on the Catholic list of Seven Deadly Sins.

In fact, you could argue that outrage is addictive. This depends on how you define addiction, but it’s no secret that there’s a close relationship between anger and addictive behaviors. That’s why so many addiction recovery programs stress the development of anger-management skills.

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Outrage is also seductive. Not just due to that hormone-fueled emotional response, but also because it feels productive. Outrage is so energy intensive that it can give the sense that you’re accomplishing something – the illusion that you’re powerful and in control. This allows you to avoid such pesky responsibilities as productive action and empathy.

Outrage is a challenge, and not just if you’re a qualitative researcher. Actually, it presents two challenges: understanding it and managing it. I’m not going to get into the question of managing your own anger and outrage – there’s lots of literature out there on that already. But understanding it in others is key to civil and productive conversations. And, if you’re a qualitative researcher, you need to do more than understand outrage, you need tools to manage it.

As a researcher, when I encounter outrage, I’ve learned to respond with questions. Specifically, questions that separate outrage into its individual components: annoyance, displeasure, fear, stress, helplessness, isolation and so forth. Some good questions for understanding outrage – in no particular order:

• “Why do you think people get so angry about this?”

• “How do your feelings about this relate to your sense of right and wrong?”

• “How does this issue make you feel?”

• “How have you come to care about this so deeply?”

• “What, specifically, is annoying to you about this topic?”

• “Is there anything you find scary about this?“

• “What do you think is at stake here?”

• “What do you think you, personally, can do about this?”

• “Do you feel in control here?”

• “Do you feel helpless?“

• “Do you feel like you’re the only person who sees this issue clearly?”

These questions can serve you well in any situation in which you encounter outrage. And don’t think that they’re only questions for others – you can ask yourself the same questions when you feel outrage. You never know, you might actually learn something.

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.