How to Get Good at Conflict

Joel Salinas, a Harvard neurologist, and Robert Bordone, a Harvard lawyer, are experts in the study of conflict. But their communication styles are quite different: Salinas, with over a decade of experience sitting side by side with his neurology patients, possesses a gentle, sensitive nature and isn’t accustomed to engaging too intensely; Bordone, accustomed to heated negotiations in high-conflict settings, feels perfectly at home with more tense interactions. Writing their new book, Conflict Resilience, was an opportunity to learn more about their own styles and the styles of others, and share those insights with readers.

While we often talk about “resolving” disagreements—whether at home or in international politics—the two coauthors think that embracing conflict has more to do with accepting differences as opposed to erasing those differences. That is, learning to sit with the discomfort of disagreement is a vital skill we should all develop, and understanding how to build resilience in the face of conflict is a much more realistic goal than agreement or resolution.

Of course, agreement will be possible at times, and other times (when it’s unhealthy for you) conflict should not be engaged in. But for the rest of the time, there are tools—like breathwork, parts work, and reframing—that can help you get more comfortable with the uncertainty of disagreement and uncomfortable conversations. Salinas and Bordone spoke with Greater Good about what they discovered while writing their new book.

Jenara Nerenberg: Let’s start with the three-step framework you explore in the book—can you explain that for us?

Robert Bordone: Our three-part framework is called Name, Explore, Commit. We think it’s very unique and important—readers have people in their lives who they are “stuck” with in terms of having disagreements. But the counterintuitive part of our book is starting with our own selves—“naming” our own internal stories, identities, and conflicts that can drive why we have unproductive responses to conversations and negotiations. “Naming” invites people to name different parts of themselves that are in conflict.

“Exploring” is the engagement piece of conflict itself—how does one sit with disagreement, and what are the skills required? How does one become an effective listener, and also find ways to assert your perspective?

“Commit” takes the reader through questions around how to continue to engage with a person, whether the goal is agreement or not. If we can’t resolve an issue, then the question becomes how to address the issue moving forward—if we want to keep talking about it, then how? There are some relationships that need to be exited, and there are some that are difficult to fully exit, like a sibling or family member. In the book, one of our goals is to increase our ability to sit with conflict but to distinguish between that and harm or trauma.

Joel Salinas: When we talk about the “commit” step and conflict resilience in general, we’re not advocating for people to endure harm or situations that they should not be in. Part of conflict resilience includes developing the wisdom around, “What is a conflict I should sit with, and which is a conflict that is perhaps not the right timing for me?” And it boils down to whether the person on the other side is engaging in good faith or not.


JN: Can you explain more about the internal work we need to do before entering a conflict conversation?

RB: The beginning of the book draws on internal family systems and how different parts of ourselves come together. We discuss something called “mirror work,” which is just identifying our different parts. And then “chair work” is using actual chairs [where individuals come together to set up chairs to reflect each of their different parts when preparing to discuss a conflict, and designate which chair represents which part so that everyone knows] in order to give those parts a voice.

That prep work becomes extremely helpful for the “table work,” which is sitting there for the actual conversation. Your job becomes to make sure that all of those chairs and voices get represented. It’s often a nice way to enter the conversation, like “There’s a side of me that really wants to bring this up with you, and there’s a side of me that really doesn’t. And there’s a side of me that’s scared, or unsure, and there’s a side that’s more sure.” All of that can really help during the conversation.

JS: I think understanding your own contours and the contours of the other person and negotiating those are essential pieces of understanding what’s going on for you internally and what could be going on for the other person—and then having a frank discussion about all of that messiness. Having a language for it, or at least an opportunity to understand that there’s something to uncover there, can help to create that collective dialogue you’re going to have with the other person.

JN: What is happening inside the brain when people perceive threat, like in a conflict?

JS: Our brain evolved as a fortune-telling machine; it’s there to take past experiences and inform what might happen so that way we can take action to avoid or decrease pain or negative experiences, which in turn helps us survive. But what’s happened over time, without the saber-toothed tiger there, is that we still get overwhelmed and perceive what can potentially harm us. Many of us learn from a young age, by watching family members and films and other influences, that conflict is scary and to be avoided and that conflict is a sign of failure.

When we encounter a situation that our brain registers as conflict, if we see it as potentially negative enough, it starts to set off alarm bells in our brain. It says, “Pay attention. This is negative.” And it sets off our fight, flight, freeze, fawn, and fester responses. These are systems that increase adrenaline, stress hormones, heart rate, blood pressure, and muscle contraction—and that informs your brain that there’s a threat going on. That can either escalate conflict or you shut down.

So one of the things we’re exploring in the book is how to break these habitual cycles by doing breathwork. One specific study we looked at examined different types of breathwork, and what I loved about this study is that it’s very practical. There’s one specific type of breathwork that stood out in terms of its ability to reduce stress, anxiety, and heart rate variability and respiratory rate—it’s called cyclic sighing. What you do is you take a deep breath through the nose and once you get to the top of the breath, you do just a little bit of extra breath in through the nose, and then a slow exhale. That little “top-off” at the end expands the alveoli just a little bit more, giving you a little vagal stimulation. Having that specific type of breathwork during potential conflicts can really help to bring other brain systems online that are much more deliberative and are able to support you to discern next steps, be curious, and be more tactical in asserting your own interests.

[We also explore] beginning to envision what the reward might be in sitting through disagreements and uncomfortable dialogue. This begins to re-program the brain and rewire it, but also helps to align our brain with our intentions and what we really want for ourselves, as opposed to just defaulting to shutting down or avoiding disagreement. If you need to ask for a raise or promotion, being afraid of conflict is not going to help you. Being in a relationship where there are things that need to be talked about [and you’re scared to address conflict] is also not good.

RB: Most think conflict is “bad,” but conflict is part of life. When it’s surfaced in a productive way, that’s a good thing because it means that people feel that they can put themselves forward. So a mindshift toward thinking of conflict as “not bad” can go a long way.

One of my observations in teaching law students was that we worked hard to recruit people with different political views, but our classroom discussions were somehow dull and boring. When we started to unpack that and ask people what was going on, they said the cost of speaking up was too high—for reasons like being canceled or getting called out online or on social media. People also felt like they didn’t have much in common and didn’t see the point.

But even if you can’t agree or solve a problem, the act of sitting with the discomfort humanizes the other person and prevents dehumanization and demonization. If you look at dialogue across differences, like Israeli/Palestine conflicts, even if views don’t shift, the stories that people tell about one another shift, and their relationships are genuine and real. So I’ve come to feel that we need to persuade people that this work is worthwhile. As Joel said, our brains learn about conflict from an early age, and it’s not comfortable to sit with discomfort and it’s easier not to, so what’s the upside? People have to be persuaded that there’s value in this.

JN: How can people learn not to shy away from conflict? What other things can people do to prepare to enter into heated conversations?

JS: The biggest thing they can do is also the smallest thing they can do, which is to start to develop an awareness—an awareness of how they’re responding to conflict and different types of disagreements, and in what situations discomfort tends to arise, such as family or work or authority or particular archetypes of people or times of day. That awareness is more than half the battle, because it’s that awareness that already starts to reprogram the brain to pay attention to these concepts and the importance of being able to be with the discomfort.

RB: “Conflict journaling” can be an opportunity to notice disagreement during the day and how you handle it. And that increases the likelihood you’ll see some of the patterns that Joel just mentioned.

One hack is “expanding the timeframe,” because it can be tempting to either avoid or to reply immediately. But if you expand the timeframe and think about long-term and short-term interest, that usually helps you realize that whatever fears you have about engaging an issue, there’s actually a serious cost to not engaging. And most of the people I work with report back to me that the fear and anxiety of having the conversation is almost always worse than having the conversation.


JN: Can you tell us more about the research behind your work and the research you explored throughout the book?

JS: Some of my research has been on social isolation and loneliness—we see increasing trends in people becoming lonely, and there are so many factors at play. When Bob and I first connected about doing this book together, one of the things I was thinking about are ways to help promote connection. It’s very clear to both of us that without conflict, there is no connection.

JN: I see the rising interest in the study and practice of conflict as pointing to a shift in social norms where we understand that conflict and connection go hand in hand. Can you speak to that shift?

JS: I feel like we’re seeing a shift from “self-care” to “self-advocacy,” and that requires a certain amount of “steeliness,” where you have to understand what’s happening internally but you also have to have the skill and mindset for being able to manage discomfort. And the more we normalize conflict and that it is an opportunity for growth, creativity, innovation, and connection, then the more common that understanding will be.

There’s a Montessori school in the Netherlands that has a “mediator” in the playground who helps kids navigate conflict and teaches them skills at an early age to manage differences of opinions—but that mediator is just another kid, one of the classmates who’s given a light blue hat. One of the things we discuss in the book is how to bring this out into your own setting and normalize it. Modeling is a big part of it, like naming out loud how a person manages their own discomfort, whether it’s noticing their breath or body tightening or other feelings.

RB: In the broader “conflict resolution” ecosystem, there has been a reduced hope about the promise of “resolution,” and I think our book is responding to the idea of, “What would it mean to live together well, in disagreement?”