How an old dinner party trick helps solve modern gridlock
It’s “what I did on my summer vacation” essay time. I spent part of mine visiting friends who live in Pennsylvania near the Delaware Water Gap National Recreation Area — gently winding roads, idyllic farmstands, the ever-flowing Delaware River.
Driving around, I saw the local version of a problem I see over and over in my work: signs in yards and storefronts proclaiming, “No National Park.” A proposal has been floated to redesignate the 70,000-acre recreation area as a national park. The pros: greater visibility and protection, and recognition of the Lenape people whose ancestral territory this is. The cons: stricter restrictions on hunting and fishing, and more federal oversight — both flashpoints in rural communities. The issue has been simmering for years with no resolution in sight.
Then, a few miles away, I found an unlikely potential fix when I visited the nearby Grey Towers National Historic Site.
Grey Towers sits in Milford, Pennsylvania — the family summer home of Gifford Pinchot, founder of the US Forest Service. Just to the side of the house is the “Finger Bowl,” a shallow pool used for dinner parties, sitting under a wisteria-covered pergola with an oculus-like opening to let moonlight illuminate the festivities. Food was floated across the pool in wooden bowls or on balsa rafts. Instead of only conversing left and right, guests engaged across the water throughout the meal. The pool eliminated the temptation for a large center floral arrangement that would block views and conversation.
It’s a brilliant use of “circle” thinking and practice.
The credit for this goes to Gifford’s wife, Cornelia Bryce Pinchot — one of the “badass stewards” I explore in my forthcoming book, The Power of Everyone: Leading Together to Shape a Better World. Badass stewards are people who move gracefully and nurture things to create significant change. Cornelia was more than Pinchot’s wife. She was an advocate for women’s rights, social justice, and conservation.
A ranger onsite told me Cornelia used the Finger Bowl to gather people who were at odds on an issue, yet who needed to come together if progress was to be made. The circular design let each person make eye contact with everyone else. It flattened any symbolic power positions. Propelling the food vessels across the pond injected fun into the experience. Built for about 20 guests, it was exclusive and inclusive at once — enough diversity of perspective, with clear enough sightlines that Cornelia could orchestrate interactions or defuse conflict if necessary.
Complex problems are never solved in a straight line. The problem and potential solutions co-evolve in relationship with each other because they’re rooted in the dynamics of a multi-faceted system. In the best case, they dance to a better place. Cornelia was an expert choreographer.
The same principle shows up in contemporary bird conservation. The book I happened to be reading was The Return of the Oystercatcher: Saving Birds to Save the World by Scott Weidensaul. Now, as in Pinchot’s time, conservation (and solving other complex problems) requires turning adversaries into allies. You need to be creative in finding common ground and adept at fostering relationships.
Ongoing complex challenges abound. To address them, we need the power of everyone. Fewer conference tables and more Finger Bowls. One thing we know is that working together works. Fewer lines, more circles.
Read the full piece on Substack.