I Don’t Have to Like You to Work With You

Advocacy would be much easier if everyone involved liked one another.

That is also completely unrealistic.

We come from different backgrounds. We have different personalities, political beliefs, priorities, strategies, communication styles, and opinions about what "good advocacy" looks like.

Sometimes we genuinely like the people sitting across the table.

Sometimes we tolerate them.

Sometimes we would probably never voluntarily spend five minutes together outside of a meeting.

And that is fine.

I do not have to like you to work with you.

I also do not have to agree with you on everything to work with you.

If we can identify one issue where our interests overlap and working together can improve the lives of the people we claim to represent, I am perfectly capable of putting personal feelings aside and doing the work.

That is professionalism.

But there is an important line between disagreement and dishonesty.

I can work with disagreement.

I can work with difficult personalities.

I can work with people whose politics are completely different from mine.

What I cannot comfortably work around is a pattern of lying, cheating, stealing, manipulating people, taking credit for other people's work, misusing resources, or deliberately misleading the community.

At that point, this is no longer about whether I like you.

It is about whether I trust you.

And trust matters.

Advocacy Does Not Require Friendship

There seems to be an expectation in some advocacy circles that everyone working on the same issue should become one big happy family.

That sounds lovely.

It is also unnecessary.

I do not need to be your friend to support the same bill.

I do not need to agree with your political party to sit beside you in a congressional office.

I do not need to share your worldview to collaborate on a policy proposal.

I do not need to approve of every position your organization has ever taken to work with you on the one issue where we agree.

That is actually one of the strengths of advocacy.

People who disagree on ninety things can sometimes come together on the tenth because that issue matters enough.

That is how coalitions are built.

Not through universal agreement.

Through common purpose.

Disagreement Is Not Disloyalty

Another unhealthy habit in advocacy is treating disagreement like betrayal.

Someone questions a strategy.

Someone raises a concern about a bill.

Someone points out a flaw in a proposal.

Someone wants different language.

Someone challenges a statistic.

And suddenly the discussion becomes:

"Whose side are you on?"

The same side I was on five minutes ago.

I simply disagree with you.

Those two things can coexist.

I can support the mission and criticize the method.

I can support legislation and oppose its funding mechanism.

I can agree with ninety percent of someone's position and publicly disagree with the other ten percent.

I can respect someone professionally and still think they are completely wrong about something.

That should not destroy a working relationship.

In healthy advocacy, disagreement should make ideas stronger.

If an argument cannot survive questions from people who basically agree with us, it is not going to survive scrutiny from people who do not.

I Can Work With People I Do Not Particularly Like

This may sound harsh, but it is reality.

There are people in advocacy I probably would not invite to dinner.

They probably would not invite me either.

We may irritate one another.

Our personalities may clash.

One of us may talk too much.

One of us may be too blunt.

One of us may want fifteen meetings before making a decision while the other wants to make the decision before the coffee gets cold.

None of that necessarily matters.

If you are ethical, reliable, knowledgeable, and committed to doing the work, we can probably work together.

Professional relationships do not require personal affection.

Sometimes some of the most effective partnerships are between people who know exactly where they disagree but respect each other's work enough to cooperate anyway.

But Trust Is Different

There is a point where "we just disagree" stops being an adequate explanation.

If I discover that someone has intentionally lied, that matters.

If I discover that someone has stolen another advocate's work, that matters.

If someone has manipulated organizational resources for personal benefit, that matters.

If they knowingly spread false information, that matters.

If they deliberately misrepresent conversations, relationships, research, legislation, or other advocates, that matters.

If they use people's stories without permission, claim credit for work they did not do, manipulate coalitions, or exploit access to another organization's resources, that matters.

Those are not personality conflicts.

Those are integrity problems.

And integrity problems affect whether I am willing to attach my name, reputation, relationships, or credibility to someone else's work.

Distance Is Sometimes the Professional Choice

When trust is gone, I do not necessarily need a public war.

I do not need a dramatic announcement.

I do not need a social media campaign.

I do not need to spend months trying to convince everyone else that they should dislike the person too.

Sometimes the appropriate response is much simpler.

I distance myself.

I stop collaborating.

I stop sharing information.

I stop providing access to my contacts.

I stop attaching my name to their projects.

I become much more careful about what I say and what I put in writing.

And I move on.

Distance does not always mean hostility.

Sometimes it is just a boundary.

But If You Ask Me Why, I Am Not Going to Lie

This is where things become uncomfortable.

People sometimes expect silence to include dishonesty.

Someone notices that two advocates who once worked together no longer do.

They ask:

"What happened?"

There are plenty of circumstances where the correct answer is:

"That is between us."

There are private conversations.

Personnel issues.

Confidential information.

Legal matters.

Personal details that do not belong to the public.

Those boundaries should be respected.

But confidentiality does not require me to manufacture a false explanation.

If you ask me directly why I no longer work with someone, I am not going to invent a story to protect an image that I know is inaccurate.

I am not going to tell you everything is wonderful when it is not.

I am not going to say we simply "went in different directions" if the actual reason was serious ethical misconduct and your question directly relates to whether that person can be trusted.

That does not mean I owe everyone every detail.

It means I will not lie for someone else.

There is an enormous difference between declining to discuss something and deliberately giving someone false information.

"I am not comfortable discussing the details" is an honest answer.

"I cannot share everything that happened" is an honest answer.

"We had significant concerns about professional conduct and decided not to continue working together" can be an honest answer.

But pretending nothing happened simply to keep the peace?

No.

Silence Should Not Become Complicity

There is a difficult balance here.

Advocacy communities are often small.

People know each other.

Organizations overlap.

Everyone worries about burning bridges.

Nobody wants unnecessary drama.

That can create tremendous pressure to stay silent about bad behavior.

Sometimes silence is appropriate.

Sometimes silence protects confidential information.

Sometimes silence prevents an unnecessary personal dispute from distracting from the mission.

But sometimes silence allows the same behavior to continue.

If someone asks me whether I would recommend working with a person or organization and I know there are serious ethical concerns, what exactly is my responsibility?

Am I protecting peace?

Or am I allowing someone else to walk blindly into the same situation?

Those decisions require judgment.

They also require integrity.

Facts, Not Revenge

If I do speak, there is another obligation.

Be factual.

Do not exaggerate.

Do not embellish.

Do not turn disappointment into accusations you cannot prove.

Do not repeat rumors.

Do not recruit people into a personal feud.

Do not turn "I had this experience" into "everyone should hate this person."

That crosses the same ethical lines we complain about when other people do it.

If I say something happened, I should be able to explain what happened.

If I do not know, I should say I do not know.

If I am expressing an opinion, I should make clear that it is an opinion.

Integrity still applies when the story is uncomfortable.

Maybe especially then.

We Should Be Able to Work Across Differences

Advocacy needs people who are willing to work across divisions.

Republicans and Democrats.

Conservatives and liberals.

Large organizations and small organizations.

Paid professionals and volunteers.

Veterans, spouses, survivors, caregivers, families, service members, and civilians.

People with completely different experiences.

We are never going to agree about everything.

We should stop pretending that agreement is a requirement for collaboration.

Sometimes the most powerful statement we can make is:

"We disagree about almost everything else, but this issue matters enough that we are standing here together."

That is advocacy.

But Cooperation Requires Basic Integrity

There are some differences I can overlook.

There are others I cannot.

I can overlook personality.

I can overlook politics.

I can overlook disagreements about strategy.

I can overlook the fact that you occasionally annoy the hell out of me.

What I cannot overlook indefinitely is dishonesty.

Because once I no longer trust the information you give me, the promises you make, the work you claim, or the way you handle other people's resources, collaboration becomes dangerous.

Not just for me.

For the people we are supposed to serve.

Final Thought

I do not need everyone in advocacy to like me.

And I certainly do not expect to like everyone else.

That is not the standard.

The standard should be whether we can behave professionally, communicate honestly, respect boundaries, disagree without becoming destructive, and work together when doing so serves the mission.

I don't have to like you to work with you.

I don't have to agree with you to work with you.

But I do need to be able to trust you.

If I discover that you have lied, cheated, stolen, manipulated people, or deliberately acted without integrity, I may choose to distance myself.

I do not owe anyone a public feud.

I do not owe anyone revenge.

I do not owe the world every detail.

But if I am asked directly about my experience, I also do not owe anyone a lie.

There is room in advocacy for disagreement.

There is room for difficult personalities.

There is room for political differences.

There is room for competing strategies.

There should even be room for people who simply do not like each other very much.

What there should never be room for is the expectation that maintaining appearances matters more than telling the truth.

Because advocacy does not require friendship.

It requires integrity.