What to Say When You Don’t Know the Answer

This week I got to do what I love most in my work – train aspiring advocates. And this time, that training session was focused on an exceptionally bright, and engaged group of college students.

What they lacked in direct experience with political issues, they were eager to make up for in vim and vigor. But that shortcoming of technical knowledge lends itself to fostering a sense of real discomfort at the idea of having to go present oneself as a subject matter expert to decision-makers. That’s a pretty common feeling for advocates. So, leaning into the discomfort of in-person advocacy, I threw them into scenario-based training designed to put them on their heels.

See, that’s one of my favorite tactics. It’s perfectly natural for folks to build up pressure around the idea of going and talking about their challenges. When we think about the legislative environment in particular, we must acknowledge that it’s confusing, complex and intimidating just to go to a state capital or Washington. And when we finally do find ourselves in the physical environment of the process, the pressure of meeting such public figures only compounds the problem of personal doubt. And regardless how much we prepare, there’s almost always room for a bit of nervousness to set in.

But instead of calming the nerves of prospective advocates, I try to find their individual pressure points. I create a scenario where they have little time to prepare, and then I place them in a contentious interaction based on some of the worst behaviors I’ve seen from those in the political arena. From simple distractions like looking at a text on a cell phone, to outright confrontation with the advocates, I intentionally work them into the worst case scenario.

Why would I do that? Why wouldn’t I ease them into the work and build up to that challenge? Well, because it worked on me.

As a junior Marine officer, this was a common tactic thrown at us. We’d face ‘on-call’ missions in the schoolhouse when we’d have limited time and resources to respond to a specific scenario. It happened regularly in the field, and helped us break away from the predictability of a particular training evolution. It was such a common, and effective, approach in our experience that when I re-entered the civilian world, I was surprised to see this tool so infrequently used!

So, in my own work, I insist on bringing this particular weapon to bear. This week, it yielded a familiar result: frustration.

So many of us focus on a perfect delivery when we’re speaking. And that’s understandable. But the purpose of my training module is to demonstrate how that particular quest for perfection doesn’t get you any closer to moving the needle on your agenda. Instead, I aim to help my would-be advocates understand the need to prepare to respond to the natural moments that arise in meetings: the interruptions, the awkward pauses, the off-the-cuff responses. You don’t do that by following a script, you do it by learning to improvise. It’s the difference between playing in a classical symphony and a jazz ensemble.

As advocates progress through the module they see how even a minimal amount of thoughtful planning can help a team coalesce around their message while each individual remains free to be imperfect in the moment. But after the first contentious meeting, I almost always hear the same question from a group of trainees:

What do I say when I don’t know an answer to one of their questions?

You can almost feel the desire for perfection when this question comes up. It’s palpable. And it’s the first habit many of us have to break. I know I had to!

But we have to reframe how we define success in advocacy meetings. Too often, the pressure for perfection stems from a belief that a singular moment can deliver a win on an issue. That’s simply not the reality of the deliberative legislative process. One advocacy meeting is a link in a chain – a chain I refer to as a cumulative and iterative approach to advocacy.

When we adopt that new perspective, we can properly place our priority on one simple goal: building credibility.

Credibility in advocacy has almost nothing to do with winning an argument or a debate. Sure, those things can help in some situations. But in relational advocacy, building credibility is all about consistency in how we show up. One great trait to have when showing up is humility. And in the case of not knowing the answer to a question, the proper, humble answer is simple:

“I don’t know.” Admit it, and commit to getting the right answer to them.

I know, that doesn’t sound right. In politics, isn’t the goal to win? How does admitting you simply don’t know an answer serve that end? We wouldn’t reward a candidate for saying “I don’t know” on a debate stage, why should we treat our performance advocacy meetings any differently?

Plainly, that tale is conflating politics and policy. If you want to survive the long game of policy, you must change your definition of winning. Doing so allows you to embrace the idea that it’s better to win the person than win the debate. That’s easier to do when you treat yourself as a person too – a perfectly fallible human. Coincidentally, this paradigm shift will also help you realize it’s more important to keep showing up – over and over again – than letting the debate happen without you.

So, the next time you don’t know the answer in a meeting – at work, or when talking about your cause – give it a shot. Tell them you don’t know, but want to get back to them with an answer within the week. Not only will you actively show humility and gain credibility, you will also open the door for another touch point (aka another link in your chain).

Try it out. Then, let me know how they respond.