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In 10 seconds:
A critic meets the “enemy.”
One sentence collapses the conflict.
A five-second realization changes the frame.
Trust becomes possible again.
I didn’t become a believer in narrative because it sounded elegant. I became one because I watched it end a conflict arguments couldn’t.
Walking In
I pushed through the hotel doors already tense.
I was a newly elected councilman and my commitment to curbing bullying felt like it was on trial.
Tonight, I was meeting a man who’d targeted me online.
I could hear his posts in my head as I crossed the lobby:
You’re not doing enough. You’re silent. You’re failing us.
At another meeting, someone dismissed the issue with a sneer:
“Those people are evil. Anything they support is evil.”
That’s when I learned the real fight wasn’t policy.
It was tribes. And I knew I was the “wrong” tribe.
The conversation
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He was already seated by the window.
Hands folded. Face tight.
We shook hands—more formality than warmth—and sat down.
The conversation started sharp.
I prepared to defend the council’s plan—the one that had split the town for weeks.
Then he said, casually:
“You know, that plan’s a bad one.”
I paused.
“Wait—you agree?”
He nodded. “Of course. It won’t work the way people think it will.”
For weeks, I’d been painted as indifferent.
And here was my harshest critic saying the very thing I believed.
My five-second moment:
We weren’t divided on the problem. We were divided on the fix.
The person I’d braced for wasn’t an enemy at all.
The field
We talked for another half hour.
This time: less armor, more openness.
When I stepped outside, the air felt clean.
The tightness in my chest was gone.
As I walked toward my SUV, I noticed an empty field across the street.
Wide. Unmarked. Still.
I stared longer than I expected.
Then I drove home.
For the first time in weeks, the future felt buildable.
What changed my thinking
That conversation taught me something I could not unlearn:
People don’t decide based on facts. They decide based on the story that tells them who everyone is.
Before that night, I believed leadership was about making better arguments.
After that night, I understood leadership is about establishing the shared story in which arguments can even be heard.
That realization is why I now treat narrative as infrastructure, not messaging.
The operating principle
When conflict feels personal, it’s usually structural.
Name the shared truth first. Then argue about the method.
Narrative Alchemy is written by Ronell Smith, a narrative strategist who has spent 25 years helping organizations build the infrastructure that clarity requires. Subscribe to get each issue delivered to your inbox.