We Could Workshop That

A while ago, I was facilitating a leadership development programme in the Midlands, where everything was going reasonably well until we reached the part of the day labelled “Conflict and Courageous Conversations.” A silence crept into the room — not awkward, exactly, but the kind that signals every participant is quietly deciding whether now is a good time to go and check their phone.
After a pause, one leader said — half-joking, half-hoping — “I mean… could we just workshop it instead?”
And there it was.
The suggestion wasn’t absurd. On paper, it made sense: take a real interpersonal issue and map it out. Try a roleplay. Do a bit of scenario modelling. Perhaps even throw in some colour-coded post-it notes and a two-by-two grid. Classic workshop fare.
But of course, what he actually meant was: let’s ritualise this thing so thoroughly that no one has to feel anything. Let’s abstract the tension into something we can diagram. Let’s be productive, while staying safely theoretical.
I’ve seen this happen many times. A group identifies a hard truth — something vulnerable, risky, or just plainly inconvenient. And the reflex isn’t denial. It’s to make a workshop out of it.
This is the most charming form of avoidance I know. It doesn’t look like resistance. It looks like enthusiasm. Like collaboration. Like “taking action.”
But it’s theatre. Not in the good way.
And I say that as someone who used to put on tights for a living.
The work of facilitation, when it’s real, is often about resisting that reflex. Not shaming it — it’s human, and occasionally quite useful — but gently interrupting it. Asking the follow-up. Holding the eye contact just long enough. Naming the workshopification of emotion as it begins to unfold.
Because sometimes, what’s needed isn’t a process. It’s a breath. A beat. A moment of shared discomfort that doesn’t get sorted, diagrammed, or laminated.
There’s nothing wrong with roleplay. But the danger is we roleplay our way around the thing itself.
Have you ever watched a group process its way neatly past the actual problem? And if so… did you make a two-by-two to explain it?
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Note: All stories are adapted and anonymised to protect client confidentiality.