Not every confrontation is proof of courage, nor is every act of avoidance a sign of weakness. We have seen in professional life, as in politics and human relations, that there are moments when temporary silence is more eloquent than escalation, and a gradual approach more productive than collision. The dilemma is not in avoiding confrontation per se, but in allowing avoidance to become a habit that paralyses decision-making, or a fear that dresses itself in the garb of wisdom.
The events of life confirm that in every confrontation there is either approach, withdrawal, or containment. Approach may be necessary when a problem reaches a point that threatens reputation, work, or justice. Temporary withdrawal, on the other hand, may be a shrewd tactic, giving all parties the chance to let tempers cool and the picture to become clearer. From this vantage point, avoiding confrontation becomes a form of prudence, particularly when the cost of collision outweighs its benefit.
In workplace environments, some decision-makers are forced to deal with a troublesome official or a persistently objecting employee, and they resort to sidelining him, transferring him, or assigning him tasks that expose the true extent of his incompetence to everyone — rather than confronting him directly with a request to resign. This is what I call the Arab method of confrontation.
I have personally witnessed how more than one individual was asked to voluntarily submit a resignation rather than be dismissed for negligence and errors. This may appear to be evasiveness, but in some cases it gives the other party the opportunity for a quiet exit without humiliation or scandal. In other cases, it is necessary to make the punishment or confrontation public so that everyone may learn a lesson.
The social dimension in our Arab societies in fact heightens the sensitivity of confrontation. A simple decision within an institution can turn into the talk of gatherings, with relatives, acquaintances, and intermediaries all stepping in. For this reason, some managements tolerate underperforming individuals for longer than they should, because confronting them feels, in their eyes, like walking into a hornet's nest. Here the question is not: do we confront or not? But rather: when do we confront? How? And at what cost?
Among the reasons for avoiding confrontation are fear of embarrassment, fear of the reaction, or fear of losing the relationship. This may stem from an indecisive personality or from old experiences that led the decision-maker to associate confrontation with harm rather than reform. More mature alternatives therefore emerge, such as settlement — where each party concedes a little — or cooperation, where both parties seek a solution that addresses the root of the problem rather than its symptoms and repercussions.
What is striking is that we learn from the business world how even fierce rivalry between major companies does not prevent them from resorting to de-escalation when their interests require it. After years of brutal competition between Microsoft and Apple, the two companies chose at certain stages to cooperate rather than drain their energies, because the market has no mercy for those who squander their strength in peripheral battles. Many companies do likewise when they transfer an employee from one team to another — not to escape a decision, but to test an environment that may reveal the best in that person, or confirm the limits of their abilities.
The Japanese, for their part, have turned continuous improvement — "kaizen" — into a culture that reduces sharp confrontations. Rather than waiting for an explosion, institutions open simple channels for raising small observations before they become major crises. This is an important management lesson: the longer listening is delayed, the higher the cost of confrontation.
At the political level, experience has taught us that wars do not always begin with a bullet, but sometimes with a hasty word or a rigid stance. Countries therefore turn to mediators, flexible statements, and closed rooms, because they understand that saving face may open the door to a solution. Yet avoiding confrontation is not suited to every situation. If the negligent party turns into a rebel, or if silence becomes an encouragement to dysfunction, then firmness becomes obligatory. In my view, wisdom lies neither in perpetual flight nor in hasty collision, but in choosing the moment when confrontation becomes a remedy rather than an act of revenge — a considered decision, far removed from emotion.