（说明：本文中文为翻译版，英文为原作，相关表述请以英文版为准）

 

 

从纸面上看，这场调解不过是桩简单的合同欠款纠纷，但在法律术语背后，却藏着一个关于谅解所具变革之力的深刻的动人故事。

踏入调解现场时，调解员永远无从知晓一个案件会走向何方。调解的妙处之一，便在于它能拨开暗流，为谜题补上缺失的碎片，最终引向解决之道。这起看似简单的合同纠纷，逐渐显露出更为复杂的一面——一个关于友谊与背叛的故事，而不谅解，成了禁锢两个男人的沉重枷锁。

与传统诉讼相比，调解的最大优势在于它更强调协作与沟通，并寻找对双方都有益的解决办法。这些方案不仅解决法律纠纷，更回应情感需求。在这个协作空间里， 既有承认过错的余地，也有流露懊悔的空隙，最终铺就一条诉讼难以抵达的疗愈之路。正如著名调解专家肯尼斯·克洛克（Kenneth Cloke）所言，许多表面上看似纯粹利益之争的商业纠纷，实质上往往受到情绪的深层影响。本案正印证了他的观点。

我和被告进行了第一次线上会面。

他面容憔悴，在屏幕的冷光下显得格外枯槁，眼窝深陷，阴影如墨。曾几何时，他还是拥有数十名员工、事业蒸蒸日上的老板，如今却独自窝在一间逼仄的公寓里，空间小得连放张折叠沙发都显得局促。

“原告亲口说过他不会起诉。” 他声音空洞，“我们十年的兄弟情啊。”

随后揭示的真相，只有通过成功调解中最基本的要素之一——积极倾听——才能浮出水面。这绝非被动接收只言片语，而是在情感上营造一个能让人卸下防备的安全空间，让对方可以充分探寻并袒露内心的想法，而不用担心遭人评判或忽视。关键是让他们感受到“被真正倾听”。  

这种“被看见、被听见”的感受，往往比我能提供的任何建议或方案都更具力量。当人真正感受到自己被理解、被接纳时，内心原本坚硬的壁垒就会慢慢松动，为和解，甚至是谅解埋下种子。这种“被理解”的感觉，不只是安慰，更是改变的起点。

在这个构建出来的空间里，他的话语渐渐化作一段坦白，拉近了我们之间的距离。

“我银行卡账上就剩不到两千了，以前的员工把客户全撬走了，货也没了。”他声音哽咽，“前几天，我老婆带着孩子站在楼顶，差点跳下去……”

他直视着摄像头，整个人像在自我谴责的深海里挣扎沉浮。

“我是个老实人，欠的钱肯定会还。但我现在日子都快过熬不下去了，不知道怎么才能东山再起。 ”

他低下头，注视着地面，镜头里的他，像被自己那份深重的自责牢牢困住了。

听他说这些时，我捕捉到了话里的潜台词——一声未说出口的歉意，一份因辜负朋友的懊悔。虽然他没说“对不起”，但每句“慢慢还”的承诺里，都承载了满满的愧疚。我在脑海中暗暗记下这一点：不仅要转达他的还款计划，更要传递这份烙在他心中的、未曾言明的歉意。

心理学研究表明，自我谅解需要人在承担错误后果的同时，也要将行为本身与自身价值分开——明白失败并不等于自己一无是处。眼前的被告，正陷在“羞耻旋涡”中，他无法原谅自己事业失败，也就难以迈出下一步。

随后，在与原告单独进行的线上调解中, 我同样运用了积极倾听的技巧，创造一个能让他流露真实感受的安全空间。

他猛地往前一探身，隔着屏幕都能感觉到那股压不住的怒火。

“我们是十年的兄弟！”他和被告的话如出一辙，语气中满是苦涩，“我知道他生意垮了，我本能帮他的，可他呢？耍尽法律手段藏资产，就是不想还我钱。”

我问他是否还在气头上，他起初否认了。

“我只想要回那笔钱，我爸癌症等着用钱，我自己手头也很紧张。”

但片刻后，他情绪崩溃了。

“我当然生气！律师说和解对我最有利，能避免反诉，但我现在根本听不进道理。”他声音陡然拔高，“为什么我们不能像兄弟一样，面对面把话说清楚？”

说罢沉默，摄像头里的他，像被怨恨困住了一样。

这些深藏的情绪逐渐显露出来，恰恰彰显了调解的强大之处。该案表面上是一桩简单的财务纠纷，实质上却是一段十年友情中的伤害、背叛与信任破裂的复杂交织。

心理学家罗伯特·恩莱特（Robert Enright）把谅解分为四个阶段：揭示愤怒、决定谅解、努力实践、找到意义。原告还停留在第一阶段，未处理的伤痛使他难以客观看待问题。

作为调解员，我意识到我的角色更像是情感向导, 带领双方穿越复杂的情绪地带。我的首要任务不是给出解决方案，而是让每位当事人感受到“被理解”，——打下这份接纳的基础，谅解才有可能生根发芽。研究表明，第三方的引导能创造心理安全感，让谅解得以开始。于是我通过“穿梭式沟通”——在两个单独的线上会议室之间传递信息，创造了一个能让人卸下防备的虚拟空间。

在实际调解中，要扮演好“情感向导”的角色，光靠教科书上的调解技巧远远不够——尤其（当我在本案中）面对那位深陷绝望的被告时。在线上会议室营造的心理安全空间里，我努力搭建起真实的人性连接：让他确信自己的痛苦既被理解，也终将跨越。借鉴我曾帮助过的类似遭遇者的经验，我谨慎引导他重新认识自己：他不是一个失败者，而是值得被同情的人——就像他也会对同样处境的人施以援手。正是在这种穿梭式调解中，我们有意培育出的这份脆弱（与坦诚），为后续进展奠定了基础。

“我理解你肩上的重担，”我轻声说道，几近耳语，“（我理解）当你的身份、你的未来——你建立的一切都在脚下崩塌时，那种空洞感。”

我微微向摄像头倾身，昏暗灯光中，我眼里的忧虑若隐若现。

“我不会假装了解你具体的痛苦。但我见证过失意如何将人彻底击垮，使我们变得脆弱不堪，以至于在凌晨三点时那些无情的思绪便会不期而至，那时整个世界仿佛缩小成了绝望的焦点。每一次呼吸都仿佛是在对抗步步紧逼的黑暗。

我停顿片刻，沉默在我们之间发酵——这沉默并非空洞的，而是充满了未曾言的理解。

“你愿意和我聊聊你现在面临的黑暗（处境）吗？这些年来，我做这份工作多年，发现即使在最深的失意之井中，往往也埋藏着一颗倔强的种子——那是我们未来可能成为的样子。我已经在你身上看到了它。”

我帮他联系了香港针对小企业主的财务援助项目，看着他眼里燃起一丝希望——这是他开始相信自己能东山再起的第一步。

对原告，我用了叙事调解技巧，帮他重新看待自己对被告行为的看法。研究表明，当我们能共情犯错者的处境（但不原谅其行为）时，谅解就有可能发生。

“被告现在住的地方，小得几乎装不下他支离破碎的生活。”我注视着原告的眼睛，轻声说着，“月租一千五的四面墙里，除了后悔，空空如也。他什么活都接，不是为了东山再起，只是为了维持生计。而这背后是他的执念，他日日夜夜想的，不仅仅是还你的钱，更是想重新得到你的信任”

这些情况原告其实早就知道，但从一个真正倾听了双方心声的中立第三方嘴里说出来，似乎敲开了他的防备。心理学家埃弗雷特·沃辛顿（Everett Worthington）称这种过程为“情感替代”——共情开始取代怨恨。

我身子微微前倾，字斟句酌道：

“他磕磕绊绊地保证要还你钱，（他说）‘有多少还多少’——我听出来了他没有直说的话。这些实在的承诺背后，还有他沉甸甸的抱歉。他说的每一笔零碎还款，都不只是钱的事，是想一点点拾起你们之间破碎的（信任）。”

这种转变虽然细微，但却非常明显，就像看着冰块边缘开始慢慢融化。原告紧绷的肩膀松了下来，脸上生硬的表情褪去，露出更复杂、也更像常人的神情。道歉的力量往往超越语言本身，尤其当它通过意想不到的渠道传递时。真正的歉意不仅承认已经造成的伤害，更认可了那些被打碎的东西曾经的价值。 

“他从没想过事情会搞砸成这样，”我轻柔地说，“只是生意垮得比他最坏的预想还要快，情况一下子变得糟糕。人一慌啊，就跟通常那样——彻底懵了，动弹不得。”

我稍作停顿，看着原告脸上闪过理解的神色。“我们要理解一个人的失败，不代表要原谅他——而是看见错误背后那个有血有肉的人。”

原告渐渐看清了，在自己痛苦的背后，是一个既恐惧又满身缺点的人，他不是什么恶人，只是个迷了路的家伙。这时，两人之间的气氛发生了微妙的变化。尽管背叛的事实依然是真实存在的，但此刻还存在着一个更复杂的真相。

在之后的几次会面中，我见证了学者们所描述的谅解转变过程。被告开始自我谅解后，行动力和解决问题的能力都变强了；原告的共情心逐渐生长，也更愿意接受实际的解决方案。

和解最终达成，但这并非源于面对面的和解——事实上，在整个调解过程中，双方始终没有直接交流——而是通过我在两个线上会议室之间反复沟通，传递信息、情感，慢慢播下了谅解的种子，才使得和解成为可能。

在最后几次会议中，法律层面的内容其实非常简单：一份既考虑到被告经济困难，又回应原告紧迫需求的分期还款计划。但真正的成果，是两人心境的改变：原告终于能不再把对方当成仇人，而是一个犯了错的人；被告也不再一味自责，而是鼓起勇气，面对未来重新开始。

这充分彰显了调解的力量——它不仅超越了严苛的法律框架，而且触及到冲突核心处的共通人性。在诉讼中，焦点往往只是合同义务，而我们的调解过程则打开了一个更深层的空间：一种视角的转变，让谅解成为可能。

视频会议窗口关闭那一刻，我想起了学者们所说的“谅解的悖论”：当我们释放对他人的怨恨时，我们也获得了解脱；当我们原谅自己，也才有力量去修补对他人的伤害。

这场线上调解没有戏剧性的和解瞬间，没有昔日好友含泪相拥的场面。但两个男人的内心都发生了深刻的变化。原告卸下了部分怨气，开始接受一个现实可行的解决方案；被告则获得了足够的自我谅解的力量，决心一步步向前。

接手这起调解时，我完全没预料到会有这样的情感历程。一桩原本看起来只是简单合同纠纷的案件，随着积极倾听的深入和安全情感空间的建立，逐渐显现出其真实的面貌——一个关于人际关系、信任崩塌，以及疗愈可能性的动人故事。

无论是古老智慧还是现代心理学，都告诉我们：谅解的确充满魅力——它并不能抹去过去，但却能改变我们与过去的关系。即便是在冰冷的视频平台上，哪怕隔着屏幕与情感的距离，我依然见证了这场缓慢而深刻的转化——两位当事人，正踏上那条由怨转善、由裂痕走向修复的旅程，一步步走向谅解。

On paper, this mediation is a simple dispute of contractual non-payment, but beneath the legal terminology lay a profound human story about the transformative power of forgiveness.

Entering a mediation, the mediator never knows where a case will go. One aspect of mediation is that it can reveal undercurrents and add the missing pieces of the puzzle to bring resolution. What began as a straightforward breach of contract gradually unveiled itself as something far more complex--a story of friendship, betrayal, and the heavy chains of unforgiveness that bound both men.

Mediation offers an alternative to traditional litigation—one that prioritizes collaboration, open communication, and finding solutions that work for everyone involved. These solutions address not just the legal issues but also the underlying emotional needs. Within this collaborative space, there's room for acknowledgment, remorse, and ultimately a path to healing that litigation rarely provides. As dispute resolution guru Ken Cloke astutely observes, even commercial disputes, often seen as purely transactional, are actually driven by powerful emotions. This case would prove to be a perfect illustration of his insight. 

 My first online session was with the defendant.

His face appeared gaunt in the harsh light of his screen, shadows pooling beneath his eyes. Once the owner of a thriving business with dozens of employees, he now sat alone in a cramped apartment barely large enough for a fold-out couch.

"The plaintiff promised he wouldn't sue," he said, voice hollow. "We've been like brothers for ten years."

What followed was a revelation that could only emerge through one of the most fundamental elements of any successful mediation: active listening. This is more than passively hearing words. This is creating a safe emotional space, a space where vulnerability is possible, allowing the other person to fully explore and express their feelings without fear of being judged or dismissed. It is about making them feel truly heard.

That sense of being seen and heard can be more powerful than any solution or advice I could offer. When someone feels genuinely acknowledged, it softens the hardened ground of their heart, preparing it for the seeds of resolution and, eventually, forgiveness. This acknowledgment is not just therapeutic—it's transformative. 

In that created space, his words dissolved into a confession that pierced my professional distance.

"I have less than two thousand in my bank account. My former employees took my clients. My inventory is gone." His voice cracked. "Days ago, I caught my wife and child on the roof of our building. They were going to jump." 

He looked directly into the camera, a man drowning in self-recrimination. 

"I'm an honest man. I will pay what I owe. But I'm barely surviving day to day. I don't know how to rebuild from this." 

His eyes fell to the floor, his camera revealing a man shackled by his own self-condemnation.  

As he spoke these words, I heard something beneath them—an unspoken apology, a deep remorse for failing his friend. Though he didn't use the word "sorry," every promise to repay "bit by bit" carried the weight of regret. I made a mental note to convey not just his payment plan, but this implicit apology that seemed to live in his heart.

Research in psychological healing shows that self-forgiveness requires acknowledging responsibility while separating the deed from one's core identity--understanding that failure doesn't define one's worth. The defendant was trapped in what theorists call "shame spiraling," unable to forgive himself for his business failures, which prevented him from taking constructive steps forward.

In my separate virtual session with the plaintiff, I employed the same active listening techniques, creating a safe space where his true feelings could emerge. 

His anger radiated through the screen as he leaned forward in his chair.

"We were like brothers for a decade," he said, echoing the defendant's words but with bitterness. "I understand his business failed. I could have helped him, but instead, he used legal maneuvers to hide assets so I couldn't collect what he owed me."

When I asked if he was still angry, he initially denied it.

"I just need the money. My father needs cancer treatment, and I'm facing financial problems myself."

But moments later, his composure fractured. 

"Of course I'm angry! My lawyer says settling is best to protect me from counter-litigation, but I can't listen to logic right now." His voice rose sharply. "Why couldn't we settle this face to face, like brothers?" 

Then he went silent, his camera capturing a man imprisoned by his resentment. 

This revelation of hidden emotions is precisely what makes mediation so powerful. What had initially appeared as a simple financial dispute was revealing itself as a complex web of hurt, betrayal, and broken trust between friends of a decade.

The psychologist Robert Enright describes forgiveness as a journey through four phases: uncovering anger, deciding to forgive, working on forgiveness, and discovery of meaning. The plaintiff was still firmly in the first phase, his judgment clouded by unprocessed hurt.

As a mediator, I knew my role was to act as an emotional shepherd, guiding each man through the complex terrain of their feelings. My task wasn't primarily to offer solutions, but to help each party feel deeply understood—to create that foundation of acknowledgment upon which forgiveness might eventually grow. Forgiveness researchers emphasize that third-party facilitation can create the psychological safety needed for forgiveness to begin. Through shuttle diplomacy--moving between separate online meeting rooms--I created a virtual space where vulnerability became possible.

In practice, this emotional shepherding required moving beyond textbook mediation techniques, especially with the defendant whose despair ran deepest. Within the psychological safety of our virtual meeting room, I fostered genuine human connection—acknowledging his pain as both recognized and survivable. Drawing from my experience with others who had rebuilt their lives from similar devastation, I carefully guided him toward seeing himself not as a failure, but as someone worthy of compassion—the same compassion he would readily offer another in his position. This deliberate cultivation of vulnerability within our shuttle diplomacy established the essential foundation for what followed.

"I can see the weight you're carrying," I told him softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "That hollow feeling when everything you've built—your identity, your future—seems to vanish beneath your feet." 

I leaned slightly toward the camera, the dim light catching the concern in my eyes. 

"I won't pretend to know your specific pain. But I've witnessed how loss can strip us down to our foundations, leaving us exposed to those merciless 3 AM thoughts when the world narrows to a pinpoint of despair. When each breath feels like an act of defiance against the darkness pressing in."

I paused, allowing the silence between us to deepen—not empty, but full of unspoken understanding.

"Would you share with me what this darkness has been like for you? In all my years of this work, I've seen that even in the deepest wells of loss, there often lies—buried and waiting—a small, stubborn seed of who we might yet become. I can see that seed in you."

I connected him with financial assistance programs in Hong Kong for small business owners and watched as a flicker of hope appeared in his eyes--the first step toward believing in his own recovery.

With the plaintiff, I employed narrative mediation techniques, helping him reframe the story he was telling himself about the defendant's actions. Studies show that forgiveness becomes possible when we develop empathy for the offender's circumstances without excusing their behavior.

"The defendant lives in a space barely large enough to contain his diminished life," I said softly, meeting the plaintiff's gaze. "Fifteen hundred a month for walls that hold nothing but regret. He takes whatever work appears, not to rebuild, but simply to survive. And beneath it all lies this constant, aching desire to repay what he owes you—not just financially, but in restored trust."

 Though the plaintiff already knew these facts, hearing them from a neutral third party who had truly listened to both sides seemed to penetrate his defenses. The psychologist Everett Worthington calls this "emotional replacement," where empathy begins to displace resentment.

 I leaned forward slightly, choosing my next words with care. 

"In his stilted promises to repay whatever he can, whenever he can—I hear words he cannot bring himself to say directly. There's a profound apology woven between those practical assurances. Each small payment he promises isn't just about money—it's about honoring what was broken between you."

The shift was subtle but unmistakable—like watching ice begin to thaw at its edges. The plaintiff's rigid shoulders eased, the hardness in his expression giving way to something more complicated, more human. Apologies carry a power that transcends their words, especially when they reach us through unexpected channels. They acknowledge not just the harm done, but the worth of what was damaged.

"He never intended for things to collapse this way," I said, my voice quieter now. "His business failed faster than his worst fears imagined, and in that sudden darkness, fear did what fear often does—it paralyzed him completely."

I paused, watching understanding flicker across the plaintiff's face. Understanding someone's failures doesn't require us to excuse them—it simply allows us to see the human being beneath the mistake.

As the plaintiff began to glimpse the frightened, flawed person behind his pain—not a villain but someone who had lost their way—something shifted in the space between them. The betrayal remained real, but it now existed alongside a more complicated truth.

During subsequent sessions, I witnessed the gradual transformation that forgiveness researchers have documented. The defendant, as he began to practice self-forgiveness, demonstrated more agency and problem-solving capacity. The plaintiff, as his empathy grew, became more receptive to practical solutions.

The settlement emerged not from a face-to-face reconciliation--they never directly spoke during our mediation--but through the painstaking shuttle diplomacy between virtual meeting rooms, carrying messages, emotions, and eventually, the seeds of forgiveness back and forth. 

In our final sessions, the legal terms were straightforward: a payment plan that acknowledged both the defendant's limited resources and the plaintiff's pressing needs. But the true achievement lay deeper--in the plaintiff's newfound capacity to see the defendant as a flawed human rather than a villain, and in the defendant's emerging ability to view himself as someone worthy of a second chance.

This was the power of mediation on full display—a willingness to move beyond the strict legal framework and recognize the shared humanity at the heart of the conflict. Where litigation would have focused solely on contractual obligations, our process created space for something more profound: a shift in perspective that made forgiveness possible.

As I closed the final video conference window, I reflected on what forgiveness scholars call the "paradox of forgiveness"--that in releasing others from our judgment, we free ourselves; in forgiving ourselves, we find the strength to make amends to others.

This virtual mediation had no dramatic moment of reconciliation, no tearful embrace between former friends. Yet something profound had shifted in both men. The plaintiff had loosened the grip of resentment enough to accept a practical solution. The defendant had found enough self-forgiveness to commit to a path forward instead of remaining paralyzed by shame.

When I began this mediation, I could never have predicted the emotional journey it would take. What appeared on the surface as a simple contractual dispute revealed itself, through active listening and creating safe emotional spaces, to be a profound story of human connection, broken trust, and the possibility of healing. 

Forgiveness, as both ancient wisdom and modern psychology teach us, is indeed magic--not because it erases the past, but because it transforms our relationship with it. Through the sterile medium of video conferencing, across digital distance and emotional barriers, I had witnessed this alchemy: two men beginning the delicate work of turning the lead of resentment into the gold of healing, one painful, courageous step at a time.