In an age of entertainment news, compressed narratives and rushed judgments, the late radio broadcaster Paul Harvey offers an unexpected master class for mediators, advocates and decision-makers. Long before “storytelling” became a business buzzword, Harvey quietly trained millions of listeners to do something essential to justice and resolution: withhold judgment until the full context is known.

If you are unfamiliar with Paul Harvey, I recommend listening to his stories of revelation. I had the blessing of being able to listen to him every morning before elementary school, and only recently have I begun to appreciate the insight I passively gained then. His famous radio segment, “The Rest of the Story,” followed a deceptively simple structure. Harvey would present a set of facts that felt complete enough to form a conclusion. Listeners would form opinions. And then, patiently and deliberately, he would reveal the missing context that changed everything. The genius was not the twist; it was the lesson. What we think we know is often the least important part of the story.

That insight sits at the very heart of effective mediation and advocacy. 

When Stories Feel Complete—but Aren’t

Most disputes arrive in mediation as polished, although biased, narratives. Each side is confident. Each version feels internally coherent. Each party believes the other is either wrong, unreasonable or acting in bad faith. Yet experienced mediators know that positional stories are rarely complete stories. They are edited, compressed and shaped by emotion, fear and self-protection. Resolution emerges not when arguments get sharper, but when context gets wider.

Harvey’s work reminds us that truth is less persuasive when forced, but it is transformative when discovered. He never scolded listeners for being wrong. In fact, it was his goal to lead the witness through expectant rabbit trails. He allowed them to recognize their own incomplete understanding. That same posture builds trust in mediation. Parties are far more willing to move when they feel heard rather than corrected, when insight arises rather than being imposed. They want to tell their story and be understood.

Another enduring lesson from Harvey’s storytelling is the power of humanizing history and, by extension, normalizing conflict. Many of his stories centered on figures who were misunderstood, overlooked or judged prematurely. Mediators see this daily. Beneath hardened litigation postures are origin stories: a business decision made under pressure, a relationship strained by silence, a moment where fear or uncertainty, not malice, took the lead. When those stories surface, empathy follows, and with it, movement.

Making Room for the Rest of the Story

Harvey also modeled intellectual humility. By designing stories that exposed how easily assumptions form, he trained listeners to be slower, more curious and less certain. Proverbs 18 :17 states it this way: “The first one to plead his cause seems right, until his neighbor comes and examines him.” In mediation, recognition and humility are not weaknesses; they’re leverage. They create space for creativity, interest-based solutions and durable agreements that reflect the realities of the people involved, not just the legal claims on paper.

Perhaps most importantly, Harvey trusted his audience. He trusted them to listen patiently, sit with ambiguity and absorb the moral weight of the story without needing it delivered at high volume. That trust is mirrored in the best mediation rooms, where mediators respect the intelligence of counsel and clients alike and where resolution is guided rather than forced.

Harvey’s legacy offers mediators a simple but profound reminder: Every conflict has a “rest of the story.” Our job is not to rush past it, but to create the conditions where it can finally be told. Litigators who tell their story with this understanding and mediators who perpetually seek “the rest of the story” demonstrate a mastery of what Harvey would advise his audience: The time we spend in mediation can be a “good day.”