• Abstract and Figures
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Excerpts from John Beams’ Manuscript: 30 Years of Batterer Intervention ©2013

Contents

Chapter II—“Drip, Drip, Drip”…………………………………..Page 2 Chapter IV—“The Seven Detriments…………………………….Page 6 Chapter V—“Exploring Beliefs Through Dialogue……………..Page 22 2

CHAPTER II. Drip, Drip, Drip: Program structure that points inexorably to change. Touching the unconscious mind.

Change happens through ubiquitous messages from the program, messages that are repeated and underscored on multiple levels. These messages are relayed to program participants in many different ways: through the forms we use in sessions, the set-up of the room, the images on the wall, the weekly rituals or routines, and the subtle communications consistently given by the facilitator. I liken the presence of these constant messages to the steady movement of water in nature. Water will find a way through crevices, often in the form of a steady drip-drip-drip. Much that happens in intervention groups is unplanned, brought forward by the program participants or by the wider society. But everything that is planned in every group, and every program requirement, should be like the steady drip-drip-drip of water in nature. One drop of water does nothing. But, over time, the dripping can fill a puddle, a basin, a river. Over eons, dripping water can change rocks. I think that much of the change we inspire is not done through genius or innovation, or through cleverness or risky confrontation. Even dialogue, bringing truth into conscious awareness, is not the only way our program fosters change. Perhaps the biggest factor in men’s changing is the constant drip, drip, drip of ritual activity, week after week.

The group room is set up in a circle to decrease polarity between student and teacher. On the walls hang posters with images of Martin Luther King, Aung San Suu Kyi, Malcolm X, Nelson Mandella and other images that serve as a reminder that nonviolence is practical, ancient, and present in all cultures.

The structure of a batterer intervention program is at least as important as the curriculum content. How many weeks does it extend? What is required of the men before, during and after the program? What outputs and outcomes are expected? What are the rules leading to removal from the program or completion, and how are they implemented? What is the staffing infrastructure that allows clerical support, direct services, training and supervision, program monitoring, partner contact and networking as part of the coordinated community response to domestic violence?

I will not detail in-depth answers to the latter question, simply because it has been discussed at length by Ellen Pence and Michael Paymar in their work on the Duluth Model, and by countless other articles regarding coordinated community response. Additionally, the Center for Nonviolence is a founding member of our statewide batterer intervention committee, a project of the Indiana Coalition against Domestic Violence (ICADV) since the mid-1990s. This committee has promulgated a detailed fourteen-page set of “Standards for Batterer Intervention Programs,” under which the Center for Nonviolence is certified. The Center for Nonviolence program was a template for earliest draft of these standards, since our program was one of the first intervention programs in Indiana (1981). The Center, in turn, modeled its program around the work and thinking of Barbara Hart in her classic manual, Safety for Battered Women, Monitoring Batterer’s Programs. Barbara Hart has been an inspiration to the Center for Nonviolence almost since its inception, and she deserves much credit for her early involvement in a range of issues affecting battered women, one of which, thankfully, was the formation of batterers programs. She has been curious and tireless in networking and entering dialogue with providers all over the 3 country, and she formulated an early model that, it turns out, has withstood the rigors of time and practice.

For purposes of this writing, I will not try to offer a comprehensive overview of every structure of a good program, such as program monitoring, partner contact, staff training, and service contract enforcement. I refer the reader to the ICADV Standards for Batterer Intervention Programs (www.violenceresource.org), and to writings about the Duluth Model and curriculum. In this writing, I want to focus upon more subtle details of the work that are possibly unique to our program, and that may not be available elsewhere.

Here is a list of what the men must do, to complete our program:

 Complete an intake questionnaire assessing skill level and attitudes at the beginning.  Attend orientation.  Attend an intake session at which he completes a violence inventory and then explains at least one recent incident in which he used violence that was not trivial, not self-defense. (If he cannot do that, the session is terminated, no contract is signed, and he is referred back to the criminal justice system. There is a protocol with criminal justice referral sources that requires him then to confront the real possibility of serving a sentence which had been suspended on condition of program completion. )  Sign a service contract that acknowledges use of violence, commits to no violence, and to sobriety and includes a release so our staff can contact his partner/victim and the referring agency.  Attend 26 weekly group sessions.  Pay fees on a sliding scale.  Give an accountable check-in at each session stating what he did that was violent, the effect on the victim, and whether he kept his commitments for nonviolence and sobriety.  Complete ten worksheets, one during each of the ten “phase one” groups, that address skill building, violence inventories, and thinking about masculinity, respect and parenting.  Attend an individual “interim” conference to go over his ten worksheets from phase one.  Participate in a weekly group “centering” exercise involving personal focus and silence at the beginning of each phase two and three group.  Attend a “midpoint” individual conference between phase two and three during which he does another violence inventory of abuse tactics used since starting program, from which he selects a story to log in preparation for his phase three personal role play.  During phase three, actively participate in at least one (but usually more) role play sessions involving his own use of violence or abuse and another role play demonstrating competent nonviolent alternatives.  Constructively critique other participants’ role play activity and closure letters.  Complete exit questionnaire demonstrating skill level and attitudes at the beginning.  Write and deliver a personal “closure letter” including a description of his violence, effects, changes in beliefs, naming areas of abuse he is still prone to use, making a statement of compassion about the victim, naming three skills he will use, and identifying what steps he will take to maintain sobriety. 4

Drip-drip-drip. On one level, the interpersonal skill and knowledge of the facilitator is secondary to the practice of keeping track of the compliance with all of the above activities. By the time a man completes the program, he has participated in and observed others perform countless ritualized activities of accountability that change his focus. All of these ritualized activities provide the “container” within which the more fluid dialogue is conducted.

There is substantial time set aside during sessions for entering into dialogue. Opportunities for the men to question things, object to things, and “be honest” about what they think. But, in the context of centering, check-in, regular role plays, closure letters, the dialogue is altered. It is easier for the facilitator to maintain a mature group focus as she points to questions about how we came to be shaped, as men, in our attitudes toward women and children, whether we really have free will to change our beliefs and our behavior, and, not just whether, but how to become nonviolent.

Not long ago, I conducted an interim conference with a young man, about 20 years old, who had battered and strangled the mother of his child. In an individual conference, he expressed how hateful this woman is and how he dislikes her. But, in check-in in front of the group, he just states, every week, “My name is Demetrius. I’m here for grabbing, hitting and strangling Amesha, causing her to be afraid of me, to have pain and bruises, and to avoid any contact with me, making it hard for me to have a relationship with our son. No violence this past week. No drugs or alcohol.” This is not how Demetrius would have chosen his words if he had been invited only to say “honestly” what happened on the night of his arrest. This check-in is formulated as a group norm, in which we ask each man to make a one-sentence statement of what he did that was violent. We ask him to demonstrate personal discipline and accountability by leaving out any reference to what the other person did to “provoke” him to violence. We also ask each man to give the name of the “victim” (a word I put in quotes because, to the man who first begins the program, it is coded language referring to the person who, in his mind, “caused” him to be arrested, the person—usually a woman—who wouldn’t let it drop, wouldn’t back off, or wouldn’t give him room to breathe. He does not tend to see her as a victim when he begins the program). We ask him to state, in a respectful, or at least in a neutral way, what the effect of his act of violence was on the “victim,” and on other people such as neighbors, mothers, and children. Normally, each man in the group, even those who are fairly resistant, makes a statement at check-in similar in quality to the one attributed to Demetrius, above. This sets a tone for the group that then permits men to range into the more nuanced terrain of exploring what really happens when we become violent, what leads up to it, and what are our alternatives. Everyone, including facilitators, recognize that this check-in is rote and may not be heart-felt by all. But the effect of it is to ritually bend the tone of group in favor of accountability.

This ritual, and others like it, get into the men in ways that is hard to understand. Is this shame? I don’t think so, and I’ll tell you why. We are overtly coaching the men to “be accountable.” We are not ordering them to do so. We are not threatening them with removal if they don’t speak just the way we tell them. We appeal to their interest in having a positive group experience. We tell them that accountability is the foundation of a good group. We tell them that we have worked with groups that are highly accountable and ones that are not. It is really up to them, as a group 5 which way to go. We are transparent that we understand that the check-in is formulaic, that is, it is not a full-blown rendition of a story of two people fighting, but is the extraction of what the man, alone, did that was violent. In a way, we are standing back, with the man, looking at the check-in, and asking him to just do it, even though he doesn’t fully feel it. The check-in is presented almost as a form of role play.

After weeks of repetition, the “phony” check-in begins to take on a tone of authenticity. We normalize this practice by noting that everyone else is checking in that way, and that we know that no one “feels” like doing so. We suggest that it is a sign of personal discipline and courage when a man can put aside his need to explain his reasons and what the other person did to him first. We assure them that there will be times and places where the full story can be shared, but not at check-in. Perhaps most importantly, the facilitators themselves check in with authentic recitations of what we did, in our past, which was violent.

During the interim conference, Demetrius shared that one morning as he woke up, his new partner said he had been talking in his sleep. She heard him say, “Hi. My name is Demetrius. I’m here for grabbing, hitting and strangling my ex-partner Amesha, causing her to be afraid of me and to have bruises and pain” Demetrius’ check-in was factual. But he had memorized it and was stating it by rote at the opening ritual of each class. I see this as evidence that the work we do in group does enter the minds of the participant at an unconscious level.

Although most of our effort is what Paolo Freire calls “conscientization”—bringing to full consciousness the oppressive beliefs men have operated with unconsciously, and giving them a chance, consciously, to replace these with new beliefs that are not oppressive, it must also be noted that the “drip, drip, drip” effect of weekly group rituals enters directly into the men’s unconscious minds, and can make positive change at that level. If the “drip, drip, drip” effect were all we were doing, we would not be using the Duluth Model that promotes critical thinking through dialogue. We would be promoting the living of life unconsciously, thus continuing to have men subrogate their power to choose how to live. We would be promoting an unconscious submission to whatever repetitious, monotonous influences they may have in their surroundings, which, in the case of too many of them, consists of television violence, videogame reactivity, cruel chiding horseplay at work, and negative stereotyping of women. But we believe this: the practice of wholesome program routines feed directly into the unconscious mind. When used as a supplement to conscious dialogue and critical thought, the steady “drip, drip, drip” of program routines supports the process of change overall.

Recently, I conducted an interview with one of our founders, Sox Sperry, who shared this memory about how all of the various practices and rituals of his batterer’s group gradually affected one man:

I remember a guy who was in group, I don’t remember his name but, I remember he was an angry man like so many men who come in and his “check-in” in his first Phase One group and into Phase Two was: “I’m here because I hit my wife when she cheated on me.” Over and over he’d say that. And it always rang with resentment and justification. And I remember when the guy checked out, seven months or more later, after lots of 6

work, lots of challenge to his check-in and his story, he said: “I’m here because I hit my wife with a bat and beat her with a bat because she had gotten shelter in the arms of somebody else after I had abused her so much for so long that she couldn’t take it any more.” He’d never really said it just like that before—and he really meant it. And people heard it, and those of us who heard it, remembered all the other check-ins where he’d started by blaming her, and we thought, well, if the Center for Nonviolence in that moment, can help this guy really change his “check-in,” by his own hard work and fellowship and challenge with other guys over these months, then, that means that a little bit of change is possible, maybe.

Done properly, each of the program rituals establishes a routine practice that the men just go along with as part of what must be done to complete the program and get the system off their back. It is up to the facilitator to plod along with this “drip-drip-drip” process, and then to add the substantive ingredient of real dialogue, bringing curiosity, love and faith to the men in the process. Group ritual and rote learning, which enter the unconscious mind, are very important, yet should never be substituted for real, honest, authentic dialogue, through which the unconscious becomes conscious. Both are needed.

CHAPTER IV. A way of working that promotes healthy changes while avoiding “The Seven Detriments.”

Over three decades of working with batterers, I have noticed seven detrimental qualities exhibited by many who enroll in the program. I never offer this list as a “profile of the batterer” because, first, we find many of these qualities in the general population. Secondly, not all seven qualities appear in all batterers, sometimes only a few do. Third, there is no good reason to diagnose personalities and label people. Batterers are “people who have battered,” i.e., people who have hurt and controlled others, caused fear, made people feel less than human. Legally, a batterer is anyone who “touches another in a rude, insolent or angry manner.” A simple admission that he has, during at least one incident, battered someone is all we require in order to allow a man into the program. Hardly enough, in itself, to justify a personality diagnosis.

I discuss these seven qualities to help all of us who facilitate programs to avoid accidentally reinforcing the men’s tendencies. As a facilitator, if I focus too much on one thing, I may inadvertently promote battering behavior. Here are the “seven detriments:”

Self as victim. Troubled relationship to authority. Stereotyped view of women and women’s role. Rigid thinking. Lack of functional empathy. Normalization of violence or abuse. Seeing nonviolence as weak, feminine or ineffective.

It might help to expand a bit: 7

Self as Victim. Men attending the batterer intervention program (BIP) are often highly attuned to and vigilant about the ways they feel victimized by women, police, judges, teachers, and others. They will quickly bond with other men in group to discuss the collective victimization of men, or to share particular stories about the mistreatment of a man by a wife or partner. Conversely, many tend to have little interest in or patience with the notion that men victimize women. Not being able to consider women’s victimization denies the men in the BIP an opportunity to understand something important about how women’s reality is shaped in our society. When we lack an understanding of how women’s reality is shaped in our society, we men tend to misinterpret women’s behavior.

Implications for the facilitator. The most obvious implication is that we facilitators should not intentionally be doing things that we know will add to the participant’s self-perception as a victim. We should not unnecessarily speak or act in ways that promote that feeling. This becomes complicated when we are charged with holding men accountable. We do have to collect fees. We do have to report re-offenses. We do have to remain in charge of group process so as to allow everyone a chance to talk and so as to counter oppressive language.

But over the years I have actually heard colleagues say that part of the men’s punishment is to go through our program. I have seen facilitators talk to men as if they were children, or, worse, speak to them as if they were prison inmates.

There is a lot of background grumble in mandated groups that “All you care about is the money.” A facilitator who does not appreciate how difficult it is for many of the men to come up with money to pay our fees is at risk of reinforcing the men’s collective feeling of victimhood. It is wise to develop an attitude of gratefulness and humility when men are paying fees and when it is time to inform them that they have missed too many classes and must be referred back to court. It is also important to have a sliding fee scale that is reasonable for men at all levels. Ironically, it is also important to have a set of rules about attendance and fee payment that is firm and uniform, and that we apply rigorously. A subjective system of rules is a breading ground for the perception—and maybe the reality—of unfair treatment.

If I operate every group as an “open forum”—posing questions and letting anyone talk as much as he wants—I invite the feeling of victimization: there is a limited amount of time. Often, a man in group will become highly indignant with me when, after he has gone on and on making his points, I step in and ask if we can move on, or I sort of step in to call on someone else. Sometimes this man will be speaking at such a pace that I have to jump in, as if hopping onto a turning merry-go-round. A good way to keep out of this trap is to anticipate it. Things go better when the facilitator, as she asks a questions, instructs how long each person may talk and in what order. She might ask for just one word or phrase. She might establish answers as a “go-round,” where each person—or every other person—in the circle gives an answer, and she tells the group how much time they have for this activity. Another way I may anticipate a problem with a participant who likes to dominate group is to pull him aside, quietly and respectfully before group, and tell him I really appreciate his interest in the conversations, and ask him to agree not to hold it against me if I have to move on. Sometimes this early agreement will help him to avoid misinterpreting my intent when I do step in. 8

But, feeling like victims is an ongoing struggle for many of the men. It is a mistake to laugh it off or take the attitude, “man up.” There are moments when it may actually be helpful to invite men to describe the ways they may actually have been victimized. Especially, in anticipation of a theme in which we want to sensitize them to how they intimidate or hurt women or children, it can be very helpful to spend time on the men’s childhood experiences that often do involve intense, unaddressed victimization. A focus on men’s victimization should never be presented as an end in itself because if we end a group this way, although the group will be uplifted and bonded, we will have reinforced their perceived role as victims. The lesson is not, “I am a batterer because I was mistreated as a child,” but rather, “From my childhood, I know what it feels like to be mistreated. Now that I am a man, I do not want to pass this feeling on to others.”

Troubled Relationship to Authority. A troubled relationship to authority for a man in our group could manifest either in the form of authoritarian tendencies, or its opposite, general resentment of authority.

Men with authoritarian tendencies may attend groups flawlessly, pay fees diligently, sign in exactly the same every time, try hard to get the teachings, then go home and impose a standard of perfection on everyone perceived as below them on the hierarchy. Men who resent authority tend to see the enforcement of simple, objective group rules such as “attend weekly” or “be on time,” as personally directed at them.

Men who resent authority will try to put their wife/partner in the role of “mother” and then abuse her in “self-defense.” They will see her effort to call 911 as an act of violence on her part. Even at the end of the program, when asked for a belief that will motivate him to respond nonviolently in the future, a man who has a troubled relationship to authority will often respond, “It’s not worth it.” Such men are still expressing their troubled relationship to authority.

Implications for the facilitator. Working with men who have Authoritarian tendencies. In working with men who have authoritarian tendencies we facilitators should not over-promote authority. Whenever a participant settles a discussion by stating something like, “You just have to do it. It’s the law” even if he is making a true statement, the facilitator should ask the men to look more deeply at it. Why is it the law? Would you really eliminate this law if you had the power? Are there other reasons to be nonviolent, besides staying out of trouble? Authoritarian people do not easily see how society works better when everyone understands the rules and chooses to go along with them because the rules promote a safer, more consistent, happier existence. Authoritarian people don’t care much how underlings feel about complying with rules, and they do not expect “higher-ups” to care how they feel. This is a hopelessly confusing conundrum in a relationship with a woman who supposedly is his equal. It also makes it hard for him to educate and guide children.

The facilitator can talk to participants who are highly compliant and structured about being highly compliant and structured. I often will ask such a man if his current or past partners have complained that he treats them like children. He will be surprised that I know this. I can explain why I know it: “You are a man who places a high value on obedience, cleanliness and order. Not 9 everyone is that way. It is okay not to be that way. In fact, men who are very structured are often attracted to women who are not so tight. Can you see that your life might be happier and richer if you could loosen up and stop sweating the small stuff?” Often, he is able to agree to this, and this is not the first time he has been told this. The facilitator can then help him craft an “action plan” to make some progress while in the program. This takes his focus off of the chaos of his partner and onto the more difficult task of personal change. (This conversation is in the context of a program that is trying to normalize the practice of finding our own shortcomings and blind spots.) An authoritarian perfectionist may be self-critical about his “reaction” of violence, or about other ways he has fallen short of his own standards of behavior, but he has a lot of trouble seeing that perfectionism itself is a flaw that really makes him hard to live with.

Here is where we must discuss “God-talk.” A program facilitator who has a strong religious practice in his or her personal life may feel like the group is making progress when a group member brings God into the discussion, and the group members listen. Actually, the facilitator should begin to worry. Even when a participant is citing religious authority in an effort to support what the program is promoting, his “God-talk” introduces another conversational element that supports authoritarianism. He is invoking an ancient, traditional set of beliefs that, in the minds of the program participants, are understood primarily by religious experts (priests, pastors, or the Pope). The program facilitator is not recognized by all of the participants as one of those experts. Once religious answers are accepted in group as legitimate answers, the logic and authority of each person’s religious tradition is seen to be the central guiding principle. A group’s reliance upon religious scripture for answers to questions posed hampers the development of critical thinking about the society we live in and about the premises of our own behavior. By definition, God is the unquestionable authority. What God says, goes. Those who know more about the Bible than others, then become the authority on what is right. (Those in the room who resent authority may drop out, mentally, at this point.) Each program participant has some relationship to religion, positive or negative, a relationship that the program facilitator really has no way of understanding. “God” becomes a code in which the Bible-quoting participant promotes his ideas of authoritarianism, male dominance and the just use of violence, concepts which become impossible to examine through merely secular discourse in a court- ordered program. It can even baffle the facilitator’s promotion of critical thinking when participants are quoting scripture with a good intention of validating points being made by the BIP. Scripture is seen as proclamations of unquestionable external authority, proclamations of which men are thought to be the predominant custodians.

“God-talk” tends to reinforce people’s authoritarian tendencies, unless it is facilitated in a religious context in which a recognized religious leader is trained and skilled to help students question authoritarianism and male dominance, while retaining and building spiritual faith. That is a task that is beyond the scope and training of most batterer intervention programs. I argue that it violates the spirit of the First Amendment to accept court mandated clients and then promote a religious view as the answer to their problems, unless each participant is given the choice between entering a religious framework or a purely secular one. (On the Duluth website you will find curriculum and training for facilitation of Christian batterer’s groups, using the essentials of the Duluth Model.) 10

Ellen Pence once told a story about a span of time when she was monitoring the local court. She observed that, on days the court was making determinations on whether to release men on bond or probation one guy after another would stand up and say, “Your honor, while in jail, I’ve had a chance to read the Bible. I’ve seen the light. I’ve found Jesus. If you give me a chance, you’ll see I’m a changed man.” Ellen remarked, “Never once did I hear a man say, ‘Your honor, while in jail, I’ve seen the light. I’ve seen that women are the equal of men, that I’ve been sexist and oppressive, and that violence toward women and children has no place in my life. I’ve committed my life to ending sexism and abuse of women.”

What’s the facilitator to do? As with so many other dilemmas, the middle path is best. If you have a “rule” against talking about religion, you again reinforce the feeling of rigidity and authoritarianism. Periodically, it may be good to mention to group members that this is a program where we examine ideas together openly, and, since there are men here from a wide range of religious traditions, or men who may have been abused as children by religious people, we are hesitant to promote religious ideas. Good ideas are good ideas and can be defended without citing religious authority because they are logical and promote happy, functional lives. It is best if the facilitator not wait to oppose “God-talk” until after a participant has engaged in God-talk. It is better to address our secular parameter by way of anticipation that God-talk may take place. Then, when someone does mention God, the facilitator does not have to contradict him, but can redirect by asking someone if that same principle can be explained in a secular way. If the group is asked to do so prior to the onslaught of a religious debate, even religious members of the group will understand and respect the facilitator’s desire to work in a non-religious format.

Over the years, I have found that the less hard-edged I am about challenging men’s ideas, especially firmly held ones like religion, the less often I have to get into a head-to-head conflict with a group member. Avoiding head-to-head conflict keeps me in a pretty good position from which to facilitate without reinforcing authoritarian ideas.

Working with men who resent authority. A man who just resents authority, and doesn’t believe there should be rules, or at least not ones that apply to him, also has a problem with authority that is different than those with authoritarian tendencies. A man who resents authority will keep trying to put the facilitator in the role of the oppressor-authoritarian. This advice may seem counter-intuitive, but I think it is best, in dealing with men who resent authority, to have a firm set of rules that are understandable, rules that are clearly and repeatedly explained to everyone, and rules that are uniformly enforced. Don’t make exceptions even when you “understand.” If you bend the rules for anyone, those who resent authority will find out that exceptions were made and they will use that as evidence to support their resentment. Even if you bend the rules for the man who resents authority, he now knows that the rules are enforced by the choice (or whim) of the facilitator, and he will very likely present another and another situation that call for exception. When you finally turn him down, he will resent you because you both know you had the power to say yes but chose not to.

Why does this matter? Because, people who resent authority tend to disregard silly little things like protective orders, laws against battery, reasonable boundaries set by their partner, ex-partner or children, and they will go as far as you will permit in bending or breaking group rules. Simple, clear, equal, consistent enforcement, without a big display of emotions (don’t show too much 11 satisfaction; don’t show too much sympathy; don’t enforce rules angrily) is the best way to handle this individual. Don’t be too happy when he misses his third class and is expelled, because there is a new guy waiting in line who also has a problem with authority.

There should be an “escape valve” that allows the program to make an exception without basing it on the whim or judgment of the individual facilitator. We tell participants that, if they think an exception should be made, they should put their question in writing. We will send it to “the committee,” which has the authority to make exceptions. The facilitator should not be seen as “the man” who has the ultimate authority, even if he happens to be the owner of the business running the program. It is better to keep giving the message, “Here are the rules. I don’t have the authority to make exceptions.” Even if you are on “the committee” and even if “the committee” is only two staff members, you are stepping back from the pressure of immediate personal persuasion and examining the request objectively in light of past practices. This is much like personnel management. Finding a fair, clear, uniform system for having rules is a big part of teaching batterers to change, to let go of their resentment of authority.

I suspect that the Center for Nonviolence may draw more vocalizations of discontent and open criticism by clients than other programs, because of our commitment to collective management and promoting a spirit of empowerment and democracy with the program participant. Batterers groups involve a population that is not skilled in participating in democracy, so they test the limits. Our task is to respect the participant’s right to ask questions about authority without permitting him to dismantle the integrity of the program.

We have found it very useful in this context to provide regular opportunities for participants to give anonymous written feedback to the facilitators. Participants are given a form that invites feedback on the competence, respectfulness, and quality of the facilitation and of the program. The participant rates the facilitator on a 1-5 scale and can write narratives. He folds the evaluation and places it in a metal lock box hanging on the wall in the reception area. Every couple of months, the receptionist types up every word of every narrative, and calculates average scores. Facilitators get very honest feedback and participants are given the message that we really do care about how we are affecting their lives.

Another thing that we make available for clients in order to promote an atmosphere of fairness within the rules is a written complaint procedure that is posted on the wall. Any participant may complain about his facilitator’s conduct and have his complaint reviewed by an independent staff member and, ultimately, by the coordinating panel (board of directors.)

Another tip: Don’t promote the idea that the practices of the police and justice system are always consistent with the teachings of the batterer intervention program. Be careful here. We exist because judges and probation officers refer men to us, men who have been arrested by police. But, the system is extremely hierarchical and it can draw individuals who are authoritarian. The men notice this fact. Especially men of color will be able to tell stories of how they have been abused during an arrest, while in jail, or in open court. If we pretend that the whole system is OK as is, we reinforce authoritarianism. If we spend much time on listening to men’s stories of victimization by the system, we reinforce men’s beliefs that they are victims. We can use any story of oppression as a “code”—a seed-story that contains information about the human 12 condition from which we can learn—and bring the wisdom of this story back to the question of how we can change our beliefs and behavior so as to be effective in our family relationships without being oppressive. In short, if you don’t like the way the cop treated you, why would you treat your son that way when he breaks your rules? What alternatives do you have?

Stereotyped View of Women and Women’s Role. Men who attend the BIP are quick to see women as “other”: “Women’s thinking cannot be understood.” “It is futile for a man to explain his feelings or behavior, because she, being ‘so different,’ could never understand him any more than he could understand her.” When asked, “How do you think she felt when you did that?” a common answer is “I don’t know” (without curiosity.) Men in the BIP may marvel at women for shopping, gossiping, competing with other women, and focusing so much on appearance. The men have trouble seeing how these are behaviors of a “normal” human being adapting to life in a society that systematically takes away her right to equality and power.

I have at times done a civil rights time-line of American History, in which I track the developments in philosophy and law regarding race and gender, going back to the Declaration of Independence, abolitionist conventions of 1840, through the Seneca Falls Convention for women’s suffrage, 1848, the post-Civil War amendments and civil rights legislation, the 1920 Constitutional Amendment giving women the vote, and the more recent civil rights legislation of the sixties and seventies, followed by “no-fault” divorce, the opening of women’s shelters and the development of “preferred arrest” police practices in domestic violence. My point is to help men see the march of human history, the changes in society and culture that accompany more enlightened views about oppression and liberation, and the collective changes in human beliefs that really do result in behavior changes. I want the men to recognize that we live in an exciting but troubled era involving some confusion about how things should be. We live in a transitional era that will unfold as we live our lives. I quote Paolo Freire, “Culture is what people make.” I tell the men that I give them credit for arising to the challenge of having, for the first time in history, really to choose what to believe about the status of women, a challenge that our grandfathers never faced and about which they may have had little to teach us.

It is common for the men to believe that women’s quest for equality is a transition stage to an ultimate political outcome of female dominance. One time, I asked a group of men to tell me what they thought would be the status of men and women a hundred years from now. Several responded by stating that they projected that women and men will have reversed roles, with women dominating and using all the forms of violence over men, and women occupying all of the political offices and jobs, while men stay unemployed and disenfranchised. I was stunned.

Implications for the facilitator. This stereotyped view of women and women’s role is a big factor in batterer’s groups. It takes shape almost instantly and without warning. If the facilitator clamps down on it too hard, he then reinforces men’s views that they are victims in an authoritarian world. The curriculum of a good program will guide the facilitator again and again into discussions about gender, power and stereotyping. Sometimes the facilitator has to stop what was planned and conduct yet another dialogue about negative stereotyping. (Positive stereotyping of women isn’t much better, because, like “church mind,” it doesn’t hold up outside of the group setting. Positive stereotypes dissolve quickly into negative ones when things don’t go as planned. Positive stereotyping and negative stereotyping are from the same root stock as authoritarianism: 13 trying to get all the rules of life down so I don’t have to think or to use discernment and wisdom as I move ahead).

When a man mindlessly reiterates a stereotype, one simple technique for the facilitator is just to go up to the board and silently write the stereotyping phrase just spoken. Let the discussion finish. Later, ask “Why did I write this on the board?” If the facilitator is doing her job over time, several men will emit a good-natured chuckle when she stands and writes this on the board. They remember her concern about stereotyping of women. Their light bulbs are on. A man who remains clueless begins to wonder how he can get up to speed.

Sometimes we facilitators are tempted to make general statements about men’s behavior and women’s behavior in order to educate the group about, for example, the effect of social role conditioning. Be careful not to over-use this. It looks and feels a lot like stereotyping, and it will be hard to explain why you object when a man says, “You know how women are.”

Don’t ever let a man say, “You know how women are” without pausing to do a little workshop on gender stereotyping. I have never heard a helpful phrase come out of a man’s mouth after he started with that declaration. It is a declaration that is intended to circle up all of the men in the room to agree on some salient, distasteful truth about all (or most) women. His intent isn’t always disruptive, but is often to encourage men just to accept the way women are and not to sweat the small stuff. But the effect of unchallenged stereotyping is always destructive to the critical thinking and choice-driven life we are promoting.

In the last decade or two, men have been coming to group with homespun (and sometimes clinical) diagnoses of their partners as “bi-polar.” This is another variation of the stereotyped view of women. To be bi-polar is to have those hated mood swings. Very seldom do men talk about other men as bi-polar. Seldom do bi-polar men wax eloquent about how their own disorder causes everyone around them to suffer. The bi-polar problem is almost always about some woman who is not in the room, and it evokes exactly the same sympathies as does “you know how women are.” The trap for the facilitator is that we are capable of leading the men on the journey of “how can you cope with a bi-polar woman” or “why don’t you leave the bi-polar woman?” I have gone down that road in many groups, only to regret it later for getting off track. Both the promulgation of negative stereotypes and the bi-polar partner complaint are closely allied with the “self as victim, men as victim” theme.

It takes real focus and awareness for the facilitator to promote active dialogue with men about “what do I do that hurts and controls others?” and “what can I do differently?” when you have men who want to talk about “you know how women are.” When you just say, “that’s out of bounds” you reinforce their tendency to turn you into an authoritarian figure to dislike. You thus unwittingly pique their interest in the “forbidden” material, motivating them to search for more ways to keep stereotyping women.

This tendency of the men to blame and stereotype women makes it important to promote discussion about the big picture: the unfolding story of history, the cumulative effects of violence against women (including daughters of the men), and the power we have to make culture. Most men who come to groups have never thought about these things. Most of them never considered 14 that they actually are agents of social change and can decide upon their own belief system. Most men associate “belief” with “what is.” We are trying to educate them to the fact that our beliefs are thought forms that we currently hold. To move forward, we can consider accepting new beliefs. But, to be real, a belief must be actually held, it must be embraced as “the best rendition of truth I can currently muster.”

We who have worked in the civil rights movement had to come to terms with the fact of unconscious discrimination. People always said that it was easier to deal with racism in the South than in the North, because in the South, it was overt and was openly stated. In the North, it was unspoken. It was denied openly and sometimes, inwardly. This is where I believe most of our men are, in relation to their thinking about women. Occasionally there will be an outbreak of open woman-bashing in group. But nowadays, most men claim to believe in equality. For them that is the end of the story. The task of the facilitator is to find ways to help the men enter into awareness of how they continue to cling, unconsciously, to beliefs about male privilege and male superiority that surface in certain key moments, creating problems in their relationships with women. The reality of their unconscious beliefs is very hard for most of the men to see and to accept, because often they are not trained in abstract thought, and most of them have lived lives that do not place a high value on the skills of introspection.

One of our program “outcome measures” is whether, in the man’s closure letter, he was able to name changes in his oppressive beliefs. The closure letter is a letter he writes for delivery to the group at his last session. He has been given a form that prompts him with seven questions to consider including “my beliefs,” but his assignment is not just to answer the questions like an interrogatory, but to write from the heart, to the group. Recently, dissatisfied with the quality of the men’s closure letters, we decided to make copies of all seven of the “outcome measures,” so group members could have this in their laps as they listen to the reading of the man’s closure letter during his last group session. Then, group members are invited to critique the man’s closure letter in light of the seven outcomes being measured. We immediately realized that the men had no idea what “oppressive beliefs” are.

This realization helped us to “teach to the test” in that we began to define oppressive beliefs as beliefs about another group of people, based upon stereotype, that have the effect of putting them down. “Women are emotionally unstable.” “Women’s role is to remain barefoot and pregnant.” Since closure letters may be read on any given night, we have multiple chances to revisit what we mean by “oppressive beliefs,” and to work a discussion of oppressive beliefs into our weekly dialogues and role plays. It is our hope that the repetitive discussion of oppressive beliefs will gradually help the men recognize that they do harbor beliefs, many of which are unconscious.

Ellen Pence was a master at conducting dialogue in ways that these oppressive beliefs come to the surface and get spoken in the voice of one who is scientifically examining his inner life. Enabling true dialogue is a facilitation skill that is not so easy to learn, but in some ways is at the core of the work, especially the process of changing men’s negative stereotypes of women’s role.

Rigid Thinking. Often, men in the BIP have not experienced environments where their thinking process was valued. “Debate” becomes the clever or aggressive offering of sound-byte truisms until someone gives in and someone prevails. The idea of adding different ideas together to 15 create new wisdom is beyond imagination. The idea of asking other people what they think is seen as a weakness in one’s own thinking. Posing questions is seen as a threat to orthodoxy: Men in the BIP tend to believe that there is a right answer to everything. Being “right” justifies abusing someone who clings to being “wrong.”

Often times, when we watch a vignette where a man uses violence, or when a group member tells a story about a conflict with his partner, the conversation quickly turns to whether group members agree upon which party was right and which was wrong in the argument. If the group happens to think the woman’s argument was right, then they are critical of the man who responds with intimidation or emotional abuse. When they believe that the man’s argument was right, then they tend to give him a pass on the use of abuse. The use of coercion and abuse to silence your debating-opponent and thus win an argument is so common that it often goes unnoticed. To forego abusiveness and coerciveness when your side of the argument is clearly right seems to them like a waste of time. To the participants, foregoing coercion seems like coddling some fool who refuses to look at reality. The aversion to coddling fools infects one’s life, and tends to reduce all discourse to sound bytes. Whoever has more power dominates; he sets the rules. The belief in my right to dominate when I am correct does not set an atmosphere in which anyone can learn to think things through and consider dissenting opinions. In a familial atmosphere of righteous truisms, children are the big losers because there is a heavy emphasis upon obedience rather than critical thinking.

This pattern of handling ideas in rigid tones of black and white is so instilled in the men that they tend to be highly suspicious of the facilitator when he tries to pose questions. They see the questions as a Socratic trap that they will fall into, rather than a simple invitation to share opinions, express differences, and develop ideas in a common quest for truth.

Implications for the facilitator. We teach two skills in particular that are designed to counter rigid thinking. The first is the ability to listen and paraphrase. The second is the ability to make a competent “I-feel” statement when something is bothering you. Both skills really require personal discipline, an ability to set aside one’s impulse to force the other person to back down, a willingness to respect and value the other person, even when she is saying something with which you powerfully disagree. Both listening and making an “I-feel” statement evoke the ability to be mindful of emotions as they are occurring, and to describe them rather than merely to act them out. My experience is that most of the men do not “master” these skills during their relatively short time in the program. But these two skills are on a short list of five skills that we teach on a repetitive basis so the men will see others try again and again to use the skills properly. Our hope is that the premise of rigid thinking will break down, and people will become more open about real discourse and discussion. This is why we try to facilitate a process of critical group feedback after a role play is performed and after the reading of a closure letter.

Our hope is to normalize the expression of differing opinions in a context where people are not trying to harm or dominate each other. Don’t be fooled by the “different strokes for different folks” attitude, however. When a man reacts to a new idea by saying “different strokes for different folks,” he is not raising a sign of flexibility, but a signal that he has stopped listening or caring about what the other is saying. The trick to making progress against our own rigid thinking is to be interested in the areas where we differ and to remain invested enough to keep 16 listening and speaking until we really come to terms with each other. Rigid thinking is detrimental to nonviolent relationships. Being able to consider others’ ideas is fundamental to the development of compassion.

Lack of Functional Empathy. Men who come to the BIP often wax eloquent about the importance of love, empathy, and understanding. But, when asked to perform a role-play in which they demonstrate empathy to someone who is angry or mistreating them, they cannot do it. Often, they cannot do it even when offered specific words or phrases to try. Men in the BIP often have a general shortcoming in their emotional literacy. But the lack of functional empathy really limits their nonviolent choices.

Implications for the facilitator. I sat down with a man named Herbie recently for his “midpoint conference.” The “midpoint conference” is a personal meeting between phase two and three of the program, by which point he has attended twenty of the twenty-nine sessions of the program. Herbie had only eight sessions to go after today. As I reviewed his file, I noted to myself that Herbie was a stalker. He had contacted and followed his partner for months, long after she had made it clear that it was over, and even after she had gotten a new boyfriend. At one point, he had called her several times in the middle of the night. During one of those calls he told her that he had just acquired a gun, and that, “If something happened,” he hoped she would not try to blame him.

During this midpoint conference, he made the statement that he had been arrested because he had just done something stupid, once, and that he really didn’t belong in this program. I asked him how he thought Sarah felt when he threatened her with the gun. He first corrected me, stating that he did not actually threaten her. In fact, he had in mind her boyfriend when he was thinking of using the gun. So, I used his own wording: “How do you think Sarah felt when you told her you had a gun and you hoped she wouldn’t try to blame you if something happened?”

Well, Herbie could not get his imagination past his rendition of his own intent. His intent was just, he said, “to wake Sarah up and get her to listen to” him. He could not get his imagination past his stated belief that, if Sarah were to listen to him, she would see things his way and come back to him. The fact that Sarah was not coming back to him was evidence that she was not yet listening to him. After being charged with invasion of privacy and spending five months in a batterer’s program, having no contact with Sarah, Herbie was still pining for her and still believing that he had just made a stupid little mistake, once (i.e., making a verbal reference to his gun). After 21 sessions in our program Herbie still believed that he and Sarah were meant to be together and that if she would just listen to him, she would awaken to this fact.

I asked Herbie if he couldn’t just look at this with compassion and see it from Sarah’s point of view. He told me that he does have compassion for Sarah. “I love her. I want the best for her. I want her back in my life.” I informed him that he was not describing compassion. Compassion is the ability to put yourself in her shoes, to use your imagination and understand all of this from her point of view.

I began with an examination of his threat. I asked him if he thought that Sarah would feel better if she knew that he was intending a threat to her new boyfriend and not to her directly. He 17 seemed actually to think so. I asked if he had ever known anyone who had lost a loved one to a homicide or suicide. He had had one friend, a woman, whose boyfriend had taken his own life. I asked if Herbie could describe all the suffering that his deceased acquaintance’s girlfriend had gone through as a result of the suicide of her ex-lover. “Yes,” Herbie answered, “She realized finally that he had loved her so much that he took his own life. But now it was too late for her to take him back.”

Herbie’s is an extreme case of a lack of empathy. Usually, when I sit down patiently with a man and ask these kinds of questions he is able to see, in that context, how self-centered he has been. He is then often able to put into words, with my help and support, how his story would be seen from the other person’s point of view. But, often, when a man returns back to his daily life, his ability to put himself in her shoes does not carry forward because he does not have his facilitator with him to coach him out of his self-centeredness.

What I mean by functional empathy is the ability to put yourself in her shoes out in the world, when your coach isn’t whispering in your ear. Herbie could not do it even with my coaching. And I don’t think he was playing with me. I think he really could not do it. The task of the midpoint conference is to help the man write a log, in his own handwriting, stating the actions he took that were abusive and controlling and the beliefs that supported his abuse.

In this case, I had to coach Herbie to write down just the exact words he had said to Sarah, and to write down what he had just said to me about expecting Sarah to wake up and see things his way. The second task of this log is for the men to write down nonviolent alternatives that were in fact available had they been seeking them. In Herbie’s case, his alternative would have been to leave Sarah alone and not call her in the first place. However, that alternative would not make a very good role play. To make the role play more interesting and to create a role play scenario that would challenge Herbie’s thinking, I posed the question of how Herbie should have reacted when Sarah said, “I don’t want to come back to you. I have a new boyfriend. Can’t we just be friends?”

Our program requires that Herbie read all of his midpoint conference notes in front of the group. The group members have seen enough Oprah Winfrey shows and other women’s programs that they know about the problem of stalking. When Herbie first told his story to the group, he made it sound like Sarah was being coy with him. He left out that she had been honest and had told him she was involved with another man. He implied that suddenly he saw her with another man as he approached the restaurant she happened to be in. To a man, all group members bit on his hook. They all blamed Sarah and sympathized with Herbie. When I mentioned that Sarah had said, “Herbie, I do not love you any more. I have another boyfriend. Can’t we just be friends?” and when I mentioned the conversation about the gun, the group members did an abrupt about- face, and began to press Herbie to recognize that he had been in a long-term campaign of stalking, rather than just “one stupid moment.”

Herbie then had to play the role of Sarah in front of the group. He had to listen to me (playing the role of Herbie) tell him (playing the role of Sarah) that I have a gun, etc. Finally, he had to do his follow-up role play in which he was to play himself, Herbie, and respond in a healthy way to “Sarah’s” invitation to be “just friends.” The group insisted that Herbie would have to say, out 18 loud, in front of the group, “No, Sarah. I love you, but I can’t just be your friend. I am going to just have to let you go.” He said those words. But, did it change anything?

Does scripted role play develop empathy? Maybe. Maybe not. In groups, we should be constantly asking men to put themselves in the shoes of their partner, or of the person with whom they have a conflict. It is only a mental exercise, at first. The hope is that it may evolve into a more authentic heart-felt understanding of other human beings. This is where the tone of the group is so important. A group tone that is authoritarian does not have a chance of teaching men functional empathy.

A partner outreach to Sarah would be a good idea, as well. She will need to do some safety planning, and be informed that Herbie is not really progressing to a point where he sees the problem any differently than when he was arrested. She should know the reality of Herbie’s thinking. (Partner contact is not done by the facilitator, but by separate, trained victim advocates.) Whether or not Herbie learns some rudimentary lessons about empathy, it is unlikely that he will be able to turn this into “functional empathy” before he completes the program in eight weeks. This example of the failure to use functional empathy is why it is important that we not sell batterer’s programs as a solution to the problem. We are engaging men in a process of change that may or may not continue after program completion. We are not purporting to turn non-compassionate men into compassionate men in 29 weeks. Nevertheless, we must include the development of empathy and compassion in our goals.

Normalization of Violence or Abuse. Controlling, coercive behaviors are so familiar that the men who come to the BIP often believe that abuse is “natural,” and nonviolence is “unnatural.” Memories of being “whupped” as children evoke benign chuckles or seeming nostalgia. Facilitators may be discounted because it is believed that they do not understand the reality of being poor, or are not part of a cultural group wherein abuse is said to be normal. Men in the BIP believe that hours and hours of participating in violent sports, violent video games, and watching violent movies do not impair their ability to act in a resourceful, nonviolent manner in their daily lives. “Watering the seeds” of nonviolence would be futile in a world where the normal, natural —or only—effective response would be violent.

So, there are two problems that promote the normalization of violence or abuse. The first is the mystical thinking of the men; a notion that they know the origin of human nature, and know it to be rooted in violence. The second is that, even if they could see that violence is no more rooted in our nature than nonviolence, the men, even in their adult lives, spend so much time reenacting violence that they do not have practical access points to nonviolent thinking and behavior. The preeminent Buddhist teacher, Thich Nhat Hanh, offers a brilliantly simple understanding of the human conundrum when he says that violence springs from a seed. He also says that nonviolence springs from a seed. The human being may choose to water the seeds that are around him, or not. To invite violent thoughts into our consciousness through our choices of entertainment, through the ingesting of substances that promote anger and paranoia, and through clinging to thought forms that promote conflict and contempt, is to water the seeds of violence. As the seeds of violence grow, they become strong. If we stop watering those seeds, the violence subsides. The same is true of nonviolence. At all times, each of us humans continues to possess the seeds of 19 violence in his or her heart. But, we each also continue to possess the seeds of nonviolence at all times. Which will we water? That is the question.

Men in our groups and in our society are so immersed in violent forms of entertainment that the idea of cutting back is very difficult to them. Add to this the drugs, the coffee, tobacco, alcohol, and other substances that keep feeding their anxiety and self-centeredness, and the idea of becoming nonviolent sometimes seems unattainable. They are often surrounded by environments that replicate violence over and over. Many of them grew up in a family and a community that offered a steady diet of violence, power and control tactics. It is easier for them just to say that violence is simply the human condition than to recognize that they continue daily to make choices to water the seeds of violence.

This hopelessness in the face of violence feeds a man’s sense of being a victim. A man’s self- identity as a victim is fatal to his ability to change. As a victim, a man is incapable of bringing peace and justice into his experience through an act of volition because those around him will continue to operate their evil upon him, perhaps even more intensively when he tries to act nonviolently.

Implications for the facilitator. It is so important for the batterer’s program to try to create an atmosphere that manifests what we mean by nonviolence, in the larger sense. The way our staff members behave, the pictures that are hanging on the wall, and the images we evoke when we speak of the wider society should all help the men to consider that nonviolence remains viable, even in a world where, truly, many people are watering the seeds of violence.

We offer a workshop on nonviolence in which we attempt to invoke the feel and spirit of the word “nonviolence,” even as we invite men to name people in their lives who really have been role models of a just, loving way of living. We teach participants a simple practice of “centering” akin to meditation, but not carrying a religious or spiritual intent, rather, a simple desire to calm the mind and body. There is another workshop, created by Sox Sperry, called “Words that Hurt, Words that Heal” that is experiential and almost ritual in tone. “Words that Hurt, Words that Heal” is a reminder to the men that they ingested the words of violence and degradation as little boys, and then they regurgitated these words upon their own partners and children after they grew up. The men leave this workshop feeling in their bones how powerful have been their environments of violence and how capable they are of ending the cycle. This awareness begins to remove violence from the realm of the natural and places it where it belongs, in the human- crafted realm.

To effectively teach the consciousness of nonviolence, it is vital that the facilitator live his or her own life with integrity. In truth, each and every one of us, in part, believes that violence is natural and that nonviolence is unrealistic. In order to facilitate a batterer intervention program, our staff must be looking deeply into which seeds we, ourselves, are watering. How much of our free time do we spend consuming violent movies and participating in activities that reaffirm the value of power and control, versus activities that call us back to calmness of mind and a loving heart? How many of us actually make an “I-feel” statement to a co-worker who we believe has done us wrong, rather than talking behind her back to someone else, or freezing her out in a social setting? How many of us are really working at our own frontiers of nonviolence, that is, 20 the place where the theory says we should go, but where our fears tell us we may lose out or get hurt, or that we may encounter the humiliation of disrespect? If you have enough money to pay your bills, it is easy to advise a poor person not to commit a crime to feed his family. But he will intuit whether you are using the same level of moral courage you are asking of him, in the areas of your own life that are not so easy for you. And, if he senses you are better at talking about moral courage than practicing it, he will test you. And, if you work in a program that maintains order mostly through the use of “power-over,” you will simply clamp down on him when he does test you. If you work with a program that seeks to treat clients with compassion, and that asks you not to be hypocritical, you will see his testing as a doorway into dialogue.

Part of the work of the facilitator is continually to remind the men that, yes, violence gets all the headlines, violence is the theme of the action movie you are going to choose on Friday night, and violence is what holds the interest of the adolescent boys in school. But all we need to do is look with an open mind. We can see a father playing ball with his daughter in the park. A grandmother taking in her three grandchildren when the mother and dad have failed to live up to their promise. A squirrel accepting a nut out of an extended hand while we sit on the picnic table. A little blossoming of coral bells that volunteer within the crevice of asphalt on the parking lot. We can choose to see nonviolence in equal measure with violence. We can challenge the ubiquitous myth that the reason we are here, the reason we have freedom, is because someone carried a gun to protect us. We can replace that myth with a new story about reality: If your mother, or some loving adult, had refused to hold you in the night when you were a week old, you would have died. We can keep asking men for examples of that which has been so invisible to the eye of the film maker’s camera: the strong, simple quiet ways that men, women and children protect each other, not with martial arts, but with home arts: food, shelter, stories, song and love.

Men who are fresh from prison are sometimes especially vocal about the “reality” of violence and about their claim that the facilitator who teaches “the world is safe for nonviolence” is naïve. We can acknowledge that prison is an extreme crucible of violence and that it tends to condition and blind us to what else there is. But, we do not have to retreat from this: It is not in the best interest of the ex-prisoner to continue carrying the prison on his back, now that he is free.

Nonviolence as Weak, Feminine or Ineffective. Some men who come to the BIP have a tendency to see love, compassion, and cooperation as behaviors that are “sissy,” weak, or very limited, especially as a response to being disrespected. Behaviors that men see as weak or feminine cannot become a central part of their daily working repertoire.

Implications for the facilitator. The dilemma for the facilitator is between, on the one hand, trying to garner the attention and respect of the men by speaking in a hyper-masculine tone versus, on the other hand, speaking to the men in a more holistic way which seems to invite men to “get in touch with their feminine side.” When the facilitator uses a more “macho” tone, he may unconsciously validate and reinforce a participant’s world view that vulnerable expressions of feeling, love, compassion and cooperation are for sissies. But when the facilitator speaks in a more holistic voice, he risks alienating men who have been profoundly infused with homophobia and misogyny. 21

A certain amount of personal disclosure on the part of the facilitator can help here. While there are not many scenarios where I would have occasion to tell a man in group that he had hurt my feelings, there are a fair number of occasions where I could tell my spouse that she hurt my feelings. I can share some of these moments in group. I can also share moments when I failed to tell her that she hurt me. I can disclose to the group that I was afraid to tell my wife about a vulnerable feeling. I then become both the scientist and the subject in a discussion about how we men are conditioned to resist vulnerability and how we can overcome that conditioning. That scientific inquiry helps us as a group to learn that a man who knows he is vulnerable and can say so is actually has more courage than a man who denies his vulnerability and is willing to fight anyone who says otherwise.

Men will sit next to each other, week after week, and may really open up emotionally and, on occasion, express real love and respect for each other. The facilitator tries to support openness and trust, tenderness and vulnerability, while also being an agent for helping to maintain a spirit of accountability. The tenderness between group members, provided it is not resting upon male bonding around misogyny, goes some way toward convincing men to let go of the aversion to nonviolence based upon the perception of it as being feminine. By virtue of the fact that this is a men’s group, the men generally do not question the masculinity of a fellow member who happens to share his tears, or state that he has been harmed or humiliated. Yet, there lurks in each mind a shadow of fear that each expression of vulnerable emotion is a step leading us into a realm of weakness and femininity.

I try to keep asking the question: When you refused to fight the co-worker, did you feel like you were less of a man? When your wife was yelling at you and you didn’t “go off,” did you feel weak, powerless? Often, the men will report that they felt like a “wimp” for a minute, but that, after a little time passed, they felt some pride in their choice, and were able to incorporate their nonviolent behavior into an idea of being a man.

Related to misogyny is also a very heavy dose of homophobia. If men do not think that any gay people are around, they sometimes assume it is alright to make “fag” references. The facilitator has to be as vigilant against homophobic language as racial slurs and woman-demeaning slang. We must preserve an environment in which we are mindful in our declarations about gender. We are actually thinking about what it means to be a man, at all times. We are not relying on notions of “natural” or “unnatural” behavior, or Biblical order, to shape our consciousness as men. The fear of homosexuality is so powerful that it is always just under the surface, and it really powerfully drives the men’s thinking about what is acceptable behavior. I believe this homophobia is a result of these men having been threatened and beaten into hyper-masculine conformity from an early age. Every man in the circle has strong childhood memories of violence directly related to a charge of being a gay or a fag. To avoid violence means to avoid any slight appearance of being gay or anything that could provoke some joker to comment about your sexual identity. In male bully culture, challenges to my sexual orientation must be faced with violence.

What is interesting is that, even with all I have said, these men’s groups have been extremely open to actual gay men in their presence. There have been occasions when we have had gay men mandated to our program. We always give gay men the option to take an alternative route to 22 comply with the court order, but often they will elect to mainstream with the heterosexual batterer’s group. More often than not, before the 29 sessions are up, the gay man will make a personal choice to come out as gay in his group. I cannot think of a time when the group members did not receive this information with support and understanding and acceptance. In some ways, there is a feeling of camaraderie, maybe bordering on relief, that the actual manifestation of gayness is so much less frightening (or disgusting) than the specter of homosexuality that lurks in their minds. In those rare groups where a gay man comes out, I always feel that the whole group benefits enormously. The mythology of nonviolence as being weak and feminine is pierced somewhat when men sit next to a gay participant who they see struggling courageously with exactly the same human issues as they. Often, the courage he manifested in simply coming out to the group is a powerful contradiction for the men. (I do not offer mainstreaming as a “best practice” model. I believe the best practice would be to form groups or other services especially for gay men. This is a goal for the Center for Nonviolence.)

Our task is to soften the hard, rigid edges of the men’s construct of masculinity. It is not likely that men who are mandated to our programs will become activists for gay rights or women’s equality (although it is not out of the question). But, if we can help them to stop defining masculinity in opposition to femininity, a whole world opens to them, a world in which there are feelings—mad, sad, glad, scared and hurt—a world in which they can admit that they are vulnerable without believing that vulnerability automatically invites exploitation. Then, they begin to see that “power” and “strength” are not only the qualities of the martial artist. Power and strength are also deep inner qualities that make it possible to do the right thing in the face of fear, and, yes, they are qualities that can be embraced and mastered equally by gay and straight men and by women.

CHAPTER V. Exploring Beliefs through Dialogue.

Isaac checked in during group stating that some “wacked out” woman came to his workplace where he has to greet the public. She was angry with him about the way he had treated her son, who had been his customer. Isaac told the group that he just laughed at her and ordered her to get out. “I don’t hit no ladies,” he said. “If she’d been a guy, I would’ve clocked her. I should have gone over to her house and done some damage after she disrespected me. I hope my manhood hasn’t slipped away here.” He was struggling with the dilemma: He based his manhood on his ability to be violent when disrespected. He also based it on not hitting women. For him, the wild card was that he was on felony probation. One reason for not hitting the woman was an effort to obey the court order to stay out of trouble. This bothered him because he doesn’t like to admit to himself that he could place more value on his fear or respect for the court than on his right, as a man, to take action.

It is pretty easy for the facilitator, when Isaac makes a statement that is this obtuse, to see how his set of beliefs--his idea of manhood--shapes how he feels and how he “reacts” to situations. It is pretty hard for Isaac to see this, or, if he does see it, to actually change his “operational beliefs” enough that he would have a different impulse next time. 23

Beliefs. There are espoused beliefs and operational beliefs. Espoused beliefs are the ones we say that we have when in a classroom. They are our publically claimed beliefs. They tend to be (but are not always) more civilized. They are the “conscious” beliefs. “Operational beliefs” are the ones that actually creep out in real life. They tend to be unconsciously held, or if consciously held, may be harder to admit to.

If you ask a group of men how many believe that a man should not cheat on his wife, almost every hand will go up. This is a statement of espoused beliefs. If you ask how many have cheated on their partners, most of their hands go up. What are the operational beliefs that drive the act of cheating, when one claims to believe in fidelity? How can the facilitator make it easier for men to name these operational beliefs, to accept the idea that beliefs, once named, can be rejected or replaced, and then to decide upon a new set of chosen operational beliefs before taking action?

The facilitator faces a variety of problems when addressing men’s beliefs. I place them in three categories: The first is where a participant consciously clings to violent or controlling beliefs, and argues for them in the group. (I will simply call him a “resistant.”) Isaac’s statement above was merely disclosing to the group his true feelings and beliefs. This alone does not place him in the category of resistant. In fact, it might be the first step to dialogue and change. Much depends upon how the facilitator responds.

The second category is where a group member is conscious of his operational belief, but won’t claim it as his belief in group. He is more prone to claim it as his true belief after group, out in the parking lot, where naming his “true” belief becomes a method of bonding around resistance. (I will call him a “fake-compliant.”) I really do not think that the majority of participants fit into the categories of resistant or fake-compliant, but it takes only a few to lower the level of safety that participants need in order to develop curiosity, to think openly and to be honest in group.

The third category involves a participant who just doesn’t think his reaction was driven by a belief at all, since it is inconsistent with his conscious beliefs. If my espoused belief is that a man should not hit a woman, and I do hit a woman, my explanation is that I just “went off.” I deny my operational belief because I am truly unconscious of it, and I prefer to live with the mystery of my spontaneous reactions rather than do the hard work of becoming more conscious of my operational beliefs. (I will refer to this man as an “uncurious denier”.) An individual can move between these three categories, depending upon the theme involved, his level of clarity and his reading of the group dynamic on a given day.

Based upon my observations during our individual conferences where we look deeply, one-on- one, at the men’s beliefs, I think that most of the participants are uncurious deniers. Most of participants are actually pretty clueless about their operational beliefs and have great difficulty naming operational beliefs that account for their behavior. And they do tend to lack curiosity about their own inner workings and motivations. They tend to ascribe their misbehavior to aberrational impulse, bad luck, social norms, or natural laws of human animal behavior. This is almost the definition of “immersion” put forth by Paolo Freire, whose classic book Pedagogy of the Oppressed inspired the Duluth Curriculum. “Immersion” refers to the state of magical 24 thinking and blind acceptance of oppressive cultural norms that lives on in the absence of a liberating educational process.

Freire describes the work of the educator as the promotion of “consciencization”—becoming conscious of the beliefs and systems that hold people in states of oppression, the birthing of awareness that culture is what people make, and the recognition that lives and cultures can be remade according to principles of civility and equity. The “uncurious denier” needs an atmosphere of group safety to develop a little curiosity and to get out of denial about his operational beliefs. The “uncurious deniers,” being the majority of participants, need most of the group time, time that is too often wasted by facilitators who get into debates with those who are resistant.

We differentiate the practice of “debating” from the practice of “dialogue.” In a debate, as we use the word, there are two or more adversaries who are trying to win an argument through the oppositional application of fact and logic. In “dialogue” as used by Freire and incorporated in the Duluth Curriculum, the parties are not adversaries, but companions on the road to creating knowledge together. The teacher does not come forth as the one who “knows” dispensing information to the student as if placing coins in a piggy bank. Rather, the teacher and student embark as allies on an adventure of exploring the world together. The teacher may have more experience in the field being explored and may have more information than the student. But the student brings his or her own experiences to the table, and is encouraged to test ideas in the crucible of this experience. To question ideas posed by the teacher is not “resistance,” but is an important part of the dialogue process, provided that the teacher and student have created a trusting relationship in which they are applying curiosity in the mutual pursuit of truth, rather than attempting to belittle each other through the use of arguments and facts that diminish the value of what the other is offering.

While the facilitator debates with a resistant participant over whether it is useful for him to hold onto a violent operational belief (for example, that it is o.k. to hit any man or woman who disrespects him), the uncurious denier is thinking that this discussion doesn’t apply to him, since his conscious beliefs already align with the facilitator’s. He thinks his violence was just a reaction, and that it won’t happen again, because he got rid of the person or circumstances that caused him to react. The fake-compliant and uncurious denier will tend to discuss, in group, only beliefs that they perceive the facilitator, whom they designate to be the arbiter of what is socially acceptable, will condone. They tend not to be receptive to the idea that there are operational beliefs driving their violent behavior, beliefs of which they may not even be conscious. In group, they are more likely to agree, in principle, with the notion that one can still be a man if he embraces only the nonviolent beliefs about manhood.

Here is the problem for both the fake-compliant and the uncurious denier: Because they each deny their operational beliefs linking their manhood to their violence, they can’t do the difficult task of changing those unconscious beliefs to pave the way to a non-violent reaction. They don’t have too much to talk about in group since they are unable or unwilling to articulate their actual operational beliefs. When they do talk, it tends to be a friendly reminder to the facilitator that there are people who provoke us to violence. How does the facilitator help the unconscious participant become conscious of his operational beliefs? 25

Use of Codes. Paolo Freire employed the creation of a “code,” which is a seed image or icon that carries information about the world that is familiar to the student. If you want to teach the student to read the word “brick,” bring a real brick into the classroom. The students (who, in Freire’s classes, were Brazilian peasants) recognize the brick from their daily lives. Having it in the classroom changes everything. It becomes a topic of inquiry. Where does a brick come from? Who owns a brick? Who gets paid to mortar that brick and how? Now, the student is reading the world as well as the “brick.” The actual brick becomes a “code,” or a seed that contains within in it multiple thoughts, experiences and beliefs about labor, manufacturing, ownership, and even the hierarchy between owning classes and those they employ as administrators and between supervisors and those who work for them for low wages. In another class, you can bring a photograph or drawing of a brick. The photograph contains all of the seed information that is in the brick itself, but the student can see that the photograph is more abstract, less concrete (literally) than the brick. Finally, you can show a slide of an image of a brick, with the word “brick” printed under it. The student can learn the simple five letters of the word and can see how those five letters direct the tongue to say “brick.” He can see how those five letters are coded with the same range of information about labor and money and ownership that the actual brick contained. He is now reading the world as well as the word.

In working with batterers, we use a code in the form of role plays, both live and recorded on DVD. These role plays are scenarios familiar to the men, and they open the discussion. They are “codes.” The role play code, whether in the form of live role play or recorded, contains information about a range of realities known to the men. The men do not need to be given any new information before they are able to tell you things they know about life that are prompted by this code. The task of the teacher is to “decode” the role play by posing questions that will prompt the men to tell you what they know. As an ally in pursuit of truth, with the student, the teacher or facilitator can deepen questions about the role play code that enable men to name their beliefs about family, marriage, love, sexuality, power, and communication. The facilitator can then ask questions or use other codes to help the students to draw parallels between dynamics of power in intimate relationships and in wider society. If there is an authentic spirit of inquiry, the teacher and student can then discuss ways to imagine change.

Externalization. The genius of the Duluth Curriculum is the “externalization” of behaviors that men engage in. By looking at a recorded role play of a man’s familiar abusive behaviors, as performed by a man other than those in the room, the participant is not as defensive as he might be if we began by examining a story he had told from his personal life. It is easier for him to see the implications of certain behaviors when enacted by someone else in role play, than when examining his own actions. The DVD role play externalizes the action, and it makes it easier for men to imagine the beliefs that drive the abuser. The task of the facilitator is to redirect the tendency of participants to demonize the abuser, and help them see themselves in the man playing the part. The facilitator wants to discourage the group from cynically imagining such an outrageous list of beliefs for the man in the vignette that no one in the room could claim such beliefs for himself. The task of the facilitator is to introduce the role plays by positing that the man in the vignette is a normal man with normal beliefs, a man who could be in this room. As we name his actions, feelings and beliefs, we can draw a picture of life that is familiar to the men. The men are talking energetically about this man in a three-minute vignette, telling you all 26 of his dark secrets and beliefs, suggesting something about his history and motivations. They forget for a moment that the man in this vignette is just acting, and that the real source of their story is their own actual experience. The facilitator’s task is to help the men begin to see that they are really sharing their own lives.

Another simple way to externalize actions is to get up and simply write on the board a phrase a man may say without apparent consciousness: “You know how women are.” When the facilitator writes this on the board as the man is speaking, without interrupting him, the group sees the man’s words differently. The group, and the man himself, may see his words from a more external place, perhaps through someone else’s eyes. This externalization of the man’s phrase then becomes a code, or a seed message that has roots in wider culture, roots that we can examine together. The group can laugh good-naturedly at how we are capable of saying things and later become conscious of their implications. If we get the group to buy into the process of taking a second look at everything we say and do, we create a group norm conducive to critical thinking and “conscientizaton.”

What are some other ways we can externalize men’s thinking and behavior, and use codes as teaching tools?

Doing the personal work. Facilitators need to humbly recognize that we are not so very different than our participants as we would like to believe. We, also, do things and think things that are not consistent with our stated, public beliefs. We may be conscious of operational beliefs that we would not state publically. Moreover, we are likely influenced by operational beliefs of which we are not conscious. Thus, to be a good facilitator is to come to the table with the experience and the continued willingness to undergo the same fearless self-exploration of our conscious and operational beliefs as we wish to promote among our participants. It is not necessary to share every detail of this exploration in groups. Participants can feel the difference between facilitators that authentically do the work and those who do not.

Facilitating dialogue rather than telling people the right way. Although we want our facilitators to come to the work with pretty high personal consciousness about nonviolence and gender equality, it is really important that facilitators not put forward their own beliefs in such a way that the participants simply regurgitate the “right” answers, or so that, alternatively, those who get attention through resistance make a point of contradicting the facilitator.

Having said that, I am a believer that there is a time and place for the facilitator to suggest non- oppressive language for men to try on by way of role play. Men do not have to arrive at every idea from their own experience in order for them to consider alternatives that may be inaccessible to them. But, whenever the facilitator offers language, “Try saying, ‘You are an adult, Sally. My intent is not to tell you what to do,’” the facilitator offers it in a spirit of inquiry: “What do you think about that?” “What feelings came up when you said that?” “How would she react if you remembered to say that to her?” “Could you talk that way and still see yourself as a man?” All of these questions open new doors to dialogue and conscientization.

Posing questions in the spirit of inquiry is far better as facilitation than answering questions for the participants. This does not mean that the facilitator has, or pretends to have, no point of view 27 that he or she takes seriously. We are talking about serious things that matter. But, we are role modeling how to listen to and respect each other, even when we may differ about things that matter. We want men to change. But, when we coerce change, we promote the very patterns of thought and behavior that we want to change. When we give up on the men, and fall into the “different strokes for different folks” mentality, we promote the rigidity of not caring about or respecting those around us.

Conclusion. Exploring beliefs through dialogue is intriguing and rewarding, and few of us have truly mastered it to where we consistently feel we have achieved it. Keep at it. It is worth the effort. Being willing to be unsure of the outcome, being able to operate in the apparent confusion of dialogue-in-process, are attributes of a good facilitator.

Summation

Our work has been a thirty-year effort to combine the focus and deliberation of good curriculum, administration and facilitation techniques, with daily practices that promote—drip, drip, drip— even unconscious contact with the wisdom of nonviolence. In considering the seven “detriments”—by no means an exhaustive or dispositive outline of qualities and characteristics of men who batter—we recognize that we must always bring poise, balance, and understanding to our work. “Dialogue”, not “debate”, is the cement that holds us together, the olive branch to our adversaries, and our pathway to Truth. I am humbled and honored to offer this writing to my colleagues, friends and the wider community, knowing that I am but an observer and a reporter of those miraculous efforts made by colleagues around me every day.

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