The publicity team for the release of the book Just Conflict is preparing for a large campaign to begin next Tuesday. As it happens, that is Groundhog Day. While the timing was not coordinated with this odd holiday by design, it has a kind of synchronicity which connects with the 1993 film by Harold Ramis starring Bill Murray.
In the film “Groundhog Day” Murray plays Phil Connors, a weatherman for a Pittsburg TV station, who once again is on assignment in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania for the February 2 festivities. He is not pleased. Indeed, very little seems to please Connors. He is a smart and funny but shallow and narcissistic loner who manages to alienate everyone he relates to.
Without explanation Connors has predicted that a big storm heading across the mid-west will miss mid-Pennsylvania. He is wrong. It hits and strands him and his team in Punxsutawney for a second day. Except it is the same day. He wakes up on what ought to be February 3, but it is Groundhog Day all over again. At least it is for Connors. For everyone else it is the first time they have had this day.
Day after day it is Groundhog Day. No one changes but Connors, and it takes him a while to begin to adjust his own behavior. It is Day Four before he remembers to miss stepping in the slush-filled hole on his way to his moment on camera at Gobbler’s Knob, the park in the center of town where Punxsutawney Phil sees his shadow and predicts six more weeks of winter.
As it turns out, both Phil’s are afraid of their shadows. In Connors’ case it is not his physical shadow but his psychic one that scares him. He can’t get close to others because he is not close to himself. The heart of the film is the exploration of his transformation, kicking and screaming much of the way, into a person who not only knows himself, but likes himself.
Along the way he does what we all do to avoid deep connection. He explores all manor of self-destructive behavior. He has the luxury and the curse of having no long-term consequences. No matter what he does today, he will get a fresh start tomorrow.
He also explores manipulating others for his own immediate desires. He seduces women, punches out an insurance salesman, robs an armored car, all with no lasting effect on his self-satisfaction. In the end he does succeed in breaking out of his predicament, but one of the marvels of the film is that it is not obvious what he did to release himself.
Considering what worked for Phil Connors makes Groundhog Day the perfect time to promote Just Conflict. We all share in Phil Connors’ predicament. In one scene where Phil is describing his situation to a couple of town drunks with the lament that it is the same day over and over, one of them responds by saying, “Yes, I guess that about sums it up.” We all, to some degree, have the same day over and over.
While there are many powerful lessons the film can help us learn, there are two which stand out. One is that it really is the same thing over and over. We can try to duck or ignore life’s problems but they keep coming back. While these problems are not as obvious for most of us as they are for Phil Connors, we all have patterns of conflict and we will continue to have opportunities to address them. Avoiding these opportunities just keeps us stuck.
The second lesson is the one it took Phil the longest to learn but which finally, in my judgment, set him free from the rut of the same thing over and over. In the beginning Phil tried a series of strategies which would either exploit the advantage his predicament gave him (carefully planning an armored car heist by observing the security lapses) or which attempted to get others to do something which would save him from his plight (getting Rita, his producer played by Andie MacDowell, to spend the night with him so he was not alone when the day reset). What these strategies share is the hope that we will save ourselves by getting others to change.
We all know we can’t change others. This was abundantly clear to Phil Connors. But it didn’t stop him from trying and it doesn’t stop the rest of us. It was only when Phil discovered that he couldn’t make Rita love him—that he couldn’t become so perfectly who she wanted that she would not resist him—that he gave up being dedicated to manipulation. Instead he decided to put the same dedication into being kind and considerate as he had put into getting others to do as he wanted. He dedicated himself to learning to play piano, not to impress others, but for the love of music.
When he transcends self-centeredness and becomes deeply centered in himself, he draws others to him. In the end, Rita falls in love with him because he is deeply connected with himself, not because he is who she wants him to be. This is a lesson we all need to learn. Deep and durable relationships come from authenticity. We can’t be authentically ourselves when we are trying to make others love us.
Phil is able to effect this transformation in himself by practicing acts of kindness and practicing his piano playing over and over, day after day. It is practices for self-discovery and transformation which Just Conflict hopes to teach.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Thursday, January 07, 2010
Having a Committed Relationship
One frequent rough place in the development of an intimate relationship occurs when one party to the relationship wants to confirm that they have a “commitment” to each other or that they are truly “in a relationship.” This is tough for a couple of really good reasons.
One reason is that this may be the first time that have actually talked about the relationship itself. It is one thing to be in relationship with another; it is another to make the relationship itself the focus of shared attention.
When I was in graduate school I became close friends with a guy who lived across the hall in my dorm. His name was George. I went home to see my folks one weekend and as I was driving back to school I became aware that I was looking forward to seeing George. As I walked down the hall towards my room, George came out of his room and called out, “Hey, Mark! Good to see you. I missed you.” We had never before spoken about our friendship and so as we acknowledged missing each other we were moving to a new level of interaction.
In primary intimate relationships this transition is especially fraught with danger. Not only are we now talking about our relationship, we are using language that may not mean the same things to each other. Are we dating, going steady, hooking up, hanging out, going together…what? I had a teenage client mention to me that he was “going with” one girl but really wanted to “go with” another. I asked him what it meant to be going with someone. He didn’t understand the question. They didn’t actually do anything; it was just an understanding that their relationship was special and different.
Adults who are exploring an intimate relationship have this problem as well. Even if they say they are committed, what are they committed to? Relationships work much more smoothly when these expectations and agreements are very clear. But coming to this clarity can be very difficult.
Typically one party to the relationship is urgent that the understanding be clear and the other is less excited about having this conversation. In my experience, women tend to be more anxious about establishing clear expectations than are men, but I have certainly known couples where it was the man who was pressing for sharp boundaries.
Having the talk about what we mean to each other is hard because it is talking about the relationship instead of just being in it. Additionally, we each need some clarity about what we want from and for the relationship. Coming to this clarity involves a series of steps. At each one we can get hung up.
1) “This relationship is not so important to me that I am going to put energy into figuring out what I want it to be like. Whatever is fine with me.”
Not all relationships are so important that I am going to be willing to figure out what I want it to be like. This clarity takes time and attention and I am just not willing to do that work when the relationship is with someone I know from work, for example. Just talking about our relationship makes it seem like more than it is for me.
2) “I care about this relationship and want it to be clear and strong, but I’m not sure what that would be like.”
Even when I can say that this relationship is special in some way, and that it is more important to me than just a routine relationship with anyone, that doesn’t mean I actually know what I want it to be like.
3) “I know what I want it to be like but I don’t have the words to describe it clearly enough.”
Even when I can be clear about what I want, I may not trust that I have the words to describe what I want. I have been clear in prior relationships only to find that what my words meant to the other something was different from what they meant to me. I can’t trust that my words will convey my meaning.
4) “I think I can say what I want the relationship to be like but I am afraid that if I do my statement will be a source of conflict.”
Even when I know what I want and trust that I can communicate my wishes clearly there are still potential problems.
a) “When I say what I want but what I want is not what my partner wants it will become something we will fight about.”
It may be that my definition for the relationship is so different from what my partner wants that she or he will be angry and perhaps even choose to leave the relationship.
b) “When I say what I want and I am not always able to follow through on how I want to be it will be a reason to confront me.”
Even if we are both clear about what we want and we are pretty close in how we want things to be between us, I know that I don’t always act as I have intended. If I say how I want things to be, and then don’t do what I need to do to create what I said I wanted, I will be subject to criticism. A part of me wants to protect me by simply being vague.
For these reasons it can be very difficult for a couple to talk about what they want the relationship to be like. So let me offer a suggestion about a couple of topics the couple can address in trying to navigate these potentially treacherous waters.
1) Is this relationship sufficiently important to each of you that you want it to be special? Do you want this to be different from any other relationship you currently have?
2) If it is special for both of you, what are your concerns about being clear about how you want it to be different from any other relationship?
Be aware that as you have this conversation you are not going to name the same things. This is not a problem. It would probably be a bigger cause for concern if you only had the same concerns. You are different people. If you were totally alike it would be really hard for you to get along.
Be aware also that what you each want the relationship to be like is certain to change as you get to know each other better. If what you each want isn’t changing, you probably are not in a relationship with each other. Instead you are each in a relationship with who you want the other to be, not who the other actually is.
If you have trouble with this, you may want to review Discipline #10.
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
Gender Justice Roots for Just Conflict
What might it mean for women and men to have deeply intimate and just relationships when, for so much of human history, relationships between men and women have been shaped by dominance, gender inequality, and violence?
This question arose for me out of thirty years of work in the domestic violence intervention community starting with my role as a volunteer on the staff of one of the first programs in the country to do intervention with men who batter. This program is RAVEN in St. Louis. I was the coordinator of counseling services there for over eight years in the 1980’s.
The parent group for RAVEN developed from the planning team for the 4th National Conference on Men and Masculinity held at Washington University in St. Louis in 1977. That conference brought together men (and some women) who were interested in discovering how our understandings of gender shaped our relationships with other men, with women, and with our children.
The planning group continued to meet after the conference and formed what was first called Brothers in Change but which was later changed to the St. Louis Organization for Changing Men. We were a collective which allowed anyone who completed the training and volunteered at least three hours a week to be a member of the staff and to participate in the consensus decision-making process. That is, anyone who was male. Women were excluded from membership.
The broader organization had multiple goals and activities. There was a monthly public meeting that explored some issue of men’s identity, often through a film and subsequent discussion. There was a group exploring the roles of men as fathers. And there was what we called the Childcare Collective which provided childcare at women’s events. The intervention program working with men who batter was not originally an activity of the collective. It mostly arose out of a concern to figure out why men would physically assault their women partners. Some of the men on staff had themselves been violent in past relationships.
I took the training to join the staff in the fall of 1979 and started co-leading one of the groups for men who batter in January 1980. In June of 1980 I went to my first National Coalition Against Domestic Violence conference and discovered how controversial our work was. I saw us as allies with the women who work with battered women. It never occurred to me that there would be women who opposed what we were doing. Still I found that I had great respect for the women who were not impressed or encouraged by our work. Their indifference and skepticism gave me a very helpful lens through which to see what we were trying to do.
A central concern for feminism in the 70’s (and which has continued to this day) is the problem of violence against women. Much of the activism of the day was about creating support services for the victims of that violence: victims of rape, sexual assault, and domestic violence. The men who were attracted to Brothers in Change were primarily social activists who wanted to change the world. While we were not welcome to join the women in their work, we envied their zeal and the cohesiveness of their consciousness raising groups.
It was self-evident that the women who were victims were the victims of men. As men, it was our job to address those men, our brothers and at times ourselves, who perpetrated the violence. We saw ourselves as unwilling beneficiaries of men’s violence against women and we committed ourselves to ending it. While we would have enjoyed women’s thanks, it was clear we were not going to get applause for cleaning up the mess we were making.
So the Domestic Violence “Community” was actually two communities. There were the women who worked with women, and the men who worked with men. We didn’t meet together routinely. From time to time there was occasion to each present at the same event and we knew each other socially, but there was a sense that our work was different and that there was little reason to collaborate.
As men we knew that our work depended on the work that women were doing. Indeed, there is no “problem of domestic violence” in those communities where there are no services for battered women. On the other hand women considered that we were at best irrelevant and at worst dangerous. We certainly weren’t going the get the men to change and we might give their partners senseless hope which would lure them back into danger. There was no sense that we men were in a mutual relationship with the women. Some of us felt a sense of justice in this imbalanced relationship. We were atoning for thousands of years of patriarchal violence and oppression.
But by the 90’s the politics started to change. It became more and more important to model gender equality and that meant having men working at rape crisis centers and women co-leading intervention groups for men who batter. As this shift happened it also became more critical that we have a clear notion of what just and equitable relationships between women and men might look like.
This clarity has not emerged in the communities of which I have been a part. We have a pretty clear sense of what we don’t want, but we don’t have a clear vision of what healthy relationships are like. It was my wish to describe just relationships in gender neutral terms that helped prompt me to develop the ideas I present in Just Conflict.
In order to envision what healthy relationships look like in the book we consider the nature of power, kinds of relationships, forms of agreements, and tools to create and recreate accountability. In every instance it is important to take into account the effects of culture on our expectations. Nevertheless, just relationships are not shaped by the demands of gender. We must take seriously the trauma of abuse and discover ways of establishing a radical level of accountability if we are to build relationships which do not mimic the oppression that characterizes much of what is considered normal in this culture.
My personal efforts to answer these questions have resulted in the practical framework which is the vision of Just Conflict.
This question arose for me out of thirty years of work in the domestic violence intervention community starting with my role as a volunteer on the staff of one of the first programs in the country to do intervention with men who batter. This program is RAVEN in St. Louis. I was the coordinator of counseling services there for over eight years in the 1980’s.
The parent group for RAVEN developed from the planning team for the 4th National Conference on Men and Masculinity held at Washington University in St. Louis in 1977. That conference brought together men (and some women) who were interested in discovering how our understandings of gender shaped our relationships with other men, with women, and with our children.
The planning group continued to meet after the conference and formed what was first called Brothers in Change but which was later changed to the St. Louis Organization for Changing Men. We were a collective which allowed anyone who completed the training and volunteered at least three hours a week to be a member of the staff and to participate in the consensus decision-making process. That is, anyone who was male. Women were excluded from membership.
The broader organization had multiple goals and activities. There was a monthly public meeting that explored some issue of men’s identity, often through a film and subsequent discussion. There was a group exploring the roles of men as fathers. And there was what we called the Childcare Collective which provided childcare at women’s events. The intervention program working with men who batter was not originally an activity of the collective. It mostly arose out of a concern to figure out why men would physically assault their women partners. Some of the men on staff had themselves been violent in past relationships.
I took the training to join the staff in the fall of 1979 and started co-leading one of the groups for men who batter in January 1980. In June of 1980 I went to my first National Coalition Against Domestic Violence conference and discovered how controversial our work was. I saw us as allies with the women who work with battered women. It never occurred to me that there would be women who opposed what we were doing. Still I found that I had great respect for the women who were not impressed or encouraged by our work. Their indifference and skepticism gave me a very helpful lens through which to see what we were trying to do.
A central concern for feminism in the 70’s (and which has continued to this day) is the problem of violence against women. Much of the activism of the day was about creating support services for the victims of that violence: victims of rape, sexual assault, and domestic violence. The men who were attracted to Brothers in Change were primarily social activists who wanted to change the world. While we were not welcome to join the women in their work, we envied their zeal and the cohesiveness of their consciousness raising groups.
It was self-evident that the women who were victims were the victims of men. As men, it was our job to address those men, our brothers and at times ourselves, who perpetrated the violence. We saw ourselves as unwilling beneficiaries of men’s violence against women and we committed ourselves to ending it. While we would have enjoyed women’s thanks, it was clear we were not going to get applause for cleaning up the mess we were making.
So the Domestic Violence “Community” was actually two communities. There were the women who worked with women, and the men who worked with men. We didn’t meet together routinely. From time to time there was occasion to each present at the same event and we knew each other socially, but there was a sense that our work was different and that there was little reason to collaborate.
As men we knew that our work depended on the work that women were doing. Indeed, there is no “problem of domestic violence” in those communities where there are no services for battered women. On the other hand women considered that we were at best irrelevant and at worst dangerous. We certainly weren’t going the get the men to change and we might give their partners senseless hope which would lure them back into danger. There was no sense that we men were in a mutual relationship with the women. Some of us felt a sense of justice in this imbalanced relationship. We were atoning for thousands of years of patriarchal violence and oppression.
But by the 90’s the politics started to change. It became more and more important to model gender equality and that meant having men working at rape crisis centers and women co-leading intervention groups for men who batter. As this shift happened it also became more critical that we have a clear notion of what just and equitable relationships between women and men might look like.
This clarity has not emerged in the communities of which I have been a part. We have a pretty clear sense of what we don’t want, but we don’t have a clear vision of what healthy relationships are like. It was my wish to describe just relationships in gender neutral terms that helped prompt me to develop the ideas I present in Just Conflict.
In order to envision what healthy relationships look like in the book we consider the nature of power, kinds of relationships, forms of agreements, and tools to create and recreate accountability. In every instance it is important to take into account the effects of culture on our expectations. Nevertheless, just relationships are not shaped by the demands of gender. We must take seriously the trauma of abuse and discover ways of establishing a radical level of accountability if we are to build relationships which do not mimic the oppression that characterizes much of what is considered normal in this culture.
My personal efforts to answer these questions have resulted in the practical framework which is the vision of Just Conflict.
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