The Price of Coercion and Compliance

“The best way I know how to defeat an enemy is to make him a friend.”

- Abraham Lincoln

Charlie was not like the most of the kids I had met during my first couple of years as a Youth Care Worker.  He was pretty good at hiding the turmoil he experienced in the first 12 years of his life.  Abuse, neglect and rejection: he endured them all.  He had a very strong personality.  It was his way or no way and that was it.  He did not like to negotiate and he did not like to compromise.  Charlie did not expel much energy planning and scheming to piss off the workers and defy the program; he had a knack for it. Charlie was a natural.  However, there was a certain charm to his resolve.  I think this is what I liked most about him. 

Charlie was small in stature; buzz cut blonde hair, sloppy clothes.  You know the type of kid. He loved basketball and hockey, chasing girls and rap music.  I was assigned as Charlie’s keyworker.  That meant that I took care of his file, went to his meetings with his social workers, and helped out with anything involving his case.  My first observations were that, on the surface, Charlie was coping.  He was just a normal kid and we got along fine. 

Like many families, Charlie’s folks had to move in search of work.  I guess the strain took its toll, or maybe violence was a family trait: who knows?  After disclosing the abuse he had been suffering, Charlie was apprehended and placed in care.  He found himself in a group home in a distant province.  To make things worse, Mom sided with dad and they both up and left him and moved back to their hometown to escape the authorities.  Charlie was abandoned.  He was eventually shipped back as well.  Hence the new group home, hence the beginning of this story.  

Charlie adjusted famously.  He was resilient, but he did have lots of telltale quirks.  Charlie refused to have anything to do with his mom or dad.  He would not drink out of a pop can unless he opened it.  He would only crack the tin just enough to get a sip out of the top of the can. He always seemed a little paranoid about food in general. He chewed his knuckle when he was nervous or anxious.   The scar tissue had turned it into a pretty big knuckle.  Bedtime was always a battle; he fought like hell to stay awake.  On the surface it wasn’t the most troubling behavior.  But, if you sat down and looked over his case history, if you read a couple psychology books and watched a Dr. Phil episode or two, you would know that these seemingly frivolous behaviors were insights into a life that was anything but frivolous.

I tried all the new skills I was learning as a youth care worker.  You work with the children, not the behavior.  You look past the swearing and the destruction because you are working with damaged kids searching to express their pain.  A child in a group home is like a wounded animal.  He will bite as you put out your hand to help.  I learned the catch phrases.

This particular group home had a system where certain behavior earned various privileges and earned a progression in steps, or sometimes a demotion, depending on the week the kid had.   Charlie would move from step one to two, back to one, up to two again, you get the picture.  The rules were very clear.  As a new worker, I knew exactly what to do in certain situations.  For example, for one swear word, Charlie would have to write out the definitions of 5 alternate words that he could have used that were more appropriate.  Pretty simple, 2 shits, that’s 10 words.  There were written consequences for some infractions, early to bed for staying up too late, docked allowance, etc.  There was a system.  We provided the structure that Charlie needed.

However, Charlie would never get on board.  He never outright defied all the rules on purpose, it wasn’t as if he had a vendetta against the program, it just did not seem to matter to him.  The more we dug in our heels, the farther he seemed to drift.  The holy grail of the program, step four, he didn’t give a shit for that (now that’s 5 more words).   

As with most of the kids that come through the group homes, school was a major sore spot and Charlie was no exception.  We had worked diligently with his school in particular.  It was blatantly obvious that the school principal did not want him walking by the front of the school, let alone to go in there, sit down, and try and be part of the class.  I imagined a meeting behind closed doors, with all the curtains pulled, the principle, the vice, a couple of teachers and the guidance counsellor.  In the dark room they schemed on how to rid themselves of (the principal puts his fingers next to his head as if to make quotations) this problem.  “The school board wants to force us to take this kid, we’ll show them.” 

We were pretty proud of ourselves back at the group home.  We took on the mighty school board and advocated for his placement.  Yes sir, right next to all the normal kids.  Now we had to convince Charlie to attend.  A pillar in the progression of steps and access to more privileges: school attendance.   This should have been the major motivator. 

Charlie, however, saw things a little differently.  For the first little while it was a battle just to get him out of bed.  We were sympathetic, always supportive and patient.  Eventually, Charlie started to come around and he made it through his first day.  We certainly had cause to celebrate, just a little. 

The staff had to walk Charlie to class.  This was one of the stipulations insisted upon by the school.  Of course this was against Charlie’s wishes; he felt it drew unneeded attention to him.  It seemed every teacher kept him under a microscope.  I think the janitor even kept his eye on him.  Word travels fast in the staff room, I bet.  Even throughout the schoolyard.  Charlie never had a chance. 

Charlie put together a string of 4 or 5 days in a row.  We praised him as if he was the second coming.  The wind soon came out of our sails.  I remember the call as plain as day.  Is this one of the staff?  Please come to the school right away.  On the drive to the school I pictured police cars, a fire truck, maybe even the Coast Guard.  What could he have done to create such a panic in her voice?  As I approached the school, there was no sign of any emergency vehicles.  When I got to the school, I was scurried right into the principle’s office.  Charlie sat in the corner, slouched in a chair.  He had the same look my old Labrador retriever had when she chewed up one of my baseball hats.  He knew he had done something wrong, but was still confused all the same.  The principal seemed to scold Charlie for a while, then me, then back to Charlie.  Okay, give it to me in no uncertain terms, what did he do? I asked.  The principal responded, “He called the French teacher a whore.”  I felt like giving the principle 5 words.

Expelled.  This was his one chance they said and he blew it.  They really wanted him to succeed but could not afford any disruptions, outright vulgarity, or disobedience in this school.  They felt they had done their part. As we walked out, I’m sure the principal grinned, but I could not be certain.

This situation teaches a disturbing lesson.  What goal were we trying to achieve?  School attendance was top priority and the only way to achieve the goal was by forcing Charlie to yield.  There are no lessons of reason, no lessons of cooperation.  We collectively coerced Charlie into submission and this was the result. 

After that, Charlie quickly spiraled out of control. He would go on the run for days at a time.  He refused to follow any of the rules.  The rules, however, would not budge.  Like with school, Charlie would have to submit to the structure.  He would not.  Finally, one particular evening a worker said just what Charlie wanted to hear and gave him a reason to go off.  Charlie destroyed some property and did some serious damage to the home.  He got himself locked up, for a year. 

I remember the debate during the next couple of days at the group home.  Most workers were disgusted.  How could he behave like this?  How could he bring it to this level?  He just was not ready for the structure.  He was not ready to be helped.  Was he testing the limits?  Was he a victim of abandonment testing our resolve?  There were many questions that would go unanswered.  However, there was one definite outcome: Charlie would not return to this home. 

Charlie turned into a professional kid in care.  Short-term placement, long term, foster care, open custody and jail time stints.  Charlie was like a hockey player that made it to the NHL, spent a few solid years playing at the top of his game in the big league.  Now he’s spending most of his time bouncing around the minors.  Bush league team to bush league team.  He tries to find a new team to give him just one more chance.  However, he finds himself being passed around again and again.  It’s becoming harder and harder to find a place to play. 

Charlie’s story is not unique.  In fact, most every Youth Care Worker (YCW) has a story about a kid like Charlie. As well, every YCW has a theory.  Even the YCW who cares only about practical strategies, points, levels, and steps, is operating under a set of assumptions about human nature, about children, about that child sitting over there ready to throw a pool ball, about why that child did what he did just now.  We have to begin to scrutinize our theories and programs.  I feel, in our profession, we are at an advantage.  Unlike most organizations, incapable of changing age-old discipline programs, we are a new profession.  We must be innovative.  We must be much smarter.  Programs that are based on coercion and compliance have to change.  Why are we so afraid?  These practices are not helping the young people one bit.   

A program that is designed around rewards and punishments, points and levels that must be rigidly applied, can be characterized as straightforward coercion and compliance rather than an opportunity for growth. 

Some people believe, the most basic way to get what you want from a child, is just to make him do it.  Straightforward coercion.  Charlie is sitting in the living room watching TV, but does not have TV privileges.  What does the worker do?  Unplug the cable.  Charlie refuses to do home schooling.   What now?  No privileges whatsoever until five hours of outstanding work is complete.   Coercion is a dangerous tool to use to teach a young person in his position and does not work to motivate a child in the least. This was the case with Charlie.

Coercion is the purest form of doing to, not doing with.  The young people become objects rather than subjects.  The workers decide when there is a problem and what is to be done about it.  And what effect did this have on young Charlie?  Did he come away from this situation with any feelings of understanding or support?  Did he learn how to negotiate a solution?  Nope.  Hardly.  He, and any other young people in the group home, learned one very important lesson from this type of intervention.  The lesson is power.  When you have it, you can make anyone do whatever you want. 

Compliance warps the relationship between the punisher and the punished.  This is especially true in a group home setting.  We are dealing, for the most part, with kids who are void of any problem solving skills or coping strategies whatsoever.  Kids already have a warped sense of themselves and adults and of why they don’t seem to fit in - anywhere.  Once we come to be seen as an enforcer of rules and an imposer of unpleasant consequences, we have lost the child.  The more the kids see us as punishers, the less likely we can create the sort of environment where things can change.  Compliance breeds this unhealthy environment. 

 “You cannot teach people anything.  You can only help them discover it within themselves."  - Galileo

Why are coercive practices so popular? Why are point and level systems and the like so widely used?

One reason is that these programs are quick and easy.  One swear, 5 words.  Workers do not have to think.  Lots of thought and skill are required to work with kids to figure out how to solve a problem.  It’s much easier just to make something bad happen to a child who refuses to do what we say.  Another reason in that coercion and compliance seem to work, or at least in the short term.  Most of the time the kids are tired, dejected, sad, depressed and drugged up with mood altering chemicals and suppressants.   They don’t have strength left to challenge our authority.  Their spirits are broken and they give in.   However, sometimes you get completely the opposite.  Kids that won’t buckle, kids that will not succumb, kids that refuse to concede.  Kids like Charlie who fight like hell.  These are the youth that impress me the most. 

Compliance satisfies our desire for a primitive sort of justice; a deeply rooted belief that if you do something bad, something bad should happen to you.  Why then, does Charlie’s dad get off so easy?  The truth is, compliance based programs make us feel powerful.  A defiant kid has issued a challenge that many adults feel obligated to answer by making sure they win.  And there is no better way to win the battle than by using ones power to make the kid unhappy.  During one of Charlie’s last stints in an open custody facility he spend a night back in jail.   Charlie was unusually defiant one evening so a worker took the posters from his room as an intervention, a disciplinary measure, as punishment, if you will.  You can imagine the racket.  A few posters might not mean much to you or me, but to a kid with next to nothing, they are worth a night in jail.  These practices should stop. 

I have some recommendations to consider. 

Strive to make the kids feel connected. 

Any rules, steps or levels that limit or deny opportunity to connect with kids should be cut out of your program.  The last time Charlie was in custody, I could not visit him until he was on “Level II”.  The staff deliberated for a few days and decided to make a change in the program and allow me to visit.  It was just this once.  It was just for this one kid.  How many kids are denied access to relationships because of self-serving policies?  Kids who feel deeply connected do not need danger to feel fully alive.  They don’t need drugs and crime to feel more powerful.  They do not want to hurt others or themselves.  Out of connection grows compassion.  

Do not engage in win-lose negotiations. 

This is inappropriate in any environment.  Keep negotiating until the other person and you both have what you want.  If you win, you will damage the relationship.  If you win, you will always have to watch your back.  Forcing a kid to comply creates resistance and resentment and reduces the likelihood of working together effectively in the future. 

“The best soldier leads without attack. The superior fighter succeeds without violence. The greatest conqueror wins without a struggle.  The most successful manager leads without dictating. This is called intelligent nonaggressiveness. This is called the mastery of men.”   -Lao-Tsu, the Tao King

Strive to compromise.  Half a glass of milk is better than none, and it sure beats having it dumped on you.  Compromise when you do not have time to engage in problem-solving negotiations. 

Let the young person have his or her own way (every now-and-again).  

You may wish to smooth things over when you care more about the relationship than the goal.  When relationships are long term, each person is concerned about the other’s interests.  The quality of life in the group home depends, at least partially, on the quality of the relationship maintained with the other person.  It is more beneficial to just give in when two people share long-term goals.  When the kids accurately present their wants and interests, weigh those interests to determine whose are stronger or more important.  I bet if we let Charlie have his way a little bit more, he would still be at the group home.   

Engage in Problem-Solving Negotiations. 

“He that wrestles with us strengthens our nerves and sharpens our skill.  Our antagonist is our helper.”  -Edmund Burke

Always consider your goal and the relationship when initiating problem-solving negotiations.  The process involves directly expressing your view of the conflict and your feelings pertaining to it and inviting the child to do the same.   Your aim should be to clarify and explore the issues.  Examine the pros and cons, feelings, alternate endings and possible outcomes.  Learn when you should negotiate and when you should stay silent and just listen.  As your relationship grows and strengthens, the child will learn the same.  Point and levels only hinder this process. 

Make flexibility the most important feature of your program. 

Many programs follow the same patterns with numbing regularity.  Kids move in and then move on.  They get locked up and we say it was their fault.  They just could not get it.  What exactly is it anyway?  I believe the program with the greatest number of options, the most flexibility, is most effective.  The key to life is opening as many doors and avenues as possible.  The key to your program should be to use as many different approaches as it takes to solve a problem.  If you have only one way of doing things, through coercion and compliance, you will be about as effective as a car that runs in one gear.  How has your program changed in the last few days?  Weeks?  Months?  Years?   Have you been doing the things you have always done?  Are you getting what you always got? 

Question everything. 

Most times a youth is poked into a group home and society breathes a huge sigh of relief.  The parents, social workers, probation officers, foster parents, whoever, sit back and digress.  Our programs take over.  We are often struck with a God-complex and left with the notion that we are going to fix everything, make things right, or at least give the kid a chance to comply.  There is no one to question our practices.  Think about it.  Closed custody facilities, open custody homes, residential treatment programs exist in their own little worlds.  There is no one to question why we do the things we do. Most parents don’t care.  Social workers take for granted we know what we are doing.  Court workers just read our reports.   These are dangerous circumstances.  New front line workers have to be the ones to question practices and change policies.  Start right now. 

Use your sense of Humor.   

Humor is essential in a group home setting.  Let your sense of humor flourish.  Relationships drastically improve when there is less yelling and screaming and more laughing and smiling.  Laughing changes the atmosphere.  Any conflict will be easier to discuss and resolve if you have laughed about it.  It goes against human nature to be angry all the time.  However, when you never get to enjoy the extra privileges granted on “Step II”, it makes it pretty easy to stay angry. 

* * * * *

Charlie was recently released from custody.  He hates the place he lives.  He is coming very close to violating his probation.  I have offered to help him with his community service; he is reluctant.  It seems he still hasn’t learned his lesson.  Whatever that means.  We went for a coffee last week and I could not help but to imagine the same little kid I knew a few years past that moved into the group home.  It’s a sad story.