Gordon Neufeld, Ph.D - The Neufeld Institute

I have talked about guilt and shame.      Now it is time for blame, the third sibling. Sometimes it is clear who is at fault.    However, often it is not clear, especially with children and adolescents.    One of the ways of relieving guilt (did something wrong) or shame (something is wrong with me) is to shift to “I have been wronged.”

Looking outward instead of inward gives relief: “It’s not my fault.”  What a burden can be lifted!

The dog ate my homework. She started it. Bad leaders incited their innocent followers. Everyone else does it.

Finger pointing is fluid, however, and counter blame along with denial arises quickly in response to blaming.

It wasn’t me that started it – it was him. The parents have spoiled that child. He was drunk. I didn’t know what was happening. I just was following orders. Voices in my head told me to do it.

And then around it can go back to guilt and shame as well as more counter blame.

You should have known better. I saw you do it. Violent video games effected his brain. It was his genes that made him do it.

Thus you can see that guilt, shame and blame can start on a cycle that gathers dark energy.

So, there are two parts to look at – first, society –    All human societies, in order to function, must have a system to deal with violations of their values. Fault-finding is taken out of the hands of those who feel wronged, or those who think society is not addressing wrongs, to curb on the one hand martyrdom and on the other scapegoating, vigilante and mob justice and its subsequent climate of bullying, to move to the (ideally) rational processes of investigation, debating the evidence, assigning responsibility and deciding on the consequences. Part of this process involves determining which members of society are not capable of taking responsibility for their actions: for example, children and those assessed to be mentally ill. These deliberations can be nuanced and complex.

In the most obvious cases, society is responsible for protecting its citizens from those who would continue to do harm.   It is on the frontiers of human societies that processes have not yet been put in place, the innocent are not protected and harm is not anticipated. We are all, in a sense, now living in a new frontier: a technological one. We have still not developed our values around the use of the internet for social interaction.

Of course, there are many things that happen that are truly accidents, or acts of nature, that no blame can be assigned to directly. (who can you blame for a volcano erupting?). The focus then can shift to blaming those who did not anticipate the event: their failure to warn and protect the people.  Sometimes assigning blame can give no peace, in spite of the ideals of restorative justice.   Sometimes the villain is never found.   Sometimes there is no one to blame.

Dr. Neufeld and Dr. MacNamara, in talking about the Vancouver riots of June 2011, have analyzed the factors that can cause blameworthy acts and show how, tragically, the justice system cannot teach those who most need to learn from experience and are likely to get into trouble.

Do you say in response to these editorials, that society itself is to blame? Or parents? Can you look at the tragedy without assigning fault?

The second part – the individual -   The energy of blame is tremendous.    What fuels the intensity of it?     What fuels the desire for punishment and revenge in the human heart?     What drives that righteous rage which makes us lose compassion?    What causes it to cycle back viciously into overwhelming guilt and shame?

Those who are hardened and cannot register vulnerable feelings tend towards blame. Guilt and shame are the more vulnerable of the three  feelings. Those who are more ‘civilized’ you might say tend towards feeling guilt. In some cases this can spiral down into black depression.

The driver is of this energy is a deeper feeling in the emotional brain – this  emotion can build up and if not drained is like the lava that causes the volcano to erupt. This is not something to control by clamping down on it…the pressure just continues to build.

This emotion is quite simple to understand – it is also the emotion that gives rise to guilt and shame in those who are more likely to take responsibility for their actions. What is it?

It is simply frustration. Things did not turn out the way they should, or were anticipated. Frustration applies to all the little things in life that didn’t work all the way up to the big things. It includes losses…

How does frustration differ from anger? We often say that someone has a lot of anger in them when what we mean is that they are full of foul frustration. Anger is rational response to perceived injustice and belongs to the previous section of this discussion. It finds fault. Certainly one can experience both simultaneously, but in order to address underlying dynamics, they must be teased apart.

To address frustration is to find a way into a situation that does not require fault finding. To think about frustration: when something doesn’t work, the first impulse is usually to try to effect change, and if no change is possible, to face the fact that this route is futile. When for some reason, futility does not register, then a person is loaded up with the frustration, which usually erupts into aggression when something overrides any cautions that may be present.

The desire for vengeance is driven by frustration in its aggression mode.   How to deal with aggression? One approach is  to find socially acceptable modes of aggression.   Ultimately, the goal  is to find a way to drain this frustration out of the system. This only  comes with the true registering of futility: the outward sign of this is tears, although we can feel our tears inside without much showing except a little watering in the eyes.

In conclusion –   The question that I conclude with – how can the justice system, which is for the good of society, and often sacrifices the individual (especially our children and adolescents), and the no-fault approach, which puts aside the justice system for the sake of the individual….how can we reconcile these two things?

The answers lie, largely, in insight, so that societies and the individuals’ interventions and changes are coming from understanding of root causes and are not engaged in fighting symptoms.

Editor’s note: Dr Neufeld unpacks the roots of Aggression in his DVD, Making Sense of Aggression, and addresses the challenge of dealing with children’s misdemeanors in Making Sense of Discipline.

In the wake of the Vancouver riots following the Canucks loss in the Stanley Cup finals, many are struggling to make sense of this senselessness (see also Dr. Deborah McNamara’s editorial on this website). Ironically I was – and still am upon writing this – in Europe, preparing to give a keynote address at a Congress on Delinquency in Berlin, Germany. Unfortunately this is a world problem that our beloved Vancouver (my home town) has not escaped.

There are many theories of delinquency and much research going on. We find differences in brain structure and functioning, in early experience, in socialization processes, and even in parenting styles. Sociologists speak to factors such as poverty, societal expectations, mob mentality and family breakdown. None of these factors hold true across the phenomenon, however, and none can truly explain this behaviour.

After years of both working with delinquents and studying delinquency, what stands out to me more than any other factor is their surprising immaturity. On the three most significant measures of maturation – viability as a separate being, tempered experience and expression, and the ability to learn from mistakes and failure – most delinquents come up short. And their brains reflect this remarkable fact. The prefrontal cortex – the civilizing mixing bowl of the brain – is no more developed than the average 4 year old’s, and the corpus callosum – that bridge that allows us to use both sides of our brain to solve problems – is also smaller than it should be. Their physical size and sophisticated demeanor blind us to the reality that they have failed to grow up as human beings. There are many contributing issues involved in delinquency but these only have effect in the truly immature.

The other factor that stands out is that their alarm systems do not work. Much of our brain serves as an alarm system and when it works, we end up being careful, cautious, concerned and conscientious. When it doesn’t work, we end up being reckless and careless. And when the alarm system is significantly dysfunctional, we are even attracted to what should alarm. Once again, research on the delinquent brain confirms that the alarm systems are on the blink.

It is true that we can turn off our alarm system temporarily through alcohol, and I assume that many did just that in the Vancouver riots. When this is the case, this kind of behaviour only results when under the influence of alcohol. This would have explained some of what we saw in the Vancouver riots but it certainly does not tell the whole story. The delinquents I worked with would have all made it their top priority to be in Vancouver that night and would have fantasized exactly what ultimately happened, even without the alarm-numbing effect of alcohol.

So then, what could possibly cause both developmental arrest and alarm dysfunction. The answer is so profoundly simple that it usually escapes our notice. Both psychological maturation and a working alarm system depend upon a healthy limbic system (ie, emotional brain). Most simply put, we need to feel our feelings, even the most tender and vulnerable ones, in order for the brain to be able to move us to caution when appropriate and to enable us to grow up over time. Emotion is both the engine of maturation and the motor of the alarm system.

But tender feelings are also a luxury that many brains cannot afford. When our wounds are too much to bear, we become emotionally desensitized, thus losing the very feelings that are required to realize our human potential as civilized and considerate beings. The root of the problem is emotional desensitization, or in intuitive language, hardened hearts. Delinquents of any age are in a flight from vulnerability that is crippling both their alarm systems and their maturation. I found the delinquent youth I worked with to be devoid of many of the vulnerable feelings that are essential to becoming fully human. We are so blinded by their delinquent behaviour that we often cannot see the heart of the matter.

Such a flight from vulnerability begs for an explanation. We are not living in a time of war, at least not in Vancouver. We do not have significant poverty, in fact, many engaging in this behaviour come from affluent homes. What possibly could be the problem?

The answer again is right under our noses. The major finding of a large study of adolescents was that what preserved their emotional health was strong emotional relationships with caring adults. The only way we can shield our children and youth from wounds too much to bear, is through the strength of their attachments to us. As soon as their peers matter more than we do, natural human vulnerability becomes too much to bear. In short, we are losing our children to their peers; delinquency – both in youth and continuing into adulthood – is one of the many negative results. My book – Hold on To Your Kids – spells this out in detail if you wish to pursue this line of thought further. The answer to prevention, in short, is to reclaim our youth, or preferably, to not let them go in the first place. We have a lesson to be learned in this, and hopefully we can learn it fast enough to make a difference in our world and in our beloved Vancouver.

In the aftermath of the Vancouver riot following the Stanley Cup finals there has been an unleashing of emotion from anger to despair – but at the heart of it there is profound confusion as to how to make sense of the senseless. As we gather ourselves and repair our broken city, we are left wondering how to make headway in solving a problem that seems to defy logic and understanding.

The question I ask myself is: what can possibly explain the acts of so many rioters – what is the root of this heartache? We can give these people many labels – anarchists – criminals – the spoiled – but the word I am drawn to over and over again is “immature”. It is as if hundreds of enraged preschoolers in adult-size bodies ran around the city unsupervised with matches and hammers. I am drawn to all that was missing within the rioters: they presented a blatant lack of care about the impact of their actions on others, and lack of consideration about the economic loss they caused and the fear they incited. I am drawn to their lack of concern about, and absence of fear of the consequences of their actions, even in the light of the number of cameras witnessing their acts. I am drawn to the lack of shame among those boasting of their destructive acts on social media sites. What I see is a degree of impulsivity that can only be explained as immaturity, and a striking lack of care that is deeply disturbing.

To be fully human means to care deeply and vulnerably about the things and people we are attached to, such as the Stanley Cup and our Vancouver Canucks. Maturity means we are able to control our impulses even when our frustration overwhelms us – such as when we lose something we wanted so badly. What a dichotomy and juxtaposition the acts of the rioters presented when compared to the Canucks, who demonstrated incredible maturity and sportsmanship in shaking hands and embracing their opponents even while aching for all they had lost. With grace, dignity and maturity they accepted their defeat – these are the symbols and images that should not be forgotten, and are indeed the balm for this destruction to our city. We were also buoyed by the caring acts of citizens cleaning up, providing the counterbalance to all that was missing the night before.

Some parents have asked me what we should tell our kids in light of the images of broken buildings and cars on fire? I tell my kids about the Canucks, the maturity I saw and how I respect what they have achieved. I tell them that it is human to care and to strive for what is meaningful to you and to set goals like the Stanley Cup. I tell them that in having our hearts so invested we risk being frustrated and hurt when it doesn’t come to pass; this is what life is like, and we were meant to survive this too. In caring, we are human, and in being human we can be hurt – such is the fate of those that choose to live life to the fullest. The way through is to find our tears and sadness about all that is lost, and set chart for another day and new goals. Perhaps the most significant thing I take away from this day is the importance of my role in raising my children to become socially responsible, caring individuals who contribute to their community. In the wake of this destruction I am reminded of what an important gift maturity is – I cannot buy it for my children, I cannot give them a pill to get there, and no amount of telling them to simply ‘grow up’ will make it so. My role as a parent is to nurture the roots and provide the conditions that will give rise to the fruits of maturity beautifully exemplified by the Canucks. For the sake of our communities and for your children – be your children’s best bet today.

There is a growing problem among children that does not have a name. It is insidious and far-reaching, serving to make parenting and sometimes teaching challenging, if not a nightmare. The problem is that of dominance, when the natural attachment hierarchy is inverted and instead of children resting in the care of adults, they instead see themselves as the ones who should call the shots and tell us how to take care of them. Children who have risen to this alpha position can be consistently full of resistance to those who try to lead them. They are typically very frustrated, lashing out often, and can be filled with anxiety. They steadfastly see themselves as the boss of the house and don’t understand when others try to take charge. The issue at hand for children in the dominant or Alpha position is not one of strength as it is often misperceived, but one of desperation. For some reason these children have lost faith in the providers in their life to take care and lead the way and their only recourse is to do it themselves.

There are obvious and not so obvious reasons why children lose faith in their providers. It is easy to appreciate how children whose parents are neglectful or consumed with their own pursuits and addictions can convey the message that the child is better left to their own devices. If these were the only conditions under which we were seeing an increase in children in the Alpha position then the problem would seem clear cut and obvious enough. Dominance issues in children can be found in loving and caring homes with parents who are dedicated to helping their children grow up to be socially and emotionally responsible individuals. What is giving rise to the increasing numbers of children in the dominant position and how can we start to make sense out of this?

In order to make headway we need to go back to the beginning and ask – what does a child need most in life? The answer is attachment, the invitation to exist in another’s presence, to be seen and loved for who one is, and to feel a sense of belonging, loyalty, and similarity to those to whom one is connected. The critical piece that often gets missed in understanding attachment is that its role is to render a child dependent on those around them. This means being dependent on someone for their care and well-being, an incredibly vulnerable place to be! As an adult it is easy to lose sight of the vulnerability involved in depending on another but I am reminded of it every time I get into a taxi or an airplane. I find myself questioning whether I can trust this person to safely deliver me to my destination and take good care of me. It gives a whole new appreciation to the understanding of the “back seat driver.”

When we are dependent on another we scan and look for signs that our trust and care are well placed. Is there something solid in this person that we can lean against? We might feel we convey this as parents but the more important question is whether our children see us this way? Some reasons why children might find it difficult to depend on their parents include being born too sensitive for this world. They see and feel too much, making it harder to convince them that someone can take care of all of them. They are described as intense children and parents often remark that taking care of them feels like double the work. Other potential reasons why children seek the dominant position in their relationships with adults stems from too much separation-based discipline (such as 123 ‘magic’ and time-outs) or egalitarian parenting where we can inadvertently lose our Alpha position.

The biggest mistake we could make is to confuse their display of strength with maturity or a show of independence. It simply is not so – their dominance is an act of desperation. The critical issue when children are in the lead is that they cannot take care of their attachment needs and also attend to the business of growing up – there is a sacrifice play to be had. Attachment trumps maturation any day and the need to survive and take care of oneself rises to the forefront at the expense of rest, play, and further growth.

The good news is much can be done to restore our rightful place in our children’s lives. Parenting was never meant to be a nightmare and there is much hope to turn it around when it has become so. Underneath dominant behaviour is a child who is desperate to depend on and be vulnerable with someone who is responsible for them. Our task is to convincingly demonstrate through our behaviour that we are their best bet and are indeed the answer they seek. Our challenge is to regain our Alpha dance so that they can be freed from theirs.

My younger son Thomas has just become 12, but his childhood innocence ended a few days earlier because he experienced the biggest sorrow of his life – our tom-cat “Schnurr” had been killed by a car. Schnurr had been Thomas’s very best friend for seven years. My boys are home-schooled (or, to be precise, unschooled) and our cat had been around him every day, all day, sitting near Thomas or even on his lap when he read, watched TV – and he was involved in a lot of games Thomas played. More than once, when I had watched Thomas playing and cuddling with his cat, filming Schnurr’s behavior, I had thought by myself: “May this cat have a long life!”

When he disappeared, we did not worry for the first 2 days, because it was springtime, and Schnurr was usually very adventuresome during this season. I was on a business trip, and when I called home, Thomas said in a small and frightened voice: “Schnurr hasn’t come back yet!” My heart sunk, but the first thing I thought was: I want to be at home when Thomas finds out that Schnurr might be dead, so I said in my most confident voice: “Oh honey, I truly don’t feel that this means anything bad! I will be back tomorrow night, and when he is not back Saturday night, I will go and search for him with you on Sunday!”

Our common search on Sunday gave us opportunity to talk. I tried to slowly narrow down our conversation to the long time our cat was away now, how much we all missed him, how Thomas longed to stroke his fur, how sad it would be if Schnurr really would not return, and tried to lead Thomas from his agitation softly into the direction of sadness and sorrow. A neighbor told us she had seen his corpse, and after we had talked to the people who had found him, Thomas cried in my arms non-stop for hours, continuously giving words to his deep grieve grief like in a Greek tragedy. When he started doubting again that this “red tomcat killed by a car” had been our Schnurr, I insisted on visiting the woman who had found him, showing her a photo – she recognized Schnurr without any doubt, so Thomas could not escape the futility of hope and continued crying in my arms.

I invited him to sleep in my bed that night – and three weeks later he is still my guest. We have a lot of quiet conversations at bedtime – not exclusively about Schnurr anymore – and he has started to write down his dreams in the morning, longing for the day when he will meet Schnurr in a dream. Thomas’ elder brother has produced a wonderful video with hundreds of photographs and many video clips with our cat. We have watched it together, laughed and cried, and created some loving farewell rituals for Schnurr. Thomas still misses his cat a lot, but this loss has become part of his life.  He can talk about his memories of Schnurr now and slowly starts looking forward to fall, when we will look for a new cat. I am very grateful that my knowing about the Neufeld approach helped me to lead Thomas softly but clearly through the maze of his angst, agitation, shock, desperation, wrath (“I hate all cars! Who could invent something so cruel!”), sorrow, grieving, to the adaptation to something he could not change.