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Six Blind Elephants:
Volume I
Understanding Ourselves and Each Other
by Steve Andreas
“Crazy” Recategorization (excerpt from chapter 13, Higher level recategorization)
Many therapists make the mistake of thinking that clients need to believe or agree
with what they say. A ridiculous or outrageous statement is usually remembered
far better than an ordinary or serious one, and a client is much more likely to
keep thinking of it, even when they consciously reject the idea altogether.
Family therapist Carl Whitaker often used to begin the first session with a family
by saying, “I’m just a crazy old guy who says whatever comes into my mind.” By
categorizing all his behavior as crazy, his clients never felt pressured to agree
with his comments, (completely bypassing any “resistance”) and Whitaker never
had to defend or justify what he said. That made it much easier for clients to
simply respond to what he said.
Whitaker would say something like, “Sometimes when the kids act up, I’ll bet you’d
like to stick them in the freezer for a week.” When a family member would object
to something Whitaker said, he would remind them that he had told them that he
would say crazy things, and that they shouldn’t take it personally, unless they
thought it fit for them. When a client would say something like, “You’re being
completely unreasonable!” Whitaker would calmly reply, “You know, my wife said
almost the same thing to me yesterday.” Whitaker was fond of saying about his
clients, “They can agree with me, or they can disagree with me, but they can’t
ignore me.”
It is really hard to convince therapists how useful a recategorization can be,
even when clients vigorously disagree with it. For instance, a therapist in training
said:
. . . that she and her husband argued almost daily about a certain cupboard door.
She had the habit of leaving the door open, and the open door irritated him. When
he started complaining, she countered, and the exchange soon escalated into a
full-blown row.
In the woman’s view, the whole problem was caused by her husband’s rigidity and
orderliness—categorizations that were not useful in promoting their happiness,
whether or not they were true. The trainer of the group, Finnish therapist Tapani
Ahola:
. . . suggested that she tell her husband that she had discussed her habit of
leaving the cupboard door open with her training group, which includes many experienced
psychologists. She should say that, according to the group, her leaving the cupboard
door open was actually a subconscious, or perhaps a “preconscious” symbolic gesture,
signifying her readiness to have sex with her husband. For a moment she was startled
by this far-fetched explanation, but having an open mind she began to laugh and
accepted the task.
When she told this to her husband, “He said it was the craziest thing he had ever
heard!” However, from then on whenever the husband found the cupboard door open,
he said nothing and just closed it himself.
This is a brilliant recategorization, because although it was directed at the
husband, it will influence both the husband and the wife. It doesn’t matter how
crazy they both think the recategorization is; it will be in their minds, indelibly,
whenever they encounter the cupboard door. The husband will certainly be thinking
about the open door in a very different way, one that is likely to elicit pleasant
thoughts and anticipation, rather than irritation! And since usually men want
sex more often than women, she will probably close the door more often, to avoid
inviting sex at times when she doesn’t want it.
I hasten to emphasize that this intervention did not arise out of a Freudian preoccupation
with sex and sexual symbolism. It came out of a commitment to reorienting the
couple away from their previous categorizations and toward new ones that would
be more pleasant. Previously, probably both were attending to the past. Certainly
she was looking at her husband’s insistence on closing the door as a result of
a general category, his “rigid orderliness,” and likely he was thinking of her
leaving it open as a result of her “sloppiness,” “rebelliousness,” or “indifference
to his wishes,” etc.
Now they will both think of it as a sign of her willingness to have sex, which
is in the present, rather than the past, and directs their attention to a pleasant
shared future event, a significantly different scope in both space and time. Her
idea about his “rigid orderliness” is not challenged, and his ideas about her
sloppiness, rebelliousness, or indifference don’t need to be changed. The open
cupboard door has changed from a signal to argue, to a signal to think of a very
different kind of interaction.
Aversive recategorization Describing what someone already does in a way that is
in opposition to their values and criteria can often be useful in getting them
to do something different. When a teenager’s staying out late is described as
fulfilling their parent’s secret desire for him to be independent and self-supporting,
he is likely to do it less. When a young man’s teasing of his sister is described
as an expression of caring for her and as a benevolent effort to strengthen her
against the teasing of others, he is likely to stop.
A “flasher” had been reported in the neighborhood of a Catholic girls’ school,
and the staff had expected that sooner or later he would “show up” at the school.
So the staff rehearsed all the students in what to do if he did. Sure enough a
week later, the flasher arrived in his car, and called to some of the girls. Several
of the girls went over near his car, and when he “did his thing,” they all looked
sorrowful, as they said, “Oh, we feel so sorry for you. It’s so small!” He scowled
and left immediately, and was never seen at the school again.
I once knew a 14-year old boy who often took a “parental” role with his 9-year-old
brother, often telling him what to do, usually with a superior and scornful tone
of voice. I suggested to the younger brother that whenever his brother talked
to him in this way, he could respond in a cheerful voice, “Thanks Mom.” The first
time he did this, it was quite a jolt to the older brother; with only a few repetitions
of this, his parental messages dwindled, and when they did occur, “Thanks, Mom”
brought a smile to his face and he backed off.
Joel Bergman described Melvin, a 27-year-old community care center resident who
had spent over 15 years in schools for the retarded, mental hospitals, and prison.
Melvin refused to participate in any of the day activities programs. Instead,
he would sit on top of an oil drum outside the center. The staff decided to tell
Melvin that the center was having a fund-raising campaign, and needed a model
idiot to sit outside the center and elicit sympathy. He was also to slowly rotate
360 degrees on the drum in order to maximize the sympathetic response of the community.
Upon hearing this, Melvin immediately got off the oil drum, and became involved
in all aspects of the day activities program.
Previously, Melvin’s behavior was probably categorized as “crazy” by the center
staff, but Melvin more likely categorized it as “rebellion,” or in some other
way that implied an ability to choose to resist. When his behavior was categorized
as “idiotic,” that presupposed low intelligence and an inability to resist, which
he found aversive.
Bergman described another community home resident, Luigi, 30, who had spent six
years in a state mental hospital. He would only speak gibberish or Italian, paced
for hours in the living room, and also quite loudly in his room at night, and
he would whine incessantly during the day.
The staff apologized to Luigi for having tried to change him, and for not realizing
that he was actually a spy from the state mental hospital. He was encouraged to
speak gibberish which was a code needed to safeguard his cover as a spy. They
told him they planned to construct a special pacing track on the lawn, where he
would get the best reception of signals from the state hospital, which he received
through his feet. They also said that they realized that his whining was Luigi’s
signal back to the hospital that he was receiving their signals clearly.
Luigi immediately insisted in perfect English that he was not a spy from the hospital.
The staff pointed out that of course any spy would deny that he was a spy, and
warned him that speaking English might “blow his cover.” Within two days, Luigi
stopped pacing, and within two weeks he stopped the gibberish and whining. After
that, he would occasionally do something crazy, but when he was asked to face
in the direction of the hospital to receive signals, he would immediately stop.
All Luigi’s symptoms—gibberish, speaking Italian, pacing and whining—were categorized
as different aspects of his being a spy for the mental hospital. Since he hated
the mental hospital, this was very aversive to him. When he tried to deny it,
speaking in English, his denial was also described as part of his being a spy.
So the only effective way for Luigi to deny the aversive categorization of being
a spy for the mental hospital was to stop the behaviors.
Limits of recategorization Despite these wonderful examples, there are limits
to recategorization. Calling a car “food” won’t get even the most radical constructivist
to eat it, and it would be foolish to try. A recategorization has to fit somehow
into the person’s world-view. Even if it is only accepted as “a crazy idea,” the
idea has to be plausible. For instance, although Luigi denied that he was a spy
for the mental hospital, he accepted the possibility that someone could be such
a spy.
If you look around you, you will find that some people categorize many events
very differently than you do. Other people pay lots of money to do things that
would be horribly unpleasant for me, because I categorize them differently. Most
people would agonize over spending a couple of years writing a book, but I have
enjoyed learning from a project that I hope will also be useful to others. So
the opportunities for recategorization to fit a particular person are much greater
than most of us usually imagine. Most of the time we don’t need to worry about
the limitations of recategorizing; we need to worry about our limitations in thinking
of a recategorization that might work.
For instance, once Virginia Satir worked with a woman who had been abused by her
father when she was young. He had beaten her severely with a bullwhip, then took
her to her grandparents’ house, dumped her, and never came back. Virginia’s recategorization
was that abandoning her in this way was the father’s ultimate gesture of love;
he realized he was out of control, so he left her at the grandparents’ house and
never saw her again to avoid any chance of hurting her further. Personally, I
think that Satir’s categorization of the father was pretty unlikely. But it was
acceptable to the woman, and it allowed her to feel more resourceful about herself
and her painful past, and move on with her life.
Cloe Madanes, a strategic family therapist, describes her work with a suicidal
man:
Recently I was asked by a businessman friend to do a consultation with one of
his clients, who’d told him he was planning to commit suicide. In our first appointment,
I asked this overweight, sad-looking man how I could help him. He told me that
he came from a poor, uneducated family and he’d been the first one in the family
to get a college education. Success and hard work had always been central in his
life. Then he explained that he’s been laid off a year ago and was in such despair
over not being able to find work that he was considering suicide.
Before reading further to find out what Madanes did, pause to think about how
you might help this man recategorize his situation, in order to change his depression.
. . .
“You’re going to have to explain this better to me because I don’t understand
it,” I said. “You’re saying you’re going to kill yourself because you’re not working?
That’s strange. Could you please explain?”
He looked puzzled and replied, “Work’s very important to a person’s self-esteem.
I feel worthless.”
“You’re going to have to explain that better,” I said, “I still don’t get it.”
He smiled a little, not sure whether I was joking.
“I’m serious,” I said. “I’m quite a bit older than you—a child of the 60s. In
my generation, nobody wanted to work. We were proud of not working. We wanted
to tune in and drop out. So what’s so great about work that you want to kill yourself
because you don’t have it?”
He was looking at me as if I’d come from outer space. He said, “I always thought
work was important. I have a strong work ethic.”
“Hmm, so what was the work you did.”
“I’m an engineer, and I always worked in plants manufacturing weapons.”
“Oh, great!” I said. “So the world is a better place because you don’t work!”
By now he was smiling broadly. I said, “Look, eventually, you’ll go back to work,
that’s inevitable. And then you’ll look back on this period when you could have
done so many things and had so much fun with regret, because you won’t have time
anymore to do the things you want to do. Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No,” he said, “I don’t have any money.”
“Since when is love related to money!” I asked. “If I were you, I’d find a woman
and go to the beach, the park, the mountains. Go to the zoo.”
He called me the next day at my office and said: “I just wanted to let you know
that it’s a beautiful day.”
“Yes,” I agreed.
“And I’m at the zoo,” he continued, and then he paused, “with a woman.”
I said: “Great! I’m at my office, working.”
He wrote me a letter a year later to tell me he was happy and working and to thank
me for our conversation.
Some people are reluctant to try a recategorization because of their fear that
a client might reject it. When you try a recategorization that doesn’t work, you
can always say, “Oh, so that way of thinking about it doesn’t fit for you,” and
drop that one and try another one, as Virginia Satir always did.
If a client clearly rejects what you said, you can simply apologize and follow
up with, “I don’t know why I said that; I guess I just had a ‘brain freeze.’ Does
that ever happen to you?” If a client gets upset or angry, you can step aside
physically, talk to the space that you were occupying a moment ago, and blame
it on someone else, as a way of joining with the client and regaining rapport.
“Damn, I knew that wouldn’t fit for you, but my supervisor insisted that I try
it,” or “I read about that in an article, and I didn’t think it would work, but
I just had to find out if it would fit for you.”
Read Exerpts from
Several Chapters
Logical
Levels (excerpt from chapter 5, Categories
of categories)
Reframing
using a different scope (excerpt from
chapter 7, How scope influences category)
What others have said about Six
Blind Elephants . . .
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