The Power of the Herd (69 page)

The sharo metaphor is also helpful in facing personal challenges, such as becoming aware of your own unproductive or inconsiderate behavior. In this case, you may be tempted to beat yourself up once you realize you've hurt someone else, perhaps by objectifying another race or species, perhaps by scapegoating or punishing someone for weaknesses you also share (projection). The ability to take personal responsibility for your actions and change your behavior is, without a doubt, a heroic act.

Abuse survivors must also engage emotional heroism in therapeutic settings. As a clinical counselor working with adults recovering from childhood trauma, Mary-Louise Gould assisted people in reaching the ultimate goal of
leaving their stories behind and truly living in the present, giving them tools for counteracting the effects of a challenging past. “But before my clients could embrace the idea of thriving rather than merely surviving,” she emphasized during a discussion we had on the subject, “they first had to face their abuse history while simultaneously letting go of blame and shame. This was a very deep, painful, demanding, and ultimately rewarding task.

“Those aspects of their abuse which had been dissociated (not remembered) had become inner survival mechanisms,” said Mary-Louise, who, as an Eponaquest advanced instructor and faculty member, now teaches other counselors and educators how to employ horses in helping people move beyond unconscious trauma responses. Mary-Louise observed that

these behaviors originally “kicked in” to protect young, undeveloped egos from being overwhelmed. However, to become more effective at work and in adult relationships, these old patterns have to be invited into consciousness, experienced with courage, accepted as part of one's history, learned from, and finally integrated into so-called normal memory.

It might be said that anybody engaging this level of self-scrutiny, self-acceptance, and self-compassion is holding a mirror up to his or her childhood trauma, experiencing a kind of personal sharo, one that is every bit as mentally, physically, and emotionally heroic as the pain experienced by a Fulani boy. That certainly was my experience of the amazing women and men I worked with.

It's important to understand, however, that I'm not advocating we mimic the sharo physically. Just as Joseph Campbell used the hero's journey as a metaphor for transformation and self-mastery (drawing on stories of horrifying ordeals and bloody conflicts that proliferated throughout history), we have to take the sharo as a metaphor for dealing with modern conflict out of the realm of physical violence.

The benefits are significant: Without an alternative model like the sharo, we see men and, more recently, women in influential positions using predatory metaphors: Sarah Palin calling herself a “mama grizzly” to justify attacking anyone who disagrees with her comes to mind. Leaders like Palin and Margaret Thatcher, whom Ronald Reagan called “the best man in England,” have been rewarded in some circles for using aggressive, traditionally male power-over tactics of intimidation, insult, and revenge.

Incorporating a more thoughtful, self-controlled response to conflict is sorely needed in our verbally contentious corporate and political systems. If I'm voting for the president of the United States, after all, I want someone who
can think clearly and compassionately in the midst of all of the vicious, often unjustified international and domestic assaults he or she endures daily in our current culture. The person with his or her finger on the main trigger to nuclear annihilation needs some sharo-like skills, or we're all in trouble!

The sharo represents an approach to power that values courage, endurance, and the willingness not to fight back as signs that someone has what it takes to run a herd and raise a family of his own. In translating the sharo to an emotionally heroic context, however, I recommend updating this ancient ritual with some advanced social-intelligence skills.

It is, first of all, essential to
refuse
the traditional opportunity to challenge your challenger to a similar public beating. In the aftermath of a verbal attack, the entire community benefits if you continue to demonstrate thoughtfulness, compassion, and self-control. Retaliation of any kind, including shaming or guilt-tripping the aggressor for hurting you, takes everyone off course, diverting you from a much more productive option: holding a lucid, nonshaming, “difficult conversation” that encourages both parties to address relevant issues, change destructive behaviors, and learn how to air future differences in a more respectful, socially intelligent way (see Guiding Principle 9, in
chapter 21
).

The sharo concept is also useful in handling long-term undermining, which is a common phenomenon in modern life. When you find out that someone has been secretly demeaning you while acting cordial or supportive to your face, you will feel as if this person has stabbed you in the back or punched you in the heart. But seeking revenge, no matter how justified it seems, will only create a deeper rift between the two of you and negatively affect the larger business, political, or social organization. Remember, as Thich Nhat Hanh observed, people who attack you do so, at least in part, because they are suffering inside. Retaliation can all too easily set a “conquest and revenge” cycle in motion. (Just watch the average reality TV show. When verbal assaults are met with blatant insults, self-righteous shaming statements, or the “victim's” efforts to undermine others, factions are created, leading to long-term strife in the entire group.)

Whether you're dealing with a family quarrel, a work-related conflict, or a national, religious, political, or cultural disagreement, it's unlikely that your rival will see the error of his ways and apologize for lashing out or undermining you. Taking personal responsibility for one's over-the-top, or simply
unproductive, actions during a conflict is an
advanced
move, especially for people with a low tolerance for feeling vulnerable.

Yet there's another compelling reason why many people are reluctant to apologize: In our transition out of an oppressive dominance-submission system,
apologies are often used as power plays,
creating further blocks to solving the interpersonal issues involved. This phenomenon, completely unconscious in most people, emerges when someone's sincere attempts to say he's sorry are met with shaming statements or rigid, unforgiving, perhaps cynical body language from the supposed victim, who demands a certain amount of groveling.

Because both parties have usually played some role in exacerbating a situation that led one person to explode or to undermine the other, the original aggressor senses that he's being treated unjustly and shuts down communication and understanding. (The only clear exception to this “shared responsibility” principle is physical or sexual abuse: the victim
must not
be blamed for the attack on any level.)

Expecting someone to grovel when he's ready to change his behavior is a seemingly mild, yet incredibly unproductive, form of retaliation. In Guiding Principle 4, in
chapter 16
, for instance, Judge Barbara Wilkinson realized that, whenever her son was on the verge of conceding that he was willing to see her side of things, his tentative efforts at reconciliation were met with an icy, selfrighteous silence as Barbara sentenced him to a period of emotional penance for the smallest infractions. With this “technique,” a small window of transformation closed as Barbara's interest in holding a grudge became more important to her than acknowledging her son's clumsy, somewhat reluctant attempts to cooperate.

Similarly, if I had expected Merlin to bow down to me and beg forgiveness for threatening my life, our relationship would never have changed. Yes, he could have killed me. No, I didn't deserve this treatment. Yet the only way he was going to heal, the only way I was ever going to be safe, was if I met his initially subtle attempts to change his behavior with feelings of connection and appreciation — while continuing to hold boundaries and remain vigilant.

After all, the harshest treatment Merlin received came from a trainer who
forced
him to grovel for some perceived infraction, tying his head between his legs in a darkened stall, short-circuiting his nervous system in the process, turning a naive, disorganized aggressor into a victim of abuse.

In the aftermath of any hurtful altercation, the second major act of emotional heroism you'll perform calls for generosity and forgiveness, both of which may
feel entirely unearned when you first engage them. Avoid literally saying, “I forgive you,” however. This comes across as self-righteous, presumptuous, and demeaning. You simply act as if you're willing to both forgive the other person and take personal responsibility for your own role in the conflict by reaching out to this individual — once you've regained your balance.

With all of this in mind, I've created a more formal sequence for exercising emotional heroism in interpersonal conflicts, with one word of caution: If the situation escalates to the point that the aggressor attacks you physically, you
must
protect yourself, preferably by leaving the scene immediately and calling for help. There is never any excuse for physical violence in modern interpersonal conflicts. You may need to involve the police or the justice system and let experts handle the appropriate restraint, confinement, and rehabilitation.

At the same time, it's important to realize that the roots of physical violence are related to a specieswide lack of emotional and social intelligence, particularly a massive cultural aversion to feeling vulnerable. People who build their EQ skills and raise their tolerance for feeling vulnerable are better able to acknowledge mistakes, take personal responsibility for their actions, and change destructive behavior while voicing their needs more effectively.

In the meantime, you'll be part of the solution if you exercise your own ability to endure hurtful interpersonal exchanges without fighting back. This minimizes the long-term damage and provides a necessary opening for you to use other emotional- and social-intelligence skills to move forward productively after an initially debilitating conflict.

1.   Whether you were verbally attacked or undermined secretly over the long term, treat any assault as an impromptu sharo. Hold boundaries, but do not fight back. The demeaning, shaming, blaming, perhaps even hateful emotional charge
is
debilitating. (This is where you feel as if you're being beaten with a big stick.) Your increasing ability to endure this pain with arms wide open — while remaining thoughtful and observant — is an advanced form of the
stay-longer-and-stay-thoughtful
technique used in building a high tolerance for vulnerability (introduced in Guiding Principle 5, in
chapter 17
).

2.   
Breathe, and take note of what the person is saying or doing. There will be useful information between and underneath the insults, though you may never completely understand the complex feelings, past wounds, and reactive patterns this situation tapped in the aggressor, causing you to suddenly become the object of his or her rage or resentment.

3.   Get immediate
confidential
help from an experienced, emotionally intelligent friend, coach, or counselor. Do not gather coworkers or mutual friends to complain about this person's behavior, creating factions that will become troublesome for everyone involved over time.

4.   Avoid objectifying or demonizing the person (seeing him or her as hopelessly defective, unevolved, stupid, or even evil). This includes avoiding the modern tendency to diagnose this person with a mental health issue. Even if you are a licensed psychotherapist, you cannot trust your own judgment in this situation. Many behaviors seen as “personality disorders” (or even sociopathic) are taught, modeled, and promoted in a predatory dominance system or are a consequence of the many ways that people sublimate their rage, resentment, or power as a result of this aggressive paradigm. Recognize that diagnosing, objectifying, or demonizing this person might be your own attempt to deflect attention from any partial responsibility you have for contributing to the situation that set him or her off.

5.   Part of this person's response was provoked by something you said, did, or didn't do. You will need to determine, honestly, what part of the episode is about you, what you
can
take responsibility for, and be willing to change any unproductive behavior that comes to light.

6.   It's also possible that you're being used as a scapegoat in this situation, or as an object of envy, jealousy, projection, or transference. (Sometimes all of these at once.) In the latter case, there are many ways that past traumas can bleed into and exacerbate present altercations. Here are some more extreme yet common examples:

People who grew up in misogynistic or racist families, where objectified populations are seen as second-class citizens, can feel disrespected or shamed when a woman, African American, or member of some other population receives a promotion or praise for a job well done (even if these descendants of misogynistic or racist families are sincerely trying to move beyond ancestral patterns).

A man or woman with an abusive or neglectful mother or a competitive sister might secretly mistrust all female coworkers, leading to
unexpectedly strong reactions when a woman takes charge or receives recognition.

Survivors of childhood sexual abuse tend to be wary of male authority figures, of course, but they can also hold the expectation that immediate supervisors, male or female, should punish anyone who challenges them (especially if one or both parents failed to recognize and stop the original abuse). Interpersonal difficulties at work can cause such people to feel resentful or even betrayed if the leader doesn't take their side and protect them.