A LITTLE HISTORY
Those new to the NOMAS Model sometimes question policies that appear to be arbitrary. Every policy and aspect of our program has a history. We hope to deepen understanding of our evolution by including the following history.
1. How did we get from individual change to social change?
At an early 1980's conference called for batterer program practitioners, Barbara Hart spoke sternly to us (mostly men). She said we were making things worse – not better – for battered women. A key point was that we were focusing on physical abuse, counting hits, as if that were the definition of the issue. Women were saying otherwise. We needed to address men's control of women. Whether physical or not, illegal or not, women's suffering was the result of the full range of controlling tactics used against them by the men who were their intimate partners.
At the time, though we knew she was right, it was frustrating. We believed we were helping. We were working hard and we wanted appreciation for what we were doing, not criticism. But we had to listen. Important messages in this movement often don’t come the way we want them. None the less, we need to hear and respond. In returning from the conference, this early meeting pointed the way that we have been following ever since.
Batterer programs surely needed to address all of the ways that intimate male partners consciously and unconsciously control the lives of their wives, girlfriends and lovers. And who were the men in our programs that we were addressing? Were they the majority of perpetrators of domestic violence – or an insignificant number of the men in this country who are controlling and dominating their partners? We firmly believe it is the latter.
Men in batterer programs, all batterer programs, represent a fraction of the individuals needing to be impacted to end men’s violence against intimate women partners. Yet batterer programs presence in communities blurred this fact – and more and more time, money and energy were directed toward them. Simultaneously, time, money and energy were not directed toward the reality of men’s abuse of women outside of batterer programs.
Did information provided in batterer programs need to be directed only toward the individuals within the program? Did they need information that other men and women did not need?
Our answers continue to evolve. Here are some:
a. We do not see the men in batterer programs as different from men in general. We do not know which of our colleagues and relatives have done – or are doing – the very same things that men are ordered to the program for committing.
b. We share the same information in our batterer program that we believe is critical to understanding the social justice nature of the problem of domestic violence. Similarly, we believe this information should be curriculum in public and private schools, colleges, universities, graduate and professional training programs.
c. The function of batterer programs as a service to civil and criminal courts redresses the damage caused by viewing it as a fix for the individuals in them. The pervasive, epidemic proportions of domestic violence would still be best served by not having individual change as the focus of batterer programs. That is true even if a few participants were to stop abuse, supported by material learned. That would be a wonderful side effect for a few – yes. But should not be the focus of the program.
d. Domestic violence is a pervasive, epidemic social justice and human rights issue. Batterer programs, which are ubiquitous in our country, have significant responsibility to become part of the solution. One way to do this is to accept court ordered men ONLY, and only, when the court is committed to a penalty for those who do not comply
2. Answering the question, “How is he doing?” and the issue of “star” participants.
During the 1980’s, judges and other referral sources would call and ask how a participant was doing. After years, with advocate input, we began to ask back, “To what end, Judge, are you asking the question?” It was not that we were unwilling to answer. There were no secrets. It was more that we needed to reach a common understanding with our community about what we were actually accomplishing.
Over the years, we considered some men to be doing wonderfully well in the program. They were always present. They were absolutely engaged in the process. They not only knew the material we were providing, they helped other men to get it. They sometimes seemed to us to be deeply genuine and authentic in their commitment to ending all forms of abuse against their partner – and understood the importance of the central issue we reference as, “Who gets to define if he is being abusive?” (Answer: She does.)
Were some of these men making real changes? Perhaps. What shaped our thinking however, were the frightening number of occurrences when these very same men, at the very same time, committed serious abusive episodes against their partners. We were beginning to develop another critical principle for NOMAS Model batterer programs: We know nothing about how a man is behaving in the privacy of his intimate relationship with his partner – based on how he is behaving in our presence.
And if this was not enough evidence, during the 1990’s, we received a grant that would allow us to hire a coordinator for a domestic violence project in conjunction with our local battered women’s program. The economy at the time was such that our call for applicants netted a whopping thirty-five resumes. With several staff participating, including input from advocates, we group interviewed everyone and narrowed the field to the best six for individual discussions. This was a time consuming process – but we were not in a rush and wanted the best possible candidate. We were delighted when the unanimous choice candidate accepted the position. He appeared to be superior on all of the attributes we were seeking.
Four months into his position, the response from us and from our community was overwhelmingly positive. Everyone knew we had made the best choice. Our new staff member learned fast, was smart, a talented trainer and presenter, was easy to be with and extremely likeable. One Monday morning, he arrived at work, crying and asking for an immediate meeting to report, “I was arrested over the weekend for two counts of sexual assault and one count of physical assault – against my wife.” Thus, it is worth repeating: We know nothing about how a man is behaving in the privacy of his intimate relationship with his partner – based on how he is behaving in our presence.
Today in our communities, we do on-going “truth in advertising” about what we can and cannot accomplish. Referring courts know that we can assist the court in its monitoring function as the court holds domestic violence offenders accountable for their offenses. And while we always hope for individual change – we do not rely on batterer programs for that key and critical need.
3. Exact weekly fees may be paid in cash (no coins) or money order only – no checks. Those collecting the fees will not make change.
No coins: For many years participants would fish change from their pockets to pay all or part of their $5 or $10 fee. Though coins are a bit more difficult to handle in these situations, we were not moved to reject them. This was so even in light of feeling toyed with by participants, at times, over the coin issue. When a man arrived to a session with an oily paper bag – filled with coins – and nastily said, “Here . . . you got your money!,” we re-thought the coin issue and have remained with the no coin policy ever since.
Exact change: There were many instances when participants would arrive needing change. Staff, often in satellite spaces, would run around trying to help. It took many years, with input from advocates, for us to question why we were working so hard, bending over backwards, to serve, to help, to make it possible for participants to comply with the court order. We were enabling them – to NOT be responsible for bringing the right amount of money to pay fees.
Bounced checks: The numbers of bounced checks we have received over the years, and the amount of paperwork incurred by the follow-ups, resulted in our removing this form of payment for weekly fees. It was also brought to our attention that it differentially favors those who have checking accounts.
The resulting discussions were rich, about how culture is set up to serve men, even those being ordered to a program for brutalizing a woman. It also exposed that the very same culture is much harsher, not so eager to “help in any way,” the battered women when they attempt to get services.
This provided us with a perspective that would impact on policies and a critical program principle: We would no longer enable participants in our program to “get by.” Our batterer program would hold men accountable for what we could - fully, honestly and respectfully. From this point forward, we would also have to clearly differentiate what we could hold participants accountable for – from what we couldn’t. Bringing the right amount of money was one that we could. The policy was set.
A side note to this story is how hard it is, how painfully difficult it is for staff to maintain even the most simple limits – while knowing how right it is to do so. We firmly believe this is a culturally induced difficulty in a male privileged society. None the less, we commit to work through the difficulty and use our weekly staff development sessions for support.
At times, participants help us to know we are on the right track. Shortly after the no change policy was put in place, a participant with a $10 fee arrived with a $100 bill. The staff person collecting fees had more than enough in $10s and $20s in his hand. He reminded the participant of the new policy and that he would not be allowed entry. This was the first time the staff member was faced with such a situation. The staff member steeled himself as the person pushed to get in any way – and in a burst of strength, staff said, "No. You need to leave and come next week with exact change – as everyone has been told and required to do." The participant went to his pocket and pulled out a $10 bill.
At an early 1980's conference called for batterer program practitioners, Barbara Hart spoke sternly to us (mostly men). She said we were making things worse – not better – for battered women. A key point was that we were focusing on physical abuse, counting hits, as if that were the definition of the issue. Women were saying otherwise. We needed to address men's control of women. Whether physical or not, illegal or not, women's suffering was the result of the full range of controlling tactics used against them by the men who were their intimate partners.
At the time, though we knew she was right, it was frustrating. We believed we were helping. We were working hard and we wanted appreciation for what we were doing, not criticism. But we had to listen. Important messages in this movement often don’t come the way we want them. None the less, we need to hear and respond. In returning from the conference, this early meeting pointed the way that we have been following ever since.
Batterer programs surely needed to address all of the ways that intimate male partners consciously and unconsciously control the lives of their wives, girlfriends and lovers. And who were the men in our programs that we were addressing? Were they the majority of perpetrators of domestic violence – or an insignificant number of the men in this country who are controlling and dominating their partners? We firmly believe it is the latter.
Men in batterer programs, all batterer programs, represent a fraction of the individuals needing to be impacted to end men’s violence against intimate women partners. Yet batterer programs presence in communities blurred this fact – and more and more time, money and energy were directed toward them. Simultaneously, time, money and energy were not directed toward the reality of men’s abuse of women outside of batterer programs.
Did information provided in batterer programs need to be directed only toward the individuals within the program? Did they need information that other men and women did not need?
Our answers continue to evolve. Here are some:
a. We do not see the men in batterer programs as different from men in general. We do not know which of our colleagues and relatives have done – or are doing – the very same things that men are ordered to the program for committing.
b. We share the same information in our batterer program that we believe is critical to understanding the social justice nature of the problem of domestic violence. Similarly, we believe this information should be curriculum in public and private schools, colleges, universities, graduate and professional training programs.
c. The function of batterer programs as a service to civil and criminal courts redresses the damage caused by viewing it as a fix for the individuals in them. The pervasive, epidemic proportions of domestic violence would still be best served by not having individual change as the focus of batterer programs. That is true even if a few participants were to stop abuse, supported by material learned. That would be a wonderful side effect for a few – yes. But should not be the focus of the program.
d. Domestic violence is a pervasive, epidemic social justice and human rights issue. Batterer programs, which are ubiquitous in our country, have significant responsibility to become part of the solution. One way to do this is to accept court ordered men ONLY, and only, when the court is committed to a penalty for those who do not comply
2. Answering the question, “How is he doing?” and the issue of “star” participants.
During the 1980’s, judges and other referral sources would call and ask how a participant was doing. After years, with advocate input, we began to ask back, “To what end, Judge, are you asking the question?” It was not that we were unwilling to answer. There were no secrets. It was more that we needed to reach a common understanding with our community about what we were actually accomplishing.
Over the years, we considered some men to be doing wonderfully well in the program. They were always present. They were absolutely engaged in the process. They not only knew the material we were providing, they helped other men to get it. They sometimes seemed to us to be deeply genuine and authentic in their commitment to ending all forms of abuse against their partner – and understood the importance of the central issue we reference as, “Who gets to define if he is being abusive?” (Answer: She does.)
Were some of these men making real changes? Perhaps. What shaped our thinking however, were the frightening number of occurrences when these very same men, at the very same time, committed serious abusive episodes against their partners. We were beginning to develop another critical principle for NOMAS Model batterer programs: We know nothing about how a man is behaving in the privacy of his intimate relationship with his partner – based on how he is behaving in our presence.
And if this was not enough evidence, during the 1990’s, we received a grant that would allow us to hire a coordinator for a domestic violence project in conjunction with our local battered women’s program. The economy at the time was such that our call for applicants netted a whopping thirty-five resumes. With several staff participating, including input from advocates, we group interviewed everyone and narrowed the field to the best six for individual discussions. This was a time consuming process – but we were not in a rush and wanted the best possible candidate. We were delighted when the unanimous choice candidate accepted the position. He appeared to be superior on all of the attributes we were seeking.
Four months into his position, the response from us and from our community was overwhelmingly positive. Everyone knew we had made the best choice. Our new staff member learned fast, was smart, a talented trainer and presenter, was easy to be with and extremely likeable. One Monday morning, he arrived at work, crying and asking for an immediate meeting to report, “I was arrested over the weekend for two counts of sexual assault and one count of physical assault – against my wife.” Thus, it is worth repeating: We know nothing about how a man is behaving in the privacy of his intimate relationship with his partner – based on how he is behaving in our presence.
Today in our communities, we do on-going “truth in advertising” about what we can and cannot accomplish. Referring courts know that we can assist the court in its monitoring function as the court holds domestic violence offenders accountable for their offenses. And while we always hope for individual change – we do not rely on batterer programs for that key and critical need.
3. Exact weekly fees may be paid in cash (no coins) or money order only – no checks. Those collecting the fees will not make change.
No coins: For many years participants would fish change from their pockets to pay all or part of their $5 or $10 fee. Though coins are a bit more difficult to handle in these situations, we were not moved to reject them. This was so even in light of feeling toyed with by participants, at times, over the coin issue. When a man arrived to a session with an oily paper bag – filled with coins – and nastily said, “Here . . . you got your money!,” we re-thought the coin issue and have remained with the no coin policy ever since.
Exact change: There were many instances when participants would arrive needing change. Staff, often in satellite spaces, would run around trying to help. It took many years, with input from advocates, for us to question why we were working so hard, bending over backwards, to serve, to help, to make it possible for participants to comply with the court order. We were enabling them – to NOT be responsible for bringing the right amount of money to pay fees.
Bounced checks: The numbers of bounced checks we have received over the years, and the amount of paperwork incurred by the follow-ups, resulted in our removing this form of payment for weekly fees. It was also brought to our attention that it differentially favors those who have checking accounts.
The resulting discussions were rich, about how culture is set up to serve men, even those being ordered to a program for brutalizing a woman. It also exposed that the very same culture is much harsher, not so eager to “help in any way,” the battered women when they attempt to get services.
This provided us with a perspective that would impact on policies and a critical program principle: We would no longer enable participants in our program to “get by.” Our batterer program would hold men accountable for what we could - fully, honestly and respectfully. From this point forward, we would also have to clearly differentiate what we could hold participants accountable for – from what we couldn’t. Bringing the right amount of money was one that we could. The policy was set.
A side note to this story is how hard it is, how painfully difficult it is for staff to maintain even the most simple limits – while knowing how right it is to do so. We firmly believe this is a culturally induced difficulty in a male privileged society. None the less, we commit to work through the difficulty and use our weekly staff development sessions for support.
At times, participants help us to know we are on the right track. Shortly after the no change policy was put in place, a participant with a $10 fee arrived with a $100 bill. The staff person collecting fees had more than enough in $10s and $20s in his hand. He reminded the participant of the new policy and that he would not be allowed entry. This was the first time the staff member was faced with such a situation. The staff member steeled himself as the person pushed to get in any way – and in a burst of strength, staff said, "No. You need to leave and come next week with exact change – as everyone has been told and required to do." The participant went to his pocket and pulled out a $10 bill.