Hurt People Hurt People: It Ain't Necessarily So
Dedicated to all those who do not.
As an intern, first starting my career as a psychotherapist, I co-led a group of eight men. While still a small boy, one of them had been pimped out by his father to his fishing buddies. Raped uncountable times over the bait box and in the bed of the pick-up truck. Now married and a father, he was afraid to change his baby’s diaper, afraid even to hold him lest he be overwhelmed and do to his baby what his father and his friends had done to him. He had no desire to rape children. He never dreamed about such things, had always desired women and very much so his wife. Yet he was terrified that he had this perversion burned inside him, and it would take him over. His wife had no idea this was going on within him—she simply thought he was a disinterested father who left her to do all the childcare. Both my mentor and I tried to reassure him—I cannot remember what we said—but I also remember what a decent group of men those mostly drug-using, petty criminals the rest of the guys were. They responded with such kindness. Nonetheless, he never returned after that first meeting, so I don’t think our words, however kindly meant, could compete against what his violators had done to him.
But I do not think the only violation he experienced was from his rapists. I include some of my compatriots in the field of psychotherapy, who, all too often, offer glib, anodyne explanations of complex things, often with the best of intentions—such as “Hurt People Hurt People.”
Let me start with some facts. I once read a very important study on pedophiles, in which they were asked if they were sexually abused as children.1 80% answered in the affirmative, and gave details of the incident(s). Unbeknownst to them, however, this cohort was selected as individuals of whom there were lots of collateral contacts, and lots of records. After assiduous attempts to collaborate their stories, the researchers asserted that of that 80%, only 30% were telling the truth. [If the math is twisting your brain a little bit, this comes out to about 2.4 of 10 were actually sexually abused.] So, as far as sexual abuse goes, there is no evidence that, in general, being sexually abused is more likely to make one an abuser.2
Violence seems to be different. There is a mountain of studies that show that being brought up in a violent home makes one more likely to be violent oneself. Furthermore, being brought up in a violent culture makes one more likely to be violent as well.
So . . . hurt people DO hurt people, at least when it comes to physical violence?
Not so fast.
If we genuinely treat people with respect, then each person has their own story. To be sure, morality alone demands that we diminish the likelihood that children will suffer physical or sexual abuse—not because of any potential outcome, but because it’s wrong. And yes, beyond that, given the statistics in regards to experiencing or witnessing physical or psychological violence, it is also a matter of public health and safety to protect children from physical abuse, because, yes, a greater number of childhood victims of violence will hurt others than those who are not so victimized.
But when we make glib pronouncements that purport to explain human violence in a single phrase, hurt people hear those words. And it causes suffering—hurt—to people like the poor young man afraid to touch his own son. Yes, he may have come up on this fear on his own, in his attempt to make sense of why adults, fathers one-and-all, would do such a thing to him. But I have worked with more than a few people who learned to believe such things from their therapist. Being told by an authority figure that you are more likely to hurt others because of your past may not make you more likely to do so, but it will certainly haunt you with fears that you might.
A statement that is statistically valid may be relevant for public policy, but it is never true, specifically, to any person’s story. Otherwise, we are stating, “You are damaged goods, you are not capable of being a full human being of morality and decency. At best, your life will be a struggle to somehow not do what you are destined to do by what happened to you.” Furthermore, if you already have hurt other people, we have diminished the moral requirement that it is wrong to hurt others, irregardless of what happened to you.
Many years ago, I offered a training on de-escalation of aggression at a somewhat rural evaluation-and-treatment unit, a short-stay hospital for people suffering from acute psychiatric crises: presenting as suicidal, unable to take care of themselves, or in some cases, a danger to others. At that time, I liked to wear a style of trousers called BDU’s.
[Yes, that stands for “Battle Dress Uniform” 🙄 . What can I say? I like baggy pants, I like a lot of pockets, and I thought they looked cool on me at the time. ]
There were about sixteen psych-techs in the audience, responsible for the care of very vulnerable people: among their patients were always some who were very volatile and/or provocative. Thirteen of the psych-techs were the usual for the Pacific Northwest: white Americans, more women than men. Three young men stood out. They had anthracite-dark skin, and in their mannerisms and accents, it was obvious they were from Africa rather than African-Americans. We would take breaks on the hour, and go outside to catch a little air. On the first two breaks, they hung back, off to the side, glancing in my direction, whispering a few comments. On the third break, one of them was delegated to talk to me. He came up and asked, “Excuse me. Are you a police officer?”
I said, “No, why do you think I might be?” [Literal minded, I was just thinking of the subject of my presentation—paraphrasing, active listening, general understanding of diagnostic and behavioral styles—thinking nothing I was saying would lead one to think I was law enforcement].
He pointed at my trousers. I smiled and said, “No, I just like the pockets.”
He went back to his compatriots, was clearly telling them about our conversation, then returned to me. I asked him where he was from. “Sierra Leone,” he replied. This was only a few years after the “Blood Diamond War.” They would have been there in their early teens, based on their present age, which meant it was very likely that they had friends and family tortured or murdered, and horrible in a different way, it was possible that one or all of them had been forced to be “child soldiers.”
I said, “That must have been a terrible place to be when you were young.”
He nodded. Stood silently, staring off to one side for several minutes. “We aren’t so comfortable around people who wear pants like those.”
I said again, “I’m not police. I just like pants with lots of pockets.” And I reached in my pockets, and pulled out my keys and my wallet. “And all I have in them is these.” And I opened my wallet and showed him a picture of my sons, one with a ball in his arms. We started talking about soccer. And his friends drifted over, and we talked and laughed about other things.
Later, I asked the director of the hospital about them. She said, “They are such a gift. They are so kind to everyone. They listen to people talk, they never cut them off, even when it’s psychotic talk and it goes on and on and goes nowhere. They are such gentle young men.”
My point, if it is not obvious enough already, is that everyone has a story, one that is unique, that is the outcome of us meeting the world. Our story is that meeting, not what happened to us. We are often helpless to stop what is happening. But we have something precious: we can choose how to respond. In the worst of circumstances, we can choose to hurt others and use our own pain as an excuse or explanation, or the impulse can roar through us and we do nothing to stop it. In another person’s story, despite suffering that you or I cannot imagine, they choose to be kind.
Who knows what will shift a specific person in one direction or another. The one thing I do know is that we should never tip those scales with our heavy hand of smug memes.
The phrase, “That hurt person hurt others,” may well be true, a summation of (at least part) of one individual’s life story. “Hurt People Hurt People.” That’s a lie that definitely hurts people whenever it is said.
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I read this paper decades ago. I do not have the citation.
Why would the others lie? The researchers did not delve into this, but here are some speculative answers: 1) Some got off on telling the story 2) Some got off on conning the interviewer 3) Some were practicing a story they intended to use in the future to a parole board, a therapist—someone who might help them get out of incarceration. 4) Some disliked the moral condemnation, even if they might not have condemned themselves - if they engendered sympathy, they deflected negative opinions directed towards them.