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208 pages, Paperback
First published March 1, 1997
Hostile English has two primary characteristics: 1. It relies heavily on very personal vocabulary—“I, you, this company, this family, this department, this job,” and on proper names. 2. It contains acoustic stresses—emphasis—on words and parts of words, stresses that aren’t needed for any purpose except to express hostility. If I say to you, “We didn’t leave on the third, we left on the fifth,” you know that the extra emphasis on “fifth” is necessary to contrast “fifth” with “third.” If I say, “Hey, I won the SWEEP-STAKES!,” you know that I need the emphasis on “hey, won, sweep” to carry the message that I am tremendously excited about my announcement. But when I say, “You could at least TRY to get to work on TIME once in a while!,” you know that the emphasis on “try” and “time” has no purpose except to express hostility. You can trust your internal grammar to make such judgments for you, as long as you are paying attention, so that you hear the tunes accurately.
These people aren’t out to hurt you. Either they are ignorant of any other method for handling disagreement, or they use hostile language to fill personal needs for excitement and/or human attention and know no other way to satisfy those needs adequately. Even those who consider conversational combat a sport are only looking for a sparring partner; the only way they know to find one is to attack you so that you’ll counterattack and join them in the game.
It will change your reaction to the language, save you from an emotional hijacking, and give you the ability to stop and ask yourself three essential questions and try to answer them: 1. What is the hostile speaker’s motivation for talking to me this way? 2. What do I actually disagree with in this case? That is: do I disagree with the speaker’s claims, do I think the speaker’s facts are wrong, do I object only to the tone the speaker is using, or is it something else? 3. What is the most effective way for me to respond?
Psychologist George Miller said it best, in the statement that I call Miller’s Law: In order to understand what another person is saying, you must assume that it is true and try to imagine what it might be true of. (George Miller, in Hall, 1980)
This is not a matter of gender, but of power. Listening is a courtesy that one person offers to another. People who routinely behave like the non-listeners in these two dialogues, whatever their gender, are unwilling to extend that courtesy to someone they perceive as boring and/or having no power to compel them to listen. It’s a dangerous attitude that tends to become a habit, and it’s frequently the explanation for fights—and worse—that come as a complete surprise.
On the football field it’s perfectly okay to pretend you have the ball when you don’t have it, or to pretend you’re going to run one direction and then run the other way. That’s not lying, it’s just “the way the game is played.” It’s not only okay, it’s admired and rewarded. (The same thing is true, with obvious variations, for other team sports that may serve as metaphors, such as cricket and basketball and soccer.) In the traditional schoolroom, on the other hand, if a statement is false it’s a lie. Period; end of discussion. You not only don’t get rewarded for lying, you get punished. Tom is basing his decisions on the rules of football, while Ann is basing hers on the rules of the schoolroom; this makes disagreement and hostility almost inevitable.
The communication metaphors most commonly chosen in our society today for even the most trivial disagreements are these three, with the majority of people choosing the third:
• DISAGREEMENT IS A CONTEST.
• DISAGREEMENT IS A SPORT.
• DISAGREEMENT IS COMBAT.
All three metaphors carry with them this rule: Every disagreement has to end with a winner and a loser.
It’s possible to force other people to say what we want them to say; it’s not possible to force them to mean it.
Suppose you and I are building a bookcase or a barn together. Unless we are pathologically competitive, we’ll do that by cooperating to get the job done, and we’ll consider winning and losing irrelevant to what we’re doing. Only habit and inertia and unawareness keep us from looking upon disagreement as an occasion for building a mutual understanding that can serve as a foundation for future interaction, instead of as a fight to the death.
The clash between the prevailing male metaphor (FOOTBALL) and the corresponding female metaphor (TRADITIONAL SCHOOLROOM) leads to arguments about many other key definitions and concepts beside those associated with lying. On the football field, knocking down a member of your own team who happens to be in the way as you run for a touchdown is not BETRAYAL or DISLOYALTY. Working with another player to achieve a goal is not CHEATING. This is totally unlike the schoolroom. Both the football and the schoolroom metaphors are in operation during disagreements, when the DISAGREEMENT IS COMBAT metaphor kicks in. The results of their combination, as would be expected, are different in the two cases.
For our purposes, disagreements can be divided into three basic message groups:
• “Your facts are wrong.”
• “I object to X.”
• “Your X is/are unacceptable.”
(I’m using the word “wrong” here to mean factual error, not moral error. Please keep that in mind as we go along.)
1. “Your facts are wrong.” This is the message type you use when someone says the plane is leaving at 6:15 and you have reason to believe that it’s leaving at 6:45. Often such disagreements can be easily settled because the facts can be checked and verified. As in delivering bad news, no case can be made for the idea that this requires hostile language. You’re saying to the other person, “I hear your statement of the facts; I disagree with that statement.” You may or may not also be saying that you’re prepared to offer an alternative version of the disputed facts.
2. “I object to/disagree with your claims.” Or your perceptions, your attitude, your behavior, your values, your politics, your religion, etc.—or “I object to you, personally.”
3. “Your work is unacceptable.” Or your performance, your results, your plans, your appearance, etc.—or “You, personally, are unacceptable.”
Step One: Decide exactly what your message is. Do you disagree with the other speaker’s facts, with the emotions being expressed, or both? Do you object to the particular utterance you’re hearing, or to the actions or perceptions it represents? Is your disagreement based on principle, on opinion, or something else? Decide before you start talking. Step Two: Consider the possibility that the message you’ve chosen could take a positive shape. Look for something on which everyone involved could agree, that might serve as the first plank in a negotiated structure everyone could accept and build on.
Virginia Satir was a superb family therapist. In the course of a lifetime of practice, she discovered that when people are trying to communicate under stress their language falls into one of five patterns: Blaming, Placating, Computing, Distracting, and Leveling.
Avoid the use of personal vocabulary; avoid the use of emphatic stresses that signal hostility; avoid the body language that goes with Blaming and Placating.
If we take the theoretical superiority of Leveling and modify it for use in the real world, the result is our second rule: Rule Two: When it’s safe and appropriate to do so, Level; otherwise, or if you’re not certain what to do, use Computer Mode.
Because one of the identifying characteristics of hostile language is the use of personal vocabulary, a switch to abstraction is always going to be helpful. A great deal of the time the result will also be a switch to Computer Mode, the most neutral of the Satir Modes. The basic principle is: Whenever you want to remove the personal element from a discussion, convert it to a more general issue by nominalizing its predicate.
This is not being a wimp—let’s emphasize that and settle it. The only reason for deliberately causing someone to lose face in a disagreement is to establish two points: You are the winner, and that person is the loser. You may find yourself forced to do that sometimes, but it’s poor strategy to start an interaction that way unless you have excellent reasons for humiliating the person you’re speaking to. Most people construct negative messages as direct negative claims from habit and an unconscious acceptance of the DISAGREEMENT IS COMBAT metaphor; you don’t have to follow their lead. First try more positive structures; if they fail you, you can always move on to Leveling and direct confrontation when that becomes clear.
English has a set of predicates—including “know” and “be aware”—that are called factives because the statements that follow them in a sentence are presupposed to be “true facts.” I explained to the doctor that factives would help him avoid the disagreements and suggested that he use sequences like these: “As you know, many other skin disorders look almost exactly like psoriasis.” “As you are aware, even dermatologists sometimes have a hard time diagnosing psoriasis, because it looks so much like many other skin disorders." "As I know you are aware, psoriasis is a tricky diagnosis—and prescribing for it when the condition is really something else could lead to serious problems."
Here are some more Trojan horses, with examples: • “I’m so glad that you managed to get your grant.” Manage to X presupposes that the individual had a great deal of difficulty getting X done; it’s not complimentary. • “Everyone on the committee was more than willing to humor you about that part of the agreement.” To humor someone is to behave toward them as you would behave toward a child or a person not in full possession of their senses. “Indulge” and “cater to” are just as bad. If you can’t avoid a message like this, say that everyone was willing to “defer to your wishes,” which moves the focus from the individual personally to his or her “wishes.” • “It’s wonderful that you’ve finally been promoted!” The problem here is with finally, which—in a context like this—does the same sort of damage that “I’m so glad you managed to get promoted” would do. Worst of all is the combined hostility of “It’s wonderful that you’ve finally managed to” do whatever has been accomplished; the only possible reason for saying that is to be deliberately hostile.
In “You’re a failure,” “a failure” is the predicate nominative, created by nominalizing “You fail.” And the strong implication of sentences like “You’re a liar” and “You’re a failure” is that the person always does whatever was nominalized. Whether that is precisely what you intended to say isn’t relevant; the implication is there in the language. The child who has told you one lie needs to be informed that that’s not acceptable and won’t be tolerated—but one lie doesn’t make the child a liar. The adult who has failed in business may need to know that you have a negative reaction to that fact—but one failed business doesn’t make the person “a failure.”
We have a whole set of hostile language patterns on automatic pilot that make it easy for us to make spectacles of ourselves.
VAPs [Verbal attack patterns] have two parts: an obvious and open hostile sequence whose purpose is to get the listener’s attention, called the bait; and one or more less obvious hostile sequences that are sheltered in presuppositions. In some of these the division between the two parts is very clear; in others they are mingled in complicated ways. Example: Suppose the VAP is, “If you REALLY cared about your health, YOU wouldn’t SMOKE three packs of cigarettes a day!” The bait is “You smoke three packs of cigarettes a day,” and “If you REALLY cared about your health” shelters the less obvious presupposed insult, “You don’t really care about your health.”
VAPs usually have an identical counterpart—that is, a sequence with exactly the same words—that is not an attack. The difference between the two is not in the words but in the tune the words are set to.
People who use VAPs aren’t ordinarily interested in the response they would get if they used the otherwise identical nonattack sequence.
VAPs are based on scripts that we learn as children and that are automatic by the time we reach our teens; they are action chains. Like all action chains, if they are interrupted they are over unless the people involved are willing to start them again from the beginning.
The two simplest and earliest learned VAPs are the “If you/If you really” pattern and the one that begins with a heavily emphasized “WHY.”
Linguistically the procedure for responding to VAPs could hardly be simpler. You have just two rules: Rule One: Ignore the bait, no matter how outrageous. Rule Two: Respond to one of the other presupposed parts of the sequence instead.
You had a plan and a goal: to go to the shopping mall and buy whatever it was you were shopping for. The man who challenged you had a plan and a goal, too: to get and keep your attention and provoke an emotional reaction from you that would be evidence of his power to carry out his agenda. Without your attention and your emotional reaction, he can’t get what he wants.
It’s absolutely critical to remember that any response to a VAP has to be made neutrally—set to a neutral tune. When a response is sarcastic or patronizing or insolent, it’s hostile language, no matter what words it contains.
“When you (x), I feel (y), because (z).” In a perfect three-part message, each of the three empty slots is filled with an item that is concrete and verifiable in the real world. In part 1 that item is the specific chunk of behavior the speaker wants changed. In part 2, it’s the emotion the speaker has toward the behavior. In part 3, it’s the real-world consequence of the behavior that justifies the speaker’s request for the change.
Rule One: Match the Sensory Mode coming at you. Rule Two: If you can’t match the mode, try to use no sensory language at all.
Human beings are primates. Like all primates, they like to mark out their turf and establish its limits, and they always want to know what the pecking order is in any situation. These ancient habits are so deeply ingrained that many people feel obligated to do something to demonstrate their rank and power even when there’s no reason to do it, almost always with hostility and hostile language as a result. When the apes do these demonstrations, called dominance displays, they pound their chests and shriek; most human beings are a little more subtle than that.
You can take advantage of these facts when you interact with others by deliberately providing them with good opportunities for dominance displays. They’ll feel better after taking advantage of those opportunities; you will have sacrificed nothing at all; and a great deal of tension-creating (and resource-wasting) jockeying for position will be avoided.
The last thing you need to worry about is that this will hurt your image, making you look uninformed or careless, or anything of that kind. On the contrary. As long as the items you choose are trivial rather than crucial, it will make you look cooperative and pleasant and rational and charmingly modest. Remember that your goal is not to prove your perfection but to get your material approved, accepted, and so on. Few things provoke more hostility in a group—even a group of only two—than the presence of someone who never makes a mistake.
If there is one basic principle that we can hold on to in the effort to decrease tension and increase trust and rapport, it is this: We train men to be far more afraid of losing face than women are expected to be. A man forced into a corner verbally is therefore more likely than a woman is to do something foolish out of panic, especially if there would be witnesses to his loss of face. Until the sands of gender perceptions shift in ways that lessen this difference, many communication moves need to be chosen with it in mind.