We Keep Fixing the Top of the Tower!

There is something that has frustrated me for decades, and the longer I work in the fields of addiction, trauma and childhood abuse, the more convinced I become that we are often looking in the wrong place.

I have used the analogy of an iceberg, where the visible behaviour is merely the tip, and more recently, that of a wobbly tower struggling to remain upright in a hurricane.

Both illustrate the same principle.

We spend an enormous amount of time trying to fix what we can see, while paying far too little attention to what lies underneath.

In addiction, we concentrate on stopping the drinking, the drug use, the destructive behaviour. In the aftermath of childhood abuse, including clergy abuse, we often concentrate on the emotional and psychological consequences, the distress, the behaviour, the difficulties people experience in later life.

Of course, these things matter enormously. But they are not the whole story.

What concerns me is how readily we separate the psychological from the physical, as though our experiences happen somewhere outside our biology.

They don't!

Everything we experience is processed through a living, physical organism. Our brains and nervous systems respond to our experiences. Repeated fear, overwhelming stress, abandonment and trauma can influence neural pathways, stress responses and the way we perceive and respond to the world.

These are not simply thoughts or feelings floating around in some mysterious psychological space. They involve real biological processes, and some of the changes can be remarkably persistent.

My studies of neuroscience, long-term potentiation and epigenetics have only strengthened my conviction that we must take these physical processes seriously.

And yet, so often, we seem determined to begin at the top!

We try to change behaviour without adequately addressing the biological and developmental foundations upon which that behaviour rests.

It is rather like trying to stabilise a tower in a hurricane by repairing the windows, straightening the roof and painting the walls.

It might look better for a while, but the tower is still wobbling!

Surely we should be examining the foundations?

This is why I have become so interested in looking at the progression from physics to chemistry, from chemistry to biology, and from biology to behaviour.

Not because behaviour is unimportant, or because counselling and psychological therapies have no value. Far from it.

But because human beings are whole organisms, and we cannot sensibly separate their thoughts, emotions, physical responses and experiences into unrelated compartments.

The same principle applies to the consequences of clergy abuse. We can talk endlessly about psychological harm, apologies, compensation and institutional responses, all of which have their place. But do we really understand the depth of what prolonged fear, betrayal and trauma can do to a developing human being?

And are we doing enough to address those consequences?

I sometimes wonder whether focusing on what is immediately visible is simply easier. Behaviour can be observed, measured and managed. The deeper processes are more complicated, less convenient and often require us to rethink our assumptions.

After more than fifty years in recovery myself, and decades of working with others, I am still asking the same question:

Why are we so determined to repair the top of the tower when the foundations are crying out for attention?

We cannot prevent every hurricane. Life will always bring storms.

But perhaps, if we paid more attention to strengthening the foundations, fewer people would have to spend their lives struggling simply to remain standing